Long Conversations Poems
Long Conversations Poems. Below are the most popular long Conversations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conversations poems by poem length and keyword.
potato pancakes heavily buttered
cheese grits heavily buttered
leftover corn on the cob heavily buttered
the best buttermilk biscuits ever made not heavily buttered
laughing at things that i was once closed minded to newly discovered
listening to conversations from those previously misjudged newly discovered
acquiring knowledge that i was previously ignorant and oblivious to newly discovered
realizing how beautiful and wonderful opening up my everything to actually is newly discovered
noticing steps are much more smoothly taken without the fearful stutter
discovering a new way of being and accepting without the fearful stutter
finding out that certain things that i was always curious about are not as bad as they seem without the fearful stutter
knowing now that loving her is not as scary as previously pictured in my mind without the fearful stutter
I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when I got out of my bed…
and as my hands groped around feeling for them…Asia popped into my head.
Asia was a beautiful, blind Autistic student I had many years ago…one I tried desperately to reach…which, thankfully, also left me open to all she had to teach.
Asia lived in the world she was born into…the world her fate designed…
she taught me I had to enter into her world before I could welcome her into mine.
Asia talked to herself incessantly…she had this running conversation going on inside her head…and it appeared this running conversation was way more interesting than anything I did or said.
One day I got this bright idea…I sat down and listened to the conversations in her head…then I began repeating…everything she said.
I remember the first time I did this…Asia paused, smiled then slowly swayed her head…
and when her head brushed up against my shoulder, “Is that you Yerman.” She said.
When I told her it was me who without being invited had encroached upon her space…she reached her hand up gently and began to feel my face.
She didn’t care what color my skin was, my age, my weight, my sex…these things she could not see…she only cared that, through the magic of her hands, she was beginning to recognize me.
From that moment on whenever I sat next to her…in the glow of her smile I’d bask…
and when I started repeating what she said…”Is that You, Yerman” she’d ask.
Then she’d feel my face and laugh…sometimes, I think she laughed a bit too much…which made me wonder if my face which I thought handsome in the mirror…
wasn’t as handsome to the touch.
And this was how we taught each other…with my eyes I helped, a little, to set Asia free
and in her blindness she taught me…you don’t need eyes to see.
Perhaps when it comes to getting along…being blind to our differences is the key…
Perhaps closing our eyes and opening our hearts is the best way for us to see.
When I finally found my glasses, and my blurriness had cleared…
for what it’s worth…
The first thing I did was close my eyes
and wish we had more Asias on this Earth.
We cannot listen
or learn easily
when we do not feel safe,
said the environmental science students
to their corporate sponsored teachers.
Our lungs cannot breathe easily
or our hearts beat steadily
when we are not sure we can trust
the anthrosupremacist resource
currently lecturing
preaching
pontificating
If not explicitly,
then in some implied
win/win, too optimistic sin,
win/lose, realistically right
more than left sacred,
lose/lose, nihilistic blaming Earth
for our economies of immoral
EarthTribe scarcity,
scary complicity
Toxic inside learning anxieties
anticipating outside cooperative
therapeutic
organic incorporations
like cooperatively owned forests and meadows,
mountains and river valleys,
Contextually embraced
by RightOne practical survivalists
and Left ZeroZone
outside classroom thrivalists
learning inside civil manners
from MotherTrees
and their sacred mountained forests
and lakes,
green and blue
and cloud covered too
Studying vast lands
of win/lose uncertainty
taught verbally
for capital-embedded ears to hear,
repeat,
memorize
And patriarchally reteach
reparent
ignoring our indigenous ecofeminist
deep green sacred
customary way of learning co-passionately felt
dialogical bioformation systems
Inviting conversations
between thoughts and feelings
as they inevitably
dipolar co-arise
When we are listening
deeply learning
easily curiously active
when we feel safe
and healthy
and sure we can trust
our cooperatively owned
sacred outdoor classroom gifts.
Yeah I'm different, I'm not impressed with none of these women, most dudes are only on your heels because of your sex appeal. Yeah I'm different alright, I don't trust none of you, your standards might be high as your heels but your morals are a walking cesspool, pay close attention you in school class is in session and me I'm just here to give you extra credit, your self esteem isn't credible they don't respect you because your outfit is edible why give mix signals?
Yeah I'm different, I see ya figure but I ain't surprised more is less and if you don't want the attention why you need a push up bra? And if you such an f-ing lady why do you feel the need to instill in others how hard you are. Your wants in a man out weigh your needs so your heart and that mirror you look into everyday is the only one you deceive, you'll always be an underachiever because all the good men you seek and speak of are in the friend zone so you oversee them and only find good for nothing blood sucking leeches.
And to my fellas, Yeah I'm different, answer me this after you g.t.d. then what? It's clear you're only in it for the lust and you probably have no intentions of satisfying her long enough sexually anyway so after you get yours, all of the drama, late phone conversations, you getting caught up, the fighting, was it really worth the headache, I mean you had a nice shape and you deceived her into giving up them cakes Lol and don't get me wrong I only laugh because eventually the mask you wear will eventually deteriorate and she will see right threw you like that glass house you throw stones at. I guess we're really not all that different when you do the math
I’m sleeping in the living room*
Which shares a common wall
With my next-door neighbor’s bedroom;
Shouldn’t bother me at all.
But she must be hard of hearing
‘Cause her TV’s more than LOUD.
I’m convinced that on her settings,
Higher volume’s not allowed.
It makes dreamland more elusive
As my shuteye is deferred
Since in TV conversations
I hear every single word.
And the other night, some screaming
Quickly jolted me awake.
When my heartbeat slowed, I realized
That the argument was fake.
Oh, I miss my bed and bedroom
Where the only noise I hear
Is the traffic and my husband’s breath,
Salvation to my ear.
*my husband is self-isolating with probable Covid-19
2/24/16
Made my own observations
While following through on obligations
Certain materials came into contact with the process of oxidation
As I always respected conservation
Unfortunatley the same could not be said for all occupations
And methods of operation
Realize this bit of ancient knowledge, many conversations
Got lost in translation, all across the basins and nations
You could make a never ending story of compilations
Life came with unlimited combinations
Of complications
But it was never enough to break my concentration
Spirit or willpower, as I stared up at the constellations
Above cities with high populations
I made my own modifications
Through many optimizations
I understood that many desired accomodations
And strictly believed in consecrations
I could never respect or help anyone interested in world domination
Or narcissism and self-nomination
Especially if they speak of others like an abomination
I'm so very far from religious, but I can tell you now with a certain degree of confidence
And a much higher consciousness
That will lead you to a path of eternal condemnation
By: Dalton Ogletree
Compliments
(,Guy talking to girl)
Hello beautiful
How are you
Did I tell you a delegate rose or flower
The lady of the hour
You have the mind of a genius
Your spirit is calm and soothing
When I feel down
You make me want to keep moving or keep going
That flower, I will continue to plant seeds and keep growing
I want to be in your mind space
Love your thoughts
We are on another level
Connections like that can't be bought
Compliments
To one another
Opening up
To each other
Compliments are a necessity
Sometimes, it brings out the best of me
(Girl talking to guy)
Hello
Handsome
You looking nice
Got the beard clean and the trim cut
You look good
I like it so much
Let's go on a date
Let me grab my clutch
I can talk to you all day
Have our conversations on replay
Fast forward, rewind ,
Keep Compliments coming All the time
It lifts you up
Gives you confidence
For sure
Takes away all the blur
Compliments
To one another
Opening up
To each other
Compliments are a necessity
Sometimes, it brings out the best of me
I like it
I love it
Let's make
something of it
(Repeat 1x
Compliments
To one another
Opening up
To each other
Compliments are a necessity
Sometimes, it brings out the best of me
Repeat until chorus fades
Written by Concetta Hardnett
01/14/2024
In the hush before morning, thought stirs—
An ache for meaningful threads in empty rooms.
Existence is the quiet weight of sunlight
Pooling on the floorboards, unnoticed.
The chaos of living, a gentle nudge beneath the ribs,
Unfolds in the silence between conversations.
We gather moments as if they were stones,
Building cairns to mark the passage of crucial days.
Each breath dissolves into the vast, indifferent air,
Yet every glance, every gesture seeks witness.
We drift in the tide—sometimes lost, sometimes found—
Haunted by the shimmers of fleeting and luminescence.
The world’s leading psychiatrist
sat beneath fluorescent light
with a legal pad full of storms
and said:
There are people
who notice too much.
Not intelligence alone—
no, intelligence is cheap now,
diploma mills
sold by universities and politicians
like cigarettes once were.
I mean the curse
of seeing the machine move
behind the curtain.
A twitch before betrayal.
A smile with murder hiding in its gums.
The way a woman says “fine”
while sharpening emotional knives in silence.
The way a cop touches his belt
before deciding who is guilty.
The way crowds repeat lies
until lies grow bones and begin voting.
Super pattern recognition.
The brain becomes a prison guard
watching every shadow for fingerprints.
You notice repetitions.
Abusers with different faces
but identical appetites.
Friends who become enemies
using the exact same sentences
as the last ones.
History wearing fake mustaches
pretending it has changed.
Soon sleep becomes impossible.
Because once a man sees the pattern
he cannot return
to ordinary blindness.
The psychiatrist lit a cigarette
he was not allowed to smoke
and stared through the hospital window
at the city twitching below.
“Most people survive,” he said,
“by ignoring connections.”
But some people—
the wounded ones,
the hypervigilant,
the ones forged in chaos—
their minds become radar.
They can hear tension
before voices rise.
Can smell manipulation
like rain before thunder.
Can predict abandonment
three conversations early.
It is more useful in war.
Terrible for love.
Because eventually
they stop asking
whether danger is present
and begin assuming
it always is.
That is when pattern recognition
becomes prophecy.
And prophecy
becomes loneliness.
Almost
Why is life such a compromise?
Everything is nearly right or not quite there
Nothing is either perfect or nowhere near
Its as if we were born to approximate, almost
The weather holds up it's mirror to life
It's undecided, like the coin toss, random
Not quite sunny, barely dry yet hardly warm
Its partly cloudy – largely bearable, almost
I trudge down the street, greet familiar faces
Conversations trivial, going no places
The weather this, the latest that
Its as though our imagination’s stolen, almost
I was going to do something different
Ride free, a white horse across rivers
Sail fast, on a yacht over fences
Then I woke up, half asleep, almost
But is it so bad to compromise?
To realise life’s boundaries protect
I wasn’t destined to break records
Second place is good enough, almost
I’ll take my podium place
I’ll carry hope’s umbrella
Its partly cloudy and grey
I’m pretty much OK. Almost