Long Degree Poems
Long Degree Poems. Below are the most popular long Degree by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Degree poems by poem length and keyword.
When I talk, her face always seems to agree.
Thick eyebrows with glasses are her all highest degree.
She has a big brother that she doesn’t ever want.
She never ever wants to talk but she’s rampantly rant.
She is a mediator in all types of situation,
She’s excellently good, not mediocre, in all sorts of tension.
Expressing her feelings is her power every time,
When she laughs, it’s my most crystal clear lime.
Her eyes are little bit intimidating! Is it that scary?
Get to know her better because she is blissfully fairy.
Her lips are unpredictable! Is it bit mysterious?
She sometimes makes jokes and she is someone hilarious!
She had stories of her past friends from other planet.
Cruelty yes! She deserves to receive this whitest sonnet.
She’s always focus in all things that she does,
That girl who said to be serious is genuinely cool fuzz.
Form:
When I’m gliding blithely through my days,
Life, with its blunt, disconcerting ways,
interrupts my peace with sobering realities
that heighten my awareness and bring me to my knees
uttering praise for being spared or, for others, urgent pleas.
The fifteen obituaries in the paper one day last week
were all for people younger than I. Naturally, I seek
to enjoy a long life. I presume those people wanted that too!
I pray thoughts of mortality won’t leave me with a morbid view
but will motivate me to pursue goals, both old and new.
When news reports reveal the true state of the world,
it never fails: New hair-raising terrors are unfurled.
I shiver just thinking of future generations~~
grandkids, their kids, and theirs . . . and the deliberations
they must maneuver through to maintain solid foundations.
Sobering realities will continue to assault my peace of mind,
but due to a degree of late-in-life wisdom, I’m inclined
to prayerfully do what I can to fix or eliminate a situation,
then turn it over to the One in the highest station.
The Lord has power over every complication.
Revoking Doc's License #1
A word from the State Medical Board committee
The #1 injection will always be P.D.
Doc, I am considering to slam you out of pity
I do not mess with poets whose licenses come from Hello Kitty.
You overdose my patient RED, getting down to the nitty gritty.
At this time, your practice has been revoke
For coming after me as I wear my black cloak.
I got a grip on my scythe pressed against your throat.
Pees running down your legs leaving you all soak
Doc, I got your body full of Narcotics and Painkillers as a joke.
Dropping you like a lawsuit on the examination table with one smack.
Denying you morphine as your vasectomy goes wrong in this attack
I already drove you insane labeling you a quack.
Your hand I flushed in (TRANQUILIZER), slapping you with a black Jack.
Waking up without your gems blood all over your sack.
Restrain you in a straitjacket, throwing you in a padded room.
Covered in your own s*it as you were in your mother’s womb
Poet-ing like a disco biscuit on ecstasy, before I made you go SKAT-boom!
Engraving your Poetic Doctor Degree on the outside of your tomb.
With the words that speak, P.D. was the cause of your poetic doom.
by;P.D.
A mystery
Life is a mystery, but how many questions are there, and who understands?
Nobody, nobody, nobody
But, yes, I understand.
Every mystery is a question
A mystery, a tangle of mysteries
Question, question, the undiscoverability of the unknown
But what is the homeland of mystery? Where does it originate?
What is the unknown home, and where does it come from?
This question is a mystery of cause and effect, to a relevant degree.
The cause of the mystery is its own hidden subject.
But still, the reason for its origin remains unknown.
A mystery
I should be feeling very great,
For I spent a weekend out of state.
I have come back feeling out of sorts,
Nothing that can be of any new reports.
I really needed the time away.
It was time for me for once to play.
I have way too much angst and strife,
It is all way to much for just one life.
I feel like my love I am losing.
A lot of feelings that are so confusing.
I came back with a mission,
One that needs no ones permission.
Get my degree that is the plan.
I will do the best that I can.
Find a new home to move into,
Where? Right now I have not a clue.
I am moving full steam ahead,
No matter what my heart dreads.
One day at a time is my new creed.
It will be one that I will one that I carefully heed.
My daughter has autism, she’s 22, what I wish people knew, she gets upset at the slightest thing, on the bus with crowds, noise, loud voices, at times I turn away.
She is unable to tie her shoes she never learned, I guess that’s my fault, she acts inappropriately in public we are always aware of the stares, no relaxing can we enjoy, because we’re always afraid of her going of on one of her fits..
How I wish people knew, of how un normal our home life is, college degree, drivers license, marriage, child bearing, all but a dream.
We are well aware of the unknown, the day we are no longer able to care for her needs, my daughter, my gift from God, the daughter whom we conceived out of HIS love, someday we will have to give that up, for a home that it is ours.
No one else can feel our despair, my daughter for whom I loved before we met, nine months in my tummy, only she knows what my heartbeat sounds like from inside, whom I laid upon my bare chest, she may have to go where I cannot care for her someday, tell me how do I comprehend that time?
Once a year, I deliver presents to children all over the world.
But sometimes I wonder why I do what I do for boys and girls.
Every time I go down a chimney, I singe my big butt.
Why do I keep doing this every year, I must be nuts.
I wish that Christmas would come in June or July.
If it came when people have no fires, my butt wouldn't get fried.
It's bad enough when Mrs. Claus and my elves laugh because of my gut.
But it hurts when I sit down because I have third degree burns on my butt.
Parents better leave their doors unlocked the next time Christmas comes around.
Because if they lock their doors, Santa Claus sure as hell won't be coming to town.
How does it make you feel knowing that you killed someone emotionally? How do you live with yourself and go on, now that you’re free?
Are you that selfish and cruel as to not even give them a second thought? They fell in love with you, and oh how they fought
You filled them up with lies and promises that you never intended to make come true, you’re a different kind of killer, but there still lies evil inside of you
How do you not know that you’re the cause of their pain? I believe that you do know but you’re not going to accept the blame
You get to walk around free as a bird with no punishment to take, while they must forever live with what you did to them, and what you called a mistake
The mistake was that you fell for this person at all, because you didn’t really care it was just for the thrill of it all
You’re sadistic and you know that I’m right, how do you lay down and go to sleep at night?
Do you dream of your next victim? The next one to pay the price, for choosing to fall in love with you, that just isn’t right
There have been many that have fell victim to your game, and even a few have lost their minds or even gone insane
You don’t understand the degree to which you have left your mark, is there anything at all inside of you, have you no heart?
I know all about how they feel because I was the first victim, the trial run for your cruel twisted game, the first one to play the part, to be forever changed.
This poem is from my book titled Sew Up My Heart available for purchase on Amazon and Kindle. My pen name is Amanda Carroll Kinzer
In my restive mind keen time raced in spree,
me in the wasteland of life I could see
as fallen defoliated dry tree,
you came as rain cloud gray - drifted away, didn’t stay,
mid-day sun’s sparkling ray - ushered for me new day.
I saw the daytime crescent moon shine bright,
as the orb slowly climbed up the sky’s height,
felt lunar vibes in awe-inspiring sight.
The unique astral show - helped hopeful omen glow,
good luck in life would flow - pull me up from the low.
Mind’s balance it enhanced to great degree,
out of plaguing terrain I found a way.
Image of self-reflection came to light,
perceived the awareness of life’s change grow.
It was nine degrees outside in April
In the chill of a dreary April day,
I find myself wandering through the dimness,
My eyes were straining in the absence of light.
As I approach the door, a sense of familiarity washes over me, pulling me back to a time of comfort and solace.
The thought of retreating to the inviting embrace of my warm bed beckons me like a gentle siren, contrasting sharply with the biting cold that surrounds me.
In this moment, I realize that in this vast expanse of uncertainty, there is only one clear path to follow—one that leads back to the refuge of my blankets and dreams.