Long Enviously Poems
Long Enviously Poems. Below are the most popular long Enviously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Enviously poems by poem length and keyword.
What's up miss popular? People know about your greed
Ya, got the text. The "Hey, dotard, don't talk to me freak,"
The average joe, and those silly electronics"
Please, Click Itch, labeling others as the smelly geek
So many countless hours cushioning in luxury
Preparing to feed your lust, her dinner platter
Feasting on periodic table and splitting bonding
Then misguided paparazzi ask what’s the matter?
Dr. Gluttony's remedy, a coke and Mentos
Pridefully smiling as other families shatter
Expecting everyone’s contributions to the plate
Because, you are the modern-day narcissistic (*sore)
The search engines have endless pages on the topic
Upon your illusion throne, craving and wanting more
Deep down in the shadows, harbors your anger and wrath
Enviously fishing for a fresh party's primate
Yep, Scarlett, Megan and Kelly all have perfect cups
But don’t worry, over time your bim-bims will deflate
Sorry, Brittany and Jen both have the perfect butt
Though your horoscope says, “glutes are going to inflate”
Ma'am Trash Troll, you have not the cash flow of Uncle Sam
What A disgusting branded pathetic child you are
Your future will be a shabby truck driver's pit stop
Slothfully dreaming of becoming a super star
*Word changed
Updated 5/14/219
-Urban Dictionary-
1.Click Itch - An everlasting feeling of need to start clicking, usually on social sites such as Facebook, Instagram, Google, Pinterest, etc.
2.Dotard - An aging individual who has long lost the ability to make rational sense.
3.Cushioning - A dating technique where along with your main piece you also have several 'cushions', other people you'll chat and flirt with to cushion the potential blow of your main break-up and not leave you alone.
Form:
A saccharine rueful cry rode upon the wind,
not a howl but a solemn ceaseless wail of tears
whispering a last bell's ring, peal and tolling goodbye;
a farewell to blended melancholic images and visions
that once permeated the echoing halls and corridors
where voices rang a rhythmic haunt of point and purpose.
Now only the mournful chimes ring out
blending into one solitary hum of shrill vibrations
when heores fall and memories grow hollow and short;
their now inaudible representation fading
for those left to enviously follow
or others to willingly ignore the footsteps.
Imprinted on the breeze
the aureole of brillint sun begins to fade
and history inadequately records the garbled sounds;
time passing, inconceivable kaleidiscope discolorations
the venerated celibacy of thought expunged
by inherent truism of the amulets of freedom.
Tremulous and tender the pedantic strident sings loudly
and the ooze of the death knell tolls ineptly sings,
straining the ear to open, hear, listen to the reverberations;
the anthologic repository rigid, closes, locks in the wind,
while the alcove resounds indulgent in unequivocal silence
definitive climatic acknowledgement, the knell secured and muffled.
8/26/18 Edward ibeh's Wind Chimes contest
also, in honor of John McCain's passing.
WHOLESOMENESS :
How bad this thing is,
For befriending colleagues he found in the office,
Who posited to have him dismissed.
In sheep cloaks they were his frenemies.
They all became very close,
Starts sharing personal life goals.
Showing themselves what each other knows.
Boom,rapport flows.
When the friendship seemed to grow,
Suddenly, they enviously had him opposed,
Unnecessarily as everything roughly goes.
Went about having his good intentions twistedly exposed,
So that administration will let him go home.
By grace it didn't happen as he hoped,
Even he wasn't reproached.
Such malicious things some people do.
Came back acting as if they've done nothing bad to him.
Good he now prevents them from seeing his moves,
So they don't make him feel confused.
Whenever opportunity appears on desk,
They choose to give them out instead.
Although he deserves them since he's the best,
And he works earnestly without stress.
But sake of discrimination,it goes to someone else.
God's work on him was in progress.
On his calender he's always placed first.
He is now a C.E.O of his own company
Sometime past he questioned himself "why?"
Thought nothing would have been fine.
Got locked up in his mind,
As he wished he could just die,
And leave this globe behind,
"Suicidal thoughts",
I prayed he doesn't confine.
Everything was going to be fine.
Jehovah keeps him with his eyes,
From the heavens, down to this earth.
The battle was hard but it's well.
Stood in front of a mirror,
Saw nothing but horror.
Stranded in meditation like moron.
Lost taking the stricture.
Couldn't identify himself in clear picture.
Unemployment, financial issues torn his structure.
All he wished for was restructure,
For life to return better.
He stayed in solitary all that while.
Praying all he's going through beguiles.
Day to day, ensuring his experiences are compiled.
After the dust settles down he'll reminisce and smile.
That's today,where life looks beautiful with his children and wife.
And everybody testifies about it, as everybody admires.
Impossible mission for yours truly,
sans this dada to validate
those two most significant mentors,
no paternal biased trait,
(who I helped beget) enroute to great
adventures toward enormously
enviously exciting destinations,
thus birth father doth ululate
eternal burning tears boding
indefinite fare thee well,
cuz propensity to
become autonomous innate
within each body electric,
and offload emotional freight
unnervingly, unscrupulously, unwittingly...
within impressionable off
us spring psychs did create,
(especially thine eldest)
perceived intentionally deliberate
indelible, unbearable, undeniable,
unforgettable, unlearnable, unpardonable,
untenably insufferable state
psychological crimes, misdemeanors,
and punishments who bore brunt
regarding mine cratered distrait
parental moon unit gravitational pull
thus itching to break free
and cleared eighteenth circuit atop oblate
spheroid around nearest star
December twenty second, sans
(bench marked circa 1996), her birthdate
I unknowingly long fostered
execrable despicableness and did generate
antipathy, loathsomeness, vileness...
ripe opportunity she hightailed out our
reprehensible company she did hate
despising dirt poor existence portrait-
quick to compare/contrast our pennilessness
with rich Mainliners, where dire strait,
i.e. particularly financial since household
income equaled zilch figuratively
queued, hexed, aligned... with eight
ball, cuz we wanted progeny late
in life, despite afflictions
with mental illness
additionally unkempt, unsightly, untidy,
where chaos and entropy did administrate
residence discouraged "star student,"
nee repulsed offering extending
invites to any chummy classmate,
plus inapropos behavior,
I exhibited oblivious impact
analogous bing saddled to heavyweight
see millstone upon first born psyche
even now, she smolders
thus doth dissociate
with this "sir" and missus,
oh yes...much more aye could narrate!
Growing my hair down below my knees...
stimulated courtesy follicles,
where Coconut, Olive, Grapeseed,
Jojoba, Amla and Vitamin E oils
allowed, enabled,
and provided head start
germinating peach fuzz into brown strands
after Flaxseeds, Pumpkin seeds and Fenugreek
being sprinkled on my scalp
yielded a bumper crop of hirsute weeds
occasionally tripping me up
analogous to hallucinogen
causing a public health hazard
warranting, necessitating, and goading me
to give shout out for stylist
to tender mine lovely brunette locks,
which might be repurposed into a wig
for patients undergoing chemotherapy,
or afflicted with alopecia,
(the partial or complete absence
of hair from areas of the body
where it normally grows; baldness).
As a knobby kneed, puny,
scrawny, wimpy kid whose,
(back in the nineteen sixties),
his parents decreed their singular
(painfully shy dorky, geeky and nerdy)
old school boy who sported a buzz cut,
which found him reacting and responding
(in short order rebelling)
passive aggressively by
refusing to bathe
until mommy dearest demanded
(well nigh upon
the bewitching hour of midnight)
to witness her son soaked
and essentially marinated
(until my skin shriveled like a prune)
in the (clawfoot) tub
lest he stink to high heavens,
and given a serious dressing down
by the timely principal Mister Clock.
Far back as I can remember,
the significance of hair
assumed an outsize role,
whether enviously eying other lads
their thick straight hank,
or nowadays bristling
with self reproach
cursed with thinning
greasy limp strands
(interspersed with gray)
experiencing shame being seen in public,
a disgrace to our family name of Wagstaff
and an embarrassment
to the human race
ofttimes associating
myself with Samson,
whereat emotional, physical,
and spiritual strength
rooted (pun intended)
within each hair shaft
(the visible part of the hair
that sticks out of the skin),
and rooted in the skin and extends
down to the deeper layers of the skin
surrounded by the hair follicle
(a sheath of skin
and connective tissue),
which is also connected
to a sebaceous gland.
I had my first glimpse of her from the sandy beach,
her silhouette painted on the sky's canvas of peach
The regal double-mast brigantine, sailing out to sea
Upon waves she rode, full glory not yet at apogee
But whence the wind, her sails would be unfurled,
she'd glide quickly over waters, crested and curled
Fully hoisted and billowing in flowing trade winds,
chased by dolphins, breaking surface with dorsal fins
I longed to be a mariner aboard her quarterdeck
visiting foreign ports along the journey I would trek
Hearing tall tales the sailors were bound to embellish
Her crew was setting sail on a voyage I would relish
I yearned to stand at the helm; salt spray on my face
Memories of such an adventure I'd cherish and embrace,
on a vessel sailing between the sea and the stars
But I sit in the shallows, enviously watching from afar
It makes a heart glad to know
there are still, small country towns
like Woodford, where homes
with large old trees,
sit scattered between small shops
and local businesses
To think the spirit of Elvis exists
in a greengrocers’, called, “Grapelands.”
‘Elvis Parsley’ swivelling his hips
amongst the carrots and parsnips
imitating “Blue Suede Shoes."
I select a punnet of strawberries
as a smile slips out at the absurdity,
of how, some live out their fantasies
“Blue blue “…you can do anything
I cross the street to check out
a “Second-hand” furniture store.
It is closed so I cup my hands
and peer through the window.
A group of old, store mannequins
piques my interest, draped in 50’s fashions
It seems like a time warp, as there
are no opening hours posted on the door.
I wonder if the mannequins
are an eccentric collection,
or, if they were for sale,
which one, I would buy,
The one, with eyes, demurely cast down,
or, the arm-less one,
looking enviously past her
Back on the street, I inhale sun-warmed earth,
as I walk past a garden’s bright picket fence.
A shiny black crow flaps up, startled.
Suddenly I smell, what the scent of home
is like, for someone else.
For My Kind of Town Contest
Janis Thompson
You made me gloomy
You made me unhappy
You made me miserable
You made me down
You made me blue
You made me
You made me green
You made me unseen
Enviously...unseen I've seen
I just wanted your attention
Not to mention...
Love...
You made me yellow
You made me mellow
You made me anxious
Fuss and cuss...lusted over us...
You made me RED
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!
!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You made me dread
:(
:(
:(
:(((
:((((
:((
:/
You made me angry
You made me free
You made me in captivity
You made me purple
You made me just a little
You made me, father
You made me, mother
No blame game here
I have a tear to shed
A fear, laying here in my bed
You made me, sisters
You made me, brothers
I live
I died…
I give
I lied…
I’m sorry
Sorry
Sorry
Sorry
So Sad…
Messed-up…Mad…
Totally Glad…
Goin’ Mad…
Ignorance is bliss
Silence – I’d miss
Me…silent one here
Steer me in the boat of I’m-here, I’m-here
Lonely…
Depressed
Angry…
Jealoused…
Why can’t I be
Happy with me?
Why?
Why?
Why?
I cried a lake
For you…
I cried…you can call me a worthless rake…
I have been molested
With unfed dread…
I’m possessed by spirits…
Not my own, I can’t keep on throwing tantrums
Phire in me lits…thrown in pits
Of hurt from the stART
Drums…roll…Drums…fooled by you, we, me, and I…these pills of pleasure…
it numbs
The
The mind
Torn apart
So blind
Anger made us...
But, we are on the same bus...
Aren't we?
Meh...we'll see...
Roads meet...
Peepol greet...
Qin edoba ou liha toghil...
Means...ugh means...?:
(OH YUS)
You abide in the light...
Want some beans?
I know I'm such a pill
I know I'm a gossiper
BUT, for real?
It's like, no big deal
8DDDDDD! LMAO
Foremost On My Bucket List?
Yo yo ma...though your absence
doth suddenly cause me woe,
no matter parting with
many bittersweet sorrows
long since consciousness unstrung
more'n fourteen plus years ago,
the last surviving Kuritsky
grim reaper enviously eventually snatched,
outliving demise of my Uncle Paul,
your once favorite sibling and only bro
tis grief that rankles, shackles, torments...,
thus caw zing such poetic twittering I crow
yea, this sole son bare knuckles
scraping along without dough
suddenly riven with mortal anguish -
worse fate than death - or bloated ego
willpower to live life to the max
hardened ice floe
despite promising futures
regarding thee deux daughters
that doth find me to glow
my spirit analogous to santa
deprived of his cheery, hearty
guffawing, and merry ho ho ho
yours truly seems condemned
to suffer, a worse fate
than freezing during whiteout
blizzard conditions barring
access to igloo,
brutally cold as Jupiter's Io
spirit felled by juggernaut, no
joking hence I don't feel Jew
bull, ah if yours truly knew
thee torturous emotional state threw
out every fiber upon
last fading memory...of you
unfairly condemned to suffer,
yes my lack of loo
cre immaterial, whence death
stole thee to realm afterlife queue
no doubt, a welcome reprieve aye rue
versus less cruel fate,
viz prolonged illness
comeuppance impales me
body, mind and askew
being pitched, where
adventurousness gungho fear slew,
feeling buzz with aliveness
(akin to David and Goliath)
unable to shake melancholy blue
nostalgic for underworld view
where cessation will find me
inaudibly coffin with a whew!
I live like a butterfly tangled in the gales of a tornado
I live by struggling to see what lies ahead,
By squinting my eyes to clear my vision
And by trying not to suffocate with the powerful winds!
I live, though, in solo, refusing consistently to hold on to arms
Being handed out to me as symbols of refuge
Promising to protect me against the tornado
As, though made of glass casings, living while holding on to them,
Shall fill me with the warmth and the protection that I seek!
Pray, why should I hold on to these arms
Symbolical they may be, of temporary refuge
But, they are also strong,
Having the capacity to crush me into a bloody mess
Within seconds of having me in their grip!
Arms, laden with the hues of sins,
Shall only corrupt my purity
And have me, swimming like them,
In seas filled with mundane filth!
Pray, arms do reach out to me, as if freshly sprouted
From the soils, creeping up to me, like magic beans' vines,
But I, adamant on keeping my aim bent on seeing the truth of life,
Refuse to let them drag me down
Why, I have been gifted with wings
Am I to use these to keep on flying, and fighting with the winds
As such is what my maker wishes me to do!
Escaping my fate by gripping on to treacherous arms
Would only cause me to have a conscience dripping with envy,
Enviously eyeing those basking in purity
Ardently yearning to have their notion of reality!
Why, never shall I let myself be dragged down
By all that which try to stop me from fluttering my weak wings
This world and its enjoyers are not worth it!