Long Feedback Poems
Long Feedback Poems. Below are the most popular long Feedback by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feedback poems by poem length and keyword.
have you ever wondered why people become poets?
poets have been around since the beginning of time
and they have been mostly men, speaking of their loves, life
and emotions.
famous love stories, plays, movies, all seen thru a poets eyes.
just as the centuries have gone by and everything in life has changed
so have the poets.
there is now as many and if not more female poets
than male poets. why? because they are more sensitive to emotions
and are not afraid to show or speak of it , unlike men who want to
show the 'MACHO MAN IMAGE"
poets see life thru different eyes for different situations
and write about it in so many forms , and see the light and
the darkness in everything, including the good and bad.
it may be just one word ,or a line, or verse
that enters their mind to start creating
what will become a poem,
what is the poets dream that you will create?
a love story, a sad story, one of fear or hate, or passion
one of beauty, or war.
so many things to choose from- but it doesn’t matter
what you may choose, you must take the first step.
just as reading this is the first step to start on your way to writing poetry
and opening up your mind and soul.
touching other people and receiving comments
and feedback on your writings will help you to improve
on your weak areas.
some people do it because they are looking for fortune and fame
while others want to communicate with others, and others
just to see their names on something other than
a bill being paid.
I surely don't mean to brag or boast
But my words have been read to many a toast
Golden words may flow now and again
Raging from the poet's pen
Sculpted and molded some words beware
Some poets write truth and others just flair
Some are put on cards and some in songs
But all end up right where they belong
Most are heard but seldom seen
They get passed by and loose their sheen
Like a dying flame they slowly fade
Waiting for resurrection on some other day
Our words are powerful surpassing unique
Our words can be happy and sometimes bleak
Your pen will bleed and before you know it
You've joined the ranks of the unknown poet
*feedback appreciated*
songer.co/song/g9i13kvktuxlhrn3fy5r2bqi
Verse 1
I told myself you were background noise.
Just traffic through the blinds.
But I still pause the song when your name fits the melody —
like the air’s in on something I’m not supposed to feel.
I leave the lamp on. Not for light,
but because the dark remembers you too well.
Pre-Chorus
You said, “You’ll call when it doesn’t hurt.”
I laughed — I said I never do.
Now every ring sounds like a dare.
Chorus
I don’t miss you.
Except always.
Except in the mirror,
in the hallway,
in that half-second before sleep where I fall toward you —
then stop myself,
pretend I’m dreaming of the weather.
Verse 2
You left your scent on my winter coat.
It bloomed again in July.
I told my friends I washed it out,
but I still wear it when I want to feel alive enough to lie.
Bridge
What if I said I never stopped hearing you breathe?
That I keep talking over silence just to drown it?
That I’ve built my calm around pretending?
Final Chorus
I don’t miss you.
Except always.
Except when I’m fine,
especially when I’m fine.
You’re the note that never fades —
and I keep telling everyone
it’s just feedback.
Unsolicited, revered, and praised
potential literary fete,
(yes a bit hyperbolic),
sans mine posted poems that perambulate
such feedback, whither donning trumped
("FAKE") facade, Oriel sincere
twittering, nonetheless tis great
for an ego striving to maintain
hum bull modesty, yet I hate
to be misperceived as
arrogant, boastful, pretentious,...wait
et cetera, cuz honestly,
these conglomerations create,
themselves, via some inexplicable
literary process which generate
prestidigitation soon after
affixing wired thinking cap,
whereby positioned electrodes exfoliate
on scalp yup thence, off miniature oblate
spheroid (suddenly barren) of golden locks
most soup Priam wantonly depilate
(envision candidate
undergoing biofeedback,
or...captured as bait)
by...yea (of course) alien invaders curious
to experiment, and subject a random pate
with out of this world tests that agitate
most precious anatomical accouterment
'bout size of average poe tate
toe (actually...almost same consistency)
okay...sorry, this chap doth relate
such comparison to
his own cerebral aggregate,
where he starkly realizes
neurological concentrate
takes a permanent vacation
to distant Palatinate
essentially leaving a void, ah...just
perfect for cosmic outliers to allocate
(no...no...no noninvasive, i.e.)
their laser like gizmos scrutinize how
(albeit unwittingly) to ameliorate
writer's block, thus
glad tubby ("Guinea Pig"),
and let abductors amputate
my killed expense trumped ("FAKE")
noggin pulp struggling to articulate,
(hence quite a relief,
you cannot imagine), dear mate
when fiber optic threads of light
essentially painlessly
(rather ticklishly aspirate)
clump of useless gray matter,
yours truly does implicate
as complicit to cause unnecessary
difficulty to associate
with *****sapiens, an extremely
strenuous task, thence joyful to dedicate
(without being headstrong),
an organ minimally missed at any rate
long last free to babble poppycock
oblivious as ambitious readers berate!
what to do...what to do...
feels like...living in a shoe...
with...
thoughts...just thoughts...
for work and...pleasure is...
what...
measure then prevails...as concepts...
shape reality...forms...
when...
it matters most...in the mind...
called for by...happenings...
where-in...
deep thought is...lost...
a scramble...to understand...
why...
not now...that is...
the question...as to...
how...
the calm prevails...with what...
when where-in...why and how...
which...
space time....or philosophical...
maybe first...or last...
wanting...
nothing but...a presence...
an abstract...real and...
waiting...
just a being...formed by...
concepts...a patience not of...
worry...
but of knowing and...seeing...
one from...the other...
without...
chaotic feedback of...which wanting...
some waiting worry...without having...
washed...
the conscience remains...of other...
places and times...and memories...
weakened...
through their passing and...a peace prevails...
as the air...we breathe...
winning...
the moment over...it is a...
fluidity of...time as...
wonderful...
as any dream...day or night...
ongoing as...a current flowing...
weaving...
all together...a school of minds...
fish from see to see...themselves as the...
water...
that is...the being of a ...
nothing...a passing of change as a...
wish...
washed not weakened...and winning...
wonderful weaving throughout the...water that is the...
wish
stan sand
I'm off to a dreaded confrontation
Or at least that's what it would seem
Funny how the mind can conjure up
Scenarios that are always extreme
Never thinking middle of the road
Only thinking black and white
I've already decided ahead of time
These guys are in for a fight
The time arrives, the meeting begins
It's all very cordial and nice
Till soon we're down to the nitty gritty
Make my stand and roll the dice
Much to my sheer and utter surprise
It was greeted with positive feedback
Amazed and rendered quite speechless
It definitely defused my attack
So the bottom line to all of this
Think positive, it will rub off on folks
Negativity always breeds negativity
Compromise is the master stroke
© Jack Ellison 2012
May all of your moments be filled by your dreams
We are all entitled to at least 15
They could be moments of fame or a great achievement made
They will always be yours to keep so don't ever trade
It might be a fancy car or a house high on the hill
Maybe you'll make a lot of money or cure cancer with a pill
It might be the winning touchdown in your last football game
Maybe that mind numbing homerun that puts them all to shame
15 moments that will carry you through
Be proud of what you have done and what you can do
Enjoy every moment as fleeting as they may be
But your defining moment in life will come in 16
*feedback appreciated*
I laughed even though I didn’t get it
I cried even though I wasn’t touched
I smiled simply because she smiled at me
I pretended to like his cooking a bit too much.
I agreed even though they were wrong
I said, “Glad to see you”, even though I was not
I clapped even though it wasn’t entertaining
I complimented her kid who was a real snot.
I listened to a horrible singer
I said I remembered a complete stranger
I blushed even though I wasn’t embarrassed
I showed fear when there was no real danger.
I guessed thirty-six when I knew she was fifty
I lost even though I could have won
I liked the present I didn’t have a use for
I took many when I didn’t even want one.
So I empathize with all of you readers
Who struggle with reading my poems
Pretending that they are real clever
When I know for a fact you are wrong.
I thank you for all of your compliments
Positive feedback and the high praise
Your lies, they mean so much to me
I’ll do the same for you one of these days.
A testament to Prince
Prince, I saw your vision in the purple rain
And in that moment, I knew you were in no more pain
You graced us with your presence and filled our hearts with love
With your unbounded talent
That came from straight above
You left us sad and broken
And now we have no peace
But together we will strengthen
And our grief will cease
Oh thank you Prince for everything you’ve shared with the human race
We’ll treasure your gift of music
We’ll miss your handsome face
The heavens are rejoicing
And there you’ve found a home
And in that place you joined there
You never are alone
We never will forget you
Your voice will never die
And we will look forever
Into that purple sky
And so we will remember
How richer our earth is
Because Prince Rogers Nelson
Indeed he did exist
Rest well our purple angel
We love you with all our hearts
And we will meet in heaven
And then, we’ll never part
Hi there, Thanks for creating this contest!
I have been with "Poetry Soup" for a couple of years now. I really love "Poetry Soup" because the comments from other poets are genuine and provide wonderful feedback. I am so glad I found Poetry Soup.
The poem, "A Testament to Prince" started it all for me. I have been profoundly moved and devastated by the loss of Prince Rogers Nelson. After he passed away, I began writing poems which were dedicated to him and then eventually evolved into other subjects. I was so inspired that I wrote a poetry book, entitled, "The Microcosm of Poetry". I am in the process of completing my second book. I think my poetry has grown significantly. I have been reading works of other poets. I have also been studying poetry by reading books about it. I think my new poems have better wording and are tighter. I mainly write in lyric or free verse form, but I am always learning! I sincerely hope that you enjoy my first poem on this website.
Thank you for reading my poem and entry. Sincerely, Alona Perlin.
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.