Long Exactly Poems
Long Exactly Poems. Below are the most popular long Exactly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exactly poems by poem length and keyword.
There's a movement going on
But it shouldn't have taken this long
Me too, Me three, Me four, Me five
Sexual harassment and rape has affected our lives.
Tortured in silence
How we've forced ourselves to hide the violence.
Oh he just likes me this kind of thing is normal
An unwanted sexual advance made to seem formal.
You're uncomfortable but it's not sexual harassment.
You tell yourself I know that's not exactly what he meant
But what happens if it happens again
Will you keep it bottled or tell a friend
Will she say me too
Or hold you accountable for what has happened to you
You know the type that will say you had a choice
You shouldn't have dressed like that making your clothes, your voice
Like you're begging to be victimized
When his intentions are already in his eyes
What about the girl who was raped
In his eyes she didn't have a face
He didn't care about the hurt he caused
He didn't care about how she lost it all
When he decided to take a sacred part of her being
Screams, cries and kicks to him they had no meaning
Me too is how I felt
When I heard the tales from someone else
Like you are not alone
Their actions can't possibly be condoned
But we sit here with tears in our eyes
Silence forcing ourselves to go blind
Like nothing ever happened
When deep inside we're snapping
Souls enraged with no courage to speak up
Thinking what has happened is not enough
Not enough to get the justice you need
Not enough to wipe the emotional scars clean
Why I am here? There’s no answer..
Cause no one can hear what I say
At least on a superficial glance
It’s all God’s inscrutable ways
But I sense there must be a plan
By which I was given a point to be
Exactly where it was meant
And that’s what most puzzles me
Well I can conclude with assurance
The place where I’m at isn’t mine
Taking into account every nuance
I say that it’s not very fine
Keeping me unaware for so long
Doesn’t look like a good idea
Should not be a puzzle, where to I belong
I’m sorry to echo this animal fear
But I mustn’t I know, what’s the aim
In living a life of an alien resident,
Among foreigners, playing their foreign games
What’s the purpose by this was meant?
No broken fences will be mended
To their own gardens have tended
Look how America has descended
By all the devils it has befriended
Above all laws have transcended
Fix elections and term is extended
Time their swindle was contended
And media who has commended
X really marks the spot is trended
This is exactly what they intended
Don’t care who they have offended
Sh*te will be alright they pretended
As slop up to the top has ascended
AI lie will make everything splendid
But the world gets totally upended
I think we've finally comprehended
Racism religion & fascism blended
Old school rules are simply bended
A f*ck fest that cannot be defended
Sarah is a baby doll, a princess, a beauty.
Grandmas have to say this; it is their duty.
Not prettier than mine, I venture to guess.
My grandchildren are gorgeous, then the test.
Her blue eyes were magnificent; Sarah was a doll.
She is fantastic, this baby! A princess after all.
You have got to see her, so, does she live up to her name?
You see, Sarah and princess mean exactly the same.
Oh, my yes, she does, I told her waiting grandmother.
She is a regal majestic daughter, prettier even than her mother.
Written April 23, 2020
Contest: Sarah Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
"My daughter, a precious gift from God. She's the apple of my eye!" - quote by poet.
Any "Girl Dad" knows
Exactly what I mean.
Boy, how much I adore
My miniature queen!
It's a f e e l i n g
I can't possibly explain;
Akin to an overload
Of serotonin in the brain!
I've changed for the better
With a brand new attitude,
My cup of life overflows
With immense gratitude.
I don't know if I'll ever have a boy,
But my baby girl gives me so much joy!
Now we're worlds apart, I've never felt so misplaced
I don't know where to start, the days I find hard to face
Now I'm wondering what to do?, it's like I no longer exist
Trying to find a way through, I just can't help but reminisce
And I ask why it is she had to leave what exactly went wrong?
Without her I find it hard to breathe, the days they seem so long
The chances of us getting back? now probably a million to one
Any advances on a panic attack, but it's so hard now she's gone
If ever I'm walking down the street, and which ever way I turn
I keep hoping we will once again meet, as for her I still yearn
So many opportunities for questions I could have then asked
And now she’s just another faded out picture from the past
Now she is just someone that I once knew but still I really miss
I can't help but feel so blue, thinking of times that we had, bliss!
I'll cut to the chase, she was someone who touched my heart
Still I think of us in that time and space, though we're worlds apart
written 1998 some lines originally (1996)
rewritten 2000- worlds apart
A more personal deeply rooted poem about an exgirlfriend
I did a follow up to this called a bad case of nostalgia(2005)
please note sorry took off here tryed changeing in the end put back as was just changed title
is their to much rhyme i dont know
They no longer resemble us exactly,
less hair, higher head-domes.
We cannot help but feel
that we are the new Neanderthals.
They are laboratory birthed, cloned.
Yet it’s easy to like them,
they have all the useful humanities,
less of the confused rage of ordinary beings.
Of course they are smarter,
quicker to find solutions to problems.
Just like us they are citizens -
none are criminals.
In many ways, they are new and improved.
The Government is pushing
for procreative union
between the Neo-Humans and us,
but frankly most of us
are reluctant – instinctively hesitant.
There is this more primitive,
yet more creative gene that differentiates us.
We paint, write poetry, dream,
hope for the impossible,
love recklessly.
Romantic love has little meaning for them,
they are more practical,
but we know that practical marriages
have no magic,
and we can, we must still -
have magic.
A gleaming swath of gold appears
When I look down below.
From here, not one thing interferes
With Nature’s autumn show.
For down 9 stories, there are trees
With dazzling yellow leaves,
Though there are never guarantees,
Despite what one believes,
That year to year that lovely view
Will be exactly thus,
Since sometimes when a storm’s a‘brew,
There’s nothing to discuss.
When wind and rain join forces, they
May strip those branches bare
And we don’t have the slightest say
To keep that yellow there.
Yet this time, we’ve been sent a gift,
For every window glance
Gives me a cause to smile, a lift
That Nature sometimes grants.
Obsession was a song that got to me
reminding me of what I had gone through,
the first time feelings gushed as poetry!
Even though that song did not exactly
describe my circumstance, some parts rang true.
obsession was a song that got to me.
A rare and gorgeous butterfly was he -
that dark-eyed man who into my life flew
the first time feelings gushed as poetry!
I fell so hard and was too blind to see
the damage to my young heart he could do.
Obsession was a song that got to me.
I was a rose and he – a honey bee.
He came on strong. From me came something new -
the first time feelings gushed as poetry!
Although a scoundrel he turned out to be,
I love the song which still can make me blue.
Obsession was a song that got to me -
the first time feelings gushed as poetry!
In a Texas commercial circus
the journey is set
vehicled by hormonal energy
beginning from the cashier's tag
well placed on her blue shirt
exactly on her very firm left Breast
with the name "Carmen"
The route of desires
his wants drive through
having a static attention
on her mammary glands
but the Life in him, already as far as Bremen.
Engineered by libido so troublesome
which takes it guns, even in no provocation.
Just usual bare skin
stimulates the production of his semen
and simple feminine curves
blacken his mind with bitumen
as part of him
slides down the huge lumen
of intense sexual intentions.
He places the General's rank
on his 'small head'
then the big one becomes void of all acumen.
Eyes fixed, body static, lips separated
all these, irritating the nearby women
as this middle-aged being
drops to the lowest point of all men.
Planning on a tour below her abdomen
his road trip revolve round her hymen
a well covered pretty damsel
yet he sees as flesh full of foramens
in a place far from a serenity of physical intimacy
yet somehow he falls for an unforeseen trap
of infernos desires.
His heart, the only villain
as it rejects any deal with this sudden natural cause.
A flood of laughter and jeers
welcome his total presence once again,
he tries to wave off the premonition of a bad omen
not knowing, to the corruption of his thoughts
his 'third leg' all along has been saying AMEN!