Long Blandness Poems
Long Blandness Poems. Below are the most popular long Blandness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blandness poems by poem length and keyword.
looking for a little different in an imprisoned planet of same
a drop of color presents itself and melts the ice cubes freezing the warmest part of my heart
in an altered dream within a lightly fused state of somewhere, she returns to me in a perfect shade of everything
looking for a little different in an imprisoned planet of shame
many cups of intentional nothingness has made me an addict in the salty puddles of my own shame
in an altered dream within a lightly fused state of somewhere, she reunites with me in a perfect hue of all and all
looking for a little different in an imprisoned planet of same
a touch of blandness completely floors me giving in to regret and sure shame
in an altered dream within a lightly fused state of somewhere, she makes it official with me in a perfect illumination of always meant to be
Its ludicrous in wales today, ideology holds the maddest
Sway.' A twenty mile an hour plan, for every motoring
Woman and Man.? And every bus? and taxi too? A lunacy
A type of zoo.' Thats how i view this stupidity, and it can't
Remain..' Twixt you and me' just like a joke, its really bad
Thats plain, which be shared, cause its too sad.' Some scum
That float
Ideas and division, have slashed and torn, the soul and fabric
With savage inscisons.' almost un-human, its nearly there'
Cold as ice, devoid of care, Wales needs more optimisam
Less oppression, more hope; and not such blandness and
Nonsense revision, with inverted tropes' baboons i say could
do no
Worse, than your so called leaders all davos re-vh-ersed.!
Spring semester has started.
We’re all immersed in the ritual of change
and totally committed to that descent into madness
to the relentless drabness, the flatness, the blandness
for the hours, days and weeks of study
and a bone-deep fatigue that’s actually funny
We’ll live at the edge of intensity
near the the corner of drudging
and gather around the printer
at the media center
like a secular rite of passage
I think I need a daily grind—to keep my mind busy.
What’s wrong with me, that when I’m on vacation, I miss it?
What if work/study is one of my bone-marrow-deep love languages?
.
.
Songs for this:
Happy Dreamer by Laid Back
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
(You're Better) Than Ever by illuminati hotties
Whispers of Youth
Dusty boxes, like forgotten books, Hold chapters of quantum leaps— My first steps, tiny and determined, Leading to a world of wonders.
Goat’s milk, flavored with Grenada nutmeg, A remedy for cow’s blandness, And lactose intolerance—the secret code Of those simpler days.
Cod liver oil, Sunday mornings’ ritual, Bitter drops to ward off unseen foes, Mumps, measles, whooping cough— Childhood’s battles etched in time.
Curiosity fueled my quest: Pebbles, night crickets, butterflies— Each a treasure, carefully collected, One line at a time.
And that snarky bird, Caged, then set free— Freedom’s squeak of happiness, A lesson etched in feathers.
The kitchen window, a gateway, Its slight squeak echoing freedom. The bird, banana thief turned guardian, A debt repaid in whispers.
Childhood memories preserved, Not just atop that distant hill, But in the flutter of wings, And the quiet moments we cherish.
Feel free to add more verses or share more memories—I’m here to listen and weave them into poetry! ??
Form:
Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes
and birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of Man has no place
to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20 NIV
PLACE OF RESPITE
Cheek-tinge of pink dawning in the murky skies.
Blandness of deep-earthed bark, stretching,
touched by birdsong…long overdue, it pries
the stirring of tinctures, heart-revival fetching.
The soft cooing of dove-white countenance
behind the adventurous arms of upright praise.
The milky colorant, the soothe of boundlessness,
heaven’s face — the wise eyes of Jesus’ blaze.
Crustose lichen of green, subtle stripes of peel,
signature branch-sketch, by God’s hand, varicose
leans into his every word — his glory-heel
at cross-times past, every blood path, bellicose.
Eureka! I once again, open my ears to golden notes.
Why is chirping so charming? …like an angelic shake,
the bell one or many…the beckon from furry coats,
unseen-existence b’neath the heaven’s silver lake.
The light brightens on the horizon, a New Year shines
through the I’m-glad-I’m-home-steal-my-heart blinds
Familiar bittersweets and blues, buttercup-yellows, signs
that love is close of hand and hearth, most oft’ kind.
1/4/2022
My flesh is flush with inadequacy each day
for no purpose pulses inspiration my way
No motivation shows to validate
that my energy even palpitates -
I am a daytime deficiency breathing.
All things seem possible before I sleep
then night’s energy sun fades into lethargy:
I rise to flounder, flail and fail to move so never do I see the
me that my prayers and hopes wish new days would promote.
Has karma woven my desires revoked
or am I now a bad aging type of joke?
I cannot grope life’s enthusiasm
nor can I fathom what has happened,
but I am sad that my self-esteem’s armor
has been pierced by darkness infused drama …
home clocks loud mock me
as moments find me unchanged
just aged within ticks
tocking my stopped impetus
in passion’s puddled blandness
Tasteless
Food is ugly, words are false;
Finish your plate or else!
Starving hungry with eyes that cannot see;
Understand, I just don’t want to eat.
Never been a vegetarian;
Bacon is too good at being the best meat.
Open fridge to a room full of emptiness;
Shelves so full of complete blandness, so complete.
Never needed a witness to confess;
Willingly I show you around my head.
My heart and soul may be connected,
But my brain and stomach are not even friends.
They cannot relate, my empty plate,
Wasting away, happy today in my own way.
Too full of apathy to eat.
I see my reflection staring back at me,
In the microwave machine;
The only place I bother to be.
I catch a glimpse of malnutrition,
But do not worry about me,
Or what I eat; I eat to please.
To please the ones who worry, they are sweet,
But I am still so unhealthy.
I am happy when I weigh less than I should be;
Used to have a better body.
Used to be a better version of me;
Used to be somebody.
Those days are gone forever;
Too far gone to remember gladly.
Working hard to find my six pack;
Afraid those days ain’t coming back.
Give it time and it may be;
Only if it happens will you see my body.
This skin on bones I hide with clothes,
This belly should not be a part of me.
I cannot let you see that I have become so flabby.
Happy being skin near slim,
Not fat like that.
The mirror man has never been perfect,
But if only I could reach what I once had.
Weight a while, break the scales,
Walk in the snow, walking for miles.
Heart, body and soul, no place to go,
Striving for perfect,
But those wishes are too shallow.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Disappointed that most of the things
she kept contained
on a daily basis
were far too banal to entertain
memories of sad things
over the years
ho-hum anxieties, insipid fears
rather mundane
and not even interesting
unlikely worries
like being kidnapped by pirates
or eaten by a polar bear-
but worries like her favorite dress
being ruined by the cleaners
and not having anything decent to wear
or getting a bad permanent in her hair
Disgusted by the
blandness
of my Mama's secret life
I flipped and skipped ahead
to after she and Papa wed
but it was no better
just drab descriptions
of her experience as a housewife
and lists of petty irritations
things he did that annoyed her
but she hollered those out
in screams and shouts
so even those were no great surprise
'cause it didn't take much
to 'get a rise' out of my Mama...
Eventually I learned
that people will answer
those questions every day
in the way they live their life
in the things they say
for there's a pattern to everything
and ultimately we each reveal
all we try to conceal
whether in our work or in our play
...and my Mama spoke volumes
in her diary
in all the things she
didn't say
In your eyes
huge vacuum
sleazy
step forward, says.
implore forgiveness
You strive for blandness.
better way
endears
sightless saw
a speck
Fear query
hold you in shackles
horrifyingly bruised
him
as haystack needle.
(Yalto)
"Yalto" is a form invented Edward Ibah
Line 1-15: 3,4,2,4,5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5 syllables
Date written: 03/27/2021
One more day on this cursed planet,
One less day in this infernal nightmare.
I chase after fleeting vanities,
Like an addict searching for a joy locked inside me.
I will spend yet another entire day behind a desk,
Counting the hours and the days for a salary
That prevents me from fulfilling my fantasies.
I will keep my eyes fixed on a computer screen,
Like a zombie bound to misery.
A vile coffee, a few cigarettes,
A sandwich as a calorie bomb,
And an energy drink to endure this torment.
Forced to accept this slavery
So as not to sink into poverty.
After this destructive routine,
I will once again write ramblings
To rid myself of the blandness of this dreary daily life.
I have some bills and alimony to pay.
The Parisian sky is as gray as the rats of the Trocadéro.
Scenes of horror repeat endlessly,
The same speeches, the same wars, the same victims.
They say the Earth is warming,
But the hearts of humans are growing cold.
I am always in a foul mood,
Everything disgusts me in this chaotic dimension.
But I still lack the courage to shorten
This miserable life I received for free.
I am condemned to sit front row at my own decay.
My vigor abandons me day after day.
I am on the train that takes me to the furnaces of hell.
I want to destroy everything, like those bloodthirsty tyrants.
I never had time to savor beauty or love.
Anger has spiced up the apocalyptic reality of my existence.
I am a paranoid allergic to human hypocrisy.
I have a sophisticated detector for treacherous souls.
I can no longer cry or laugh, I am simply angry.
My conscience is a minefield
Marked by convictions.
Life has never offered me roses,
Only thorns.
I crave darkness, stillness, and quiet.
I have never dreamed,
I simply do what I dislike
Since my arrival in this deathly dimension.
I tolerate neither betrayal,
Nor deceit, nor duplicity.
I will never have a pet,
I prefer the serenity of my solitude.