Long Compliment Poems
Long Compliment Poems. Below are the most popular long Compliment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Compliment poems by poem length and keyword.
Ah... tis nothing greater than...
malfunctioning heater on brisk winter day!
Thee particular date being
December twenty eighth,
two thousand nineteen, I saith
the Jack of all trades
maintenance technician
Kevin Blank said he would notify
HVAC expert in good faith,
yet to compliment clangorous din...
I called upon the ghost of Marley's wraith.
Thus despite compressor issuing
cacophonous, deafening,
ear splitting noise
clattering din louder
than convention of reindeer -
doubled as all boys
(choir) followed by cavalcade
of santa claus, he employs,
the missus of course with equipoise,
and countless elves pressed
for service mending
broken brand new toys.
Why... yes twas during
recent brutal bitter cold spell
methought, yours truly got sent,
where absolute zero temperature
more frigid than hell
of course, I felt like human popsicle
management didn't give a lick,
no matter yours truly gave rebel yell
Billy me you, I immediately
yearned (some weeks back) for April
May, June... some tell
tale sign to alleviate pell mell
bone crushing polar vortex
preserved frozen awful
botox smile impossible mission to quell,
nor avoid frostbite
to deep freeze every cell
millenniums later despite
climate changed dystopian future
thawed out body reason to kvell.
Forsooth mindlessly jabbering away
jaw frenziedly attempting to convey
how this schlemiel,
would be war re: not game to foray
toward distant forbidding terrain
fifty shades of gray,
alien unrecognizable – nay
boor hood of the late Mister Rogers,
nonetheless expressed gratitude
confessed, I unconsciously did pray
while suspended animation did stay
slowing or stopping
of biological function
physiological capabilities
unpitted and preserved - yea.
Hence upon being
and getting woke
feeling like I slept forever
and a day - no joke
most certainly well rested
constitution I did evoke
intensely scrutinizing men
chilled wren, and women folk,
who appeared out of this world
mutated into Roanoke
smooth as glass skin cloak
against ultraviolet rays
causing skin cancer
their attenuated limbs strong as oak
versatile to prod and poke,
whereby superior petsmart
doggone noggin could invoke
telepathic communication
interestingly enough issuing smoke
signals, whenever danger present
and capable to disappear
as if doing breast stroke.
Un-revelling Rivalry
Who am I to speak of historical rivalry I cannot contest
all the clever myriad truths conjectures and refutations
about the two masters the two foes with huge presence
when history acclaim appreciation is subjective personal
up front and back stage up all artistic ins downs and outs
My parachute helicopter mind wants to give first prize to
to Leonardo for free flying inventive rebellious mind and
he helped me with anatomy dissecting corpses and all I can
still smell fragrant formalin preserving miraculous tissues
when I had to learn those medical terms and cut into flesh
But then Michelangelo shares my middle name though I am
no angel but who can proclaim that I may never be biased in
associate vein in quite shallow post-post-modernist anticipation
when the great man also painted in narrative personification
Deluge Drunken Noah Creation of Adam Madonna and Child
Okay family man that I am I resort to holidays with my children
and am so sad to admit that we never so far made it to Rome
sacrilegious or not but how could I pass The Last Judgement
when seeing Sistine Chapel’s altar would alter the verdict
of Ignoramus with leisure time spent on Normandy’s beaches
Well now I recall that trip to Euro Disney when we walked
from Tour Eiffel to the Louvre where I temporarily lost my
little boy Moritz and almost my temper when the devious villain
hid from the artwork was sulking because the Mona Lisa was
so small and he was so tiny could not see amongst masses of
tourists the smile and metaphorical writing on canvas and wall
So in all earnest while giving a toss I could-would have to resort
to tossing a coin in regards to whom why how and whenever the
rivals could measure up to history my history my story and life
Even and because of my whacky literal critical stance and my
stanzas bordering on mockery heresy subtle subjectification
you must remember that I have one tongue and two cheeks
And while seemingly ridiculing an important theme of historical
prominence I still bow in awe admiration yet lodge my own angle
perspective whereas the two grand master’s problem was not
what I would behold in my eyes and my soul in full radiance but
that they chose not to consider each others contrasting beauty
as compliment complement Leonardo Angelo Michel Da Vinci
01st September 2016
If so.
Do you like poetry?
If so, I will write something for you.
Do you need someone to love you?
If so, I will see what I can do.
Do you want to be wanted?
Do you need to be needed?
If so, I will be here for you and I will tell you my truth.
I could picture you being happy with me.
I could see us walking hand in hand.
I can still see your smile,
Each morning when I wake up from my dreams.
I think you are drop dead gorgeous!
I love your style.
I think you could be growing on me.
Only when you leave do I lose my leaves
And your summer dress is replaced with winter’s tears.
Is this the only way that it can be?
If so, you are still the only one.
The one I want to spend my time with.
You are my energy drink,
You give me wings.
You make me believe that this could really be love…
A love at long last that is bound to last
And if so and it truly is meant to last,
Then I will be forever happy,
Because I saved the best for last.
Let me be the first to compliment you on how beautiful you look today.
I took a second look,
Because a thousand horses couldn’t drag my eyes away.
I cannot just forget you;
That is something I am unable to do.
It is not every day, or any other day,
That I get to see a woman like you.
In fact it has never happened before;
You are unique.
You I could adore.
If only you would want me to.
If so, would you please tell me you want me too.
I will be over here waiting through another ice age;
Waiting for you to breathe new life into my veins.
My air; my water; my sun shine.
Say it ain’t so, or say you will always be mine.
If you want to be loved, then I will love you forever.
If you want me to go, if so, then I will be gone.
If you think you could one day fall for me like a feather,
Floating down from up above, you are sent from God,
Then here I will wait for you to land safely in my arms.
I will wait for you,
I will carry you,
I will lift you,
I will hold you,
Because you are the only one,
Who could make my chaotic mind become calm.
You could guide me to a place of peace in stormy seas.
I could love you, always, if that is what you need.
Do we share our empathy with each other?
Or am I just a loser?
I need you to tell me…please.
Here is my heart, it beats only for you.
All I say to you is true.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
How do you define love?
I mean what is it really,
How can I feel so much love for so many
people here that I barely know
...because I do.
You have all been so kind and accepting of me.
Many of you know how I feel.
That I know I am not a poet.
I am not fishing for a compliment when I say this.
I know how kind you all are.
People have been more than complimentary
of my work here.
It is how I feel and I do not want to get
long winded as to why.
It is what it is.
You have an amazing community here
don't let any one trample over it.
Keep supporting one another
Keep your loving ways.
No matter your religious beliefs
there is a light here that shines bright.
So I won't impose my beliefs but I think
I can safely say without offending
anyone this community is blessed.
Forgive those who stray, many of us here
are bruised some worse than others. We
make errors. Again I love the people here.
All the people here.
I have not been able to comment on others poetry
as much as I have wanted to of late.
I am especially sorry to my friends whose poetry
I have not frequented lately. How rude of me.
Everyone deserves their wonderful poetry read.
No excuses just I am sorry.
I want to thank all the people who placed me
in their contests and also thank those who
didn't. I believe in my heart of hearts people
always judged fairly. Sponsoring contests
is difficult everyone second guesses you.
In retrospect I learned and I grew from every
experience. Thank You.
So my loving friends, I am not here to say goodbye.
I am here to say au revoir!
I will be taking a small break from Poetry Soup.
I hope to return soon. To learn my limits poetically
and to stay within them. Enter less contests,
read more, comment more and post less.
I don't know how I can thank you all for your
unconditional kindness.
So many of you have touched my heart,
made me cry.
Sometimes sad, sometimes happy tears.
I am sorry because it is hard for me not
to love you all so much and I know it
must sound insincere but it is me
this is my heart, this is who I am
I love you because of your poetry,
because of your comments,
because you supported me even in my blindness
held my hand and showed me a path I could walk on.
How do you thank someone for that.
With All My Love Always,
Armand.
when you lose sight of what really counts
its easy to focus on only whats shallow
am i too fat is my nose too big
do i walk or talk weird whats wrong with me
when we forget the depth that is here in this world
and focus on things that are just absurd
so maybe im not a supermodel and my bums a tad on the thick side
and maybe im no a genius thats getting a scholorship on my side
but does that mean im nothing that i dont count
this world is getting sickening count me OUT
im ashamed of myself for even thinking like this
and obsessing to tears over shallow petty ****
i am praying that god hears my pleas for help
because i cant conquer this all by myself
i used to not care didnt care at all
but like any other i rise and fall
i am of the opinion that your body is a shell
and youll leave it behind when you go to heaven or hell
it will rot in the ground and count for nothing
and when i meet my maker he wont care how big my bum is
some women ONLY care about their looks and they dont get it
they dont see the big picture
and i fear theyll regret it
and other women dont care even at all
about their looks because their depth is so massive and raw
but then theres me in the middle with so much depth and spirituality
why do i waste time wondering what are all the things wrong with me
im sick of crying over it ive done it for too long
im sick of getting angry when i cant crawl out of my bod
its a thought that i had reguarding a cacoon
like how catapielers go into them and out comes a butterfly zoom
if i could just crawl out my mouth my soul free for just a moment
and be allowed to have a different shell to live and own it
i wonder what its like to feel just for a second
not arrogance but a sweet compliment from someone who MEANT IT
my desperate pleas go out to you and anyone else who will listen
i hate my body im sick of my face and my voice is just ridiculous
so lets just drop it in the ocean let it sail away
cuz me im going to better places where i dont have to cry all day
where i know that my body is just a little shell a vehicle if you will
its our car or truck or limo or bus to use while we use our free will
and ive always said when you go you don't take your money your lambergini
or your watch expensive jewlery its all staying beind
and you should think about what YOUR world is while im trying desperatley to fix mine
Those leather pants fit perfectly
Against your skin. I can’t stop
Staring; You can’t stop teasing -
It keeps me up all night,
Struggling to
Keep shouting.
Nothing is resolved when you slam
The bedroom door - Don’t sleep
Angry. You know I hate it when you
Surprise me in the shower and
Turn the screws until I
Can’t even think. All the blood
Rushes to my head when I
Clutch the curtain – you know
I am there.
I see you see me as I
Hope we won’t wake up bitter in the morning,
Casting those cross couch glances and
Judging. Your eyes are killer
Aphrodisiacs, constantly seducing me
Like that time I had to
Pin you in the grass.
As the rain came down I kissed
Your lips and cradled you.
I can still close my eyes and hear you whisper
“You’ve left the toilet seat up again,”
I tell you that I’m sorry but we both know
In the dim light of the television set
I am barely listening.
You smile and shake your head,
For therein lies a flaw you choose to live with.
You swear, one of these days you are going to
Turn off the light and kiss
Every inch of my body
In honor of my being me,
And in honor of your being you,
I will return the favor.
Afterward, we’ll lie in love,
Smiling in a comfortable silence
Like the uncomfortable silences
At the ends of those trivial arguments
You start yet can’t finish.
There is no retort for my abashing.
You say you’re sorry but we both know
That you don’t really mean it,
So I make sacrifices I choose to live with.
I swear one of these days I am going to
Cook the most wonderful meal,
The kind where silence is a compliment
Ending with content smiles,
Doing the dishes,
Cursing at new shirt stains and small cuts
From knives hidden under soap water
Although
We don’t really mind the healing process.
I sleep and think, Tomorrow
I should walk to the jewelry store and look over
Diamonds, as I think of our
Long nights, walking through lit up old villages
Cuddling on the couch in the television light
Drunkenly kissing beside bonfires
Sharing friends and glances
And love and life for good or for worse,
Carrying the same heart.
I can always push that button
That has you turn me on,
Be it a laugh, a smile, a sting, or a bite.
We do what it takes to make us happy
And it works,
Especially when you put on
Those leather pants.
She bares the marks of a life lived hard, her face the giveaway. Faint scar above her brow, chipped tooth, deep furrows that should be gentle crow feet to compliment her gorgeous eyes. She used to be pretty, now a concrete blonde of fading beauty. Named Roberta as a baby, but the few, privy to this information have since taken it to the grave, to all who ebb and flow from her life, simply Bobby.
Bobby wandered into town, who knows when. Her faded blue jeans slid forward on the weathered wooden bench outside the general store. From the recesses of her mind, she could recall only one occasion from her childhood when a dress draped her lanky frame. She hated it so much it was unceremoniously discarded, playing outside in her nickers at a 10th birthday party. From that day forward, only jeans. She never wore jewellery, her only adornment was a tarnished belt buckle sitting over the top of her Buckskin shirt. Bobby’s battered hat sat propped over her knee, she held a Coke as she waited on the bench.
It had been more than half a century since he saw Bobby. The pained, memory of her hair swaying, catching the golden sunlight on her back as he watched her walk away. Now, as he climbed the veranda, he knew it was her, faded, like his memories, but the, ever young, eyes, danced with life and he was drawn to them once again. Neither spoke as he eased his body onto the bench, their legs pinched together. A light breeze filtered through the thoroughfare, causing the rusty sandwich sign to creak and grown. He pulled his blues harp from the top pocket of his shirt and his breath eased across the chords. Bobby chuckled before she sang.
His lips stopped moving, he smiled with the realisation that at 78 years, he was trading what was left of his tomorrows for this moment in time. He slid his hand over Bobby’s and went still. Bobby held him for a long time, she sobbed. Tears flowed for a misspent life, sobbed for what could have been, sobbed at the cost of her freedom as it dawned on her that It wasn’t just another word for nothing else to lose. The floodgates opened as she truly lost.
Bobby stood on the highway, thumb out. The horizon held the ominous sign of approaching rain. An old diesel truck pulled up and she climbed aboard, she lifted the harmonica and said, “Do you want me to play?”
The best compliment I have ever received is, “You’re going to be a wonderful mother one day.” I adore the idea of having children, treating them with love and kindness, nurturing and caring for them even when it’s hard. I daydream of dancing, playing, laughing, crying, and everything in between. In the very midst of this daydream, it crumbles. How could I possibly gift my children their own version of the hell I can never escape? I have no right to bring a human being into this world, simply to trap them in their own mind. The worst part of all of it, what truly hurts most, is that it’s personalized. Day after day, my brain attacks me, pointing out my flaws and insecurities, pouring salt in my wounds, and twisting the knives that are stuck in my throat, stomach, and back. My only hope is to be good enough to help them cope with their nightmares, all while struggling with my own. My mother is kind and sweet, with a heart of solid gold. I wonder how I could possibly compare, she helps me through my hell, but not while struggling through her own. Of course she has struggles, she has persevered through so much, but her mind is not her enemy. She is not overwhelmed by internal hatred, tearing at her hope and joy with every cut and scrape. If I myself am corrupt, how can I expect to provide my children the life they deserve? To live a life of simple, neurotypical bliss, without the confusion and suffering of a cage that you have built yourself. I used to love being different, and I still do, but this world is not built to allow the bold and unique thrive. This world has been built for those who can fall in line, who can blend in and bite their tongues. How I wish for a life where I can stay silent, but I simply can’t. I was born and built to fight, to sing, to be loud, to cause trouble. My children will be blessed with being different from their peers, but this world has made it into a curse. Those who dare to be different are scorned, not simply for being different, but for somehow doing it wrong. You have to be unique, but only in the way everyone else wants. I couldn’t bear to watch my children be outcasts, I couldn’t bear to bring them into this world of hatred. Although I long to be a mother, even though I dream of building a family, deep down I know that I am my own curse.
Ever been treated like you’re a slice of cake?
By the kind of sleazy men that slither like a snake?
They’re not the type to give
They’re the kind that always take.
Know your worth, be strong, pay attention, stay awake.
This is what I say to men who think they are so slick.
“I’m a lady, not a hoe, a slice, a treat, a chick.
Go away, get lost, quit acting like a trick.
I'm not the one to buy your lines that you spread on so thick.
I’m not some fresh baked cake that you can get a slice.
I’m not some frosting that you can sample anytime you like.
Even though you talk sweet, I know you’re nothing nice.
Play with fire and get burned, Cheat and pay the price.
You say I’m pretty and I’m sweet
That I look good enough to eat
You haven't tried to hide your lust
You haven't tried to be discreet.
Oh?!? a little bit this
And a little bit of that?
A generic compliment here...
Predictable flattery there?
A married man with an appetite
A piece of me, a taste, a bite
You talk about warm biscuits
Parted and buttered
As you stare at me.
You say I'm a hot dish
But don't you mean a side item?
Fast food?
In and out burger?
Did I offer myself...
Coffee, tea, me?
You want a dining experience
But this ain't Burger King!
You can't have it your way
I'm not a drive through
I'm not an order you grab to go
You can't stuff me in your mouth
Then burp out loud
Little pieces of me flying out
as you go about your day.
Why eat out?
That’s not what marriage is all about
Your spouse should be the only meal
A balanced dinner, that’s the deal
In the privacy of your home
But still you’re on the prowl and roam.
You say you only want a slice
And take no thought about my life.
You eat, wipe your mouth
Then say you've done no wrong.
But you're selfish and self-centered
That’s why I must be strong.
I’m not your food, set on a tray
Prepared for you to go filet
I’m not a snack that you can taste
Half consumed then left to waste.
Sugar-coated, insincere
Across the room you drool and leer.
You’re hungry, and you think I’m food
Weren’t you raised to know that’s rude?
I think the messqge here is clear
Im not a woman to be feared
I only ask you for respect
Or keep on going and forget
I hope one day you understand
I went to the dentist today.
The lady who cleaned my teeth had hair fit for a Weasley with large piercing eyes to compliment. Her name is Sierra, and she is 22 years old.
She asked me if anything had medically changed since the last time I had came.
I told her about my chronic pain and alopecia.
"Is that all?", she innocently questioned. I told her about my anxiety and insomnia.
"What's that sore on your chest?", she probed. I told her about my dermatillomania.
She nodded and got out her tools.
Here, is where I thought the conversation would end.
I'm so thankful I was wrong.
She looked at me with her large eyes and told me that she too has anxiety.
She said she has PTSD from some family issues a couple years back.
She knows what it's like, how it feels.
She sat behind me and asked me how I was coping.
I thought she meant with my mental disorders and informed her I was ok.
The only answer I can semi truthfully give these days.
She asked me if I was sure.
Told me I have sad eyes.
Asked if all of it together was overwhelming.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Yes, it is. It always is.
The only word that managed to escape was yes.
She said that only people who have it can see it in other people.
I have it, I know what she meant.
She recommended certain Melaluca oils to help.
Recommended melatonin for the insomnia.
Said I should text her, call her, Facebook her.
Heck, even make an appointment just for the sake of talking.
She'd go on break and we'd go outside just so I could vent.
Shared with me an inspiring image she loved.
It is a picture of Jesus, smiling, holding his hand out to Peter after he's fallen beneath the waves.
How even though we fall beneath the waves, Jesus isn't disappointed or mad with us.
She said he'll always be there for us.
She said that she knows it's overwhelming, and hard.
But keep your head up above the waves.
She recommended I read a novel titled, "Redeeming Love".
She said it helped her immensely.
Somewhere in here she mentioned I have striking features, and pull off bald better than most.
So much love and compassion radiated from her very words.
I've forgotten what that kind of love feels like.
People who spread compassion and understanding like flower petals give me hope.
Thank you, Sierra.