Long Happy as a clam Poems
Long Happy as a clam Poems. Below are the most popular long Happy as a clam by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Happy as a clam poems by poem length and keyword.
Said My distraught Mind, sexual pleasure has now left me blank
My Life,
my virginity,
my honor,
my desires
and your wants.
Traumatic these moments
as I stall to deliberate.
Whiles you’re in a scurry to violate my treasured possession.
Flustering fear banging my heart,
my eyes,
my every muscle.
My discipline
keeping me in constant hesitation.
Yet,
I silently concede my most protected tenure
in the name of love.
With tears that you didn’t seem to notice,
as 10 tons of rushing hormones crashing down on me,
violating my every being,
I struggle to exhale in fright.
Now,
I - a victim of my own weakness.
You,
a smirk spreads across your face
your teeth clenched in ecstasy.
whiles my mind devoured me.
Leaves me in disarray.
My eyes gazing in confusion,
my nostrils smelling the foul air of rotten disgusting semen.
In these said moments,
musty sweat rolls off your wild ecstatic pleasured self,
drips on me,
makes me want to puke.
Wait!
You call this what?
Lovemaking?
Hell no!
This is a sick stomach erupting plague.
Could I hate myself more?
Nope!
His grin made me feel so used
cheap and empty.
Devastated
by self guilt
with every wink of my eyes,
but I cannot hide from myself.
He – nowhere to be found.
His life is happy as a clam.
He deflowered me
and feels nothing but conceited pleasure.
Now I wait the gossips to scar me for life,
sneers that will only adding to my suffering.
Should you be reading this –
don’t let hormones steal your life.
Emphatically!
© Al Juman The "said" Poet 1/7/2019
All my life I’ve loved to draw…the many people and things in front of me.
The only problem is the things I draw…don’t always look like what I see.
It seems it should be easy which is why I do not understand
how the beauty I see before me gets distorted by my hands
I can draw the sun, a house, and occasionally…a cloud
but all my other drawings would only make Picasso’s mother proud.
My drawings might be simple, they might be incoherent and raw
but that does not deter me…for I still love to draw.
All my life I’ve loved to dance…the moment I feel the beat
but it’s hard to find the right rhythm when I was born with two left feet.
When people see me dancing (trust me it’s not a pretty sight)
they usually call for a doctor and ask if I’m all right.
My movements might be simple…might make some think I’m in a trance
but that does not deter me…for I still love to dance.
All my life I’ve loved to sing…how I envy all the birds….
for they like me are happy singing when they don’t know all the words.
I think of myself as a nightingale whose voice is beautiful once let loose…
but from what I’ve been told by others…I sound more like a goose.
My voice may sound more like a bird who has a broken wing….
but that does not deter me…for I still love to sing.
I was lucky that a long time ago I came to understand
I don’t need to be an artist, a professional dancer or a singer in a band.
For despite my little drawbacks I am as happy as a clam
Happy drawing and dancing and singing…just the way I am.
I don't want to be sad,
Because when I'm sad
There are clouds in the sky,
And clouds always bring rain.
Maybe not today.
Maybe today will be sunny,
And maybe tomorrow will too.
But eventually those pearly clouds
Will turn into treacherous tempests
That rain lightning, and flash floods,
And hail thunder that booms
Like cannons in my ears,
Until my ears hum songs
About sunken voyages
That met a watery tomb before
Land could be glimpsed
Upon the crows nest.
I'd rather be happy.
Happy as a clam
So that there are no clouds in the sky.
And if there are any, they'll whisk by
As wisps of cotton or incense
Only recognized by
The faint scent of metal it leaves
When it is somewhere else,
But not here.
My love is amazing, giving such love and care to me every day.
Lifting my mood to the sky.
Making me feel like I can fly, higher and higher in the sky.
My love shows me he cares, and can make me feel happy as a clam.
My love has hands that are strong and wraps me in his strong arms.
My love has given me the best of times, making me have love in my heart and mind.
My love can make the dark clouds move away by calling me to his side and giving me hugs.
My love is one of a kind and gives me chills from head to toe, making me want him all the time.
My love surprises me with his sweet words, making me need for only him.
My love is so kind, and he is one of a kind.
Kisses and hugs to my sweet and kind one.
(This poem is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt the agony and pain of prejudice…
who have been left battered and beaten and scarred….
and to those who have inflicted that pain…
for you both know who you are.)
Do you know me?
Like every human I am made up of chromosomes and genes.
Yet, I am told I am not normal…and I don’t know what that means.
Do you know me?
I use to wake up every morning as happy as a clam…
glad to be alive knowing who I am…is…who I am.
Do you know me?
I was so happy with who I am and the way my life unfurled…
until I took my first steps into a cruel and heartless world.
Do you know me?
It was here my view of normal got distorted and confused…
for out here I have been made fun of, punched, spit upon…abused.
Do you know me?
Some people look at me and think, to them, I am a threat!
I am even hated, yes hated, by people I’ve never met!
Do you know me?
I have been beaten, shot, stabbed, strung up and left hanging from a tree.
by people who want to kill me…just for being me.
Do you know me?
I have friends who have killed themselves…an action I cannot condemn.
for they have chosen to leave a world that wasn’t ready for them.
Do you know me?
Have you ever felt so lonely…so sad…so deep in darkness…
a way out you cannot see?
Have you ever contemplated different ways to end your misery.
Do you know me?
Have you ever really looked at me…
ever stood where I have stood…
Have you ever tried to get to know me…
If not…oh how I wish you would.
For I am sure…all you out there who abuse me…who call me names…
once you get to know me…you will never feel the same.
I perk my Joe old-fashioned style
In a pot atop the stove,
My percolator ancient,
Like a pirate’s treasure trove.
I measure out the coffee
And a timer lets me know
When 8 minutes have elapsed and then
My brew’s all set to go.
It’s French roast, strong and most important,
It is really hot,
The only way that it should be
So it will hit the spot.
I toyed with going modern –
The Nespresso had appeal,
But to change what’s tried and true seemed
Like too much of a big deal.
So I’ll stick with perking coffee
Like the dinosaur I am
For each morning sip allows me
To be happy as a clam.
When I was old enough, my mom
Would send me to the store,
Specifically, the bakery,
For treats I did adore.
But first, I had to ask them for
A rye bread they would slice,
With seeds, of course, or else
A pumpernickel would suffice.
And then some Linzer tarts for her,
Those filled with berry jam;
Then finally, the cakes
That made me happy as a clam.
Their name was Charlotte Russe,
A sponge cake in a cardboard sleeve,
With whipped cream and a cherry –
Just too perfect to believe!
They put them in a cardboard box
For me and my two bros
And tied it with a red-striped string,
As all of Brooklyn knows.
Today I wouldn’t like them –
Linzer tarts have more appeal –
But with a Charlotte Russe, back then,
How happy I would feel!
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
Would you like it on a couch?
I think that I would still say ouch!
Would you like it with champagne?
I think that I would still complain.
I do not like that mammogram.
I’d rather eat green eggs and ham.
Would you like it with no squeeze?
I think I’d still be ill at ease.
Would you like it fully dressed?
That I think would be the best.
That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
What, then, would you most prefer?
Maybe others would concur.
If I could have a cute masseuse
Who sounded just like Dr. Seuss,
Perhaps that yearly mammogram
Would not be such a cruel exam.
Then I would like it on a couch
And wouldn’t act like such a grouch;
And I would like it with champagne,
Ignoring that annoying pain.
I would enjoy my mammogram.
I’d be as happy as a clam;
But ‘til that time, I will protest
Each time that tech does squish my breast!