Long Asterisk Poems
Long Asterisk Poems. Below are the most popular long Asterisk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asterisk poems by poem length and keyword.
It was you from the moment I seen you.
I knew in my heart I would be the one to rescue you, but in the end you ended up saving me.
I see in your eyes the pain that lingered inside.
From your past relationships your pride was on cloud nine.
My theory was to put your fears aside.
You feel like I am like all the rest, so you continuously put my love through a test.
Why won’t you let me love you?
My love is a virtue, forever lasting external statue.
It was you my handcrafted imbue tattoo I cling to.
If you only knew how I truly feel about you.
I was sculpted only for you my sahib, I am your rib.
You’re a reflection of me desperately wanting love, but scared of the many risks that come with it.
Love should have come with an asterisk.
You’re my only weakness causing infectious affection.
It was your personality that spoke volumes to me, showering me with chivalry.
Persistency kept me where I wanted to be.
Let me be the one you need, all you need is faith as tiny as a mustard seed.
Abundantly this love will be an adjustment for you, and me.
If you should have a nightmare just know I will be there.
If you’re hurting and need to cry, I will be the one to wipe your eyes.
For my love only identifies.
I fell in love with you, not for the things you’re able to do.
It was simply you…
If you should happen to get laid off work, I will be the one standing in the door.
The only one you brace oneself for.
Your personal landing gear, I am whole heartily sincere.
I will be your rocking chair.
If the time comes and you begin to lose your hair, baby I will be your favorite barber chair your personal concierge.
It was you that introduced your love voodoo.
Only wanting you timeless déjà vu.
You made me love you; you are my lifetime band aid.
Now let me be your brigade, your right hand grenade.
You’re forever nursing aide.
The sharpest in your drawer knife blade.
The one and, only ace of spade your jack of trades.
Equivalent to money your love is symbolic.
A polished rocket you’re extraordinary, and solid.
Biologic process but simply flawless.
If I am getting off topic I might be losing conscious.
Thinking of you makes me forget my surroundings.
My heart starts pounding echo sounding.
I automatic start smiling, it’s simply astounding.
You knew it has always been you.
It was you.
IN A TIME OF MICRO-IDENTITIES
At my Unitarian Universalist Society
no one is Jane Doe or Jack Spratt anymore!
A person being introduced or referenced for their
political, social or spiritual wisdom, their positive
impact on business, industry, education or community,
inter-faith connectivity or even their potential for
simple friendship and warmth, must be presented and
pre-validated by their ethnicity and race, their religion,
place of origin, their sexual irregularity, behavioral
irregularities, and any number of special pronouns or nouns
that have multiplied like weeds after a soaking late spring
rain or like non-native species of flora or fauna,
imported to address problems both real and imagined,
that have become prolific and invasive, pervasive and
problematic in unintended ways, like the popular new
sport called “daring us to get it wrong”….
These micro identifications give the person being
presented an unnecessary social asterisk that divides our
collective focus, fogging up the intended message, diluting
the joy of engagement, perhaps rendering inconsequential the
reason they are even there!
They are no longer simply folks but a type, a brand, perhaps
another public admonition to check our social attitudes, maybe
scold ourselves a little, and it makes me irritated rather than
appreciative, jaded rather than enthusiastic, somehow
cornered rather than free, a little wary of presenter and
presented, more weary of division, classification and the
perpetually annoying tactics of moral correctitude!
My pronouns, as you can see, are he, him and his, as normal
as water and oxygen in our planet’s biosphere, but more
important are my aspirational adjectives: open, giving and loving,
which admittedly, I’ve discovered, are subject to tidal fluctuations,
my diurnal disposition reaching out and pulling back. But this
disclosure not-withstanding, let the person and the message speak
for themselves like the sun speaks of light and the moon,
like my wife, speaks subtly in phases about sunlight at night!
Let our penchant for insight and moral validity allow us
to determine if speaker and word bring us clarity and truth,
encourages our efforts to find ourselves in each other in this
reckless adventure we call humankind!
Some numbers tumble down the hallowed halls of baseball’s past -
a sport of numbers after all, these memories hold fast.
Stan Musial wore #6, Lou Gehrig, #4;
the “luckiest man in all the earth”, great player AND much more.
McCovey, Reggie – 44, Hank Aaron wore it too.
Remember those World Series gems? Koufax wore 32.
My favorite: “Say Hey” Willie Mays wore #24;
he’s famous for “The Catch” and yes, that childlike smile he wore.
Ted Williams: .406 - .394 for Tony Gwynn,
if ’94 had known no strike, who knows what might have been?
5,714 K’s Ryan amassed,
plus Nolan’s 7 no-hitters: neither will be surpassed.
“Records are made to be broken”, but THIS one never shall:
2,632 consecutive games for Cal.
1947 – Jackie Robinson’s big year,
He broke the color barrier and had a great career.
Roger Maris – 61* in ’61, but wait…
it seems some other cheaters passed him up in ’98.
I don’t consider some worthy to mention by their name –
Their steroids sadly stained the reputation of the game.
Some other numbers come to mind: Babe Ruth’s 714
Hack Wilson’s RBI’s – 191, obscene!
There’s Rickey Henderson’s 130 steals, divine!
Dimaggio’s streak of 56; Hershiser’s 59.
But if a sacred record falls, we oughtn’t be perplexed,
The game’s baton is passed – one generation to the next.
Now Aaron Judge wears 99 – I think he wears it well,
Bryce Harper’s #3 will shine, as far as I can tell.
Young Bellinger wears 35, Mike Trout sports 27,
And Albert Pujols, #5 – their swings, pure baseball heaven.
Today is baseball’s Opening Day, a LONG-awaited season.
What new numbers might come in play - aligning rhyme with reason?
The stands will all be empty though, as COVID keeps us home –
The closest I could come to being there is write this poem.
These numbers represent some well-loved gamers known for winning;
Even the Good Book recognizes them: “In the Big Inning”!
* - Maris passed Babe Ruth’s record of 60 HRs in a season, but it was a longer season, so the commissioner issued an edict that an asterisk be placed in the record books to annotate a ‘tainted’ new record. Billy Crystal made a brilliant movie about that, calling it 61*
I established a rapport
with the Sacred Cow
and it stepped all over my toes
the oil of anointment in my crankcase
I was limping worthy of an asterisk
an army of monks couldn't keep me pure
laughing all the way to the blank
Hell has its saints too
my food chain has a dog on one end
pet my good luck hump if you must
or my scarred and bleeding shins
the Siberian delegate exhales belligerently
after exterminating the wooly mammoth
humanity is the only species
counting the days
badly trained by fire ants and monkey uncles
I've contacted the hunchback sperm banks
for a below zero safe deposit box
hmm that won't grip the road either
separated at birth by a faulty wall socket
while descending through the atmospherics
with a license to lounge
upon the mules of creation
like butter through hunger
only in your head holy man
expletives erupted from his throat
making antic come here gestures
while camping under Bigfoot's foot
a sea of irritants sending messages
through my lawyers Rugburn & Nosebleed
you vampires should be in bed at this hour
if only because monotony generates subtlety
we played 'em right into the net
sent the boys off on a Nanking holiday
to animate something foul and oafish
that's now clogging the sewers
kill the spankers slit their throats
like the moon through a windy fog
one thing blending into another
fueling up with ignorance again
but I don't see how we could wreak hell
any more than the universe
already buggering ahead does
even with bear claws over our hands
for protection or decor
like a hotel banquet ice carver
in an encounter with the Dancing Strumpets
anti-inert at least
his frozen uncertainty runneth over
in a renunciation of befuddlement
by the often pillaged soul
living a farcical incoherent nightmare
slammed through the one chance swinging gate
and went clomping into showbiz
with a gypsy clan of Yiddish fiddlers
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
They spread the rumour
It ain’t true
what they like to think of you
only human
See their mood
humourous
see you lose
exuberant
banter bouncing
blunt abuse
stand rebound it
legs refuse
their open mouths
wish you clown
jokes they sound
keep you down
what goes around
It’s your turn now
Felt their bow bow
cope somehow
I sink drown
no help about
hold hand out
they slap it five
all an act all a lie
hold my hand now
small piece dies
make out you are nice guy
backs behind
laughing louder
oh to live a life o' lie
insecurities are rife
sly I see in your eyes
laughter cry
not around now
out of sight
Not around
out their life
they think my fall
makes them look tall
but they stand tall
their hand I pulled
laugh me down
they are cruel
I helped you
when you struggle
strop and crawl
I know your weakness
pain and sore
how you stumble
how you beat it
what cause trouble
wait repeat
burst your bubble
I won't seek
see you leak
I now cope all on my own
world you’re yet to have known
for now you have an ego grown
I’ve the pin to see it blown
for now you feel the bigger man
but bugger damn I know your head
misplaced banter fed me threads
you love it how I fumble down
one day luck will turn around
normally you must resent
this has been your chance to vent
showing you are not a gent
misery wishing far from decent
descend my friend love to offend
funny how you jump on board
“mates”, I think I'll cut the cord
You ruin moods
can’t be accused
divert attention
“Look at you”
If it’s me
I’ll leave you be
replace and blame somebody
if only you could take the blame
accept responsibility
but you cannot it's lame
so long to you and me
screenshots of these words get passed
all I think is kiss my asterisk
you don't know whom I aim specifically
assume and right you must be
[Disclaimer: The poem does not intend to hurt anybody’s religious sentiments. It is purely for the purpose of entertainment, art and awareness.]
[Note : - If you don’t know who is Draupadi, follow the link given below the poem to find out]
You are not a s**t.
You are not a w**re.
You are not what people think.
You don’t deserve the abhor.
You didn’t choose polyandry,
It was a nonsensical fate.
A man’s sly desire,
But you get all the hate.
We hail Karn’s sacrifices.
We all feel his pain.
He is held like a hero.
Your go in vain.
When the rules of a game
Became bigger than your honour.
The respected men, shame,
Pushed humanity to a corner.
Turned a deaf ear to your screams
As you were disrobed to their gaze.
The honourable men errant extremes
But dirt is shoved in your face.
A symbol of rape victim
S**t shamed by the society.
A fodder of the chauvinists,
A pacifier of their insecurity.
But you don’t need our sympathy,
You are fire in disguise.
The sexism,however, is thriving
So I incessantly despise.
You are not a s**t.
You are not a w**re.
You are not what people think.
You don’t deserve the abhor.
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Thank You
PS - I hope you understand the reason why two cuss words have been used in the poem. They are not for the purpose of spreading profanity but instead to slap the words back on the face of the sexists who call those names to Draupadi. I meant to use those words without asterisk for better effect, but I will abide by the rules and let the poem's effect depreciate a bit.
One afternoon as I walked by,
Saw Fred staring at the sky.
I stopped and shouted out a “Hi!”
Fred gave me a wave and beckoned me nigh.
I had no place I had to be.
So, I wondered over for to see,
What it was Fred wanted of me.
Would you like a beer?
I have a few on ice right here.
So, we sat beneath a maple tree
And this is what Fred shared with me.
“I’ve been cogitating on some numbers.
Ruth hit 60 back in 27
Took till 61 for Maris to hit 61
Ford Frick gave it the asterisk
Because baseball went from 154 to 162
Games that is, and it took Maris all 162
The record to break
Now it held up till 98
When Sosa and McGwire hit 66 and 70
In 99 they hit 63 and 65 respectively
All of this was undone in 01
When Bonds hit 73
All these homeruns seemed an anomaly
Then Conseco spilled the truth
All these guys were on the juice
In plain and simple terms
To break the records, they defeated
Each of them had actually cheated
Numbers often tell a story
When numbers shift in great proportion
There is always an explanation for the distortion.”
Then Fred reached down and grabbed a stick.
Waved it around as if he were performing a trick.
Next, he started writing on the ground,
When he was done, I looked down and found:
52.6 53.3 50.2 55.2 49.0 51.2 56.7 58.2 54.9 55.7 66.8
80 84 88 92 96 00 04 08 12 16 20
Now what is this I inquired of Fred?
This is what Fred said.
I first voted in 1980
So, each year’s voter turnout I have listed.
See in 2020 the numbers shift in great proportion
And I can only think of one explanation for the distortion.
There is a new English gang in town
In the town of Punctuation
They call themselves the “Punch U” gang
A solid gang with a strong foundation
The Punch-U gang members consists of:
Hyphen - the gang leader
They call him Dash
He is charismatic, clever, a born leader
Firm but fair…. excepting no gang trash
Exclamation point ! Dash’s right hand man
They call him Lanky
He is confident and likes to make his point
Dramatic and often a little cranky
Asterisk * Dash’s girlfriend
They call her Starr
She is smart, astute, keeps mental notes
A free spirit who sings and plays guitar
Question Mark ?
They call him Curly
He is so very inquisitive
Often indecisive
A deep thinker and quite surly
Comma ‘
They call him Jack
He is quite the lad and joker
Jack often steps out of line
And needs to be kept on track
Brackets ( )
Identical twins called Jill and Joy
Always together or never far apart
Fun and happy
Popular with the boys
Full stop .
They call her Dot
Outspoken and very definite
Always likes to have the last word
Often heard saying “ Now thats it….just Stop”
Quotation Mark “
And yes they call him Mark
He likes being the centre of attention
Being in the know
Does not like being left in the dark
Apostrophe ‘
They call her Sue
With Sue there is always something else to come
Taking short cuts
Is what Sue enjoys to do
Colon:
They call him Number-Two
Funny, entertaining and chatty
Though sometimes he takes it too far
Talking a lot of poo!
Im just so uhh.. I don’t know.
Today I show my true colors on my obvious suffering,
guessing whats wrong whats right im not sure
but for tonight I sit in a life filled with blight.
Slight sighs away to fade to black, impact, destroy your soul
make yourself into a concrete block full of nothingness only to sink to the bottom of the ocean.
I explode implode into a hardened state and remain benign till the end of time.
Oh oh it would feel so fine just to become divine, one with the earth.
It’s a message.
im not sure I’ll ever learn what to do here
im lost at a stop sign with a hundred thousand turns.
Frozen im wrapped and clung to this world of cold and harsh elements
putting strain on my vital organs raping my soul of happiness.
Making greatness seem so far away
I fade to blue and sink deep to the bottom of the volcano
becoming incinerated into something in the air to rest and roam free in life
only to see what I could have been
and sit and kill my brain cells with a negative mold of algae that is slowly breaking me into
debris. Breaking me down breaking me down to a place in the ground that is so unsound
that makes my life feel bound with a mission impossible asterisk on my name
dictating the conclusion of my freedom.
so save me please save me from a place I don’t belong for I can go on no longer.
Form:
Beep!
Yo! this GOD
You most likely calling
Cause time don got hard
You either got yourself put in jail
Got send to hell
Or maybe things just not going so well
But I’ll hear you out anyway
If you got seriously injured
Trying to be a hero press zero
If you want forgiveness
For what you’ve done
Then press one
If you got a life changing situation
To make and you don’t know what to do
Then press two
If you want to be more like me
But you’re a he/she
Then press three
If you’ve been masturbating or fornicating
And woke up with a purplish sore
Then press four
If you’re barely breathing
Barely alive
Then press five
If you’re currently being beaten
With sticks
Then Press six
If your want salvation to get in heaven
Press seven
To find a GOD fearing soul mate or date
Then Press eight
If your calling to thank GOD and
Everything is fine
Then Press nine
If none of your concerns have been on the count down
Press pound
But if you’re really tried of this
Press the Asterisk
And your call will be sent to the next available
Divinitive representative
If you’re calling to ask GOD for some money to barrow
100 year is only a day to GOD
So hold your breath if he says
He’ll call you tomorrow
If you can’t get thought and you on crack
Please hang up and call back