Long Depressed Poems
Long Depressed Poems. Below are the most popular long Depressed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Depressed poems by poem length and keyword.
....When she gets bored of Mr. Slick
and wants to have real fun.
You win some you lose some Newssome.
You abuse some,
misuse funds,
talk about appropriations,
self donations,
inappropriate grooming curriculum, son.
You have seen Mr. McDonald get his
unhappy meal on.
You aint seen nothing yet,
just sit down and getsome.
You are like flotsam and jetsam,
jetsetter for perverted UncleSam,
Vagabond salesman,
if you aint got none you createsome-
choreographer, Cartel Coyote's cartographer
peddling your routine up and down
the West Coasts like fentanyl was red rum.
Hey, I know, "Spirit fingers",
where they're not supposed to be.
In the mid-east they chop them off for thievery,
how much more for stolen innocence, blasphemy?
Sticking in your curacomb wand in
the young and gagging throats,
grooming them along,
suppress any dissenting tongue
till the vomit can be depressed no longer
going going along with Gomorrah
and your lot of Sodom.
Your Madame girl, casting plots,
creating poorn and connecting the buyer dots,
aqua on the tongue,
polka young one, right,
cross the cross, cross the border,
cross the line dot com.
You got sanctuary City,
plastic titties on Men and now want to
do children and throw your wrench in- Dodging balls Sporting Women.
Tale of two opposing campaign promises-City-
Destroyer,
mass exodus equity mis-opportunity
deployer
through L...... till your knuckles get bored .. ...,
off to other things like
vaccine Court Order,
New World Hoarders of rights,
food, travel, autonomy and speech.
Shadow candidacy come deadline
Dateline Promoter on August 18th.
El Presidente' can surely expand your groping reach.
For your band of pick-pockets
infantried by ordered unnational
exchange and securities.
The demon horde lackeys who have monopoly
on who can get impeached, beseeched, leeched
and teached or who can be seen
or breached.
Who is allowed to travel, unmask,
and pollute the jet-stream.
Soon, who will be allowed to eat or breathe.
I spent years depressed and out of luck
at my lowest low friends opt to show me up
boasting achievements whilst I clearly suck
they're seeking a victory over me, stuck
taking shots at a man at his lowest
a friend in fact, one feeling hopeless
one up opportunists showing I have less
desperate and horrible yet only I noticed
I was in a place he should be helping
I've said that man's bitter and selfish
shallow enough to shoot and raise a fist
kick a man when he's down, as I had insist
better than a man who's stuck at his worst
a man he should help but his ego comes first
a victory decent folk would declare worthless
Kev, equal to bottom winning with a sick thirst
accomplished with the kids and wife you're married to
but I rejected her mate whilst she rejected you
she wouldn't of let you in her pants for life
if she wasn't a last chance circumstantial wife
she likes 'em talk dark and handsome
but sod it you'll do
pasty bald and witless
stood at 4 foot 2
an insight as to why you kick out with that shoe
and friends down at their lowest stuck lost without a clue
so you can keep your medal mate and your lady too
rejected by the football team then settling for you
You kick me when I'm down
win when we share common ground
and now I've stood back up
you're still a selfish angry clown
Shelly thought all those heartfelt feelings of love and oneness was lost
She had not heard from her first love, Thomas, for six weeks, since winter’s frost
They were seventeen, and had fallen soulfully and fully in glorious teenage love
Airtight, so right, the ultimate one-ness, their minds had melded, fit like a glove
Her handsome man, first love, together forever, she had thought, the ultimate we
Depression had set in a month ago, when it kicked in she might be a forever single she
His parents had moved in the middle of the night, house forlorn, no wish or song.
Incredulous feelings flowed through her soul when she realized he was truly gone.
Her texts so poignant, and loving, understanding and heartfelt to his cell phone
Were not returned in any shape, or rhyme, insuring her she was indeed now all alone.
This was a particularly sad moment, as they had met on March fifteenth, the March’s Ides,
A year anniversary of their first meet, but her world was no longer hers, and she felt quite dead inside.
She had contemplated doing something horrible, to feel the pain, to cut, to bleed, to run, to hide.
His voice she heard often in her head, explaining what had happened, relieving some of her dread.
Homework and hobbies held no interest now, she was all wrapped up in love gone wrong instead.
The storm outside, was not more violent than the one within, so she decided to take a walk in the rain.
Depressed and sad, head down, she walked slowly, feeling her heart breaking anew from the strain,
She had walked two blocks when someone gently touched her arm and turned her around.
It was her man, Thomas, who had managed to defy his parents, and find his way back to town.
My dad threw my phone out that window, he told her, and there was no way to get in touch with you.
But you are the love of my life, and I think we deserve to give our love the respect it is due.
Written 10-17-2018 Contest: Tell Me A Story Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Brick houses gone, wood houses gone
Family histories blown away
No photos or proof of life
2.8 billion dollars worth of damage
Devastation for a mile.
One house standing, with debris
Covering every inch of her yard.
2008 Chevy in oak tree,
Electric lines dangerously torn
Silence after the roar of what sounded
like a train, but must have been the
Two hundred and eighty-one mile an hour winds.
Tornado on a scale we cannot comprehend
No one creeping out of houses
For almost no one was there when it hit.
If they had been, they are gone now.
People creeping back hours later
Shocked, horrified, grief-stricken
Not for loss of life, which did happen,
But for life of soul-things.
Photographs, decorations, spoons, and forks,
Family heirlooms, favorite purple boots,
Grandma’s gold chain, lost forever, a lifetime of memories lost,
most never recovered, destroyed, or dumped in rivers.
May 22, 2011, Joplin Missouri’s most catastrophic EF-5 tornado
The city comes together about a week later
Interlopers from other cities come,
Pouring in with help, food, water, clothes
Things a family needs to get back on their feet
The love shown to Joplin was fierce and fast.
Tears flowed unexpectedly, and selfishness
Was felt by those who did not feel
“grateful” like they were supposed to feel.
Many felt despondent, devastated, depressed.
They were immobile, some never fully recovering
While in the back of their minds many were
Silently grateful, thanking God for being spared.
It is cheerless not to notice
anything from you ... O lost ship
between instincts and confines ...
It's dismal not to realize
to where you disappeared ...
O fallen leaf of the cold afternoon
in the biggest storm
of unloving ...
Doleful lose your presence...
... your countenance run away
in verbal actions, so thorough
of certainties ...
It is depressed not to visualize you,
nor find you on maps,
and have no prospects
to reach you ...
It is só sad to be aware of
this tremendous uncertainty ...!
Depressed by the facts of him who he had
chosen.
Loud mouthed and foolish, he'd often make mistakes
using what was stored never replenishing it. She bought
twenty cans of canned sausage (number #10 cans).
She would be the devout wife but she needed to
handle the situation with the delicate detail of a
looser type woman. She bought three packs of tennis balls
and the night that he would work late she would hide
in the bushes and toss the balls at him while his friend watched.
When he worked late he'd often bring the guy next door home
with him allowing his wife to go to work instead of
him coming off the clock to bring the car to her. While in the
bushes she saw ( first the principle rule of love is allowing yourself
to be loved: it's key to the healing parts of being bruised). While in the
bushes the car pulled up
and low and behold the two fools drove up with two boxes talking about putting it the boxes in the garage so the wives wouldn't find out about
what they would be be doing.Pissed off she frowned. Theories based on
these truths only allowed her to become
angry. "Con Furore" might I find peace: she roared as her wondering made less able to be still. Losing her footing she cursed and rattled the bushes. Causing a noise that made both men to be aware of her. "Honey" what you doing in the (G2dd#mn3d Bushes! She stumble towards his cursing I was gonna learn ya in front of your freinds to embarr you. Since we surposse to set an example in our budgeting. See but you done gone
and bought and spent and eatin with out replacing. I was gonna learn you Mister !"
Don’t misunderstand me.
When I say I’m only human
I mean
I can no longer stand
your brutal silence.
I can no longer be
your emotional punching bag.
Don’t misunderstand me.
When I say I’ve been busy
I mean
I have been depressed,
bored,
lonely —
falling asleep to Grey’s Anatomy reruns
on the sofa.
Don’t misunderstand me.
When I say I can’t meet you
I mean
it’s not possible
to look at you another minute
without touching you.
Don’t misunderstand me.
When I say it’s late
I mean
my shattered heart
cannot drag my body
out of this bed —
this bed
that has become my tomb.
I'm told that I'm supposed to write a sonnet,
It isn't something I could ever do;
I know I'd rather shop to buy a bonnet;
A size six foot won't fit a size five shoe.
I look and see how little I have done;
I've struggled and I've sweated through the day;
I look and see the setting of the sun,
And still I have no sonnet to display.
I guess I'll only flunk, not make the grade,
My parents, I suppose, will be depressed,
(Because I'll never get a sonnet made,)
But then, oh well, you'd think they would have guessed.
My teacher should just go and climb a tree,
She'll never get a sonnet out of me.
I would love to compose a sonnet,
Reading rules and structure makes me think twice,
A mind grown in science does not want,
To mix meter and feet to replicate Martian lander
disaster twice.
To me, feet and meter are measuring units,
not an indication of word stress patterns,
The Iambic pentameter throws right out in woods,
Quatrains and couplets remind me of coupling joints.
The Petrarchan (Italian) and Shakespearean style
makes me wonder,
Why rhythm does not stay with music of salsa and drums,
Metaphor and peripeteia are some phrases to wonder,
The octave and sestet probably are some music notes.
Writing sonnet may not be a joke,
but for aspiring minds, there must be hope.
I am depressed, stressed, anxious, she said.
I advised her to help someone else.
There is no better way to lighten your load
She claimed it would not work
Without trying it
I had no time left to listen to her whining
I had children to play with, and lunch to cook.
Get a dog or a cat, I advised her. Get outside of yourself.
She tried to moan more at me, but I had given her my best shot
And she had no other people to call,
For she has alienated everyone else who ever knew her
Every week the same phone call, like a broken record.
Each time I give her ideas about what she could do to help others.
Volunteer at a grade school, read a story to someone who is vision impaired,
Take a meal to someone who just had surgery
It wouldn’t work, she always says
Because she does not know that it always does
But I do, which is why I keep calling her, trying to lighten her load
Also it is a reminder to me that life is good,
As long as I am helping others, and feel I have purpose
I will never stop trying to help her
Because when I help her, I help myself
Every time she says I am so glad I have you,
it uplifts me and puts a little extra zing in my step.
Today, though it’s not summer
I went to the lakeside,
not to angle,
only because I was so depressed.
There was no windsurfer
gliding on the quiet water,
nor high speed motor boat
plowing through the water leaving its trail behind.
When surging water clashed on the reef
sent up a spray of water high in air,
and when the spray falls on the water
it forms a mist from the foams sinking into the water
bone chilling wind comes with long strides
pushing a curtain of mist aside.
I feel cold not because it’s winter
but I am sitting on an empty bench
no one welcoming or expecting me.