Long Complained Poems
Long Complained Poems. Below are the most popular long Complained by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complained poems by poem length and keyword.
House was washed away in flood, with all articles,
Savings of years, are powdered into particles;
No pain seen, yet; on members of the family,
One could see only smiles; midst the calamity...!
==
Father gone; mother then; husband is out of view,
Children, blossoming beauty buds, are plucked away too;
Alone in her hut, as half-dead, lives a woman,
If one asks about these, she says: I'm just human...!
==
Thousands or even more in our precious nation,
Live their lives in unutterable starvation;
They have just a plain answer with a charming smile:
It's our kismet; what, if whole life is a trial...?
==
Tsunami, destructive guest, visited our village,
And snatched away each from the other as pillage;
None ever complained to one's deity or God,
Accepting all pains, they did their glory applaud...!
==
Persons, who are by birth, physically challenged;
After birth, by mishaps, vital organs damaged;
Those, for the benefit of others, limbs donate,
All live as happy as birds and worries negate...!
==
Though used, often, concept romantically cool,
Ice in the veins, does introspectively whirlpool;
With daily existence, full of crucifixions,
Lived midst thorny chains of horrendous afflictions...!!!
24 April 2022
If you fly with an African airline, start praying
This is a true story, you will know what I’m saying
It happened in Kenya in the town Kisumu
Forty-four passengers in a plane with nothing to do
Just when the pilot got the all clear to fly
The passengers hear the engines die
Apparently, the pilot had spotted an flat tyre
And the flight to Berlin has to expire
The technical staff looked here and there
In the whole airport there was no spare
Nitrogen canisters were empty, no air
Passengers complained that it was unfair
Passengers suggested to take it to a petrol station
However, it seemed the jack went on vacation
So no jack, no air
And no bloody spare
(Here’s the science bit)
The engineers gathered around the wheel met a stump
They heroically attempted to inflate it with a bicycle pump
The pilot pushed them away and without a doubt
Thought he could blow in the valve till he passed out
The air line manager was angry as passenger laughed out loud
He said these men are heroic and you should be proud.
A technical hitch like this can happen any where
As he gave the passengers an evil glare
He said my country is beautiful take in the lovely sight
Before the next aeroplane arrives within a fortnight
Grouping here to plan retreat,
the redcoat officers smelled defeat:
the boards complained beneath their feet,
on entering Wright's Tavern.
They game was up. They understood.
All that remained was noise and blood,
and limping back as best they could,
the fifteen miles to Boston.
Pungent smoke and powder smells,
irregulars' derisive yells,
and fifteen miles of living hell
now stretching out before them.
The King's Own's torn, depleted line,
drawn up before Wright's tavern sign:
this sight would come back to the mind
in years to come, in England:
But now, the urgency was such
that no-one pondered very much
on Tyrant George's loosened clutch:
plans needed improvising.
Back east the shattered remnants flowed,
along the Cambridge Turnpike Road,
to quit the New World for the Old:
America was rising.
May tranquility reign and grace your Thanksgiving board this year,
As you thank the Good Lord for all the blessings you hold dear!
I pray that it will be a time of good cheer and not a free-for-all,
As in the dysfunctional family described below, ending in a brawl!
Grandpa said grace that rambled on interminably while stomachs growl.
Grandma had heard enough of that and poked him with a warning scowl!
Pompous Uncle Blimp boasted about the democrats winning the election,
While saner heads steered the conversation in a more innocuous direction!
Ne'er-do-well Cousin Cletus who was recently released from prison,
Wailed about being falsely imprisoned saying the cannabis wasn't his'n!
Aunt Louise complained that she didn't get the turkey gizzard as was her due!
Dad was happily sozzled having consumed too much of his homemade brew!
Little Marvin slopped gravy on grandma's prized heirloom tablecloth!
Nana screeched about controlling your brats - she was most visibly wroth!
The kid howled and mommy hugged him saying, "It was not your fault!"
In the aftermath, little was said except an occasional, "Pass the salt!"
Elbows flew and the hapless turkey's carcass was stripped clean and bare!
Grandpa removed his teeth to take a snooze, fed up with the whole affair!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I married him one fine day
Secure in the knowledge
Of how happy his life
I will make
Everything looked bright and warm
Everyone was helpful
Time passed on
Living in the warm cocoon of his arms
I failed to realize that
It is he who is making my life happy
Absorbing all my worries
As a sponge
And never burdening me with his
Fulfilling all my hopes and desires
Always assuring that I am happy
My tears would tear his heart apart
My laughs would make him come to life
He solved all my problems
Making me believe that
I had solved them
He was always there
To encourage me
To listen to my days work
He never ever complained
He sacrificed his time
With his family and friends
To be by my side
He gave all his life to me
And I kept on taking
Secure in the knowledge
Of how happy his life I am making.
You blocked traffic for a dance vid,
until the cop threatened the cuffs,
batted your eyes to deal with him,
then his words got rather tough.
You charmed a man to get free drinks,
were shocked when he didn’t bite,
complained online ’bout ‘how men are,’
commenters laughed half the night.
You’re not hot enough to be this crazy,
you’re not hot enough to be this daft,
you’re doing things only a ten can,
a seven can’t pull off stuff like that.
Looks only go so far,
don’t matter who you are…no,
you’re not hot enough to be that crazy,
the real world doesn’t put up with crap.
Put your bikini pics online,
tried to get money from simps,
then raved for the whole world to see
when some troll called you a blimp.
You declared that you were ‘poly,’
told your boyfriend to understand,
he left and those who came sniffing
were not close to ‘your type of man.’
You’re not hot enough to be this crazy,
you’re not hot enough to be this daft,
you’re doing things only a ten can,
a seven can’t pull off stuff like that.
Big fish in our small town,
but oceans drag you down...no,
you’re not hot enough to be that crazy,
the real world doesn’t put up with crap.
There is no use denying
hot girls can get away with things,
it’s something that they always trust,
to make a tool our of our lust.
And though this seems a brutal fact,
you’re really not equipped for that,
so find some common sense again,
or aim you show at ugly men!
You’re not hot enough to be this crazy,
you’re not hot enough to be this daft,
you’re doing things only a ten can,
a seven can’t pull off stuff like that.
I know it isn’t fair,
Double standards don’t care…no,
you’re not hot enough to be that crazy,
the real world doesn’t put up with crap.
They packed us in ships and boats.
Sardines have more space in their cans as compared to us,
Low ventilation, no water, little food,
Out of our land of abundance, land of riches, land of gold,
We sailed off to the land unknown,
‘Door of No Return’, that was the last door I saw in my homeland.
With shackles on our necks, ankles and wrists, we were led sheepishly to the ship,
When we complained, they lashed us, when we rebelled, they killed us,
And the weak amongst us; they were maltreated.
My sister was force raped yesterday; it’s my fiancée’s turn today,
We were supposed to get married last Sunday,
“I’ve been shot in one knee”, an Old Norse slang,
I’m married; I was going to tell my friends,
But the sun sure didn’t smile on me on Sunday,
Now in a new land, new soil, we’re auctioned like some merchandise,
I thought they only wanted our gold, or was it not enough; the additional cocoa,
Now we work on their plantations, from dawn until dusk,
We’re forced to speak the Whiteman’s language,
We’re forced to eat their food and dress like them,
And the very thing that make us Africans; our pride, It’s been taken from us,
So I wonder the kind of future that lies ahead for our unborn generations,
I wonder if our rich values, our norms, our traditions,
I wonder if they would be passed down to them,
Africa, my story.
Should Dina Gloat
Dina’s story starts with, Should I gloat or not.
For more than thirty years Dina lived at her address in a first floor flat. Her neighbour above her gave her no trouble. It was hard to tell if he was in or not, he was so quiet. Her neighbour suddenly fell ill and left the property and within weeks he moved out.
The flat was empty for a few weeks while the landlord was refurbishing it.
All of a sudden, someone moved in. The amount of thudding, noise, and loud music coming from the flat was horrendous. Dina went upstairs to ask the new neighbour not to make so much noise. It was a woman she apologized and said it won’t happen again. Dina thought that was the end. When the woman upstairs invited men round the thudding got louder and this went on for weeks. Even when Dina used the bathroom the thudding and crashing of heavy objects didn’t stop. It was then she realised that the woman was a drug addict and did drugs nearly all day. The only people that would come to her flat were drug addicts doing drugs. The smashing of heavy objects onto the ceiling went on for months. The authorities didn’t do anything. If Dina complained to the landlord the thudding would be worse to the point of jumping up and down on the roof.
Eventually one day while Dina was sitting in a war zone as she thought she heard cries for help. It was the woman upstairs being attacked by one of her druggie friends. Dina stayed quiet and listened and did nothing. All Dina could do remember the number of bashings on the ceiling and the terrible nights she had sleeping and being afraid of going out.
The druggie managed to make it to her door and run out flat with her being chased by a drugged up male.
Dina laughed, she couldn’t believe this happened to such a nasty person. Who knows who called the police and the male druggie was arrested in the street. After a week the female druggie packed her bags and left.
All Dina could do now was laugh her head off but didn’t say a word to anyone. She wonders if she should gloat or not. If it happened again, she would not lift a finger to help.
Our Yearly Guest
Written: by Tom Wright
9/14/99
The old man, as did Dad's uncle from Arkansas,
came to our house to visit each year.
The old man always arrived and always left
at about the same time, give or take a week or two.
I never knew where his home was,
but was always glad to see him for he brought things that,
as a boy, I'd missed since his last stay and on occasion
I was allowed to miss school during his stay and this I really enjoyed.
However, I could sense,
that Mom & Dad soon tired of his being there
for he brought with him expenses that we could ill afford.
His presence necessitated that we dress in a manner befitting him
and we always had extra logs stored up for this expected guest.
Many expenses were brought on by his presence but we seldom complained.
He mostly kept busy during his short stay,
what with the sleet and snow and all.
Sleet, snow and cold winds always seemed to coincide with his arrival.
I can recall pressing my face to a sweaty window at dawn
and peering outside, thinking perhaps, he had slipped away as I slept,
because this was his " Modus Operandi."
He never said good-by but usually blew out of town as he came.
I never knew of his travels after he left our house,
and when I'd ask, the answer was always the same,
"Somewhere up North", (Perhaps Shell Knob ).
Which upon reflection, would seem a logical place to be,
If you were Old Man Winter.
Before long, Lord willing, I'll here his voice again proclaim,
"I'mmmm Baaaaa'ack.
It took guts for him to choose it
The society made him pursue it
Under the high pressure of sunset
Without been assured that he would make it
He took the step to maintain his outfit
Obi will never remain a boy
Travelling down the road
He met her
He took her hands and paid the price
They came together and gave a rise
In the shade of his hustle, there she lies
Making meals with the things he earns
The boy is now a man
While the little called him "papa"
He worked extra to provide for two
The burden was much
But he never complained
He moves along with his dear beloveds
Just to push their fates to climb the hills
He motivates even when he is down
He provides even when it’s dawn
He deserves to wear the crown
The crown of a hero