Long Explaining Poems

Long Explaining Poems. Below are the most popular long Explaining by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Explaining poems by poem length and keyword.


Our Family Reunions Are Strange, Part I

I will sometimes be asked how it came about
that my children have one set of grandparents,
and I know just what you are thinking now,
but hear me out, an all of this will make sense.

I’m explaining this for one final time
to put all these blasted rumors to rest,
the odd position my family is in
did not come about due to incest!

It began when I, Armond Carruthers,
fell in love with a beautiful girl.
Her name is Denise, and she is my light
in this crazy and much-confused world.

See the two of us were high school sweethearts,
been together since our junior year,
managed to build something that could outlast
the blind passion of our teenage years.

But during our freshman year of college
we decided that we couldn’t wait,
maybe we were just a pair of young fools,
but we went ahead and set the date.

Now this is the point the story gets strange,
both of us were raised by one parent alone,
my father died in a car accident
when I was six, mom raised me on her own.

Denise’s mother was out of her life,
she cheated on her dad when Denise was four,
her father George did all the upbringing,
he gave her all of his hear and then more.

We were just nineteen when we got engaged,
her dad George was a fit forty-one,
my mother, Kristen, was just thirty-nine,
wanted to do something nice for her son.

She was us to focus on our studies,
and would gladly help plan the wedding,
that she and George would make things run smoothly,
we both thanked her, and let them do their thing.

They both must have seen something they liked,
though neither one of us realized it then,
they kept meeting up to ‘plan the wedding’
again...and again...and again…

All this time we just thought it was nice
that these future in-laws were getting along,
figured it would make holidays easy,
you can say we both read that one wrong.

Of course they did not tell us all this,
and the wedding was done in fine style,
neither realizing that for two months now
my mother knew that she was with child…

When three months later it became obvious,
both our parents sheepishly let us know,
to say we were stunned does not describe it,
but later to the courthouse we did go.

And as if this surprise wasn’t enough,
when my mind struggled to make some sense,
I received even more life-changing news,
my Denise was also now pregnant…

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Form: Narrative


Pete

Saying stuff over and over makes you think a person didn't get it, but it's just that they didn't care to get it. You said all you could say, you wrote it in a letter, sent it in a text. You dial the number, they don't answer, you wait, still no answer. No call, no reply and yo dumb self sitting wondering why. Five minutes later, you call again. You are - Pete the Repeat.

Your mind starts to wonder, you don't know what to think, all you know is yo feelings are hurt. Now because you are not reassured, you become insecure. You finally communicate and immediately begin asking the same questions from before and saying the same thing in a different manner, and with no luck, you are left alone to figure it out.
You are - Pete the Repeat.

Six months later, you are still unsure, wondering and seeking to see something that is so clearly obvious to others, but blurry to you.
You are still asking the what, where, when and whys. What did I do? Where you been? When can I see you? Why you ain't call me back? 
You are indeed - Pete the Repeat.

It's been five years, no solid relationships and none of your questions have been answered. You are still going through the same process with a different person, getting the same results. Aren't you tired of being - Pete the Repeat?

No matter what, all in all, you want this, you need this, you want to be loved. Yeah yall have great sex, but I am here to tell you, making love does not make one love. What you have is a ten percent love. And to you, that ten percent good outweighs the ninety percent bad. You deserve so much more. Why keep your standards so low? Why do you choose to settle especially when what you are settling for is not fulfilling? There is a hole, an emptiness, a void. You don't understand the process. You singing like a song bird repeating all the same words. Don't you know if you keep doing what you are doing, you'll keep getting what you are getting? You have a melt down, you shut down. The more you are thinking, you are deeply sinking. The whole situation of explaining becomes draining. But I am here to tell you, the answers you are looking for is not within someone else, it is within you.

It is time for change. You will need strength, patience, endurance and confidence. It will be hard and it will be different, but it will be worth it.
And the first change is to say good-bye to Pete.
Form: Narrative

Killing Machines

Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.

Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.

Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.

To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.

On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.

Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.

Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.

Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.

Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.

Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.

We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,

Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.
Form: Rhyme

Bullies

Bullies are the politics of this universal world
who enjoy the smell of war inflicting endless pain
Who put others down in the presence of others
leaving you to bleed out stranded in the rain 

Bullies only bully for they refuse to understand 
what it's like to go through something and fail 
Through choices they made leading up to that point 
leaving them a drift in the wilderness to sail 

Bullies attack you with broken hearts caused by
how they were brought up as no one really gave 
Them discipline to teach them without abuse to know 
the dangers of creating a political wave 

Bullies will try and make you change the way
you think and feel about opinions regarding you 
The most hateful words without any description 
of explaining why they feel those words are true

Bullies are like wolves some as wild as bears
animals that are hungry always looking to feast 
Off the people who they see as weak or vulnerable
as if your a lifeless person who has already been deceased

Bullies think that their power is beyond any person who
is trying to progress and move forward to make 
A better life for themselves so others can see that
it isn't impossible to turn from a past or present mistake 

Bulllies walk with pride in the seeds that they sow 
apon others when really they are the ones that 
Say you are ugly, no good, uneducated, mind twisted,
a wanna be thug, you're race or call you fat

Friends a bully is a person who has a life like you
though they try to believe they are better in some way
Yet they don't realize that karma really does exist 
which will come back on their life somehow one day 

Let no words from a political bully bother you for 
their words are meaningless with nothing but hate
Which is something we as people shouldn't let at all be
a self label from others trying to predict you're own fate 

Bullies be prepared shame on all of you that go
around thinking you're all that with no good news to share
Being the one who doesn't take life seriously or simply
become grown to the point that you really don't care

About what you say to others or how you treat them at times
regardless of anything you choose to do or claim to speak 
Words that are foul with judgement that seems so everlasting 
towards people who are really strong who you only think are weak.


Written By: Joseph Darryl Boca

Premium Member Jealousy Rages

She storms into the room
there is fire in her eyes
and thunder in her step
rage rumbling reckless
She's livid
a live wire of fire
charged
She's on the move
To punish
Is it a rumor or reality?
He has explaining to do...

She rushes at him
Pounding on his chest
words pent up all day
rush out in deluge
drenching him
he tries to pin her hands down
to make her understand
to undo this "misunderstand"
but she pushes him
her pride scorching him
her eyes sparking
passion raging

~~~R*A*G*I*N*G~~~

He pushes her against the wall
pins her hands above her head
"Listen to me!
You got it all wrong!!!"

she pushes against him
breasts heaving
legs kicking
and he's inflamed
her passion burns him
combusts in his mind
and he crushes her with his body
she bites his lips
as they close over hers
he loses his grip
her fingernails dig into his bare chest
trails of red
Growling in pain
He forces her....
kicking and screaming...
down to the floor
Pins her again
"Listen! WOMAN!"

She looks up into his face
breathless 
and he goes for her mouth again
Taking her lips into his mouth
sucking fiercely
his tongue tames
fierce...his need to possess
to claim

She fights to free her hands
and they are on his neck
Pulling him in...in
Her lips respond in like
his hand finds her hair
leverage...a grasp
he pulls to expose her neck
And he attacks
kisses...bites...His revenge
His innocence turned to intensity's indignation
she sighs...she moans...
the sounds goading him on
As he loses himself in her cleavage
licking up her perfume
His favorite scent...
sensuous sexy sweet

the storm is fever pitch
in a flash of lightning speed
He lies her bare
and thunders in the thighs
she opens for him...wide
eyes closed 
she bites her lower lip
to muffle her cries
as he rides....rides
His victory ride of righteous pride
and she's left
breathless...spent
in a storm of tears
released...repentant
of her insane jealousy

the storm passes over
and in the stillness
he speaks...
his voice shattered...weak
in her presence now calm
meek


"Your anger is beautiful
your rage my relish...
but now...come,"
His voice a whisper
as he pulls her in to him
"Come into my arms
and know the truth....
You're my one and only
My Passion STORM
Is YOU....YOU
Serenity...is overrated."
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Teacher Creatures

I only learned one thing in school
And that was how to fight
The teachers were always so good at it
And they were always right.

One teacher was nicknamed spitfire
Because she'd spit as she spoke
All the teachers wore mortar board hats
And wore long black cloaks.

Always late for lessons
Always got the cane.
School books hidden in your trousers never worked
You had to feel the pain.

One teachers face got so red when he got mad
We only had a riot in class nothing unusual
Didn't think we were that bad.

Our sports teacher used to whack us hard
When we forgot our P,E kir
And make us run through nettles
In bare feet the hurt more than a bit.

In science we always tried to make a bomb
And leave the gas taps on
We'd make pea shooters from biro pens
And when the teachers were facing the blackboard
We'd shoot at them then sit poker faced wasn't me Sir.

We'd hide around building corners
To gamble and smoke a crafty cigarette
Until one day a teacher came around suddenly
With a water jet.

One teacher had an affair with an other teacher
With a very pretty one with nice legs and blonde hair
I used to dream about
In my fantasies she was mine
It just wasn't fair.

I was convinced they were not human
But came from some other planet one day in spaceships
And not cars
Maybe they were from Mars.

We'd put condoms on door handles
Let the teachers tyres down on their car
Sneak into the girls changing room for an eye full
And steal their knickers and their bras
Sing rude words to songs at morning assembly
Throw stink bombs in the teachers lounge
Draw funny pictures in our books  of our teachers with their trousers down. 

Sometimes  I'd be madly in love with a teacher or a girl pupil
And do nothing but day dream all day long
Skipping through fields of sunflowers hand in hand
Kissing like to clams under a tree all day long
Oh I was always in love with someone
And would often burst out in song.

I got good at forging homework diary signatures
Explaining why my homework wasn't done
It was always some far fetched story
Like I was chased by Atilla the Hun.

Ahh school days yes we were nothing more than savages
But the teachers were savages too
They should have changed the name school
To Human Zoo.

''I was a good boy I was''.
 

Peter Dome. Copyright.2015. June.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Best Poem Ever

~The best poem ever~

Without saying a word I’m going to go where no one has gone before.
A twilight zone, only God and I know of. 

Without saying a word I’m going to recite the best poems ever.
Poems with no vision too stare. 
Quietly with a hum, only you can hear. 

Silent through my mind I will walk whistling, without a care.
Feeling and thinking as my heart beat goes on. 
Searching for your heart beat next to mine. 
Dreaming of words that blind, 
Dreaming of words which connect us together!

Without saying a word I’m going to look and speak for the first time.
Howl and feel as our chemicals sublime. 
I’m going to get hungry before I die in your arms.

Through circles and rods, I carry this year alone. 
Imagining all the days it was only you and I. 
“Not only I!”

Without saying a word I’m going to listen for your voice to call my name.
A whisper that setting itself on repeat. 

Anticipating, those look before you look away.
Wanting and waiting, I will still be whistling.
Overwhelmed by, fate at the door. 

Without saying a word I’m going to, leave a whisper in the bedroom
Without making movement, with my mouth!
 
Control all the space, around me. 
Touching the energy you left behind.
Hear the snowy winter chime.
Experience all the shelter in your hold.

Without saying a word I’m going to, lay down beside you.
Laying in a way, that feels better than freedom.

Millions of miles away, I’ll still be whistling. 
And waiting and waiting, for that perfect lay. 
Arguing and embracing the air we both breathe.
A breath for every reason!

Without saying a word I’m going to, mime the world tonight.
Over and over, till I mime the perfect poem, like the olden days.
Without a word to say! 

I’m wrapping my own arms around me, like a mime.
Explaining the breath you took without me.
Talking to myself without saying a word!
Writing the perfect poem without a word to say! 

Without saying a word I’m going to, yell this inside.
Whistle and mumble till I’m out of breath. 
Dying with my dreams to be by your side! 

Without saying a word I’m going to, close my eyes and see your face.
A bond not even death can break. 

Without saying a word I’m going to, sit here, till your wind hits.
A tap that’s inspires the best poem ever. 

Until then, I’m going to whistle without a word to say.
And enjoy your silhouette everyday.    

by;pd
Form: Epic

Roman a Clef Tragicomedy

Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf

No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,

such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap

trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.

Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse 
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly

wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight

off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite

amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting

on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.

Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking, 
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once

spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle 

yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,

no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.

Almost Free

I grew up in a garden paradise
large white house in the country
sheltered by ancient oaks and naievity
passed idyllic days in childhood bliss
never ran it much through my mind before

until the day
I walked two hours with my life packed up on my back
set out on a sunny autumn morning
running on a four days empty belly, and some strong black coffee
met a tall, thin man along the way
asked me if I could play the bass slung over my back
I replied yes and he gave me his number

Three quarters of the way there the baby's stroller 
gave one last groan of protest
and buckled under the weight of the bags hung on the handle
spilling everything onto the street

"These things can be kind of tricky,"
said the young man who helped me scoop everything up,
explaining how it used to happen 
when he pushed around his younger siblings.
"See you around sometime,"
he offered up

Later we arrived,checked in at the front desk
no one else knew we were at the shelter
days here are passed aimlessly
in sedated daydreaming
nights are spent shivering with cold
and exhaustion

I can no longer count 
the number of times I've been broken before
(I try not to think about it)
and pieced back together, but never quite the same,
I could tell you how the closet floor smells like mildew
when soaked through repeatedly with tears,
or describe the way his black eyes bulge in anger,
describe how every little fleck and bubble gathers at the corners
when his mouth froths white with hate,
and the vilest obscenities, and how after a while
you start to ask yourself if they're true

Armed with all the pamphlets from the front office
I was gonna do all the right things
they say it takes about five tries before you're successful
but what do you tell to the child who says, "Daddy bad, daddy gone?"
I almost made it this time, and then
He dropped by, told me to pack up my stuff,
we took the bus home
past the place where the young man helped me gather up my life off the road
past the spot where the tall, thin man gave me hope
and his number
- The baby was excited about his first ride 

I'm back in the same old spot again, 
little has changed but time
and knowing that once, just once,
I almost made it

...now I watch the birds out my kitchen window
close my eyes and ...
I'm almost free

'til There Was You In Real Life Pt 2

Yet it ended up out of our control
This was years & months & months & years ago
Right before Samhain in the weeks just prior to Yule
'Cause never have I ever fallen in love
Never my heart with false hope I'll ever bug
Its gotta be naturally & over time, you know
Never have I ever let someone see me shine or glow
I'll never let someone in that far for them to even know
I can't remember the second I felt it 'cause the emotion smacked me in my heart like a ton of bricks I can't remember falling "head over heels" or when I caught those particular "feels"
Nor can I remember that split second I decided 'yes,' but I know I Immediately felt superhumanly blessed for it to have been miraculously you
For decades & decades - it seemed we were on a mission, too
Red rose, red rose, your red rose
An overwhelming, calming sense of serendipitous desire to know ALL of you
I wanted to write another chapter within our memories•we've•created•book
I get choked-up re-living how our awkward relationship came about
But still I've never allowed myself the pain of ever falling in love
(If I'm being brutally blunt & true)
The closest I've ever began to fall in love
Was when I got the unique pleasure of getting to be with you in real life
So if there is ONE thing I want you to know
Its that I suck at securing & explaining - but I'm master at proving it with show
Actions mean more than words 'cause words are just something you heard with your ears
And showing doesn't come naturally without fears
There's lots of small things I don't believe you even took notice that I did
'Cause most of the time I just felt like it was expected
But there were so many things - after they took you away, that I really needed to say to you
But towards the end, I felt like everything I said you had somehow stopped believing were true
But that makes no sense, considering our whole life it was only you talking with me that I ever got solace, comfort, or relief
You gave me no reason to ever try and play you for a fool
Even back when we were youngins - still going to school as we grew
As kids you were my highlight many, many days
And if you weren't online, my inspiration dwindled to even wanna try & play
'Cause you were my person when we gamed, too
And nobody else felt the same way as you...
Form: Rhyme

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