Long Belittles Poems
Long Belittles Poems. Below are the most popular long Belittles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Belittles poems by poem length and keyword.
Kingston gal emerges the night
she don`t know just what is in plight
as she strolls the steets,to the first plane
it maybe easy steppers , dub or just the the same
As what went on the night before,mellow and rough
her pimp in her face and giving it tough
mouths to feed and her addiction
she dont need no grief or affliction
Priorty being,her four kids, why?
cos she got morals and will surely die
thats why she belittles herself and that is so
she can love feed and and watch them all grow
.
The World
The world we live in, free as it may seem
smiles at popularity, crowns fame,
mocks solitude and scorns ascetics,
worships money and dreams of good things,
of good looks, of good clothes,
professes humility and pity, while looking up at
the suns of our times, rich and famous,
who look down in turn at the pitiable
crowning them in their golden light,
the spotlight on the less-fortunate they direct, their situation they pity,
invoking the thanks of the Gods above, and the applause of the sycophants,
but cruelly, cruelly the world despises
hates, begrudges, admonishes and belittles
wisdom, and wise men,
the intellectual who sticks away from the crowd
and asks that the dreamy blanket covering the world be tossed away
is dismissed without a second thought,
and buried along with the fake news.
I want to run her thoughts
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just old, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint
Dinner out together,
the background music is too loud.
I can’t hear her words,
she can’t hear mine…finally we’re communicating.
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her mind or mine,
but Brailing my way around her silence.
Then I hear it, there between her vocal folds
a little girl is weeping,
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
*Image of The Big Bang Theory giphy by CBS.
Coronavirus: COVID-19
A knock upon my chambered door, silence foregone, it goes ignored,
Too feeble I, coldness instills, lain I awry e'er filled with chills,
Vice convince spree goes on toiling, thrice has it been, owned its spoiling,
My eyes have seen, I've read the news, tried ears have be, shunned knocked sound blues,
Scores abound knocked chambered door, roars I cannot, for I am sore,
Then suddenly, a stillness had come, my chambered door, went silently numb,
So I, read on, of coronavirus, tis recent so hence be it naught an antivirus,
Kept abreast of things albeit online, inducement, the spread, signs, all be I fine,
Cawing gawked my chambered window, peering through midst raised crescendo,
A black raven tis annoyance it is the calling, disturbance afoot, perpetual cawing,
A chapter be read, of the ailment, fear breeds in verses, amongst confinement,
As a bird scrutinize, belittles my illness, with a litany of awk, pesty nuisances,
Fatal passages beset home and town, beat I the averages, best all around,
A door and window, be I immune, alas, a dreaded raven befalls its lampoon.
2020 March 12
*2nd Place*
Coronavirus COVID-19
~~Team PoetrySoup: Judged 2020 May 12
I want to run her thoughts
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just old, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint
Dinner out together,
the background music is too loud.
I can hardly hear her words,
she barely hear mine
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her words or mine,
but Brailing my way around her silence.
Then I hear it, there between her vocal folds
a little girl is weeping,
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
No love lost no love found
Remember For the love of the family
I left home at age sixteen
That move changed my life
Cos it was a journey between
Me and the gods
I sorted for my destiny
My survival was on me
I was happy and brave
Despite out there the street was
Do or die
But that never worry my soul
I learnt a lot to build up my skills
I was the quiet type but a great observer
I relate with the big the small
The smart the failed humans
The bold the fearful
I never underrated no soul
Cos I understood everyone was important
I was easy going but sensitive
I was hungry and I knew what I needed
Cos I left home with a dream
I promised mama I will be save out there
Life happens and sometimes
Evils cross my shadow
People trusted turned against me
Friends changes with season
Challenges remains endless
Circumstances becomes unavoidable
Despite the wild and soft era
I always maintain my stand with my maker
This has always been a remedy to my source of inspiration
There is no better way with out peace
Cos out here on the street their is
No love lost no love found
No love found no love lost
Out there I saw I live
I never allow the street to overwhelm
My shadow
Cos am a living soul
Existing in a dying world
It can’t be easy for a tree
When the root is on fire
So I set my cross on fire
To burn the bridge of evils
That which is holding my grace
That which belittles my ability
Every living man is a fighter
Yet not all men are alive while they breathe
Cos they live to suffer what they don’t understand
Powers are real my friend
So let me bleed with the songs of my soul
I own no apology to ask for rain
I own no apology to be free
I own no apology to no one
Cos out there all over the streets downtown
All over the ghetto
All over the third world nations
All over Africa
Darkness is obvious
I tell you no lie their is
No love found no love lost.
Why
are there
stars in heaven above
annoying pinpricks in the firmament?
No need for black holes if all stars were shot on sight.
The reach for the stars is hopeless they are so far away we can never visit them.
Knowing the vastness of the universe belittles and demeans us to insignificance.
We would all feel a lot better, sleep a lot better, if stars were switched off.
Like city lights, stars glare, twinkle, flash so bright all night
that we cannot sleep, and shut shutters are so stifling.
If no stars shone, we could leave the curtains open.
Better not to know what may be out there
when aliens may be coming to get us
Celestial abstinence and solitude
is what we all cherish.
Let us hold a vote.
Raise your hands
if you want
all the stars
switched
to off;
stars
shot.
You told me today, I'm
Egocentric
Instead of taking my side
You're against me all the time
That's what it's like to be with
someone
Who likes to fight
You came out of the Marines
with something to prove
I lost my best friend years ago
I thought my new One was You
But maybe I was wrong
In thinking you were on my
side
I can't tolerate how mean you
get
Or your selfish pride
Every day we are together
I die a little more inside
And my friend's memory fades
in my heart
As I become someone else
Than Who I wanted from the
start
All I desired was a new best
friend
Someone to Love and accept
me
To be with me Till the End
Someone to hold me
And comfort me at night
Not someone who belittles me
And makes me feel I'm never
Right
Maybe I can be chatty &
dominant too
I know I've been sensitive since
childhood
But before I met you, I liked
Who I am
Maybe what I need
Is a stronger Man
I want to run her words
through a carwash, they are not dirty,
just stale, the way a classic corvette
needs a rinse occasionally, but never a re-paint.
Dinner together in a roadhouse,
the nasal song of a country boy
trapped in a ball-breaking melody.
I can’t hear her words,
she can’t hear mine…finally we’re communicating.
An owl in a hollow tree can hear the whole dark forest.
I imagine I am roosting in her throat,
listening, not to her mind or mine,
but Brailing my way around.
In those vocal folds, a little girl is weeping.
a mother belittles and scolds.
The server comes around. “How you’ll doing.”
She and the waitress look to me,
but I am still in the hollow of her throat
a space now witnessing
my own doleful litany of sad songs.
like a hinge of an old door
rusty and lacking of midnight oil
I am left speechless
unable to decipher the writing on the wall
it wails accuses belittles
mocks groans teases and admonishes
from cracks unable to hold its grout
where a couple of stones
have become loose
it is not an easy patch up work
bricks crumble under
a pick axe blunt and far too short
to keep longing at bay
but I wonder whether
there is a secret treasure
a message
pot of gold
old newspaper
an old marble lost
hidden behind my partition
with the world myself
and the past present delusion
that everything must be okay
a church bell distracts from agony
the cemetery must be a cold place
some graves are overgrown by moss
others too immaculate
not to scream out in numb pain
I can’t stop sad music playing in my head
too many voices opinions and judgement
a discomforting concert of sorrow
and a gramophone record hurt
by a needle unable to move forward
the clock strikes again and once more
endless reverberations of throbbing exertion
vibrations of torment and misunderstandings
and yet I can do this and my last thought
before overdue slumber
is that there is energy in the Universe
and sometimes it passes through me
that is when the silent scream
becomes a loud whisper
and shrieks become music
24th November 2022
contest pick a title volume 33
sponsor Edvard Ibeh