Long Complaint Poems
Long Complaint Poems. Below are the most popular long Complaint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complaint poems by poem length and keyword.
Into the buoyant blue of a summer sky
I throw my fortune and my hopes.
With wings and wonder I survey
the world above and need some time
up there before descending back to earth.
Advancing throttle up I climb, rocket
like and plumb, to check the heights
of clouds and skill, rolling left, then
right as in a dance, light
with release from gravity.
Before my plane escapes my vision, too, I guide
it over a graceful arch, until fast approaching
ground is all I see, and while succumbing
to the appetite of earth for things detached,
roll again and again in defiance, cutting
facets from the burnished blue.
Pushing hard to inverted flight, I see things
from a different point of view. Pressure
on the stick reminds me that up is down, and
I must concentrate to follow a horizontal path.
The Extra was made for this, I tell myself,
and brace for more.
Throwing sticks to the corner I force a snap. In a burst
of energy my wings become a blur. Like a wayward
child nose and tail go off track and need correction.
The stress on joints and structure is immense, yet
my plane obeys with no complaint, rebelling
only at my command to return wings level.
Like a metronome ticking over the rhythmic pounding
of my heart I count my way through a hammerhead:
“Throttle up and push, and, wait, and… release!
1 and 2 and roll and roll, and
1 and 2 and throttle back… rudder!”
The plane pauses in mid-air – a sentry in the sky - then pivots
on a point. Opposite aileron keeps me in a geometric plane,
and earthward bound once more I resume the beat:
“1 and 2 and roll: to canopy, and belly!
1 and 2 and push!”
The lines and arcs I draw through weather fair and foul
are my signature, the salient points of aerobatic discourse,
a test of nerves and steel, the embrace of fear.
Breaking through that wall, I emerge
free to explore the boundaries of my craft.
I must look beyond the attitude of pitch, roll and yaw
to see the art that I’m creating there
from the power and pull of wings through air.
Holding a precise line against the force
of Indiana winds or the vagaries of a Midwest storm,
with sunburned lips, lack of sleep or
a thousand other faults...
ah, there is the rub.
It is no easy thing, and still I try
to reach perfection, to control the direction
I will fly in that endless summer sky.
In your eyes I can see, I am all your desires, cravings and aches. The obession
to which you wish to be bonded forever. And you'll gladly pay for your prize with
endless tears. I cannot deny the passion you stir in me and that pours out for you
virtually every moment that we exist and is as strong as your love and
commitment.
Your warped mind is a treasure to me. It propells you into the dark where I enjoy
your pleading. I watch your strange love of suffering and you bring me into your
soul to relish it with you. I am amazed when you do this. I think its for me but it
somehow fills you. I see that you must be with me each night and your craving is
desperate and way beyond anything normal. You cannot exist without it. You
must feed on me.
I am completely invested in you. I must have you, strenuous, throbbing and
twisting, and sometimes shrieking for my entertainment. Your gift to me. No
matter how I exercise its power, which I so enjoy, I can only own it as a gift. I do it
sometimes just so that I can make you bear it. You bear it again and again
without complaint. Because it is a gift, love can remain. And no matter what you
bear, you have solace that it is a gift from you. I can never take that away.
I experience joy when you delight in my voice and follow its flow. Can I hold you
forever?
My intense, inner desires combine with your foolish love and willingness to
become everything and anything I can delight in. I think you must be stupid to give
so much until I realize that your gift is the one I treasure. I want to hold you and
have this kiss forever. You are a feast for my senses and a slake for my thirst
which always returns. How you have given over control to me is a measure of
your soul. How I accept it and play it over and over again is a growing obsession,
that knows nothing but pleasure. I want to hold you, kiss you and taste you more
than anything else I have ever desired.
Our passion is easy for me and so hard on you. You rebound again and again
seeking even more to steady our hearts and increase our hope. Your suffering
holds you while you await the eventual tender moments that always come and
you once again drink in my love. I look at you admiring everything that you are and
desiring the moment when I can take you at will.
Please, give me your tears again.
I-Robby
Robby had been married going on eight years,
2hen his Marie demanded a divorce,
whe had been planning, lawyering up,
and instantly dragged it into the court.
Poor Robby had not seen it coming,
he thought things had been going quite well,
he could barely deal with loosing his love,
much less navigating Family Court hell.
Worst still Marie had cleaned out their accounts,
so he had to borrow from his parents,
just to afford a junior lawyer,
in truth, Robby was unable to bear it.
Being separated from his two boys,
being along with no partner if life…
What could he have done to ever have earned
the enmity of his once loving wife?
The proceedings, they just kept dragging on,
and Robby faced insurmountable bills,
then one day Marie claimed that he’d hit her,
that his temper was always set to kill?!
Robby’s family gawked in disbelief,
their boy never even been in a fight,
they all tried to say the Marie had lied,
but she played the judge’s sympathies right.
Men don’t fare well in Family Courts,
in the end Rob lost near sixty percent,
add the that alimony, child support,
and no custody of his two children.
The young men felt his world crashing on down,
but the worst of it was yet to come,
Marie’s claims made their way up to his boss,
and within weeks, Rob’s position was gone.
When he told the judge he was out of work,
and his payments would have to be changed,
she said,”I’ll have to investigate this,
many dead-beats go to lengths to not pay.”
That dragged on for several long months,
and Robby was already long broke,
one morning a cop waited on his front door,
and with a sneer, glared at Robby and spoke:
“We have got a complaint that you have not
paid up on this month’s child support.
A warrant has been issued for your arrest,
I really hate dealing with your sort!”
He tried to explain his words with the judge,
but the officer really didn’t care,
dragged into court, Rob found the same judge,
glowering down at him from her chair.
“Your wife needs those payments to survive,
nut you seem to think this is a joke,
so you’re going to spend a week in jail,
and learn an important lesson, I hope.”
As to the judge’s biased nature,
Robby no longer had any doubts,
and none there knew that when he went away,
never more would he ever come out…
CONTINUES IN PART II.
Before the phrase, 'road rage', was born, people simply frowned and tooted their horns. I was so engaged with something, and saw no cause for alarm. I saw no danger in front or behind, and sought for no one's harm. No, I'm not speaking of hair-do sessions, or sleepers at the wheel. I was not falling asleep, nor was I annoyed by a utility bill.
I must let you know what I did some 30 plus years ago. I was indeed minding my own business, but in an unsafe kind of way. I wasn't breaking any laws, but another driver was filled with dismay. As he passed by and looked my way, I must have really upset him big time. As I was heading south, he yelled out at me as if I was committing a crime.
I really can't complaint, because I was doing enough to blow anybody's mind. He had every right to yell at me, because I was clearly wrong and out of line. You see, I was a bi-vocational person and had another job that occupied my nights. I was driving, reading, and taking notes; and all would agree, that was not very bright. So when the driver in the next lane yelled, "That's crazy!", I never tried to put up a fight. I simply agreed with him, put down my book and yelled back, "Thank you, you're right!"
06222017cjPS
Jawab-e-Shikwa
THE ANSWER TO THE COMPLAINT BY ALLAH ALMIGHTY SIDE TO PIOUS PEOPLE OF THE WHOLE UNIVERSE:
https://youtu.be/EXRl5VKq39M
When passion streaming from the heart turns human lips to lyres,
Some magic wings man’s music then, his song with soul inspires;
Man’s words are sacred then, they soar, The ears of heaven they seek,
From dust those mortal accents rise, Immortals hear them speak;
So wild and wayward was my Love, such tumult raised its sighs,
Before its daring swiftly fell the ramparts of the skies.
The skies exclaimed in wonderment, “Some one is hiding here,”
The wheeling Planets paused to say, “Seek on the highest sphere.”
The silver Moon said, “You are wrong, Some mortal it must be,”
The Milky Way too joined converse, “Here in our midst is he.’’
Rizwan alone, my plaintive voice began to recognise,
He knew me for a human who had lost his Paradise.
And even the Angels could not tell what was that voice so strange,
Whose secret seemed to lie beyond Celestial wisdom’s range.
They said, “Can Man now roving come and reach these regions high?
That tiny speck of mortal clay, has it now learnt to fly?
How little do these beings of earth the laws of conduct know;
How coarse and insolent they are, these men who live below.
So great their insolence indeed, they dare even God upbraid!
Is this the Man to whom their bow the Angels once had made?
Of Quality and Quantity He knows the secrets, true—
The ways of humbleness as well If he a little knew!
That they alone are blest with speech how proud these humans be,
Yet, ignorant, they lack the art to use it gracefully.”
Then spake a Voice Compassionate: “Your tale enkindles pain,
Your cup is brimming full with tears which you could not contain
Even High Heaven itself is moved by these impassioned cries;
How wild the heart which taught your lips such savage melodies!
Its grace yet makes this song of yours a song of eulogy;
A bridge of converse you have formed ‘Twixt mortal man and Me!
Behold, my hands arc full of gifts, but who comes seeking here?
And how shall I the right road shew when there’s no traveller?
My loving care is there for all, If deserved but by few!
Not this the clay from which I can an Adam’s shape renew!
On him who merits well I set the brightest diadem,
And those who truly questing come, a new world waits for them.
I am scrolling down hill,
folding the pills,
elongating the tree's
and simplifying the breeze,
I am a song to be played-
earlier than you might say
in the day,
when hearing is a complaint
and danger is delayed,
but you are a spade,
to be wondered and craved,
you are your own way,
with the sing of the slave-
underground-
above the haze,
glazed with the betrayed,
honed in on like waves,
so stubborn your gay-
holding on to the page!
Don't you walk that way!
Troubled little weaver-
always weavin' in and out of the days,
with your face,
and two others that may show you the way.
So...Whenever there is game,
whenever you are just being insane,
two others can ring your ping-
scratch at your lawn,
ease your bickering fawn,
who is ages old-
cranky and yet cold,
shines like the rivers of silver soles,
wasted and bold.
...Blanketing and broad like the system of the slots,
put in a coin so you can jog-
with your eye's,
and with your pogs,
fall to the floor,
while dude ranchers await cry's out the doors,
become single and slower,
dangerous like snow blowers,
manned by cats
with fake joints hangin' in their lips crowin,'
as they are growin,' croppin,'
and sowing,
the stage is set to start goin,'
but you stay all knowin'-
with the people out there- asses a blowin'!
Like the sound of the tick was that on it-
like the leaper out of time was so subordinate,
you know you could have grabbed mine,
you know about other ways to shine,
but still you sit and grind-
sleep and unwind,
base your catches on other famous people's finds...
I don't confide,
I really don't try,
I just hear god and ask about the water in the sky,
why doesn't it come down on African pride?
When they need it most?
When we know 911 proved evil the most...
But sit here and boast
and you'll hear gods jokes-
he's got what a man needs,
he's got you underneath a sheet,
so don't breathe!
Just start running,
got the mustard?
Pray for a plead,
because random people leave
while friends try and greet,
an acre of land with animals and plants couldn't please,
even if they spoke the language, and cured the disease,
sorry if I sound meek-
but pride comes when I'm done writing these...
“Hello, and thank you for calling Acme Products! Please listen to the following selections as our menu options changed 5 years ago and we want to make sure you have them memorized.
If you need help with billing, press 1.”
silence
“Are you sure you don't need help with billing? We have such nice people in our billing department.”
“Operator.”
“No can do. The system requires entering your selections via the keypad. Please repeat your request.”
G R R R R
“Well, if you're sure you don't want billing, press 2 for a listing of all our latest products.”
0 0 0 0 0 0
“That is an invalid selection.”
“Aaaiiieeeeeeeeeee.”
"You know, you really should take a look at our newest products."
N O N O N O
“Please remember to listen carefully as our options changed 5 years ago. For assistance with complaints on an already-purchased item”
3
“Invalid selection. Try again. For assistance with complaints on an already”
4
“I'm sorry. Input not understood. For billing, press 1. To hear about our newest products, press 2. For customer service on existing orders, press 4.”
4 4 4
“Thank you. If you did not receive your order, press 5. If you have a complaint about your order, press 6.”
I fyk djgm Acme Products. 6
“Please remember to use the keypad to enter your selections. If the complaint is about a box damaged in shipment, press 7.”
silence
"If you received your item but it is defective press”
8
“Please enter your name using the telephone keypad.”
W I L E E X O Y O T E
“Please reenter your name.”
W I L E E I H A T E A C M E C O Y O T E
“Customer 'I hate Acme' not found. Please try again. Please enter your name using the keypad on your phone.”
W I L E E C O Y O T E
“Thank you.
For questions related to Acme Invisible Paint, press 9.
For questions regarding the Acme Do-It-Yourself Rocket Sled Kit, press 10.
For questions regarding Acme Iron Bird Seed, press”
11
“Sorry. That is not a valid entry.”
K I # L L A * C M E
“Sorry. That is not a valid entry.”
“For questions regarding Acme Iron Bird Seed, hang up and dial 1-800-555-1212. Have a nice day and thank you for calling Acme Products. We appreciate your business.”
crack crunch shatter
signal lost
What I Want For Christmas
By Curtis Johnson
I suppose I could use a new pair of pants, a suit of cloths, a coat, or a light jacket. But that is not what I want. I don’t need new front teeth, but I suppose that I’d be happy with a nice new Volvo. But that’s not what I want. So please don’t ask me about needs and wants, because the media keeps me occupied with such things.
When I consider the plight of the lonely, the wounded, and the poor, I suppose that I would be happy if I received nothing at all. I would not complaint if I were simply blessed to be alive, fed, dry, and warm.
It’s Christmas, and there are always many things that people seek. Christmas is a season to draw near, to be dear, and to show love outside of the box. It’s even more meaningful if we keep it simple, avoid all the fuss, the rush, the stress, and maybe spend a little bit less.
There really is something that I would like for Christmas, but it’s more to do with giving to others and nothing to do with personal getting. It doesn’t cost a lot of money or a lot of time; and I don’t have to camp out in front of a store or form a long line. It’s like this: I want to see my family get together on Christmas eve, enjoy one another, have a nice meal, and share a gift or two. I want the satisfaction of knowing that two families in Uganda, Africa will eat on Christmas Day, because my wife and I sent money to them on December 3rd.
Christmas doesn’t have to cost much, if we would stop the rush, and cease buying so much of such and such. This blessed Christmas season, I would like to recapture three captivating moments that I experienced as a little boy at Christmas time.
I would like to recapture the aroma of my mama’s fresh baked cakes and pies at Christmas time. I would like to recapture the magnificent fragrance of apples and oranges throughout our house at Christmas time. And I would like to recapture the pleasant look on my daddy’s face after he had done his best to make all 12 of his children happy at Christmas time.
The blessedness of family life, and being able to give a little love outside the box.
Recapturing the aroma of mama’s baking, the fragrance of fruit, and daddy’s face at Christmas time. Some things in life are costly, but what I want most for Christmas is priceless.
Cj121107
(alternately titled: tongue in cheek humor
cuz the following hyperbole
from this pencil necked baby boomer
without intent to badmouth,
nor start unfounded rumor,
who chalks, i.e. attributes gobbledygook
to funny bone tumor).
Impossible mission maneuvering around
soiled clothes pile
floor to ceiling humongous mound
terse reply hopefully adequately sound
to convincingly doth explain
absent poet buried alive underground,
perhaps never heard and/or found
till 1-800 GOT JUNK uncovered
emaciated (lovely bones)
formerly Matthew Scott Harris
his remnants discovered
visa vis mastercard bloodhound.
No need to fret
(while guitar gently weeps),
just talk to who barkeeps
works long late hours, he oversleeps
thus best track him down,
without uttering peeps
please find out if he knows
anybody reliably housekeeps
maybe lady luck will
thru think magical realism
deliver sophisticated robot
harkening within outer limits
from twilight zone
hookin get the job done
in one fell swoop sweeps.
Meanwhile yours truly
tries to remain upbeat
despite being royally tricked
upon pledging his troth
haint cool wedded bliss
heavily perspiring courtesy ultraheat
smellbound by malodorous laundry
necessitating heavy amount
of clorox to pretreat
which I rather drink,
(and thank president Trump)
for sakes Pete!
Though the misses upholds
voluntarily cooking as wifely role indeed
worth commendable attention,
I do concede
and doth adequately buzzfeed
her hubby lest he
wither away to lovely bones
(well past due date
late to avoid
above mentioned outcome,
his (mine) corporeal
being well nigh freed,
thus complaint regarding
spindleshanks solved no knead
to strain skinny ankle muscles
and maintain self promise
holy matrimony, cuz
aye know weed
never remain married forever
as initially agreed.
Fickle finger of fate
hath spoken thru smelly
potential Superfund site
perhaps... not amazing how heaping pile
of unwashed laundry can create
ecological hazard, that warrants B44
one bedroom apartment condemned
management understandably irate
to withhold security deposit
nearly four years at Highland Manor
now ready for model
domestic counterpart to debate
with her better angels where to relocate.
The letter said he wasn't happy with the way the product worked,
and then he went on telling me that I was just a stupid jerk.
He told me I did not deserve to have this"simple, easy job",
that I was just a lazy person, no, more like a lazy slob.
I ask you, where does he get off with speaking in this tone of voice?
But that is how he wants to be and that is how he's made his choice.
To be the person never happy, always mad with this or that,
He likes complaining, never cheery, never just a simple chat.
He targets things that have no bearing on the problem here at hand,
and yet he charges forth quite blindly saying he will take a stand.
Attacking people, not the problem, never trying to make it right,
for all he wants is some attention so that he can start a fight.
I read his letter top to bottom, then I gave a straight reply,
for he would never make me tremble; he would never make me cry.
I wrote a letter in plain English, something he could understand,
defending firstly my position, then defending this great brand.
My dearest sir,
You are my client asking me to make amends,
Now, what you do is your decision; what I do, it all depends.
So, first I'll start with how I'm feeling, and the reason I don't care,
for after telling me I'm stupid, I don't think you have a prayer.
Now let us look at this fine product that you seem to think is junk,
You tell me that it isn't working, but I think you're full of bunk.
So, how'd you feel about my answer? Really doesn't feel so good?
Well, maybe it would have been better if you spoke the way you should.
A little pow'r, a little triumph, everything you seem to need,
just doesn't help you in this moment, now that you cannot proceed.
I'll end this letter with suggestions at the way that you should act,
if you would like to get some answers, not just how I can react.
Please show respect with whom you're dealing; I may be your only friend.
Don't try to act like you're a hero; on my answer you depend.
And try to be more understanding; I'm just trying to do my job,
and there is never any reason calling me a lazy slob.
Now, there's my answer to your question,
Hope it helped you see the way, and if you send a better letter,
I will try to make your day.