Long Headache Poems
Long Headache Poems. Below are the most popular long Headache by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Headache poems by poem length and keyword.
Pain
Neck and shoulders in constant pain
Throbbing headache once again
Back aching after a long day
Whole body in total dismay
Heart breaking for a lost love
Soul praying for help from above
Body aches from with inside
Relief from sorrow denied
Pain can come in many different forms
Pain can consume you, take control and transforms
Pain may stay with you for many a long day
Pain may lessen, but may never go away
As humans we all seem to carry pain of some kind
Be it within the body, the heart, the soul or the mind
Perhaps holding onto some past emotions buried so deep
Manifesting into some form of pain we choose to reap
May you find relief from what you suffer from
May you find comfort in a way to overcome
May you find peace within your heart
May you find love that shall never depart
Lonely with herself
Books got sickly of its shelf
Yet can't ease the elf
"I'll fight for you"
This seems true
Seducing young
And loyal heart
You have got
There, you dreamed
Many a dream over
And over again
Like there won't be
May be need for
A redress or headache
Lonely with cool air
What is it of this affair?
Hope, cut not unfair.
But,
"I'll never fight over you"
This seems shocking
Like seriously hilarious
May be one sure joke
You haven't heard of
Or a way to tease peace
And make mind weary
Weighing the level of
Thy attachment for real
And its effect downhill
Poking around terms
Lonely and feel lost
Like a wandering kite tossed
Free till air exhaust
Meanwhile,
"If you get entertained..."
This no doubt is conditional
To cope for checks
Acts are no longer single
Of freewill to get logical
But of double standards
To balance things strategically
If consideration would be fair
That feeling of insecurity
Renting the atmosphere
With pure anxiety, stopped
Lonely wasted time
Spent together so sublime
Now brings pleasing mime
Oh!
"Someone else can have you"
This is when you got to know
The heart already been occupied
By the thoughts of a rival
Who has lessened thy feelings
Cum caregiving growing bigger
Than you could imagine
Alas! It was then
Now all gone like birds
Unsure of returning together
From the point where they were
Lonely in silence
Coping with frozen absence
Of fun accordance
Watch T.V., so you don't have to think.
I could be dead tomorrow, but today I'm alive,
So right now, I truly am willing to strive;
To get all I want, before death comes to take me,
So show me Heaven on Earth, you beautiful lady.
But don't give me a baby, or a headache,
Don’t waste our precious time together,
Watching repeats of Ricki Lake.
Or Jerry Springer, or even Oprah.
No I don't want to watch another soap!
Or something so soulless and devoid of inspiration.
Could you put on some tunes and turn off the television?
Just play me some music, by someone who has something to say
And let me fall in love, with a single lyric today.
By an intelligent lyricist, with a funky beat,
That makes us tap our feet and shake our thang.
Do you get me? Capiche? Do you understand what I'm saying?
Or are you too drunk, to care anymore,
I'm sorry, I'll shut up, I'm obviously a bore,
That you have to ignore, so here's the remote,
I think I'll just leave and go write a book.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
I AM VIRGO
Remember the girl at the
Convent who started
The peanut butter strike
Because she thought it was right?
Remember in dual heritage
Where, this now woman mentions
That her British side is
Somewhat obstinate?
Well if I am of dual decent,
I am two Virgo’s in one,
That makes up the sum
Of me!
And almost always,
These two Virgos
Never agree!
They clash,
And are both brash,
I step back
Waiting for them
To work it out,
Just now they will come
To blows and one will
Knock the other out!
The Greek gets heated,
And the English,
Sometimes defeated,
And then it’s repeated,
Until both, feel depleted.
I have a splitting headache,
For they are always present
I tell them to stop,
This is my life,
I am the Virgo wife ,
And will be until I die,
So behave and please
Don’t make me cry!
Can’t face untidiness around,
As I am bound
To take strain,
If I see dust or a small stain.
But my poetry corner
Is quite another thing,
That is where I have an
Absolute bling fling!
I don’t suffer fools lightly
Says the Greek Virgo,
But tell them politely,
Says the English Virgo!
There they are again
In my head,
I’m treading a fine line,
To keep them in this rhyme!
I Love to keep a warm,
Loving home,
I am a caring mother and wife
Who always carry’s her phone.
I feel fiercely, about everything,
It’s just my way, I
Emphatically insist that the family,
All have an equal say!
Both English and Greek Virgos
Agree with this,
And hug and give each
Other a kiss.
The Greek Virgo sings,
Love must be felt from the start,
And the English one adds,
Like a spear piercing your heart,
Wonderful, we finally agree,
that I am both a
Greek and English Virgo,
Which is the total sum of me!
Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.
It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the
great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.
In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,
an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.
Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.
Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.
I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.
And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.
It's Saturday morning and off we go to the mall
The traffic just to get there is painfully slow
Upon arrival, it seems that parking spots are tough to be found
Up and down the rows of vehicles we finally get a break, someone is homeward-bound
As we enter the mall pushing and shoving start to ensure
We find an opening and make our way through
The list of shops we have to visit is much to long to count
It now seems the headache I just developed has started to mount
My credit card I know will take a pounding today
It is going to take me months just to repay
After a long day, our shopping trip has finally came to an end
Next weekend we will be back here again, this is becoming a trend
Dear Santa Claws, please bring me a new catnip mousey; my old one has so many holes that the nip won’t stay in and I can’t eat it all in one day; it gives me the munchies and a headache.
I also need another collar, one without bells; I don’t want the dog and mice to know where I am; they don’t respect my privacy. I can’t surprise them and Butch, the dog, loves for me to pounce on his head while he’s asleep.
For a dog, Butch is okay, I guess but I doubt you’ll bring him anything ‘cause he’s been bad this year; oh, but if you do, he wants a new bed, I accidentally peed in it last week, five times.
Oh, and please bring Mommy a new winter scarf; since I pulled out all of the fringe on her favorite one, she’s been a little irritable. A nice bottle of wine, would help too, in case I accidentally damage the new one; really, I’m a good cat but, fringe gets a real thrill out of teasing me until I snap.
So, Santa Claws, stop by and I’ll leave some kibble and milk out for you but, please don’t leave any face fur in it; Butch nearly choked to death on a piece last year and I got blamed for it.
Thank you,
Sheba, the good cat.
Waking on this grey fall morning;
in the air there lies a warning;
rising angst as fears aborning;
feeling late November’s chill.
Darkened clouds obscure the daybreak,
as I nurse this aging headache;
warmer days are but a keepsake
gone forever, summer’s thrill.
Thinking back as springtime’s grooming
brought me hope with nature’s blooming;
summer’s warmth left me assuming
that forever youth would last.
Suddenly there came September
causing bygones I remember;
now November’s dying ember
leaves me longing for the past.
Damning is this aging season;
robbing hopes with truthful treason;
greying dreams are now the reason
that I’m feeling nature’s warn.
Looking long into the mirror,
aging lines becoming clearer;
end of year is drawing nearer
on this late November morn.
November 11, 2020
Beer Head
Can't drive my brain into gear
my thinking right now is not truly clear,
a headache may come is what I do fear
I should not of drank all that beer.
My body and eyes all a blear
to many I drank to toast a cheer,
clinking my booze to whoever was near
to each and everyone - an equal peer.
Dance moves controlled by my beer puppeteer,
my feet stomps the floor like a ready charged deer,
shout singing the songs - not a cool look they sneer,
wrong words song sung sang, heard in the jeer.
My voice is hoarse an a ringing left ear
only to realise in my right I cannot hear,
panic sets in falling awkwardly on my rear
only to flatten my new expensive headgear.
Broken remains took me to save for a year,
self-pity pours in - I even shed a tear,
sober I stay and will do adhere
if not, beer just may ruin my career.
31.08.20
My face tells me nothing. Not nothing but nothing useful,
the complications of ageing humorously but not how to avoid
injury.
Permanent injury is a now popular cliché. At this age any injury
could result in pneumonia, pain in bitterness for your peers,
your jury.
What a headache I have! And never forget injury provokes
at best only pity. Friends are merely friendly, they belong to the
majority.
They forget your name and so should you, who are you? Even you
don't know for sure. In relation to community, no change was noted in
the
registry.
Still, man's mercy, economy's ecology, there's some joy in being small,
some joy in staying strong, and keeping death before you without
perjury.
Unsafe to run the wind. A big stick might hit your head. Then
the hip and heart and head will hurt, all three. Un-
fortunately.
I like a strong wind. Dangerous to go out in. As a fire or flood.
I like the way we are at risk, not a risk-averse weasel. A carnivore,
very hungry.
Pay money, take chances. Yo's an elegant contraction of you.
Cool. Message from street to board: mongrels rule. Democracy or
tyranny.
Scared to die? Why? Take appropriate measures, descend through
meditation. Be empty, rest. And to your friends and sons be as
gravity.
Tired of death. It's what it is. Let's play sports, have sex, kayak
to the huckleberries, fish for marvelous fish, live a wonderful life, give
generously.
Done blowing, O wild wind? Not yet? So be it. I lay my head
in your felt hands. The motion of the branches, evolutionary branches,
are my
guarantee.
That's all folks, 7:30. The sky is clear, the crows are out. The clouds
are with my mood commensurate. I should shout, having lived
prodigiously.