Long Bored Poems
Long Bored Poems. Below are the most popular long Bored by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bored poems by poem length and keyword.
Eternal Destiny
You’re a star!
I’m a mere hidden diamond.
I can’t afford to give you to me.
You’ll go far kid, forget about what we could be.
I am not meant to be your Eternal Destiny.
You would soon be bored, if we ever truly hugged,
And showed each other what was in our minds.
I have you inside mine for the rest of my life,
But you need someone you can truly love,
Not this ordinary guy.
It’s easy to love what you have never truly had,
So play it, never mind.
You’ve never looked better.
The sun glasses look good on you.
I’m still here in the rain wearing my Biffa water-proofs.
It looks like you like your drink at 50% proof,
And I am a tea-totaller, former smoker,
With no smokes to pass to you.
That was the best time of my life,
But my Wife left me, before I left.
I will always love you Ms. Right,
But I am not to be your shining light.
I simply love you... ‘nough said.
I never knew you were so unhappy.
If only you would have shown me,
I would have said “We are family!”
And I’ve got my “Sister” here with me permanently.
Down for life,
Down for fun,
Down for good love
And a friend I call a bud.
I always miss you
And I always will luv.
Those times sure were good,
But then everything changed,
And I couldn’t stay.
I had to get away.
So then you were gone,
And I was in the wrong,
For believing we shouldn’t be.
Who knows?
You could have been the one,
But I never gave us a shot,
So I can’t sit here and bemoan your loss.
I knew you’d go for a song,
But then you went and wrote a whole damn album!
All Killer No Filler, of course.
I hope one day you out-sell Thriller,
And I will still be here smiling about your love,
And writing these little ditties,
With a woman on my on my arm
Still loving those ‘mysteries’
You to me are still a complete mystery.
Oh my girl, you are oh so pretty,
And I am but a dweeb,
With no self-esteem.
I didn’t think you could love me,
When I saw you loved him.
I’m still searching for the one love I am yet to meet.
Still searching for new memories for Easy Street.
The Gardens aren’t so lovely now,
I’ve lost the coolest and most interesting.
Those were the days.
I was so in love!
I sure did have a need for you.
It’s my crying shame we never became ‘Us’.
(C)2025 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
It's one of those days when everything feels like an illusion unraveling at dawn,
Like a dusty road that fades into horizons without destination,
Each step seems futile, and the meaning of life dissolves in the mists of time,
It's just me and the infinite sky, staring aimlessly, as the hours flow like silent rain.
I lose myself in the blue of the sky, seeking no answers, never growing bored,
Like a dreamer caught between worlds, without anchor or compass, just drifting in the ether,
Breathing becomes an effort, as if my soul longs to escape,
To free itself from the cage of flesh, to soar beyond the body's limits.
It's one of those days when I wonder if I’ve ever been whole,
If joy was ever real or just a shadow dancing on the walls of memory,
And in the silence within me, unfulfilled dreams grow like wildflowers in the desert,
Awaiting a rain to transform them into gardens of reborn hope.
‘.’’’…………..’’.
Lush Eden was the garden of Eve
Bored with Adam, she took a leave
The snake enticed her with red apples
And got rich selling creamy truffles
Adam formed a new wife from clay
Not asking the Master, he needed a ray
But other men admired this woman slim
Adam's disobedience, another original sin?
©
* this is just for fun..according to TPS,
" a clerihew is usually whimsical, showing the subject
from an unusual point of view;but it is hardly ever satirical,
abusive or obscene."
‘’’’ ‘ ‘’’’’
P.D.’s Battle of the Clerihew
By nette onclaud
I have the need to feel free
like I've got nothing to lose,
I just want to get into my
blue convertible and cruise.
I'm growing tired and bored
of this same old abode,
I want to go much further
than just down the road.
I ease my dark sunglasses
down over my brown eyes,
as the summer evening sun
begins setting low in the skies.
My hand grips the steering wheel
and my foot holds the throttle,
as my lips take a long drink
from a cold Coca-Cola bottle.
I reach over and tune my radio
to my favorite rock station,
now I feel like driving through
every state in this nation.
I won't know where I'm going
until I finally get there,
All that I want to do is enjoy
the wind blowing in my hair.
I hold my hand out the window
to feel the air through my fingers,
I wish that I could always be
where the free spirit lingers.
Around the endless curves
my car disappears into shade,
far away in the distance
my bright red tail-lights fade.
I pass by rows of green trees
and a thousand birds on a wire,
the sky blazes a yellow-orange
as if the clouds were on fire.
I could not imagine anything
better to end this perfect day,
than an amazing view of sunset
out on this lonesome highway.
The air is becoming cooler
as the day blurs into night,
I feel so awake and alive
in the sun's fading light.
I keep traveling on down
this lonely two-lane road,
I drive into the sunset
and forget my old abode.
May 8th, 2014
It's been difficult for us all
Being restricted isn't cool
Especially for children
Who would rather be at school
You can do this
But you can't do that
You can't touch or cuddle
Or even pat
The dog looks grumpy
The cat forlorn
Dad's in the garden
Mowing the lawn
Mum's in the kitchen
Baking away
It seems since the pandemic
She's baked every day
The kids are getting bored
With all their indoor games
They have started to call
Each other rude names
Mum is horrified
Dad is amused
That was short-lived
The telly blew a fuse
"Why can't we have the telly on,
It's all gone black."
Mum went very pale and wan
And fell on her back
The baby started screaming
She needed her bottle
Dad took a long look round
To find something to throttle
Mum recovered
From her touch of vapours
Dad started to tidy up
The toys and the papers
The kids resumed their fighting
One accidentally thrust his knee
Smack, Bang, Wallop
Whacking the blank TV
Suddenly another noise
A very different sound
The children, both girls and boys
Got up off the ground
Dad smiled at Mum
She smiled back at Dad with glee
Miracle of Miracles
On came the TV
Too long since smooth sapling skin
bent supple with the slightest breeze;
now stretched, fissured and furrowed -
bored, burned and bent -
sliced, scarred and carved, yet
I have lived wonderfully and fully.
Old limbs that once swung
a laughing child and sheltered
more than one forbidden kiss;
the only witness to many lonely tears
and, at least as many hopeful prayers.
Why pensive then, when so many
would desire my fate?
Perhaps those melancholy desires
for what was, when I stood not
quite as tall, when many
proud elders surrounded me,
wise and strong but now gone.
I will soon join them but
today a Robin tickles my brow -
a home for one more brood
and October will find one last shout
of crimson beauty ... I am still
proud.
Word Sonata in B Flat (in 5 Movements)
You know exactly what you’re doing.
You sit in that short red skirt, and
Cross your shiny tan legs, there. Now you
Lean over with full cleavage exposed,
And partake in another draw of smoky seduction;
You can see the dollar signs in my knowing eyes,
And I can see lovely times at poolside,
In your short skirt, and dark glasses.
So cheers! To us, just a couple of cool cats,
Two old hippies,
With lemon drinks, glass bongs, and feathered toys,
Conversing wordlessly in eye language,
Under the searing unzipping sun,
Embracing the approaching nakedness.
Laying out in a chaise lounge with white noses,
Just drying out our souls and bodies,
Drying out our differences with the holding of a draw.
Pass it over here sweetie.
I feel it too, as you sit there,
Staring at me like I’m the package you were expecting,
Last week when the mails didn’t come through,
Due to the storm, and the mud and the misery.
I enjoy women like you.
As you sit there in your short red skirt.
There is a mysterious gloss covering everything you say,
A gooey gloss that smells of electrical wiring,
Something that might make a person sick,
Or maybe bring back a stubborn memory you forgot about
For decades, because you were lost,
Lost inside a rolled-up carpet,
An old rain-ruined rug from 1958, or so,
When times in the backseat meant something to a person.
Now look at us, just a couple of cool cats,
Two old hippies,
Bored and resigned,
Passing reefer until the stoned moment is realized.
Yes, just sitting here looking at you,
I can tell,
You know exactly what you’re doing.
Had this weak pen those sly Phoenix's powers,
I wouldn't pester Time's much-envied eternities
With blank queries that deaf ages well eschew,
With any other of fate's multi-jigsawed parities.
I would some five hundred ugly monsters kiss,
And with each lip-touch life's bored cares miss.
I would with most fatally feared cannibals play,
And thus remiss spend longevity's primest day.
But that legendary fowl's exaggerated breath
I lack in luck's slow-fading inkwells and quills;
Her survival ruse against death's sinking ploys,
I feign no better than antique anecdoting skills.
Bereft of mystic health plus its fabled might,
I sing and act like one with a rationed height.
Why tire the chained serf's tongue and sinew,
To be outlived by tiniest wings that ever flew?
So let the hour-caged minion to Maidens Nine,
Indite his poesies while life still winks her sign.
This fool doth not consider himself wise,
writing paltry poetry difficult
to read and/or actualize
methinks perusers of great literature
snub nose how I miserably advertise,
laughable attempt to aerobicise
fifty plus shades of gray matter
lobbying showy words agonize
zing effort perhaps best to cauterize
near petrified glob - boon
for scientists to analyze
baffling laboratory technicians
unusual crenulations
a profound surprise
pitiful peremptorily doth apologize
unlike verbalization feasible
after webbed whirled fist size
terra incognita reveals numbskull years
wrought yours truly to anesthetize
smelting, squelching,
and suppressing emotions
scored how tree rings annualize
environmental conditions definite
premature imp of the pervert
poe fella lifetime channels,
where bullies did antagonize
upon death requested autopsy authorize
zing eager scalpels to apprize
miniature dried river bed
formerly streams of consciousness
lake never seen before engendering
crowdsource to hypothesize
baffling every expert,
how terrible fate did baptize
ala lemony snicket series
of unfortunate events
multiplied power bajillion times
number only Google could surmise
obvious tell tale signs did brutalize
as if smacked upside the head
one unfortunate gladly apparently
suffered maelstroms of armageddon size
poet chars evidently
succeeded to burglarize
more successful than Watergate
psychological ploys hackers
noninvasively did cannibalize
(perhaps bored furloughed
government employees)
albeit noninvasively deeming
imposible to canonize
resultant cerebral corpus
understandably did capsize
entire body politik (Democrat)
faced, booked on hatred did demonize
verbal assaults indicate
suffering did caramelize
cerebrum, cerebellum and brainstem
resembling burnt offering
impossible to categorize
glommed hardened integument colleagues
hard pressed to characterize
highly rendered anomaly,
hence unfair to criticize
erratic schizoid personality disorder
quite evident amyloid plaques
did significantly crystalize
definitely explain aberrant quirks
resultant incessant emasculation
unquestionably led him to demoralize.
Anything you lose by speaking your truth isn’t a loss
It’s an alignment
As individuals, we all have our assignments
Our purpose transcends people and
Our alignment sees the fake from the real
Go after your purpose before it is too late
You belong to your goals even
If a river of darkness heads your way
Stay glued to your direction and remember
“Locate the problem
Find a solution to nourish humanity
Strengthen what you have
Do it before it is too late.”
Chase your purpose
Raise your expectations
So that you never get bored with your purpose in life!
Strike a chord with destiny and
Let your gift feed humanity, even.
If you lose people along the way
Stand your ground because
Anything you lose by speaking your truth isn’t a loss
It’s an alignment