Long Drama queen Poems
Long Drama queen Poems. Below are the most popular long Drama queen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drama queen poems by poem length and keyword.
Sweet,
bitter,
or in between.
Maybe a little of both.
Jeckle and hyde,
or more like
Jacklyn and Hilda,
split personalities,
I love em all,
big or small
red hair and all.
Women,
girls,
I love em all,
Mostly in between.
See,
I'm at twenty six,
fixed,
on older women
above age twenty three.
To me,
these are the ripening years,
when girls become women.
When what they want become
natural as spring water.
I have
tasted the juices
of many vintages.
Like a ripened wine.
Like a grape,
turned from sour to sweet.
like a mango mixed delicately
with a peach.
Older, mature woman
are what I fancy.
I compare to an exquisite
Cabernet,
Or
like the Martini's I drink dry.
Why do I like older women?
Why?
I have tried,
experimented with youth,
only to find an
abundance of
drama queen
feelings.
Wild emotions that flare
with each conversation,
with each vacation
I take to the pub,
or to the club.
Each accusation
is followed by my
truth.
Still,
she'll explode.
I then realize it is her
youth.
I love em all though,
all shapes, sizes
and creeds.
To satisfy my hunger,
to satisfy my needs.
Most times
I like my coffee black
sugar sweet
no cream.
I mix my
vanilla cappuccino,
her milk frothed
until she steams.
I think back,
remember,
this woman age
thirty nine.
She must have had the
ingredient to the fountain of youth.
In truth,
a pure "dime".
A dime piece,
slang,
for a magnificent woman,
a stunning woman.
She would take me to
unexpected feelings, places
buried deep inside my mind.
she was kind!
This beautiful woman,
age thirty nine....
Jared Pickett
4/28/07
Asavvy1
it’s not as scary as it is delightful, I said.
Come on! argued my friend, it’s the home of the dead!
With these darling jack-o-lanterns, I think not.
She put up her nose, she can be kind of a snot.
Someone artistic created these, I told her.
They are perfectly done, their lights are so pure!
Anyone could do that, don’t go up there! She screamed.
She was being ridiculous, always a drama queen.
I kept walking, because I felt welcome here.
Feeling a kindship with the owner, as I got near.
But all of a sudden there was a toe-curling scream.
I stared at my friend, hoping this was a dream.
It sounded like a terrified kidnapped child was inside.
I dove behind a bush, wanting somewhere to hide.
My friend began laughing, she is no friend at all.
I did not come out until daylight, terrified of this call.
Upon the rise from my slumber this morning,
I could not help but continued on yawning.
Another fine Summer's day I thought to myself,
A grateful soul I am for still having my health.
Straight away I thought of writing poetry all day,
But my mind still hazy, what would I say?
So I sat at my desk with pen and paper at hand,
Waiting for my mind and thoughts to expand.
Then without a clue, I started writing to you,
Try to share my emotions was the best I could do.
So as my pen wrote down words that I just couldn't find,
Leaving me at peace to explore my own mind.
I know we have never really met face to face,
The best we can do is connect in cyberspace.
But as a soul that struggles alone day by day,
I just needed this opportunity to honestly say.
I've never been one to act like a drama queen,
Nor am I one to create an unwanted scene.
Apart from my own personal problems and faults,
I know we have all had our own fair share of assaults.
And one day when the Sun fades and dissipates,
We shall all learn after all of our own fates.
Until that day we shall still share this place,
And read each other's poetry with a smile on our face.
Dear sweet sixteen drama queen:
I know you don't want my advice,
But shut your smart mouth and listen.
The last decade has been quite a ride
And I want to share my wisdom.
Don't think you're above getting tickets -
When you drive, keep an eye on your speed.
And don't brush your teeth so roughly
Or your gums will start to recede.
Make time for being creative -
Write and paint as much as you can.
When school ends, you'll be working
And time will slip through your hands.
You're not immune to tragedy;
Every heart is destined to break.
You'll witness death, sickness, and pain,
But you'll learn from every mistake.
Always treat strangers with kindness -
You don't know what they've endured.
Be even kinder to Mum and Dad -
Because YOU are what they've endured!
Talk to your grandparents weekly;
Ask questions, learn about the past.
Your history lives within them
And memories won't always last.
Of all the advice I've given,
I hope you'll heed this one thing:
Fall in love with the good guys.
With bad boys, just have a fling!
I live my life the best way I can, I mean....
Life is too short to live as a drama queen
Never been an Angel, no never could I be
I am an artist of words, I love them you see
Dancing among them and floating too
Attempting to make them all poetically true
A lot of things in life I have been,
a mother, sister, wife, and trusted friend
Giving to others the very best that I can
I’ve not done things with alternative plans
Unless that would be before my divorce
Had to look out for myself and kids of course
All else besides my kids wasn’t serious
Nothing about me is all that mysterious
I believe everyone has a right to express
Not to take anyone else down or depress
Live life to your fullest as it should be
Here in this country speech is free
If I don’t agree with your expressed views
I will block you, although I’ve blocked few
I’ve commented on work where the content,
I might not agree, but everyone can vent
It’s how you construct it that I appreciate
Values and beliefs aren’t up for debate
So my purpose for this here written post
I just want to write, I’m not trying to boast
Honestly just wish people would stop doing the most!
It's a melodrama. Try to picture the drama queen
A bit actress lying on the floor in her final scene
Her lips trembling, tears running down her face
ruining her makeup in a gown of satin and lace
You won't win any Oscars, Honey. Not this time
Take lessons, hon. You can't act worth a dime
She's quick to blame everyone, but not herself
She claims innocence, but she's an imp, an elf
She's been insulted, but that's a falsified claim
Seriously, is she for real, or is warring her game?
No one has called her cruel names, not one of us
She's just a sad soul to have created such a fuss
Some poets are thin-skinned and misunderstand
that comments made are not given as a reprimand
But lo and behold... she sure came out swinging
like a bat out of hell with her accusations slinging
So lady poet, try and get a good grip on your life
No one is out to get you or cause you bitter strife
No one has rattled your cage or crushed your soul
and no one is bullying you with the acts of a troll
Your mean-spirited diatribes should reach an end
Maybe then you'll feel better; able to comprehend
You keep blowing a whistle without a good reason
and you've made yourself a victim of poetic treason
I'm wondering why you think your views are fine
and I should not be allowed to give voice to mine.
I didn't call you ugly names, neither of us did that
so stop clawing at us like some hissy spitting cat
It haunts you like shadows inside your imagination
So let it go and stop the outlandish discrimination
Don't you see that the delusions inside your head
are figments in your mind; things that you dread?
Feeling great, feeling happy, feeling keen,
feeling snappy, better than some years.
The other side of the table cannot stop crying,
fully concentrating on his sadness.
This could have some other counselors feeling badly,
but I sense crocodile tears.
Chuckling within, marveling at his talent. It is a fantastic day!
I think as we sit, he and me.
I have tried all of my tricks, none of them have worked.
He is sniffle-crying, gives a little twerk.
Silently jumping for joy, dancing and twirling away,
on the other side of the table, is me.
My feelings are fine, they are smarter than I,
almost on fire. I am not a bit blue.
He is giving me the eye now; a tiny glare is beginning.
He is determined to ruin my day.
I sit here writing, waiting for his list of ten
good things that he likes to do.
He wails and he whines, but I do not react.
So he gives a deep sigh and picks up a pencil.
We write in silence, this drama queen and I.
We write fast and hard, a race for us two.
He was probably goaded into listing some things by my intentional
lack of interest. Totally trained in outwaiting children, I plan to win.
I explain that he has to stop listening to the
green monster inside his head.
The worst scenario entity that tells him
he is a bad boy and should be dead.
I have spoken to his mother six times today.
She tells me he likes to come up here to play.
We sit in silence, he and I. Him thinking of every
worst scenario, and me feeling like a spy.
I talk and he listens, and there is a breakthrough.
But the second he gets settled a tiny bit down,
He begins wailing and shrieking, to try and get out of math class,
for he does not like to round, multiply, add or divide.
I can relate, because I detest math, I have an unnatural fear of it.
And so we dance, he and I, almost daily, and ......
Always during math class.
Remember me well as I give thanks to each mother.
You women of this world …are simply like no other!
Right from conception to those dreaded contractions.
The thought of our well-being dictated your actions.
You labour at birth for a labour of love,
The pain is immense as you push and you shove.
Through age of ‘innocence’, puberty and adolescence.
With loving and patience, gave succour and guidance.
The angst that we brought was not what you sought
But you gave that no thought in a ‘battle’ well-fought.
From stroppy-boy teen, to the big ‘drama queen’.
Gave a shoulder to lean, as you dealt with the scene.
Get lumbered with nan, as you coped with the clan.
Laid out the best plan, as you do all you can.
Most men would implore, “I beg you, no more!!!”
So applaud you for sure; “Encore, plus encore”
How do I thank you? I can't match this feat!
To even things up: How do I compete?
This gender inequity has no parity; For when is your task ever complete?
The cry for equality is absurdity. Your strength alone makes it obsolete.
….please allow me to….
Offer up my seat - while you rest your feet.
Hold open that door - you replenish your store.
Keep watch as you sleep - and so earn my keep.
Protect you from harm - by wiles or by charm.
When I put you 'first’, I’m just trying my best.
When I buy treats and snacks, it’s my way of saying ‘thanks’.
When I pay for a meal, it's still no big deal.
When I show you respect - it's the least you'd expect.
So many tributes have been written, but with your tenacity, I am smitten.
So be it mother or mama - or mummy or mater ...it matters not one iota...
The world's most arduous occupation ....with little or no reparation.
Retirement is never an option; but the 'bond of love' ...always the best 'pension'.
......so, finally I say this, dearest mother:
'You are a Princess, from the Heavens, borrowed.
Never shall you be, by this Earth, sorrowed'.
Robert A Amure (June 2012)
Remember how we wrote our names,
Across the sky and made it shine?
How this big great world
Seemed like just yours and mine?
Remember those wonderful old days;
When life was just one beautiful song?
Why were we happy even in the worst of times?
Maybe we were just the right kinda wrong!
Remember spending all our time admiring each other?
It seems like just yesterday.
Getting back to that golden era,
Looks like there is no possible way.
Remember the true love we shared?
Pride in others being happy for us clearly seen.
Now that you got into hiding;
The world acts like one huge drama queen.
Remember the care you took,the promise you made;
That you will never leave me whatever i do?
Breaking it all you suddenly vanished,
Without leaving even the slightest clue.
Lets reveal your identity;
Everyone is wondering who you could possibly be,
I know you better than anyone else ever can;
Cause your my perfection, the other side of ME
Juliet Cat was an amazing high-drama queen
I am not lying, exaggerating or trying to be mean.
She used to spend hours on her balcony, lamenting her fate.
She had a crush on Romeo, an arrogant tom cat first rate.
The rest of us could not understand why she spent days,
Pining away on the balcony, whining in all kinds of ways.
She is never happy or satisfied, the other female cats said.
One was angry with her for sure, for her husband was dead.
She does not know real misery, the widow woman mewed.
A fight broke out in the alley, a mob mentality, one got lewd.
Juliet Cat did not hear them, she was in a world of her making.
Until the balcony began quivering, and violently shaking.
It’s a tornado! Everyone ran inside and put hurricane shutters up.
Juliet Cat was the first one to skedaddle with a friendly pup.
Things were touch and go, but some were ready to celebrate,
However, the roof came down and crushed Juliet; a horrible fate.