Long Anybody Poems
Long Anybody Poems. Below are the most popular long Anybody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anybody poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember how it is like to be in kindergarten
When life was easy and I never worried
About how they thought of me or the pimple on my forehead
Whether I was tall enough or short enough
I could walk up to anybody and we would be friends in a matter of minuets
There were no mean girls and bad boys
Nobody complained about seeing each other in our stained clothes
Or our yogurt covered faces
All we had was time to play with each other
Climbing up the jungle gym or sliding down into mud puddles
We would swing high on the swings to see who would go highest.
How I miss those days
How I miss the mind of kindergartner that I had
If I could have it back indeed I would
The mind that cannot hate or envy
That does not know what revenge is.
Long ago I stopped dreaming,
I didn't know about flowers ,
And all the butterfly it brings,
For in the ocean where I belong there is none,
But a prince told me about them,
Gave me butterflies even without flowers,
showed me a part of his world,
A part of it, where I want to be,
I want to be with he who makes me dream,
He who lit the light from the depth
He who makes me fall in love with me,
He who isn't like anybody else,
But I can't be,
Even if I pray, I can't be,
For a beautiful prince like him shouldn't be in the ocean,
He should roam free in the land where he belongs,
Atmosphere is anybody there
World spinning around is anybody here
my love the skies are so great
Our hearts melt in the clouds wake
Till dusk of day the night feedings
Rain clouds away drippings
Misunderstandings Miss identifications till days dawn
Crawling skies
~
Anybody there, anybody here
Sunshine's beauty is great Wandering Minds
Sun Cross the sky changing of times
Till the sunset clouds Thunderings
Is all I do while waiting for the moon's plungering
Those rain clouds away clouds turning blue
Misunderstandings miscommunications today's gone true Skies calling
2/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
Sudan 1993 and an ugly famine reaps its prey
malnourished bodies make it difficult to believe
that women were created from the rib of men
it is the most vulnerable who carry the weight
if you pardon the cynical pun on the grotesque
the lens is open and a vulture remains on guard
carrion in the making seems to die on the right
side of the frame and the wrong side of history
a little bird like face hands buried in minute hands
a grunting beak not afar as if smacking hungry lips
vultures have a serious problem with their reputation
but this particular images reaches down much further
into gut wrenching emotion of insatiable repulsion
for the record it is not the grim raptor who was ringed
but the little girl who wears a UN feeding station band
in all honesty the predator is not as close as it seems
a nearby manure heap serves its overfed companions
but the photo fails to escape the onlooker’s discomfort
however they wish it would fly away on prayer or wings
one vulture a Pulitzer Prize and millions of birdwatchers
although Kevin Carter the award winning photojournalist
followed all rules and was forbidden to touch anybody
for fear of spread of disease like cholera or meningitis
he was pilloried for only taking the shot and despairing
instead of well what exactly should the bird have told him
we are not privy to the fate of the iconic avian marauder
do not know what we would have done in such situation
maybe niggling bird song made us contribute to charity
but the other protagonist died in a red pickup truck with a
hosepipe and the girl’s parents told the press she’d survived
11th July 2020
Some people told me
Don't worry another door will open
After a completed contract
I fail to keep my emotions in check
In my community
if you are not in the working class
People tend to lose their respect
Some people hope for a miracle cure
Some people accept the world as it is
I'm willing to lay down and die
Because I am a guilty man
I am not above to being cool for a while
If you are cruel to me to me I understand
Some people run from a possible fight
Some people figure they could never win
And although this is a fight I could win
I prefer to lose
The accused is a guilty man
I am a guilty man
You know I only hurt myself out of spite
I guess I’ll be a martyr tonight
The decision is mine
I'm below anybody I know
If there's a chance of resurrecting a love
I'm above to going back to the start
To find out where the heartache began
Some people see through the eyes of the old
Before they ever look at the young
I am not willing to hear you cry
Because I’m a guilty man
11/28/20
"Soul shifting"
Spirits sinking, occasionally lifting
Going extinct, no longer existing
Sporadic, random, not consisting
Won't get much done by only sitting
Expected so much and got so little, it's only fitting
A strange way of thinking
Excessive drinking
Recently had surgery for a filling
Due to being selfish and unwilling
The globe spinning
As time is still ticking
So bone chilling
The body it's killing
All these chemicals, must he keep mixing?
It's obvious that it's addicting
Problems, little to no attempt at fixing
Occasionally reminiscing
Still something missing
At times it stings
What a fool, didn't even use free shipping
Continually tripping and slipping
Into savings, occasionally dipping
You must be kidding
Why would anybody be living
In ways that set them back, causing no chance of winning
Soon could drown, if they don't start swimming
Because what they have been doing is conflicting
They can only change that, if they do their own bidding
Can't rely on wishing
Or just go fishing
If you truly want a new beginning
It doesn't require soul shifting
Respected but more feared
As a man of tempered steel
An expert at ensuring he got
The best of any signed deal.
He got a Degree in Pomposity
From the university of life
Followed by a Masters in
The Obvious and The Trite.
Doctorate soon followed
In Self Righteous Thought,
Waxes forth on Social Media
Where he daily holds court,
Pouring vitriol and scorn
To those who don’t know
Life’s a veritable paradise under
Our beneficent Status Quo.
A paragon of virtue, this
Self proclaimed made man
Telling the world if he can do it
Then surely anybody can.
International businessman
With his modern sweat shop
Using Zero Hour Contracts to
To keep his workers on the hop
He attends religious observance
Al least once every single week
Where he virtuously professes
To be humble, mild and meek.
He’ll probably live for ever
Which really isn’t so very odd:
No Heaven could be big enough
To hold both him and his God.
California Dreamin…
Momma Told Me Not To Come
By The Time I Get To Phoenix
Will Anybody Really Know What Time Has Spun
Hotel California…
Its Chain Gang wearing thin
Searching for an American Woman
Blowin In The Wind
Bill Bojangles Robinson…
preaching Fire And Rain
New York’s A Lonely Lonely Town
dragging Ball And Chain
Summertime Blues and Porgy’s drowning…
Riders On The Storm
Layla kisses Judy Blue Eyes
Stairway To Heaven scorned
Woodstock and a Big Bear Scrambler…
Who’ll Stop The Rain
Don’t Think Twice this Hard Day’s Night
Eli’s Comin again
Hey Jude, Moondance is calling…
It’s Too Late says Ms. King
Yesterday’s Hound Dog barking Crazy
—the Purple Haze begins
(Rosemont College: June, 2022)
Traveling into depths of my solitude, I realize value of happiness
Sometimes wonder how valuable happiness in our lives is
Is it ultimate reality of life which is hidden from all of us?
Am I happy, are we all happy? I begin a search for an answer
In society, among friends, among strangers, everywhere.
When I come out of the self, I gather that
I am not alone in this wanderlust, each one is searching
Though each one has a different perspective or circumstance
Yet the target, of everyone’s journey, strangely, is same
To achieve ‘happiness’ of some kind at the end of each journey.
I feel a strange calmness in me, at this realisation
So much so that I do not find anybody a stranger anymore
All seem to be fellow travellers, trying to reach at same target
Each in his own way, in one’s own context, in one’s place
Yet this calmness evaporates fast when I see that unhappiness persists.
Is our happiness transient and our wanderlust permanent?
Date: 11.8.2014
Mohan Chutani
Contest: Wanderlust
Form: Free verse (16 lines)
Now submitted for PDA's free verse contest on 17.10.2020
You screwed with her before and now you're back again.
You're nothing but a whore addicted to her pain,
but here's a thought for you that must have run amiss.
You can't touch Samara cancer, no You Can't Touch This.
She can crush you on her own, she doesn't really need,
any help from any doctor, any treatment, anybody.
She is The Samonster, who will again crush you into bits.
You can't touch Samara cancer, no You Can't Touch This.
When you screwed with her before, I was not around.
I've got some bad news cancer, there's a new sheriff in town,
and he and The Samonster who together will Never Quit
will always say, until our dying day,
"SCREW YOU CANCER! You Can't Touch This!"
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