Long Buffer Poems

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


The Painful Facts

The Painful Facts
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.

A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,

She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.

But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,

The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,

Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?

She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,

But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.

Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
 
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.

And  ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.

Dedicated to Chantel

     This  is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
 The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
     Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
Apparently now, Jan in the year 2019, States like New York have opted to let go of civilization altogether and drown their laws with paganism and child sacrifice. Lord God have mercy on us !? or not?

-Robert A. Dufresne
PS.
   ET TU VERMONT ? FEB 20 2019
Form: Rhyme


Upon Our Yours Truly and His Missus Exchanging Holy Matrimony Vows

Upon our (yours truly and his missus) exchanging holy matrimony vows

Ultrasound allowed, enabled
and provided obstetrician to zoom,
image courtesy sonogram
showing fledgling fetus,
thus we pledged our troth after spouses' womb
(approximately halfway
between her pregnancy) did balloon
uterus, wherein conception
delineated birth of eldest daughter, and many a tomb
morrow later she resides in Oakland, California.

I attempt reasonable rhyme about...
oh happy yesteryear
when newly minted groom (me) wed bride
family in attendance cried
as Justice of Peace officiated as legal guide
extolling pregnancy of she who could not hide
figurative bun in the oven which matured inside
after two gametes fused and multiplied
countless times quickly birthing embryo
baby on the way nullified
application of premarital sex
and attendant use of contraceptives.

Clear out of the blue
thee wife asked me
opinion if wedded bliss between us
ha, how heretical to think otherwise
since romance long since flew
out the figurative window
impossible mission to feign significant other
analogous to brand new
alluring, beguiling, captivating... tchotchke.

All kibitizing aside, a requited love with zeal
I attest invisible spokes support unseen wheel
when turning sparking genuine care and concern
act as buffer against emotional hemorrhage
and received good housekeeping approval seal
more applicable to most recent
elapsed wedding day anniversaries
ex post facto after both daughters flew the coop
finding me reeling with empty nest syndrome,
whenever yours truly reviews mental newsreel,
now absence of offspring, akin
to psychological wound I did heal
no longer mourning natural course
of begetting progeny more readily
accepting their necessary autonomy doth appeal.

Though marriage devoid of physical intimacy wife
get along swimmingly, we exhibit less strife
than days of yore effulgence promulgated
to all readers unbeknownst to human life
form characterized by bloke,
whose words appeared across screen
exemplifying, embodying, and edifying
regarding beloved simian counterpart
bandying playfully sometimes
drubbing and drumming my body
while she (commandeering 
certain orifices of her body) emulates sounds of fife.
Form: Rhyme

Fine Be Fair

FINE BE FAIR
~~~~~~~~
Rapid rhyme
Rapid that's fine
Fine I'll drink to that
Fine fresh vat
Vat fresh nouveau wine
Vat fresh Beaujolais sublime
Sublime dry
Sublime I cry
Cry out
Cry shout
Shout delt
Shout heartfelt
Heartfelt my soul
Heartfelt control
Control truth
Control forsooth
Forsooth I'm not a fool
Forsooth empathy a tool
Tool designed for the needy
Tool like sympathy
Sympathy compassion
Sympathy don't ration
Ration no
Ration woe
Woe sadness
Woe created by badness
Badness look around
Badness found
Found you can see
Found it must be
Be a way
Be staid
Staid daring
Staid in caring
Caring for peace
Caring to release
Release all
Release hear the call
Call shout it out
Out the evil
Out to save people
People suffer
People need a buffer
Buffer leaders
Buffer keep feeders
Feeders who care
Feeders who are fair
Fair to all
All...
Fair...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blitz
Definition
A form of poetry created by poet Robert Keim in 2008. It is a 50-line poem of short phrases and images. The "Blitz" poem is well-named, as the fifty short lines are read in rapid-fire fashion. “The form really relies on sound and rapid "flow”... Rob Keim.
Here are the rules:
Line 1 should be one short phrase or image (like “build a boat”)
Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1 (something like “build a house”)
Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words (so Line 3 might be “house for sale” and Line 4 might be “house for rent”)
Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines
Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48
Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47
The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3) (preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47)
There should be no punctuation, except for an ellipse after the final two words in lines 49 & 50.
The majority of the examples, (if not all), are not correctly classified by their authors and as such cannot be used as references.
Form: Blitz

Basting Brought Breads

In a royal antibacterial waste machine one must wait for the willing vibrancy of the whistling seal. Dressed neatly in a three piece suit he sits on a rock and calls to the breezes on which there are so few. In the era of expunging elitist effigies there exists far less than in a previous era so dimensions have developed a more triangular appearance. Seal looks on. Temperate falling skies bring all weathers and still not too many feathers on a beaded wind. A cloth can move around to bring alterations but altercations are caused by many plastic helmeted men who proudly hold the spray. And spraying is often located even in a bread. Or a small currant. Or sultana. Managed mainly manufactured. Measly mass monstrous movements. No moccasins here then. And thus the page is turned until the avenue is in sight. Roll roll roll. Here comes the square car. Beep beep. Out of which comes a giraffe, a penguin, a sea turtle with bright lips, and a monstrous fig tree complete with a very tall hat that reaches to Jupiter. When that is wiped the flight paths of emus sail to even the most far flung regions of the globe. And travesty is not travelling it is trapping and taming. Should one really place ham in a sandwich when pork should be free to roam? All aboard then. Is everyone ready? Comfortable? Enchanted? Good. For time is short. And a boom boom boom is arriving to stunt even the most strongest of plants into an oblivion of a scale. But not a scale of C. A scale of 0. No charging buffalo could ever stand true if the prefered angle is in a skirt or a bosum. And a bohemian's car is a secret castle. Watch out there is a lady who spews curd. Mongoose style of neck. So a mongoose and a buffalo do go to dinner to entertain for great plans are being made and a global economy has an appointment at the gym. So hahaha to all that. And place the 900 nappies in the bin. For the 890 children will surely mean that the £ will pay the way. House heating. And a heavy wide load giggling with a small town. Xxxxx high heels mooo looping. Xxxxx kittens kitty xxxxx belligerent buffer bluffing xxxxx done. And that was the p y q who was reporting live from a dinner hall in 1528. Z.
Form:

Sky Full of Stars

'Twas pain that taught my heart to bleed 
for sorrows of another...
then kept my deepest heartfelt needs
in silence to serve a buffer

For in the cutting vein of love
I saw a darkness unto death
with eyes of a child had seen enough
true love must stand the test

Such is the pain too grievous to mourn
speaking secrets craved by the heart
to give another the power with which 
to tear your soul apart

I've known the anguish of abandonment
and fled inflictions sting
I have faced the tyrants cruel mismanagement 
yet held my soul with wings

Of all the wisdom borne by age
no greater truth can be gave
the soul is filled in the passing of days
In the gaze of passions eyes and a lovers display

So brash can be those memories scorned
but fade they will like pages torn
Tis a hand un-held, a tear un-brushed
hearts crushed when the unspoken's not enough

Let slip not away the music-less dance
the kisses that tremor ones breath
miss not the chance for that touch of romance
what weight hath love unexpressed?

No, it's not the passing wounds
those flukes which plague ones journey
that leave devout all faith renounced
and deem sweet love unworthy

Perhaps the greatest fear is that
O're years in friendships tit for tat
passed will be what faith once lacked
and find such love not looking back

In the blink of an eye the magic could subside
to pang with hunger for the love of your life
to know from hurt you cannot hide
to trust is more than you realize

So if I've tested the depths of devotion
what storms your sails could bear
'twas solely because my love is only
of any value unless it is shared

Planned were not the trials endured
yet it's what it took for my heart to ensure
that love will bravely stand the test of time
stronger than chance, more made by design

And so to you I give in kind
holding out for the dreams, in my heart, in my mind
to trust at some blessed point will find
That breathless kiss will dance on the lips
which linger between yours and mine.

A love outlasting infinity
stumbling into guarded arms
the simplest picture of serendipity 
by a childish wish on a sky full of stars
Form: Rhyme


On a Good Note

7/21/22

Can't always be a fair bout
Got to air it out
Very little I've cared about
There's no need for prayers or doubts

You say I am, yet to me you sound delirious
I can't take you serious
One of many things that makes me furious
There's no better time to be imperious
Still remaining curious
About the mysterious
Finding the answer through luck or hard work and experience

There's no need to grovel
Occasionally god-awful
My impact minor or colossal
Learned it first-hand or through a novel
Breakfast of coffee and a Belgian waffle
The job done with a hose and nozzle
Still looking for love, while digging for fossils
People often acting hostile
Having tunnel vision like seeing through goggles
No time for drama, only money, got to hit the throttle
The last thing I need to do is sip out bottles

Fought for there to be new growth
Often I cut it too close
Even though you'd hope

That I would croak
We could both
End it on a good note

Among so many good folks
So many enlightening books wrote
Yet too often they say it 'looks gross'

Judging by the cover
Breaking down each other
Including our own brothers
The cycle continues on with no buffer
Think of your mother
Why cause one another 
Or yourself to suffer

Did my best to keep my slate clean
Learned a ton since I was eighteen
No need to sit and daydream
Very far from make-believe
 it if they tease
Lady we make a great team
So it may seem
Hey Queen
Would you like to go out for coffee or a BBQ with baked beans?
If not, how about relaxing and enjoying a faint breeze
In order to get it, it'll take cheese
Continuing to gain speed
I'd pick you daisies
Dig deep getting scraped knees
In order for us to both break free
You'll always be more than a main squeeze
 I'd sacrifice myself so that we all can attain peace
This is way beyond a campaign speech
We grew up different even if we were on the same street
It occurred quickly or for more than eight weeks
Quit trying to always make a scene
If you just want to hate and cheat
Then please take a seat
Serve you justice for being a snake and creep
This all having nothing to do with a datasheet
Form: Rhyme

We'Re Dreaming Dream's, the Poet's Dream So Pure

O Mother! O Mother! 
Don’t scold us 
for painting the sky. 
Don’t curse us 
for sleeping in the garden 
all day long 
under the blue sky bewitching. 
We’re not idle. 
We’re not lazy. 
We’re dreaming dreams, 
the poet’s dream so pure. 

O, my Mother! 
Allow us to kiss 
the dream’s holy lips. 
O how very wonderful, 
O how very wonderful it is! 
It’s a poet’s dream. 

“Ah! What a life the poet leads!” 
Playing with the thoughts, 
filling them with colors 
of the emotion as they change. 

Poet’s as the pond, 
never stagnate. 
They live, 
arousing thoughts 
all new, 
lit with the fickle lamps 
of laughter and tears. 

O Mother! O Mother! 
Don’t scold us 
for painting the sky. 
Don’t curse us 
for sleeping in the garden 
all day long 
under the blue sky bewitching. 
We’re not idle. 
We’re not lazy. 
We’re dreaming dreams, 
the poets dream so pure. 

O, my Mother! 
Allow us to witness 
the heavenly marriage 
between the oxygen 
ff our dreams, 
and the hydrogen 
of our realities. 

We are poets too! 
We’ve been scaling 
every mountain of pain 
and sailing 
every sea of happiness 
boarding the plane of our dreams. 

O Mother! O Mother! 
Let us dream. 

Buffer against stress 
self- medication 
We dream. 

O My child! 
If only I could think as you. 
If only I could dream as you. 

“If dreaming you are not, 
dream are you yourself,” O Mother! 

O My child! 
Many a dream is born, 
and many a dreams dies, 
but life’s way eternally the same. 
Life is nature’s own naturalness, 
where hopes are drowned 
in the sea of miseries, 
where illusion is more powerful 
than logic and logic than the dream. 

Yet dreams are dreams, O Mother! 
There is no heart where it is not 
There is no mind where it is not. 
Even Leonardo Da Vinci’s brush 
paused momentarily on the Mona Lisa lips, 
to let her dream 
- to let her dream. 

O’ Mother! O’ Mother! 
Let us dream 
together you and I 
Heaven and Earth 
are yet to be one. 

Are yet to be one. 

Copyright 2007 Bhuwan Thapaliya

Matthew Scott Harris Unmasks Ha Ha Ha Halloween - Part 2

frankly zapped after wildly oscillating
in tandem with seven bobble heads and ten French horns)
a devilish trumpeting event
by pre-Christian Celtic festival standards
with a “proto” Don twick or tweeting
like a Taj Mahal wonder of webbed, wide world scout
Samhain celebrated on nightfall of October 31

for bachanalia, candy corn, dreaded locks tot tout.
Now, the Celts I met lived 2,000 years ago 
in the area now Ireland,
the United Kingdom and northern France, 
believed that the dead,
cuz the underworld could not tolerate nor find stand
ding room, thus returned to earth on Samhain –
accessing a outdated map drawn by Rand McNally.

Though all roads leading to Rome, 
would be millenniums as future did advance
but (mentioned for no particular rhyme nor reason) 
only for discordant anachronism
Lewis Carroll took a tumble, 
and neither fat nor slim chance,
would never find him completing Alice in Wonderland, 
cuz quite an expanse
of centuries extant between his accidental slip 
somewhere back in time at a glance
hence, he befell the same fate, 
how Alice would never en hance
her life, yet the first stanza hailed 

as powerful punch from grunting naked tribesman 
with armstrong brandishing big lance
which phallic symbol extolled bare necessity, 
and no need to wear seer sucker pants
even when inaugurating the ritual, including the verse 

..."The time has come," the Walrus said
"To talk of ma ny things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- 
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."...

set the listeners in a trance 
emptying coffers of bipedal feral simians to add vance 
this yearly practice filling rucksacks 
with berries, carrion and twigs. 

Whether ya favor Golem, Hobgoblins, or Dybyk, 
take pause buffer ja pour out massed goodies heck
enjoy satiating yar sweet tooth while still able to lick
every morsel of junk food afterwards a tooth pick
might be necessary to remove gobs that didst stick
analogous to tallow melted from candle wick.

Premium Member The black hole of DC

“My name is Jonathan Mellis, I'm solitary confined
In a D.C Jail, where they destroy your mind
They call solitary confinement “the hole”. 
They drop you in and let time erode your soul.

It’s hard to cope with this tunnel of sadness I'm facing
At first, I'm lonely and my mind is racing.
After a while this turns into desperate frustration. 
Where are my champions in this once great nation?

I try to sleep all day, but I can’t turn the page
Then as energy comes back, I feel a surge of rage 
My skin is crawling and the walls close in, there' s no buffer
Because I liked Trump, jailers smile as I suffer 

I am Jacob Chansley, I was the guy in the news
I wore that fur hat with horns, not to mention tattoos. 
I told protestors to leave, when Trump urged us to go home, 
But vengeance wasn't averted when I took that megaphone

We thought the election was tipped by an unseen hand
The one gun fired killed Ashli Babbit, like me a veteran, making a stand
Three hundred days plus in the hole, an undeserved curse 
I’ve long had mental issues, and solitary made them worse.

I'm Jake Lang, I've been thrown in the hole, in this hell
Because I posted a video of myself praying in my cell.
Someone had smuggled me a contraband phone
So I tried to show the outside a faith like a stone

I've been in this jail for four years, seeing sadism shown
Nine hundreds of those days, in the hole, alone
Now they tell me the rest of the sentence will be in isolation
How easy power over prisoners morphs to an evil operation

Our leaders didn't express any sign of distress.
Neither Joe Biden nor Harris gave us redress
What happened to our constitution, does anyone care?
The founders meant justice to be speedy and fair.

George Orwell’s specter walks the jail halls
In the name of “our democracy”, liberty falls.
Friends, family, the press should be able to enter
To visit the detained, advocate for the dissenter
Whatever January 6 was about, this point should ring true:
When we lose basic rights, then you do too.
Form: Lyric

Pulchritudinous Independence Day 2023

Utter brainless nincompoop
in this poem heretofore addressing
I wanna be forever free
and clear from mortal anguish,
and need more than a blessing -
I need a miracle worker after confessing
behavior causing depressing
wretched state of mind
self incriminating admission expressing
emptying out checking 
and savings accounts.

Gross negligence fomented morass
of monetary hemorrhage,
thus yours truly speculating
imagining peaceful easy feeling
after quaffing hemlock beverage
(considerably less expensive
than trained masseuse
administering head to toe effleurage)
the former painless demise
popularized courtesy Socrates
whereby Athenian democracy
charged said philosopher

with impiety and corrupting
the youth of Athens
unlike him I feel mental,
physical, and spiritual states
devastated, jackknifed, and shattered
into a million little pieces,
hence appealing notion shucking off
western civilization equipage,
and concomitant linkedin 
corporeal defrauded earthling
and author of these words.

The importance of money
or lack thereof smarts,
especially when series
of unfortunate events
even Lemony Snicket,
would be flabbergasted
at such blatant and flagrant stupidity
exhibited courtesy yours truly.

Herr dummkopf did not function
with one iota of his brain
case in point entire
financial cushion he did drain
anonymous, barbarous, egregious,
ferocious, iniquitous jerks
re: cyber crooks enriched their coffers
in previous poems I did explain
how yours truly got sucker punched
to surrender substantial capital
subsequently severe depression

washes over me like floodplain
after a major hurricane
thus another shout out,
though I feel quite insane
to drum up buffer (in) zone
excedrin also sought
to bring temporary relief
far fetched likelihood in dough main
despite moon shot
to witness philanthropic boost,
I keep praying Meg Found
will pull thru and ordain
(fiasco from fraudster frazzles father)
one ordinarily perspicacious primate
who financially doth strain.
Form: Rhyme

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