Long Damn Poems
Long Damn Poems. Below are the most popular long Damn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Damn poems by poem length and keyword.
I sit here and look back and see how love changed ,
I went from getting hurt ,being abused , to not even ashamed .
It started off rocky i was like dang another game ,
But when he tells me he loves me it feels insane ,
If you read my last poem i was standing in the rain
Hurt, confused ,and really ashamed ,
i didnt know who i was or how to gain ,
My life was a upside down rollercoaster about to break ,
Now i dont feel like that i feel brave ,
About to push out our daughter in amaze ,
Like damn i really found the one ,
We enjoy each other and really have fun ,
I love you even if i dont tell you alot ,
Its because sometimes i feel like this gold might fall out the pot ,
Without you and malachi i dont know where i would be ,
And adding aurora makes it all better to me ,
I just want you to know i appreciate you alot ,
And that you really changed my world ,
To something better and hot ...
My day starts with a cup of tea hot
Its steam ‘n steamy headlines in papers help boil the day’s plot
Nine to five make all efforts to achieve my day’s aims
Mind and body both it usually strains
Motto is to stick as far to the present
weaving past and future into its crescent.
Romance in evening is aided by the moon crescent
Red wine shots make it more hot
After dinner it is time to reassess the present
Tomorrow somehow sneaks into the plot
A warm shower helps to drain the day’s strains
Helping me renew my energy and aims.
I retire to my study to fulfill my imagery aims
To indulge in poems while admiring the moon’s crescent
which plays hide and seek with the clouds, and my eye strains
The scene in which the cupid’s arrows start hitting her hot
I get charged and run to find my own love’s plot
find her at terrace as she viewed the moon crescent at present.
Dreams of love and happiness we give each as present
But how does that help in the achievement of aims?
I try to scratch my head but do not get the plot
For the things of heart have invisible connection with moon crescent
The resulting low and high tides blow us cold and hot
In equal measure, causing us happiness and strains.
I try to sleep counting my happiness but wishing away the strains
I also pray to god that I stay rooted in the present
Over so many days I learnt not to worry unless iron is hot
this can happen if we get clear cut ability to decipher those damn aims
but things start to get hazy when out comes the moon crescent
and my attention gets tuned to the music that bush crickets yonder plot.
Falling off to sleep I am forced to loosen the strings of my plot
Off I meander on slopes which sprout flowers of different strains
From the slopes I can jump and closer feel the glow of the crescent
Becoming the king and receiving the queens in present
Having achieved everything I am left with no more aims
That is when I wake up to see next day’s sun turning hot.
Plotting the day’s programme again requires mind to be present
strains and stresses apart keeping a focus on the charted aims
Crescent moon providing the romantic touch later, with these expectations hot.
12.6.2014
Contest The Sestina Challenge
Sponsor: Jared Pickett
This site is da bomb, my haven so to speak
It's where I go to mellow out
Away from the ugly news of the day
That we constantly hear about
Without this site, my life would be boring
I'd walk around mumbling away
Oblivious to the big old world passing by
Whatta great way to start the day
So many people call The Soup their home
Scattered throughout this big planet
Personalities as varied as the fish in the ocean
So many, they run the damn gamut
From witty, to clever, intellectual or romantic
We all call it home sweet home
A retreat, a getaway from all of life's hassles
A place to let our true hearts roam
So let's hear some of that thunderous applause
Because here's the inside scoop
All of us would probably fade into oblivion
Instead, we're just happy as poop
It seems you could never stay out of a casino.
As soon as you got paid, that is where you would go.
Your life became dependent on the roll of the dice.
Each crap table visited was as cold as ice.
Your financial ability was shrouded with doubt.
The money evaporated with each seven out.
With meeting your obligations, you didn't give a damn.
You got yourself in quite a financial jam.
Bill collections, repossessions, and foreclosures clouded your life.
Gambling was cutting you up like a knife.
Each day was an experience with monetary strife.
Those episodes are what decent people dread.
You must not be feeling pain now that you're dead.
All you have left are unpaid debts and liabilities.
I am forced to scatter you cremated ashes to the breeze.
My drinks enticing and sweet
On a chair in the middle of the street
My little floaters been dinged
Toiling waves the edges singed
The wood alive with roaring flame
Waters pulsing like a broiling brain
The cars flow downriver like syrup
I float on my raft with an empty cup
My chair can't sink among the heat
Since it's not the damn drivers seat
So I travel the world and surf
My cup will never touch any turf
Arms reach out from the ocean waves
They hold tight, the current fails
They want saltless delight im sure
I lift the parasol, sugar is the cure
I reach down and share the fluid
The current takes it, people included
It's no matter, I can surf without it
So I crouch on the boards and sit
Then lie and bask in the sun
And even the hands cant ruin the fun
They still reach and pin me
From below the board they see
Grab my cup and take it
I laugh and spit
I let them take it where it belongs
Bubbling under the wooden walls
And I still have the suns fire
It extinguishes the waters pyre
The lapping waves cant burn
My raft of wood will never turn
Everything is so warm and free
As long as my drink is lifting me
Writing poetic confessions is akin to visiting a Nudist state
Well, the concept sounds good, but all this exhibitionism --
The Naked performing unsteady cartwheels, their dangly bits --
Makes it seem like a bad idea.
Taking a break in the pleasant air
Look at how happy they are,
Dancing in a circle and jerking up and down, like children,
Praising one another for being authentic and emotional.
Allowing the clean aroma strike your nostrils
And you say to yourself, "damn, all this Nudity is attractive,"
While also recalling the how much fun you could have heard
If only you became a Nudist earlier.
It was late on a Thursday night
The stars were just starting to blink their eyes
But the celestial conversation between your heart and my mind was far from goodbye
Each conclusion turns into a new beginning with you
I asked her what helps her breathe, and she said
Being able to walk outside and see nature speak to me
Knowing I can take control of the end before the last page
Seeing my growth and allowing it time to celebrate
Challenging who I was yesterday to get closer to the person I'll be tomorrow
The journey of love, it exists
I've felt it's fleeting glimpses and heard the course of its heartbeat
So, I'll continue binge watching episodes until I get to the one piece
Because treasure is wherever your heart is
That is my daily inhale and exhale
I told her how her passion for life matched the art of her beauty
And it was damn attractive
She responds what am I to you?
I whispered You are the roses smiling from my heart of thorns
When I'm sad I just pick one, so I have a smile to give to you
Bouquets are built from the time we spend together
So, I'll continue to bring you flowers for as long as my love breathes
I guess what I'm trying to say is if roses didn't exist my passion would be missing
If roses ever took a day off, I would call in sick
Because without you I feel nauseous
If your roses had a color, it would be anecdote,
Unconventional,
Because one petal would be for your hazel eyes, another for your caramel skin, another for the chocolate hues in your smile, another for the tanned shades of laughter
Your roses are sun kissed
A warmth that imprints on my cheek
You are the inhale to my exhale
p.s. art wouldn't exist without your rose ...
Nestled here beside you, night fell without a single care,
though pins and needles may soon claim arm's clutch.
Precious time all mine, drunk on the smell of you so near,
would stay beside 'til last loss of feeling touch.
Is that your heartbeat caught in soft pulsing fingers..?
or perhaps mine, trembling now in anticipation.
This magic voice under bright crescent moon, lingers,
finally rememb'ring love's sweet translation.
We quit all the old games, forgot their petty names..,
two lovers, sought youth again, with loving wings.
No, that's not a tear of sadness, my heart alight in gladness,
this luckiest of fools, caught in rapt angel eyes, sings!
Irrational, gibbering song grips moonstruck heart so thrilled,
though I really don't give a damn.
Passion felt in quivering, longing lips, more any wish yet fulfilled,
makes me glad that I'm a man.
NEW YORK NEW YORK AGAIN
When I go to the Service as soon as I get up
I listen to Frank Sinatra's song
“New York New York”
The city that never sleeps, as me
And I with pleasure, like Liza Minnelli
Making a profane cabaret
Where could win an Oscar.
I so much and good
How do they say they did it
Persian and Apuleius.
If it's hard for me to do it
Immediately burst into a thousand dicteries
ting on the mother who gave birth to me
How do the new parturients
Let them stop without an epidural, bareback
Shouting at the husband:
-You could be here giving birth, damn.
The comes out to the beat of the song
(Unparalleled daring is to say that I ):
"I'm going to New York
Could be Chicago (Yeah )
I want to be part of them.
My desire to as a bum
It has had an effect.
I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
Blaring the toilet bowl
I wanna be king of the hill on top of
Like the kings of Madrid
In the Palace of Aranjuez.
So many farts contain our asses!
How long have I been ting here
You have seen and heard it.
When I pull the chain
The will be gone
Like the sins in the giant censer
From the Church of Santiago, in Compostela.
I'll fix it:
If I can here in New York or Chicago
I can do it anywhere
Up on the rooftops
As the ancient fables of the Greeks tell
What did the gods do, demigods
And all the fine mob.
The water from the cistern will transport me
As the famous Nile did
To the lies and hoaxes
That daily life contains
Until they incite me, again, to
Virgil and Ovid
Two big jerks, as me.
Cold sidewalks and the bitter gloom of spoiled love
It's a thief who rules the night where I come from
Hearts are the troubled dew residing on the grass blades of early morning
On one street a white picket fence
On the next a five dollar wench
Just let me walk these streets as king just only once
And with that thought my heart is soaring
It's in the ruins of the night I see myself
That wayward path that I’ve been on since I was twelve
These lost abandoned folk can be my guide
The night will be my horse and I will ride
Across the beaten pathway lost in time
The only sympathy I want tonight is mine
For now I will not leave the man who stares
Just begging for a pittance unawares
It's only right that he should get a couple bucks
Maybe some halls to wash the taste of sour luck
A slice of pizza for a junkie goes so far
Cause no one else will give a damn under the stars
And I know that I should be at home asleep
But it calls to me, the heartbeat of the streets
I'm not too fresh to walk in step with weary feat
I'm not too smart to risk a mugging or the beats
I'm not too scared because I'm only scared of me
It's only dangerous if you live it dangerously
...And if you say I've lost my mind you're probably right
But I think society was out to lunch last night