Long Dirtiness Poems
Long Dirtiness Poems. Below are the most popular long Dirtiness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dirtiness poems by poem length and keyword.
Edges edging the already on edge,
But calm and restraint is the pledge.
“Patience, child, this too will pass.”
Why is patience mine, but that guy’s an ass?
“We don’t measure ourselves
Based on others actions or thoughts.”
Therein lies a truth;
No judgment of dirtiness while covered in spots.
But question I do why he proudly trots,
While I suffer patience’s patient rot.
Balance, I thought, was the cosmic constant,
So I wonder who will be the good when I dip.
Not that I’m *that* good, but I only sip,
Lightly, gently on anger where others trip.
Now that I wonder, maybe I am the bad…
Taking stock of good, weighing against the ill-will I’ve had.
Maybe I am the bad, just a tad,
Which makes me madsad more so than glad..
Perhaps, however, it can be aimed?
Maybe bad should have bad maimed?
If I’m tainted anyway, perhaps I should be bad for good in a Holy Name,
Like Amalekites when Israel was restless and needed tamed.
And I am already restless, as a bat in the night.
So sic wicked on wicked to give them a fright.
As they say, “fight fire with fire”
And lucky for us, I’ve already built the pyre.
“Karma’s a b****”
…yes, I suppose
the phrase rings a bell…
But why be afraid
if the deal for a life made
Already ends in hell?
Getting clean in a hot shower
Gives you a smell like a flower
Pretty and fragrant like a a rose
From your head down to your toes
But when you are really flirty
I don't feel clean--just dirty
Steaming up the glass door
Clothes are scattered on the floor
Soaping up its slippery
Falling for your trickery
To join you in this fun game
This hot waters like a flame
Pulsating on us strong and steady
Until we both are ready
To get warm and really cozy
Under blankets--cheeks so rosy
From the hotness we just shared
Not one ounce of love was spared
As we got dirty in the action
Leading to desired passion
To dust, The old boxes in the attic, the old toys in the basement, they turn to dust as they stay forgotten, the cotton rabbit going rotten. The boxes taped close, as if reopened they'd grow and Molden. the small bed in the room, needing dusting, the frames rusting and the sheets clustering. the pictures turned down, the stand broken and the glass broken, the frame cracked and dusted. The kid in this room loved it, but moved out for peace, getting a lease and building a life, new bed, new pictures, new boxes and new toys for the kids they had themselves, and soon enough that kid's room will dust too. Not in dirtiness but in affection, showing how much it was looked in, slept and cried in, and used. SO if you dust it don't throw out the boxes, don't resell the toys, don't throw out the broken pictures and please don't dismantle the bed, leave it to be, leave the memories fly around, leave it as a museum until the kid comes into that house, picking that same room, using that same bed, ripping those same boxes and playing with those same toys. To dust, is to love.
Darkness peeks beneath the shadows
Melancholic doubt, dread
From silent sensation, built by depression
Falling down from up on high
Where there is grace, where there is chance
Darkness drives away the intense hope
Prepares dreams for loss
Erases the innocence from the smiles
Beneath layers of twilight
Where stars glimmer in the ebony night
Darkness imagines the faces of a moon
Echoing serenity, soothing
Forcing the mind to remember the truth
Hastening the kiss of gloom
So nothing else knows the neglect of suspect
Darkness embraces the ugliness of despair
Whispers obscurity into the dusk
Blends sadness and fear, lingers in the tears
Where anxiety flounders, fails
To take away the moments promised, courage
Darkness reduces the colors so vibrant
Clever hues in violet and sapphire
Moments stirred by scarlet and sweet amber
Thoughts perplexed by the grayness
The dirtiness of the foggy grim, so dull – so dim
Darkness urgently prepares the mind, the thoughts
For the moments of sorrow, the harm
That comes alive in the grief that knows no relief
The death that dismembers grace
Disguises the beauty and masks the praise
Darkness complicates the joy that inspires
Eclipses the compassion and laughter
Conceals every thought of encouragement
Cloaks the dream in ambivalence
Muddles the feelings that make a heart thrive
Yet, darkness – in all its black splendor
Cannot disconnect the soul
From the wonder, the hope – the knowing
That love is alive, abiding inside
The one who knows the One who is His light
The light frees the darkness from her muted breath
And leaves the soul comforted
By the miracle of a faith that survives the darkest night
Bac N tha day
Grand gran M would say
Boy B for y'all sit down
Better wash em hands
Go down to the creek N way them hanzs
Wash them hands O Lord
I need two wash me hands
Need ta eat that manna my God provide
Grand N would say wash them hand b four you eat
B four you pray let your hands and mouth b cleansed
Do not let no dirtiness come out them lips
And keep them hands also clean b four you eat
Yeah, I know the water at the creek
It's dirty water
But we ain' t got no faucet or running water
Gone down to the creek in wash them hanzs
Come on back quick so y'all got yo bacon, eggs and grits
Boy, did ya also wash yo face
So great gran pa lead us N prayer
He said let us all close our eyes now
Fold them hanzs N say aloud
Now
Thank you Father God fer tha food b four us
Thank N Father God fer tha food we have Amen
4/5/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
My dearest hot shower
You mean the world to me
You cleanse both body and mind
Always wake me up when sleepy
You warm and soothe my aching bones
At times wash away my tears
You let me sing my heart out
Without hands over ears
In times of sickness
Your warmth helps heal
In times of sorrow
A warm cuddle l feel
When grubby from a days hard work
Or salty from the sea
You take the situation in hand
Washing the dirtiness from me
When l am freezing cold and reluctant
To come and visit you
You continually beckon me
Until l see your point of view
You make me feel clean and fresh
Comforted and renewed
I love and need you in my life
Dearest hot shower….I could never live without you!!
I like the showers of the sowers' rainfalls—
Not that it shouts, but because it makes plants sprout.
The scenery crawls as field greenery sprawls,
That can extricate droughts from despairing doubt.
Butterflies paint brighter the greens of the fields,
And flowers flaunt beauty as bright, fragrant shields.
In dreams I crave wet seasons to whet my sleep,
Whose supreme comfort sustains my slumber deep.
I hate the stains that dwell in corners and drains—
Filthiness, a taboo my death will detest.
I despise the dirtiness my soul disdains,
A deep aversion heaven and earth can't wrest.
So sew your flowers' seeds and weed my garden—
No matter your mistake, my mind will pardon.
Love will invent the wheel of our good rapport;
Just don't adore foulness I so much abhor.
We big, tough, well-thinking male bearberries blew and we snarled and we spouted and we blew.
But those danged dandelions obstinately kept their tops on, no matter how much we did fuss.
Come on fellas, I said to my fellow bearberries. Here is just what we’ll do…
“I’m not taking them!” I screamed at B.B.2, our leader, a passive little cuss.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
I am so sorry Tiger Lilies, he told them. It’s just us bear berries today. He shot an apologetic look to T.L. 1 and T.L. 402.
I am sick and tired of my whole life being video- recorded by those selfie-taking nut-buckets, I told him, indignant, and with an angry face.
They will clean your house, wash your floors, pay your bills, wax your car, and do your laundry, said B.B. 2.
I don’t care if my house implodes on its dirtiness, I retorted. Just keep them in their place.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
Tiger Lily 58 sneaked back into the Bearberry Lodge, where Tiger Lilies are never supposed to be.
We did not see her at first as she used her invisibility tablet to reach us; I felt her heat on the back of my neck, before I saw her.
She began to give me a really nice, warm, massage and sweet backrub which was the best I had had times three.
Wow! What is that? I asked myself, as I began getting tingly and happy all over, and down under.
I guess I was talking about these wonderful tiger lilies, our allies.
My dad had told me a long time ago that the best pairings in the meadow was always a BB and a T.L.
Who are you? I whispered to Tiger Q. Lily 58. I am your soul mate, she responded, can you please meet me at 2?
Where? I wondered, and she immediately conveyed that she would be at northern rise of Bunny P. Hill.
I will be there with my matching rings, I told her. Are you ready? Yes, she agreed. No one else will do.
I am now hitched to a wonderful tiger lily, and all my mean thoughts
toward T.L.'s seem pretty damned silly.
(And I don’t care whether or not the dandelions ever lose their
tops. They are of no use to me now.)
Dated: May 12,2018
Getting clean in a hot shower
Gives you a smell like a flower
Pretty and fragrant like a a rose
From your head down to your toes
But when you are really flirty
I don't feel clean--just dirty
Steaming up the glass door
Clothes are scattered on the floor
Soaping up its slippery
Falling for your trickery
To join you in this fun game
This hot waters like a flame
Pulsating on us strong and steady
Until we both are ready
To get warm and really cozy
Under blankets--cheeks so rosy
From the hotness we just shared
Not one ounce of love was spared
As we got dirty in the action
Leading to desired passion