Long Ignored Poems
Long Ignored Poems. Below are the most popular long Ignored by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ignored poems by poem length and keyword.
I made my periodic visit to the medico the other day.
Said he, "Hop on the scale, I want to see how much you weigh!"
He didn't say a word, but I knew from the look in his eyes,
That I'd better opt out of eating cookies, cakes and pies!
Water cress, cottage cheese and tofu I really do abhor.
They just don't satisfy my cravings and leave me wanting more.
When meat and taters and fancy desserts are on the board,
For me, those are delicacies that just cannot be ignored!
I reckon I've tried every diet that is the latest fad.
My spouse tires of altering my pants to ensure I'm properly clad.
When that tire inflates and begins lopping over my belt,
Its time to diet again, slim down, and look a bit more svelte!
My spouse has decreed we're going on another exotic cruise.
What's a feller to do with all that grub from which to choose?
Bouillabaise Marsellaise, Beef Wellington, Lobster Thermidor;
That doesn't even include desserts, which I simply can't ignore!
I exercise, count the calories, but its tough to shed those pounds.
Will-power I lack when such delectable food abounds.
Lord, my supplication is to help me exercise more fortitude,
That my craving for all that fare will be of lesser magnitude!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
"The wound is the place where the light enters you".
As a woman, been hurt many times,
Rejected, ignored, ridiculed,
Still, if there is a rebirth,
If I return to this earth again,
I want to be a woman!
I never knew words can be so hurtful,
Words can inflict wounds as cruel as a dagger can.
When I was bruised, I learned to bear that pain,
Staying unperturbed, upright and strong.
In those moments I realized,
It’s not only the agony I am going through,
I am being enlightened by suffering,
Disillusioned with human nature,
Humans can be as cruel as animals,
Sometimes may be more.
Those wounds were not life-threatening,
Nor were they damaging for my mental health,
They did not break me.
Instead a serene light entered into me,
My vision of the world became unclouded,
My confidence in myself increased many folds.
The drooping flower did not fall on the ground,
Petals were not crumpled,
It opened in its glory.
the conversations are rolled into the corners
stretching into a fifth dimension
perpendicular to all points
this is where i love you
curled back upon itself
unavailable to the eye
the physicist’s graven image
produced at energy levels
no longer on demand
counterfeited
lying useless on the floor
moments escaping
till you do
back into the visible spectrum
where the colored quarks
come to rest upon
a mask i have come to know
all too well
and given up all hope
of ever removing it
we chat in silence
the quietude in our pervading existence
is what we ultimately share
the empty spaces between galaxies
collisions that are temporarily ignored
a cosmos enveloped in its own existence
a life to be never seen
conjectures upon a table filled with mathematics
and nothing more
the weak force begetting pyrite
once radiant and full of promise
now lies a barren moonscape
awaiting expulsion, embers now ashes
fate in the coming winds
Fergus Falls 2000
The choice to stop was mine.
The addiction itself was a different story.
Doctors don't write prescriptions for this kind of stuff.
The cold sweats associated with anger.
The beginning is the hardest part.
Admitting temptation.
I was addicted.
The situation had ended but I kept obsessing.
Knowingly risking health.
The way you feel, the way you taste.
I couldn't afford to lose you as well as myself in the process.
Properly insuring another substance for another.
The cost of Medicare.
It was my decision, my choice.
Your voice a constant peer pressure of finding bliss.
If only for a minute.
At some point I ignored my own voice.
Reaching for you again.
I acknowledge that it was my responsibility.
Blaming everything around me, even you.
In this brief moment, common sense wasn't so common.
Not anymore.
Forgetting that actions have consequences.
For every second I ignore you.
You whine, you cry.
Becoming my chronic illness.
The enabler to what ever complaint.
It's hard to quit.
Finding every excuse except the right one.
She was the highway.
I was the traveler.
Weary in search of exit.
This road becoming longer and longer.
The lights becoming more and more distant.
Each exit in-between stops having fewer establishments.
Additional signs appearing with more temptation.
The cold sweats are back, this anxiousness to reach for something that I know isn't there.
This addiction to hold you, crave you, taste you.
This urge to love you as much as I did.
This persistent itch that I can't live without you.
Doctors don't write prescriptions for this kind of stuff.
The warning labels causing more harm than good.
Reminiscing on times that I shouldn't.
The choice to stop was mine.
To love someone that doesn't love you back
I have ranted before and will rant again,
About the healthcare in this country
I have seen more than mistakes, but outright neglect
I have seen things ignored, overlooked, until it is a crisis
I have seen lives put at risk and patients left unheard
Then, I have seen the accumulating high costs
That can change everything for people
As companies and doctors make their money
When some things aren’t even solved and people suffer
It is only acceptable for those without a conscience
It cannot go on like this, as the system is too complex
Controlling the weak who are in need of help
It is time for a change, it is time to save lives
Heidi Sands
5/3/18
*Entry for A Rant contest. Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
We all pay for dumbing down
educational standards all around
from thriving metropolis to sleepy small town
Incompetency reigns throughout customer service
Doctors' inaccurate diagnoses make patients nervous
Corporation mission statements, worthless lip service
It starts in the classroom, where teachers won't demand
if you want to say something, first raise your hand
Then later on, when rampant cheating's ignored
which leads to society's ox getting gored
So, let's stand up to teacher union's bureaucracy
Their idea of excellence - in truth, mediocrity
Insist on high standards, from grade one through university
and say No! to preference based on 'diversity'
I no longer wait for you,
Yet I still find myself searching.
There isn’t an ocean’s depth here,
But I still wish to drown in your eyes.
Just once, if I could see you again,
I’d read the lines of the fortunate in my fate.
I don’t know if I could have kept you happy,
But I was happiest just because you existed.
A boy who didn’t even understand what a smile meant,
You taught him how to laugh wholeheartedly.
You untangled the chaos within me,
Removed the thorns from my path,
You gave me everything—
Yet in this war of love, I still lost.
Now there is peace, but you are not here,
My heart still cries, yet it no longer hopes for you.
I wish to be close to you again,
But not as someone special—only to be ignored.
— Lucky
A single tree
An oak born long ago
One thousand year of life
Still lush with dark green foliage
She stands regally on the top of stony hill
Her wood still strong
Still growing despite her age
Her leafs turn from green to gold and back again
Following the cycle of the sun
She lives alone as she looks over the land below
Others of her kind have shared the rock
The children she gave birth to over the years
Trying to take root they just wither and die at her feet
And again she is alone
People come and visit her
Standing in the shade of her canopy
They look at her through differing eyes
Some think of her as a table and chairs
Never mind her age and beauty
They want her ripped apart by teeth of steel
Smoothed, stained and varnished
Their voices fade into the air
As no one listens to their words
Others see her already as a piece of art
Created by nature
Shaped by the wind, the sun and the rain
Those voices turn into a chorus
A chorus which cannot be ignored
And she remains standing
Leafs full and green
Birds nesting raising their young
Singing the notes of nature’s symphony
She will live for another thousand years
For those who love her
Make sure she is safe for all time
As she should be
Form:
I am death I am freedom I am crying on my knees
I see glory I see sunlight I see him as I kneel down and plead
He was here knocking at my wall
Had I known life was paradise i would’ve given it my all
Had I known love was temporary I would’ve averted my gaze
Had I experienced the feeling’s of amazement I would’ve waited out my days
Had I known death was paradise I wouldn’t have wished it away
Had I known paradise was pain I wouldn’t have pleaded it to stay
Had i known death would come a knocking I would have swung opened my door
Had I known that this was my paradise I would have thrown all my worries against the floor
Had I known I was living in euphoria I wouldn’t have minded your gore
Had I known I was alive I would have lived my life a little more
Tho I knew it was coming it
Didn’t prepare me for the fact that I will love him after seeing his wrong
It didn’t prepare me for the paradise that speaks to me through their songs
It’s
Sparkling,glitter, crystals the paradise I signed up for
Peace and pain revoked is the paradise that I adore
Had I known wynter had crept up I wouldn’t have waited till dawn
Had I known I was pining for sleep I wouldn’t have ignored my yawn
Had I known this was the “great paradise”
I would have closed my eyes so long ago.
Yet when I asked you if this was the climax of my life and you told me no
Had I known death was life I would have peacefully went to sleep
Though for now I will sit in my paradise yearning to be freed
In the deep silence of thoughts, where the poet's soul flutters like a butterfly caught in winds,
He carves his path through the shadows of a culture that swallows him, relentless, unforgiving,
A son of words, a bastion of verse that refuses to be shaped by the hands of time,
He stands before the storm, bare-chested, unwavering, seeking to keep his essence untainted.
In the flow of consciousness, thoughts stream like a wild river winding through valleys and hills,
The poet, an architect of emotions, builds his fortress of metaphors, stone by stone,
Each verse a wall of defense against the compromise lurking at every corner,
A soul of iron but with an open heart, he sings his melancholy in a dance of endurance.
He knows that life is a stage where unknown plays are performed,
But he refuses to be merely an actor reciting lines written by others,
Instead, he writes his own script, with ink of stars and whispers of wind,
For to be a poet is not just a choice, but a destiny, a calling that cannot be ignored.
The past, present, and future intertwine in a dance of time,
And he, the poet, embraces them, finding beauty in their imperfection,
He refuses to sell his soul on the altar of acceptance, to lose his brilliance,
For true poetry is not born of compromise, but of the purity of a clear vision.
Thus, he remains a pillar of integrity, a beacon in the darkest night,
A flame that burns unceasingly, guided only by the light of his own heart,
He knows the power of his word can change the world, can build empires of hope,
And so, with every verse, he writes not just poetry, but the history of an undaunted soul.