Long Freudian Poems
Long Freudian Poems. Below are the most popular long Freudian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Freudian poems by poem length and keyword.
Many profitable chances presented
Yet ignored and woefully neglected
Later forsook and deeply regretted
Reminiscing and yearning to be repeated
As many professed and accentuated
The innate desire to be in a relationship
Yet considered as a mere Freudian slip
While some fomented and ingratiated
Heart and soul left maimed and immolated
Disappointedly restive and repudiated
Expecting in return desires to be requited
Emotional feelings brooded and bated
Well, such is the intensely humanistic nature
But it is better to play not out of pretension
Then stick to such an honourable decision
Than to bring desires to endless torture
From trusted friends in mind, many captivated
With intent of dalliance and some I so desire
From nigh and far, I myself intently speculated
But the mire of the past yet refuses to expire
In quality and quantity from heart and thought
Tormenting my spirit from the joie de vivre
Until there came a holy saviour, My Lovely Diva
Who cohabited in heart and strength then fought
To clinch victory from the trauma of my past
Healed the bruises and won my heart at last
Her name is Jufai, My Dearest Mine
Special name from her Day Maker, only mine
With no regret, I prefer her among all of them
Crown her my Queen with a glorious diadem
In its nature, much more beautiful and magnificent
Not even that of Queen Elizabeth is nearly lucent
For she is much more hollier than even a saint
With the best personality free of dirty paint
Her presence is a fountain of joy and tranquillity
Blessed with an epitome of honesty and modesty
A creature worthy of one to struggle or even suffer
To get such a special opportunity to accept your offer
So I'm so happy and grateful to be the chosen one
Luckily enough to have her in the midst of everyone.
I Love You So Much My Dearest Mine ??
Hollow as a crooked pipe conducting waste to the corroded sewer
Vacant and obscure like a Freudian void on a cold lavatory seat
Hollow as a piper’s flute waiting for nimble charming fingers
Vacant like a comatose stare reflecting mindless nothingness
Shallow as a muddy puddle pummelled by boots from wet feet
Superficial like a scratch on a bubble conceding trivial defeat
Shallow as a trickling tributary succumbed to inarticulate drought
Superficial like a crowded scream never leaving mute fears
Fallow as unwanted seeds swirling around into darkness
Dormant like a sleepy reminder of night mares fighting for victory
Fallow as untilled soil longing for cultivated surrender
Dormant like a tired tramp homeless and halting suspense
Mellow as marsh mallows molten on deep cutting sticks
Bitter sweet like a camp fire sending smoke into nowhere
Mellow only in that as it rhymes with bellow and gallows
Sweet bitter and numb like waste in a lone piper’s dream
I don’t sense that God keeps score --
my guess, believing He already
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and
profitable confessions,
ballot slips and extra altar sips,
less Jung and more Freudian
myself reasoning that, Lover and
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free
For sure, by now, have learned my ideas
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps
attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --
And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
an mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax
literary creativity analogous
to a figurative curtain drawn
shut tight within
thy noggin unresponsive
even when brute force
strongly applied, but still...
no progress made come crack of dawn,
thus temporarily abandon intent
to craft satisfactory poem or prose,
which coveted brainstorm burst adrip
saturating yours truly head to toes
dribbling out nostrils,
asper my porpoise size nose,
hence this feeble effort to appease
with no expected attaboy, kudos, bravoes...
discerning whaling imploring be
sea ching, sans anonymous followers
waiting for me to compose
meaningless gibberish or
profound nugget of wisdom to disclose
while thrashing within cyber sea,
possibly abandoning ambition to compose
superbly coined adage
eye catchingly exotic
as silk negligee pantyhose
(yea...perhaps send near nude selfie)
or chuck stocking favoring frescoes
tattooed across flesh
accentuating anatomical contours
wharf flexing muscles simulates geckoes
(albeit selling progressive insurance)
appearing to slither across body electric
predictably ejaculating Freudian peccadillos,
now bolt upright awake, no longer sleepy,
but dwarfed by giant spuds, no small potatoes
eh...yar right to deem this poker face
one among many bumptious desperadoes,
and mooch hoe gracias reading poem
bumbling, degenerating, fizzling...
into lobbying primal salvoes.
That was the time of my life when my search turned stern,
Like a thirsty beast, for streams of truth, I did yearn;
In search of saints and sages, I wandered and roamed,
Queries, like dark clouds of monsoon days, on me domed...!
Here it is, they said, Oh, no, it is over there,
Like an insane, I searched for treasures everywhere;
False philosophies and theologies called me,
Though ran after each I could not find myself free...!
Indian philosophy and western credo,
Divine doctrinaire or Freudian libido;
Science or medicine or poetry or art,
What had I not tried with sincerity of heart...?
It's then when, ultimately, when I went within,
With my goodness and meanness and virtue and sin;
Celestial scenes of existence I did behold,
As a grand finale, corpus-soul-core consoled...!!!
24 February 2023
Closer to fine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Though amply rested, I still yawn
And feel energized after
light exercise doth spawn
break through viz mental impasse,
where endeavor to coax
germinating ideas to sprout
about as successful as
buzzfeeding, jump/kick starting
rooting brown lawn
to whether drought.
Long fostering literary creativity
analogous to prying open
figurative curtain drawn
shut tight within
thy noggin unresponsive
even when brute force
strongly applied, but still...
no progress (for aging Pilgrim)
made come crack of dawn,
thus I temporarily abandon intent.
An effort to craft satisfactory poem or prose,
(which coveted, kindled, unexpected...
futile endeavor deluges me when
least able to jot down eureka,
whereby brainstorm burst adrip
saturating yours truly head to toes
dribbling out nostrils,
asper my porpoise size bottle nose,
hence this feeble effort to appease.
No expected attaboy, kudos, bravoes...
discerning metaphorical whaling expedition
beseeching, imploring, soaking...
mine mindscape with
profuse voluminous wisdom
sans anonymous followers
waiting for me to compose
usual meaningless gibberish or
rare profound nugget of wisdom to disclose.
While thrashing within cyber sea,
possibly abandoning ambition to compose
superbly laced, ginned, coined...
poetic adage gee oh
into magnum opus masterpiece
eye catchingly exotic creation
exquisite as silk negligee pantyhose
(yea...perhaps yours truly
will also send near nude selfie,
a worse fate than death
cab for cutie)
and chuck stock inhibition
brokering favorable frescoes
tattooed across flesh
accentuating anatomical contours of flab
wharf flexing muscles simulates geckoes,
(albeit selling progressive insurance)
appearing to slither across body electric
predictably ejaculating Freudian peccadillos,
now bolt upright - ******** awakened,
no longer sleepy,
but dwarfed by giant spuds,
no small potatoes
eh...yar right to deem this poker face
eccentric - born (free) this way,
how Elsa to explain (without lion)
rambling riotous rumination
one among many bumptious desperadoes,
and oh...mooch hoe gracias reading poem
bumbling, degenerating, fizzling...
into lobbying primal salvoes.
What can I say to a flame, except that I knew of its spark when it was just a mere flash?
Would I say that I knew you were here, but only to start a certain level of malice!
You rose up into the sky like a mighty chalice!
I might even say to the flame that I knew were going to be large enough to succumb to a bash!
Oh mighty flame how do you dance with such a gorgeous sash!
Oh my how do you make me train harder by getting my hand to have a callus
Are you sure that your initial spark was meant to bring inside of me such a malice
Sometimes, things are things, or they are a Freudian phallus
You are the flame that makes my heart go to mash
You are the one that makes my mind burn the overbearing malice
Dear flame, can I hold you, as I walk through the valley of lice
Become my strength and be my whip and take out my enemies with a lash!!!
I knew of your spark as a mere flash!
Let the enemies drink the wine as they move in a frightened DASH!
JUMBLED
Pointless thoughts not implemented
appear off and on in strain
disturbing idle brain
in hazard haphazard manner.
Sometimes to lament,
sometimes to repent,
sometimes to ignite anger,
reflexing complexity of perplexed mind.
All those scattered suffused thoughts
sprouting from failure, shock or betrayal
get crumpled, corrupt, not assembled
entangled, coiled turning surreal,
fumbling voice of confused heart.
Puzzled bewildered mind ponders to ruminate
unfulfilled ambitions grumbling in vain.
wishing to let those release!
Trying to be relieved from nonsenses.
Peculiar unthinkable happenstances
coming with dreams
in streams
under chaotic commotion.
All just juxtaposed drifting
on junk clearance through nightmare.
May be Freudian slip
of unintentional subconscious mind
through suffocated smothered feelings.
All fuels are .exhausted struggling throughout life.
In the last phase no need to re arrange !
Even achievements and success in jumble going to junk.
03/04/2023l
Writing Challenge - " J" Forms
Third Place
Contest by Constance La France
For this contest I’m asked to abide by the rules
and thus I sit and pen my thoughts obediently
but cannot check the renegade’s sweet rebellion
Limit cussing and cursing:
however I am told that people who swear are profound not profane
No erotic poetry:
but once Eros is tamed Thanatos prevails says a slippery Freudian
New poem:
yet life is a cycle and true stories have no beginning
Date name and sponsor:
A fig leaf instead to hide sensual muse
Cursory token when flipping salvation
Blame the prompter for devious words
Is imprecation blasphemous?
Is romance risqué is erogenous lewd?
Concession for praise where it belongs!
Conclusions:
I vow to wash my mouth with lubricant . . .
Copulation extrapolates couplets and rhymes . . .
I’m grateful for rulers because they help with the lines . . .
30th May 2019
Contest: What makes you flinch
Sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Got Any Ideas For A Poem?
Ha! That catch phrase
(kid ding lee writ)
hoop fully goat yar attention
truth be told, (no...no...
no...not by me
boat some tee else of course)
mine min (yute) yen
for light banter i.e. badinage,
(this horny toad juiced ribbing...
frog git about it), yea,
I know that punning
while keying (NOT SAFE),
sometimes dill lutes
ma serious pickling attempt ren
doors an unsuspecting reader
(bajillion times out of zero) pen
ultimately probably discourages,
an increased virtual fanbase,
rectified by the following asinine
non-sequitur (a come men
dib bull double
entendre) totally tubularly
barbed with Freudian
slip age, that ken
figuratively grab immediate
interest of hen
pecked recipients (with pock marks
to prove such assertion)
might strongly concur even
without being aware how
psychoanalysis willy thrust
significance of phallus
in everyday affairs,
particularly how peppy
(even after applying
WD-40) can rust
and/or atrophy as if cell bait,
hence thee dick cree,
that intercourse a must
(as told by this husband
in a sexless marriage
as a result, I might
join a convent) as a lust
result, either that or
go set me a
watch woman as mistress
tubby integrated within
my private life
even if one
needs tubby bussed
from the outer limits of the
sterling twilight
zona pellucida ideally,
where love of c**t tree and
priapism maketh sea men go bust!