Long Bother Poems
Long Bother Poems. Below are the most popular long Bother by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bother poems by poem length and keyword.
I’ve searched my soul…
Taken lessons from the best…
And to those who don’t respect me…
I really couldn’t care less.
If you toy with my emotions…
Let this warning take place….
Walk the path with me if you dare…
Get off the path if you can’t keep pace.
I deserve better now and expect the best…
No damaged goods that need repair…
Don’t bother me with your problems…
I have my own, take yours elsewhere!
If your intentions are false…
And your spirit is really weak…
I can’t afford to be around you…
I quote you this as I speak.
If you think I’m being self-righteous…
You’ve hit the nail right on the head…
It’s time I put myself first…
For once, I’m thinking of ME INSTEAD!
I don't know why some flowers bother,
To unfold their petals so late in the day,
At this time of year,
When there is such a nip in the air.
They might as well have stayed tucked up in their bed,
As come morning, I will only have to cut off,
What is left of their head,
With no chance of giving them even one peek,
In the hallway mirror,
To see themselves in full bloom,
Or to become the centrepiece on a well laid table,
For the guests to marvel at,
And comment on their rare beauty,
As they gently fondle their delicate petals.
Oh, what a cruel fate awaits those flowers,
Who fail to show up at their appointed time,
Giving no thought to the weather,
Or for the one getting out of bed to cut off their head,
And replace them with ones from the corner shop,
That will see themselves in the hall mirror,
And become a centrepiece at the table.
“This is just a beginning”, - thanks, message received
Though I think it's a continuation
I'll be sanctioned for lot more of things they conceive
For the sin to belong to some nation
So next after the payment service I use
Come the goods that I'm used to buy
They can sanction my bread, my still water and booze
The streets where I walk, and the sky
That hangs over me, in its winter pale gray
Fully sanctioned, and wholly defeated
In all that I am, I may bother to say
“So I guess now your aim is completed?”
Please help me to get back my basic rights
Charged in crimes that I didn’t commit
I contributed well to your victory fight
Do not disappoint me with cheat
I’ve endured the sweetest revenge you arranged
My redemption must be very near
Just sanction my thoughts and it will make a change
A whole lot of change to appear.
I write because I love it,
Creating words upon the page
Thoughts arise unexpected
Upon my mind’s stage.
Linguistic gymnastics confuse me
I have no understanding at all
When poems or prose is confusing
I wont bother then to recall.
Some writers set high expectations
And set down very strict rules.
With the P.C. person for authors
Ensuring you use the right tools.
Scrutinizing words of the meter
Making sure of the syllable count.
Rhymes must be true, and not near ones
If not, you are disqualified – out!
When readers engage with the writer
Their attention is captured by words
Imagined or real does not matter
If the interest to read has occurred.
I cannot be false or pretentious
To impress for the sake of reviews
If my words were hollow and thoughtless
I would feel disloyal to my muse.
I admire writers with prowess
Who can move my emotional state
With well-written stories or poems
From thought worthy lines they create.
We all have particular skillsets
Many writers prefer a free style.
While other use meter and rhyming
Does not matter - if good they’ll beguile.
So, before you criticise others
Please look at your own imperfections.
Take a breath, consider the authors
Who all write by their own intellections.
What Does it Say
By Franklin Price
04/15/2020
What does it say for many, who are staying in the house
Trapped inside for quite some time, with kids and pets and spouse
Normal life is passing by. Just how can you contend?
You're limited to what you do. When will this virus ever end?
There are some expectations for food at every meal,
Breakfast, lunch and dinner, for cooks, it's no big deal.
Some, who can afford it, still eat out most every day.
Some restaurants still open for pick-up, or take away.
Many have been layed off, there's no money coming in.
Unless you had some savings, for eating, where do you begin?
Paying bills, another thing, the rent, or mortgage too.
How long will this continue, what are you supposed to do?
The kids are quite a bother, they're home but still in school.
If you never were a teacher, do you sometimes feel the fool?
Was not the way you learned it. What are kids now being taught?
If all you offer is confusion, will your teaching be for naught?
Was working for you easier? From staying home, you had refrained
The hurricane's upon you, would have been nice, if it just rained.
Put on your grown up underwear, gird your loins for what is here
The light is at the tunnel's end, return to normal life is near
I feel what you are feeling, we all must face the fear.
I've had to do it once before, in Vietnam I spent a year.
Not quite as then, we're still at war, as then, it's not so nice
If we expect to win this soon, we all must sacrifice.
I hate the verse, despise its embrace,
Yet, a poet I am, in this ironic space.
No, I genuinely loathe poetry's face,
It revolts within me, words of ignorance trace.
Yet, within its lines, a refuge I find,
A cry for help, within its words confined.
I drown, thoughts suffocate, breathing a chore,
Why don't you aid me? Can't you hear my uproar?
Shush now, cease your words, your thoughts, be still,
Just feel my essence, let understanding instill.
I reiterate, poetry, my disdain holds strong,
A pastime, senseless and dragging along.
See how I bore you? You yawn, look away,
"Such a bother," you think, as my verses sway.
Silence yourself, no talking, no thought,
Feel alone, sense me, let understanding be sought.
I say it again, the hate I bear,
A pointless endeavor, this poetic affair.
I hate poetry, an endless debate,
Yet, it tags me as dull, a misfit's fate.
"An adolescent, lacking sense," you remark,
Startled, yet impressed, a girl with a spark.
But the hatred persists, relentless and true,
As much as I love it, in my heart it grew.
Branded as boring, a nerd they portray,
For being a girl with thoughts, I dismay.
For I hate poetry, an unyielding plight,
As I despise being undervalued, a forgotten fight.
Poetry, a non-judgmental haven I wield,
Shield against a world that refuses to yield.
PRESENCE IN ABSENCE
It been long, longer to say you've stayed
Bother not to knock at the neighbour's room for keys
That might have disturbed their sleeping pills
I lost all down the depth of bermuda without conflict
Out of pictures came the memory lane to me piece by piece
Without vice versa exchange with the moon while still asleep
If resurrection for death awaits to revisit
Welcoming without pass, passes through our gate
And when you set to sail home again without leave
See me as a whore in tempest, to rape the wind to ecstacy
Toast with the toasted bread that never ends eating alone
Let the moment go extra mile in mind with you, our walks only a mile can take for you
©Yusuf, A.O.
Day 1
I sit to write in peaceful solitude,
while words of tranquil elegance exude
visions of nature's beauty and soft light,
but it's not my muse which has taken flight.
A bastard housefly sails a curvy path,
as irritation grows to rage and wrath.
Essentially, the reason is because
this little jerk emits a galling buzz.
When I think the skumbag's finally stopped,
and I could hear it if a pin were dropped,
the excrement eating insect starts again,
an insidious attack upon my brain.
You would not think a creature who is this small
could find a way to bother me at all,
and yet he drives me completely daft and nuts,
until upon my window, I see his guts.
Day 2
Awaking from a frightful fever dream,
I hear a buzz, and choke down a helpless scream.
The window guts, a subconscious, wishful scene,
before I slept, I missed with the magazine.
One slight move, he's no longer stationary.
Have I misjudged this pint-size adversary?
His flight is like 3-D billiards in the halls,
bouncing off unseen, invisible walls.
Why has this beast chosen me to torment,
to lead me in my sanity's descent
to Hell, a place I would gladly send him
if my worthless Westways could only rend him.
Yet, I said, "fly to the screen door, for once,
and we'll both be free, you insectoid dunce".
A desperate jack o'lantern, I am hollow.
Everywhere I go, he seems to follow.
Perhaps, the little guy has something to say,
tracing the 3-D model of DNA.
Does he buzz the hundred thirty-seventh psalm?
Could it be that last week, I killed his mom?
Day 3
Hopefully, I think the fly's diminished,
and that soon this monster will be finished.
He seems to be flying slowly like he's drunk.
His decibel measure significantly shrunk.
He's fast and young, but he's aging faster,
giving me the better odds to plaster
him. Who will be victorious in the end?
On whose nerves are made of steel, it will depend.
Day 4
Dead on the floor, two haggard creatures lay.
In one's hand, "you're just like a summer's day".
Saucer xx427P54 to Saucer xx37PR4
and two digits more – Earth again
Sabre Rattling its nukes: We've
seen this before, on other worlds
eventually reduced, to Radio Active
Pukes – Though an age-old way-station
for our alien species, when exploring,
or simply on vacation, should we
finally X-off this Tumultuous Turd?
Write across its sky, a large 4 letter
word, ending with “You” – telling
them they are globally through...
So hopeless the lot of them seem;
the opinion now of our entire Space
Team – Why bother to compel them
to stop? – maybe the Universe would
be far better off, if they were replaced
with an artificial, more congenial
galactic top....
What Makes Me Smile
Smiles I seek from sweet shines of life
To abate stress of my daily strife;
Sweet shines of smiles brighten my path
Melt away harshness of my wrath;
Sweet smiles open doors of my heart
To the songs of a lovely lark;
I need not wander far away
To search for sweet smiles of the day,
I uncover sweet smiles close by
As I stare at the starry sky,
From cotton clouds cast as a deer
Racing in heavens without fear,
From eclipse of the silver moon
Outstripped by shining stars so soon,
From spring seeds shooting from the ground
From graceful breeze blowing around,
From flowers striving each other
To catch my eyes without bother,
From spring amethysts in full bloom
Vying with roses in my room,
From my cat chasing a grey rat,
My dog wearing a lovely hat,
From cherry blooms kissing my desk
To wake me up from my short rest,
From light rains splashing on my roof
From my stroll holding me aloof,
Myself holding pen upside down
To set down my sign with a frown;
Let me from sweet shines seek smiles,
I know not where I`ll lie awhile.