Long Faulted Poems
Long Faulted Poems. Below are the most popular long Faulted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Faulted poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a colorless glitch in my life
I've forgotten the taste of sugar and spice
I've taken a walk in colorless thought with a twitch in it
Turned sour and dour, weirdly glum with grit
Like tiresome dogs lying flat as a pancake
Lost my oomph, my moxie won't wake
Have no key to turn to start my engine
My desire is slammed, I need a new dimension
I begged Pandora and pleaded with a witch
To take the sound away that is so high pitched
They made promises to me and I to them
Now they won't listen and the doom will never end
Pandora keeps playing her games on me
I opened her box to a devastating reality
Filled with pyres, liars, seducers and gore
Then there's the witch who stands with her curse at my door
Too many times I've been in her black corner
Frozen with fear and faulted with horror
Snakes in dreams that quake and bite my feet
My brain is disappearing into an insane obsolete
I sit frozen mumbling the words I can't say
My itch is so numb now that my pain just slides away
There is a blank white wall that sits in my view
Like no-color technicolor null and nil I don't have a clue
I hear flies buzz everywhere with non-stop zeal
I watch the boulevard zoom with bright automobiles
Lost in this stream of lights at the bus stop I cower
Counting each blind minute hour by hour
My madness is a dead piece that sits perfectly inside me
When I sit and not move within the hummmmmm in my head
I know then I am safe and perfectly free
Ha, Ha, Ha! The snow is so white - I think I am dead
October 23, 2019
Rewrite on July 19, 2020
Delirium Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Loaded with Loathing
The row was canine inspired.
He had a dog he treasured; enriched by its love.
She felt cold jealousy; starved of misplaced affection.
She wanted it gone; he wouldn’t hear of it.
One evening he returned home,
his beloved Henri had mysteriously died.
He blamed her; she faulted him
saying his heart wagged like the dog’s tail!
He could never forgive;
she would never show understanding!!
They now station their days, opposite each other.
He, in his old leathered, tethered seat;
she, in a rather mundane, cane chair.
He often appears to be sleeping
but the occasional crocodile slit
in his eyelids belies this;
she knits, he knows nothing escapes her,
not even the tightest, slightest twitch!
42 years together, a nettlesome relationship turned to hate,
42 years together, neither is willing to let the other win.
So they sit there hiding in plain sight.
He, lounging as if possibly dead
but probably breathing through his shoes;
she sits there imitating a ventriloquist’s dummy
minus voice and…. inserted hand.
He occasionally serves up a small, sliced smirk
which he sneeringly warms himself on;
she washes it all down with a cold contempt.
Her eyes are guns loaded with………
loathing and disdain.
In contrast…………
two love struck pigeons
now perch on the couple’s window sill.
The streamlined female pigeon
dreams of her latest Dove purchase;
the male is formulating his latest hai-coo poem.
They both have a bird’s eye view of the situation
and conclude that the couple's relationship
has more than lost its....smile;
melancholy is both master and mistress!
He occasionally stutters across the room,
slamming the door like an exclamation mark!
Eventually he totters and teeters back,
apparently opening the door like a question mark?
He has gone out to comb his hair or whatever,
a quick change of disguise, anything to annoy!
They are both, presently, in the final straight;
a race where the winner will only come ... second.
They are settled in, conditioned, waiting to see
just which one of them will falter….and flatline first!
Ian Souter
As I look back, I know when
we drifted
Though faulted with being
believed
Trust this, I emptied my soul
Holding will destroy your soul
Forgiving myself first, open
door to be free
Forgiving mom, allow healing
can't you see
You missed real love Mom
shared
Forgive is to heal , so life
enjoyed
What Happened
When will your excuses stop
Mom waited, you lost
I believe you like this life of
dark anger
I miss mom, we enjoyed life
What happened decades is unspeakable
Survivor I am, not unspeakable
Your emotions embarrass
mom
Sadly you couldn't enjoy mom
Treating everyone with cold attitude is lonely life
Thanks for the lesson, my peace always win fight
Sisters are supposed to secure generation
Loosing parents, and siblings build new foundation
You and I can't fulfill these dreams
My heart has finally healed a past pain
I will plant new beginning with amazing mom
Life is a gift to love, grateful, share, teaching not chop up
I'm not perfect, but I gaining my inner faith, hope, and love with kindness From God
Wish you well Sister
"He was once said to be Inurbane
meaning he lacked sophistication
refinement and courtesy, he's got it now!"
----------------------------------------------------------------
Written By: Bel Canto Leitmotif
To all ends are these our beginning
that it is neither frustrated or meant
deceive. Are strengths are in our togetherness
might tomorrow usher in the start and fix of
those things that need change.
That we shall not become our own enemy
to understand there dislike. And we shall not
sort to create factions. Upon the truths of gainstment
we can elaborate. There were we hAVE faulted to create peace
is there where such negotiations might began.
The idea of using conflict or "faulting" to create peace
is called disrupting false peace.
This concept posits that genuine and lasting
peace can only be achieved by confronting
and addressing underlying tensions,
rather than by suppressing.
historical context, modern centrist ideas, and the challenge
conservative figures. The concept of progression which is neither new
or unachievable. Expanding the opportunism to began work and than become
the working and middle class. Opportunism for the poor.
: that makes wealthier employers want to hire.
Championing policies that are realist and meaningful.
building to considerate of the future,
Creating new margins to expand growth for business large and small.
Being an advocate for both farmers and there consumers.
Financial and monetary balancing to intervene to address social and economic problems.
In those areas were decay and time has created a crumbled area of waste.
To be used as modern day farm areas. Using modern tech to produce the food
where low income, and abandoned and and depressed housing are. We can champion people
by growing fruits and vegetable year around to calm the shores of uncertainty.
The future starts now!
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published by the Banda Vernacular Inc.
Banda Music Co.
New song peeps. What genre would you pick? Enjoy!
We let our dreams go
By Michelle Morris
28/11/2025
I always loved you
More than I should
I always loved you
More than you could
Whatever happened?
Happened to us?
We let our dreams go
Melt in the dust
So many snowflakes
We counted like stars
So many soul beams
We faulted at heart
Too many chances
We let them go dark
Too many glances
Failed at the start
And here we sit now
Baby, it's cold
And here we're lonely
Going to get old
There was a spark once
I remember it well
There was a dance once
Love and a spell
There was a dream
Of you and of me
What a nightmare
It turned out to be
I always loved you
More than I should
I always loved you
More than you could
Whatever happened?
Happened to us?
We let our dreams go
Melt in the dust
So many snowflakes
We counted like stars
So many soul beams
We faulted at heart
I always loved you
More than I should
I always loved you
More than you could
Whatever happened?
Happened to us?
We let our dreams go
Melt in the dust
So many snowflakes
We counted like stars
So many soul beams
We faulted at heart
© Michelle Morris, 2025
A self acclaimed professional with incomplete training;
following a system with part-time understanding;
feeding a beast with little knowledge of an approach tactics;
are all shelters where misunderstanding is harboured and trouble, honoured.
Foreign traditions should firstly be digested before adopted,
any culture’s morphology without the remittance of peace and respect
is either faulted with errors towards humanity
or carelessly photocopied using a bad ink.
It is okay to have an ascent
by mere keeping up with the kardashians
or beautifully repaint the glamour of societal fun
by bathing in the Jacuzzi of pop culture.
But when an entire way of life
such as faith based systems and religions
are admired and happily embraced;
such an adoption should never be done from a distance.
Despite its huge diversity, the world gets smaller everyday
due to similar interests, ideology and advancement in technology.
Even though borrowing cultures has aided this process,
it is still insignificant if humane virtues are altered.
Title:THE SAILORS HOME
Down the sea of the Panama,
Sailed a ship covered with blood
The eyes of the captain looking towards the Island in enigma
What lies beyond the island
Treasure or the battle ground
As he sailed with his adventure crew
They brew and merry while they yoo
Singing the old sailors anthem
While the island opened its arm to welcome them
As they salley and yohoo-hoo
A smooth sea they echoed
Never makes a good sailor we know
Yohoho yohoho yohoho
But they forget to know
The island is not a place for a sailors home
Set sail,set sail,all hands on deck they shouted
As they disembarked the ship
With merry mind they all faulted
As they left the ship
The wondered through the island missing the smell of the sea
The sailors code they forget
Never let off the sea
Their track were lost and gone
With no compass to lead them to their treasure hunt
They cried as they chanted
Blood on the high sea
Singing the glorious songs of oja
The sea roared it's tides in anger
As she sees her owners in danger
Sending her friend the Raven
To bring the kings back to Haven
They salley back to their ship
With head bent low to the sea
As they sailed back off the shores
They salley back to the sea
As they echoed
Yohoho yohoho yohoho
For island we must sight.
Under the torch of the crescent moon
On bare pants and catty eyes
Our hearts yawn for the story line
Our ears gulp saliva, hungry to hear
The tasteful recipe that ooze so sweet
Beneath the canopy of the oha tree
Crossed legs on our raffia mats
Nothing else could cross our hungry minds
That had waited all through the crawling day
Mama dare not need me now
We calmly pray
As granny opened her wrinkled lip
That proved her scanty teeth
No matter how brown they are
It never faulted her warm smile
Nor the moral message that spiced it
But gave us warmth outside the chilly breeze
She carefully told those tales with lessons
And asked her questions too
But when we knew the story was over
Was when we woke from our spring beds
I am blessed to have many skills but navigation isn't one of them! But, I do learn a bit more every time I get lost somewhere.
Navigation is important. If we don't know where we are, we can't find our way back to safety or know if the new horizon is the correct path for our souls.
Good luck to us all as we navigate our lives.
Every detour is a reminder
By Michelle Morris
31/07/2024
I've travelled so many winding roads
Some have been lanes; some have been highways
But every single one has taught me something
About how important it is to navigate our landscape
Nothing is wasted effort
Even if we as humans think it so
Every detour is a reminder
To stay calm and focussed under pressure
As we navigate our lives
It's important to be clear on where we are
Where we want to be
And if we should be following a specific arc
There's safety in places that we know
And the horizon is often daunting
But if we're clear on our soul's purpose
Our journey will not be faulted
So, focus on your soul's calling
Focus on your intuition and guidance
And as you stumble and glide and shimmy
May you remain forever excited
© Michelle Morris, 2024
First look, glasses as my eyes glance
From left to right I begin to read
Much as if I were in a trance
My education faulted for this deed
Second look with randomness I search
Looking for a pattern, no not the glasses
Does this person attends a formal church
This poem is one of their trespasses
Third look now the compulsion takes me
The poem was edited to fit the picture
But I say this isn’t possible, it can’t be
If so they surely deserve a stricture
Three looks, glasses or not, all were done in vain
If you copy, paste, add punctuation then it’s plain
Poem by Wayland Bunch for Occlusion contest. This is a rhymed form of poetry under 20 lines, but technically it fits better into the category of Sonnet, so I don't know if it will be accepted. If not back to the drawing board lol.