Long Below the belt Poems

Long Below the belt Poems. Below are the most popular long Below the belt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Below the belt poems by poem length and keyword.


Shadow

11/22/20


Feels like I'm on and off of Mt. Kilimanjaro
Staying happy not wallowing in misery and sorrow
Trying to make the best of each day and night, since I might not see tomorrow
I know that time can not be borrowed

Whereupon
I'd stare upon
The night sky as time flied, then I continued the marathon
Once in a blue moon, was a paragon
Heard of, but not familiar with Farrakhan
The same can be said for hair of the dog


I've been hearing it
And experienced
Still not taking me serious
At times, it makes me furious
Then I get drunk and delirious
But now, I'm just curious
What is it about me, that makes every girl steer clear of this?
Just another question, remaining mysterious

So unexpected, what this life brings
Even though, there wasn't any strings
This one stings
I wanted to treat you like a queen and be your king
Buy you rings, and all kinds of things
Animals that do or don't have wings
On a property with a swing
And a spring

Whelp
Another heavy punch dealt
Below the belt
And this one, I really felt
No, I'm not just feeling myself

I really don't need help
But I'm looking to give it to somebody else
If only she felt, how I really felt
I wanted to make her heart melt
And stand out, but I feel like I've been put back on the shelf

At times I had doubts
I'm not going to bad mouth
Or look for any hand outs
Got to get it, fast now
It's so sad how
Here I am with just my shadow
Form: Rhyme


I...

I held you when you told me you wanted to be held
I kissed you passionately 
and made your heart melt
I loved you when you didn't
have the strength to love yourself
I stood there with my arms wide open 
and let you hit me below the belt.

I was there for you when nobody else cared
I let you cry on my shoulder 
when you told me honestly you were scared
I poured my heart & soul to you 
when no one else would
but still... I wouldn't take back
falling in love with you even if I could.

I was a father to your child
when the real one gave up
when family & friends broke you down
I was the one who held you up
I proposed to you because
I wanted us both to be free
but the moment I let my guard down 
the 1st opportunity you got 
you hurt me.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Come On Kill Me

Come on kill me! 
You have the dragger
And I have the soul
We both have our means
We both have our goals

You, the symbol of evil
Gather your courage
Strike with the might
When you see my soul

Ah, now you wonder 
When I say my soul
You like to play with the body
You enjoy deceiving
You, rebel, the outcast

You hit below the belt
Yet you say I am the courageous.
Your silly invitations are your weapons
Your preach treasury 
You show the ways to usury 

Gather your weapons 
Give a last try
Why keep waiting for the opportunity
You must come and strike now
Before my soul departs saying goodbye

The Debate

“Devoid of decorum and dignity”
Is one of the quotes that I heard.
To know it relates to the POTUS debates
Is as awful as it is absurd.

On one side, a bully whose bluster
Would get him suspended from school;
With no self-control and a hole in his soul,
He’s a pompous, perfidious fool.

On the other side, he who’d replace him
Wants to pacify, help and unite
Yet in making his case, what instead he must face
Is a nasty below-the-belt fight.

In the middle, befuddled and helpless,
Is the person who should be in charge
But when things go off-track, he can’t stop the attack,
Like a substitute teacher writ large.

We watch, feeling sick and despondent,
In shock at how low we have sunk
And that outrage and shame, for which we have no name,
Lingers on in a nightmarish funk.
Form: Rhyme

We Put the Wrong Son Up For Adoption

My son is a thief and a drug user.
I'm not lying when I say he's a loser.
It's too much for my wife and I to bear.
He's addicted to Meth and he's on welfare.
When my wife had twins, we chose the wrong option.
We put the wrong son up for adoption 
Our other son owns Starbucks and he's a billionaire.
He's not a loser like our other son who is on welfare.
When I told him that I'm his biological father, he kicked me below the belt.
It really hurt when I was kicked down there, you don't want to know how it felt.
I didn't know that a son would actually do that to  his own dad.
He's furious because we put him up for adoption, he's really mad.
When I introduced myself, I didn't help matters when I asked for a million bucks.
He ripped off my toupee and people started laughing at my bald head, that sucked.
I got kicked in the crotch and now everybody knows that I'm bald.
If you ever have twins, don't give up the wrong one or you might also be appalled.
Form: Rhyme


Factory Called America

You don't think you owe me
Well I contend you do
On my desk, I expect a bouquet of roses
I worked thru most my childhood
Paying my playground dues
‘Cause the factory called America never closes

Insufferable agony
Is an overrated trend
I don’t trust anything that relies on poses
It’s come too close to my family
It’s stricken my very last friend
While the factory called America never closes

It disarmed us into sympathy
Made us watch a little too near
Pulled the landscape right from under our noses
And stole four out of five senses --
The whistle I still hear
Of the factory called America that never closes

We share a hospital room,
Divided by two sheer curtains
What God would have concealed, the Market exposes
No, I don’t pray to no doctor
Not with all these nurses
To work a factory called America that never closes

I see my father over there
Succumbed to a Swedish catalog chair,
Nearly choking from his fitful dozes
If aging is the National Work Zone,
It’s wonder we come anywhere
Near a factory called America that never closes

Some punch the card
Some punch their spouse
Some punch below the belt
But that’s expected

There’s just two paths
In this woeful house
To the left it says, “Approved”
To the right, “Rejected”

Everyone choose a weapon 
The selection’s pretty hot
We got everything from geriatric purses 
to firemen's hoses
Made by way of China
Shipped straight to the parking lot
Of the factory called America which never closes

Oh no, still in the Garden 
We've hardly budged an inch 
We're barely past the part about Sinai and Moses 
In time, the clay will harden
And Judgment, a sure cinch
Till then, the factory called America never closes
No, the factory called America 
never closes.

My Hand Is Stuck In My Butt

I inserted a suppository right after I had been using super glue.
My hand is stuck in my butt and I don't know what I'm going to do.
When I went to the hospital, the doctors and nurses laughed.
They were in hysterics from laughter and they called me daft.
When they laughed, it offended me so I kicked the doctors below the belt.
They kicked me out and blacklisted me because they didn't like how it felt.
Because of my problem, I can't drive a car or ride my bike.
I can't afford a taxi so to get to places, I have to hitchhike.
The drivers also laugh and I have to slap them to make them keep their mouths shut.
It's been three years and I don't think I'll ever be able to get my hand out of my butt.

(This is a fictional poem)
Form: Rhyme

Food For Thought Vol.I

It's crazy how a woman & man have the power
to bring life in the world suddenly have 
2nd thoughts about that kid all because 
they were in the moment of lust and 
now...regret what they did.It's funny how 
the word love gets thrown around 
like a L in the cypher and how the use
of them four letters have killed so many
lives like a blood thirsty viper.How did holy 
matrimony ever turn into this facade this
circus act that's shown around television 
by people who see long term relationships
as long division something to divide and conquer
yeah seems like a misconception that Lucifer 
cooked up and served to the most cold hearted 
individuals, what ever happened to that we shall
over come I can do all things threw Christ mentality/
ritual. What ever happened to treating others
like you do yourself, why is it if someone wrongs
another we as people make it our business 
in the essence to hit below the belt why do people
need the esteem of others to elevate their self 
why does the truth hurt so much these so called
americans can't accept the cards that have been dealt
somebody tell me when it's ever okay to cheat on your lover
how is it so easy for people to forget the ones heart 
they broken or melted like butter 
now I ain't looking for an answer this just rhetorical 
I just thought I'd raise some eyebrows but at the
same time be warm & cordial
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Old Habits Die Hard

Got to hold it together, try to keep my cool, 
Even when dealing, with imbecilic fools,
Should know better, but they freak me out,
When in the wrong, they just scream and shout,

My problem is, I won’t back down,
Especially if right, and dealing with clowns,
Should I be the one, to hold my tongue,
Guess it all stems, from when I was young, 

Always had to, stand up for myself,
Show any weakness, get beaten up, no help,
That’s my dilemma, remains with me today, 
I’m wiser now, still can’t turn the other way,

Hold your ground, never let bullies off, scot-free,
Face them down, no good cowards, you’ll see,
Only seek easy targets, to punch below the belt,
Fight back hard you Lion, watch their bravado melt. 

By
David Kavanagh
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Fall Like a Feather

You must fall like a feather
And bounce like a ball,
If people cut you short
You must stand really tall.

If kicked while you’re down
Make sure that you get up,
Show you’re a dog with teeth
If they whip you like a pup.

If they dampen your spirit
Show your hope is still dry,
If clouds cover your parade
Make your fly-pass extra high.

If hit hard below the belt
Smile and shake their hand,
If your life goes off course
Just imagine it was planned.

Flex and bend like a willow
But retain a heart of oak,
If someone upsets you
Try and treat it as a joke.

You must fall like a feather
And bounce like a ball,
And - always come out fighting
When your back’s against the wall.
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace