Long Certifiable Poems
Long Certifiable Poems. Below are the most popular long Certifiable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Certifiable poems by poem length and keyword.
Here I am, in the mirror again, smiling in that weird way. The way that makes me suspicious of myself.
Good gravy, I am crazy. Looney. Certifiable. Where are the men in the white coats?
I watch my eyes carefully. They are mocking me. Then I stick out my tongue at my reflection.
Crazy.
In a weird way, the person in the mirror is not me. It is honestly not.
My left eye has some amber in it. I never noticed that before.
I hold my eye open and lean in toward the mirror. The eye is red when I let go of it.
Are my eyes a solid match? I blink wildly, trying to find amber in my other hazel eye.
Diabolical self, the one who thinks up underhanded things, and does them, smiles at me.
A big, evil, smile. A smirk.
Who am I?
Duh mah. Duh mah. Duh mah. My heart is beating too fast
As I stare into a stranger’s eyes.
A madwoman.
She grins at me in a hunter’s killing way.
A happy hunter’s killing way.
My husband calls, “Do you want eggs?”
We snap back together, madwoman and I. We are play-unified now, at our secret self core.
I grin at my reflection. It is time to pretend there is only one me.
“Sure,” I tell my husband. We are the great pretender.
Contest: Pick a theme Poetry Contest Sponsor: Viv Wigley Written 8-18-2018
without asking for tangible receipts
but to pollinate greensward vis a vis
as pay forward recompense
many good samaritan instances
came my way of late, yet
hive heal stymied, how
unexpected gratuitous deeds didst whet,
a voluntary yen of mine
to pay back or forward
countless instances
to balance out scale reciprocation
doth weigh within mine conscious
and/or subconscious
giving back status unmet,
thus...this ambling, bumbling, fumbling,
et cetera sensate *****Sapien able Juan
Tim steady state Cane, tis ready and set
analogous to the tricks Seine
by a rheas ease pond dint
surveyed monkey smart pet
whom calculated thine net
total asper positive fortunate events this chap
and or loved ones within mine family met
since years gone by to the present moment let
me experience minimal anxiety
finds euphoric sensation within me (as if jet
ting into stratosphere,
and a counter force get
tin overpowering akin
to a creditable conscientious debt
begging to be honored as a non boastful bet
among the better angels of thyself
whom regulate acceptable, affordable, airing...
agreeable, amenable, un arguable heartfelt
good fella expressing deserved certifiable
bona fied ardent
action demonstrating appreciation
for innumerable, humbling deeds
done divinely deposing
dada's depredatory, depredation, depression
sans crucial life line feeds,
as genuine deep seated acknowledgement
as proof emotional, financial,
and spiritual bountiful personal necessity
receiving such psychic receipts heeds!
Beating Heart
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
Beating Heart
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
Beating Hearts
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
Truths unfold, His mercies pure
Part of Our Father's love assure
Beating Heart
Beats ---JESUS
Undeniable, certifiable
Eloquent Elohim Our God
Beating Heart
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
For one and all salvation call
Just turn around and be stilled don't stall
One and, you and I recieve the free gift
Redemption's Grace Liberty freedoms face
BLESSED JESUS
Truths unfold, His mercies pure
Part of Our Father's love assure
Beating Heart
Beats ---JESUS
Undeniable, certifiable
Eloquent Elohim Our God
Beating Heart
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
Hallelujah
Undeniable, certifiable
Eloquent Elohim Our God
Beating Heart
Speaks--- JESUS-JESUS- My JESUS
Beats my heart--- JESUS-JESUS-JESUS My JESUS
4/23/23
Written words & Arranged music
by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23 (c(
The lady, the lion, and the deep blue mouse.
Yes, it was a sultry day, a sunny day, an s type of day.
The lady wore a pleated skirt that showed her legs off like an open house.
The deep blue mouse was jolly, upbeat, excited, happy and gay.
The villain of the story was a gray cat, an ugly cat, a cat with mange.
This cat was 9 foot tall, 453 pounds, and thought she was all of that.
Some called her sassy, others used rotund, I only knew her a second, and I called her strange.
This darling story is set in Oxford, Texas, a town full of balls, but only one bat.
It's a simple tale, a wives tale, a Chestnut eve tale, this tale of woe.
The lady was not whom she seemed; she asked that we call her Racko, but her name was Lou.
She had hidden deep blue mouse in her pocket, after plying him with dough.
Yes, my readers, you have guessed it, mouse was out, and did not know
Lou intended to put him in the large, corpulent tooth-filled mouth of Strange Cat.
She wanted blue mouse gone, for her daughter had fallen in love with Blue, and it made her mad.
Not the angry kind of mad, but the "I am certifiable and should be President" sort of mad, right McGirt?
The lion was Blue Mouse's best friend, and he had telepathy, so he knew what he needed to do.
He put Blue Mouse safely aside, and ate up the lady, but he spit out the pleated skirt.
She is Crazy They Told Me
She is crazy, they told me, nuts, certifiable.
Forgetting I am nuts, and crazy, striving for certifiable
"She said this..."
"She had this look on her face...."
"I heard that she....."
I do not hear anything else
The paragon of crazy has entered.
She has purple and blue streaks in hot-pink hair.
Not a wig, but just as delightful, maybe more so.
There is a sticker on each cheek of a spider.
Her forehead is sporting a spider web tattoo.
"Can I touch your spider?" I ask her, holding my breath.
She laughs; a tittering, happy, chime-ful laugh.
A faerie laugh.
The most delightful one I have heard.
The others scatter, taking the rest of their lunches with them.
She can clear out a lunchroom!
Whoa, she is better than I ever imagined.
"You are Caren," she says, "the crazy one."
"You are Wanda," I reply. "You look certifiable."
She asks if she can touch my cobra tattoos.
I tell her, sure, but she has to not try to pull on it, for
it actually covers up my witch mole.
Best friends, born instantly thanks to the
fear and thoughtlessness of the status quo women
who bore the life out of both Wanda and me.
Spam-O-Rama-Dama
Try this tonight: One Shot Keto Fungus Destroyer. Put
This spice in your shoes to Fix Toenail Fungus and
Toxic Liver Backwash ...Overnight (Doctors Stunned)
MELT Fat Away with this 2,500-Year-Old Secret, and Stoke
YOUR metabolic furnace NO Dieting NO Exercise, Thought OR Surgery.
If You Can Flush a Toilet, You Can Do This (Doctors Consumptive)
SAVAGE SEX!!! Up to 12 Inches YOUR PLUS 12 Inches,
Hazda Tribal Elders Reveal Ancient Elongation Secret
Money Back if Overwhelmed Longitudinally (Doctors Emulsified)
Congratulations: YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED (You Flushing Buff,
Fungus-Free Penilally Salient Spam Savage, You) Confirm
Your Order Now: Confirmation Code 123.asol (Share with No-One)
Plausibly Certifiable Medical Experts standing by. They have seen
you coming for a while now, and Eagerly Await to Verify YOUR
Personal Information for Quality Assurance at NO EXTRA charge.
Here he is, my friend said, tearing off a pink silk scarf with a flourish.
I was confused. This was just a storybook, right?
Don’t you recognize him? She asked me.
On the cover was a stern looking old guy.
I shook my head “no”.
Don’t you have dreams about him?
I began to laugh, and could not stop.
Not that guy! I told her. He looks a hundred. We are twelve.
I dream of him nightly, she told me.
He takes me to wild adventures.
I believe she is certifiable now.
Maybe she is.
He is Chandu, the Magician, she says. As if that means something.
I beg her to loan the book to me, but she says “not tonight!”
“Tonight we are flying a magic carpet to Egypt.”
I am torn. Should I stay over or run like a hungry cheetah?
Once upon a mountaintop a she-monster named Mazy
was searching for a man.
She wanted a young, honest alien man. Not a nutty old
tooth-jagged Monster like Bill or Dan.
We were horrified. Inner-galaxy dating was ridiculous.
It did not work, and was crazy.
Bill and Dan had already trained lots of wives,
and if anyone needed wife-training, it was Mazy.
She was an odd duck, always reading a book,
studying biographies, and learning crazy new things.
No Monster Man wants a smart wife; they all want an un-learned one
Who will let them be overbearing kings.
They want to be able to order them up and down, here and there,
Women who are non-subversively.
They want women who will submit to their will,
Think they are smart, and revere them unmercifully.
Mazy had been terribly spoiled. She had been allowed to paint,
and laugh, and sing, or hug a tree.
Worst of all, she was reading Encyclopedias, was working on her Teacher Training PhD.
All she should be taught to do is clean the cave out for her husband and bring his dinner on time,
This other junk, she would never use was an absolute total waste of energy sublime.
Mazy at 23 was not getting any younger -way too happy and pretty for her own “good”.
“She is certifiable,” the jealous ones said. “She will die a horrible death, alone, as a spinster should.
She was holding out for an alien man she had danced with on Venus in many of her terrific dreams.
He came down in his spaceship on a Thursday, and
Whisked Mazy away to where her visions had always dream-seen.
Leaving earth planet, some of us heard Alien Zeke tell her, “You may learn as much as you want now.”
What insane sorcery is this? That is crazy talk, right? We petitioned her to come back and bow.
We wanted her to choose Monster Bill or Dan and stop learning a new language every single week.
But for some odd reason, she stayed away, in the arms of her progressive alien man named Zeke.
Written Jan 25, 2019 Contest: A Fairy Tale For Children
Sponsor: Eve Roper
When my enthusiasm is high and I feel joyful
my mind is orange.
Wildly and outrageously colorful,
bursting with happy to help sad out.
Sad is gray.
She wants to hold me under her muck
until I cannot breathe.
I begin shrieking for orange and hot pink and yellow
to save me, and they do.
Brown and gray hate me,
and I despise and detest and ignore them whenever possible.
They want me to be depressed and angry, my most non-self.
I would be quite mad, certifiable probably,
if orange and yellow and neon pink did not shower
me with love and respect and bliss.
I would be carried off in a straight jacket
if people realized how psychedelic I am inside.
But I keep it under wraps.
It is bad enough to have nightmares where
I am screaming and kicking, trying to be myself as
infamous gray and angry brown attempt to
drowned me in the squishy mud of Status Quo Swamp.
Sh!
Rest assured.
I do not go quietly.
Rewarding bad behaviors
to me is certifiable,
however, that some school
theories are leaning
this way is pretty undeniable.
The ones who act the most horrible
are being rewarded hourly, and
winning fantastic prizes galore.
The ones who yell and scream and
act ridiculous are forcing frustrated
teachers out the door.
Today's incorrigibles are
the ones who yesteryear were
not the ones who were winning.
Yet, these days, in these great times,
these darlings are spinning,
in the hallways, on the roof,
and we are supposed to be just grinning.
Deplorable environment now, we have many
good teachers leaving schools.
Out-of-control children and their sue-happy
families are winning.
Are we a bunch of fools?