Long Immature Poems
Long Immature Poems. Below are the most popular long Immature by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Immature poems by poem length and keyword.
We were together during the time of my youth
I was fascinated by us because we loved in truth
There wasn't anything we wouldn't share with each other
I think we both knew that we wanted to take things further
What I didn't realize at that moment is that no one loves like you do
No one would tolerate me regardless of what we go through
No one would understand and cater to my emotional needs
No one would compromise instead of giving me the third degree
No one would put meaning into music and dedicate it to us
No one would spend time with me without being so much in a rush
Time has proven to me that I let a good one get away
I'm going to live with this regret each and every day
True I was young and immature and trying to find out who I was
It seem as though this is something that everyone does
You were a constant reminder every time a relationship failed
In pain I would always wonder how far your ship as sailed
I wish on the day I married you i knew what I knew right now
No one loves the way you do because they don't know how.
I fled to the city scared and unsure,
with no money, no prospects of a job.
And swept up by the rising human tide,
I proved myself foolish and immature.
I felt homesick, and looking for a cure,
I threw myself into big city life.
But finding friends was not an easy task:
my trust in folks was often premature.
The neon lights flaunt fantasy's allure:
yet, reality soon burst that bubble.
There's a price for being young and naïve;
a hidden cost: that all youth must endure.
Eating whatever food I could procure:
Necessity taught me to beg and steal
by convincing me: my motives were pure.
I was born underwater with lungs oversized,
With gills immature in a world full of smog,
I'm filling petition to be cauterized,
And end other chapter in life’s fragile log.
I was born black and white with extremities gray,
The plaintiff accuses what I might hide,
It's nothing but SOUL constantly at play,
With spoonfuls of turquoise rolling down off life's slide...
Implosion of rainbows will probably be
The cause of my passing unknown and alone.
When thrown overboard and deep into sea
I'll finally return to my home long time gone...
I've moved in a place with no windowless chamber,
Where time has no meaning and waiting is painless,
If I had any hopes, I swear - don't remember...
And don't recognize him, his sorrow is senseless.
I have died underwater, reborn in blue nights,
Don't need oxygen to play with the whales.
Remember when watching those great Northern Lights
That Mother is smiling behind Nature’s veils.
for Constances contest "Mother"
My God, why are you so quiet to your child?
You are noisy as trucks rumbling by remote
I see you in the terrors of the night glowing
I taste you in the night cloying in my throat
I feel you down to my restless legs waking
I know you as a child knows his father
Coddled children never learn to walk
You left me in the care of parents who leave
But, didn’t you abandon me just to gawk?
Still, you've never left me though I bereave
My immature mind reaches out to you
You are the quiet voice in my cries shaken
You remind me that to talk I must listen
You remind me to feel I must ache
To see I must know your pure omission
You show me the broken pieces rebuilding
In the dead of night, I feel your lovely floor
Can I embrace myself within your cold tomb?
Your son leaves the frame of a blackened door
Your silence rushes in noisy as a womb
You remind me you are light and darkness
You are my true parent asking me to rise
Again and again without a hand to hold
Without a guide, you show me who is wise
You ask me to be my parent as Jesus toiled
You promise me rest when night comes
When hands grow cold and there's nothing to do
You are a father that never grows old
Then a door opens for me to hobbled though
Will you greet me when senses are unconsoled?
Your quiet and darkness are a play of stillness
You are faith and doubt when senses are unsteady
Grant me your everlasting maturity in your plan
I promise to rise when I’m good and ready
I promise not to cry like a child, but a man
****
Isaiah 46:9-10
Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.
It has come to my attention
Something other than a recession
There has been a hoax
That could be a sick joke
On the heels of a debate about injections
This discussion is not funny before the Presidential election
Remember back when
Rxs used a U Penn
Trying to diagnose the brain
In the health care game
They wrote the script
Without worrying about it
This was back when the peace love man
Made the stand long before the obsession with the word fan
This all went down
When stylish boots and fashion ruled the town
You were a studious Quaker
Always looking for something as a money maker
As we close the door
On another war
May we get to the bottom this issue ugly as a big apple core,
They say the important information is in the detail
And maybe this is the reason Hillary and Chelsea check the email
It may not be a virus that is the monster that should be in a cage
But the idea that we need to be on the same page
Just dropping this hint to the Commander and Chief
Do not play this out like an immature subject like something people in Wellington want to beef
Take hold of the wrong
Give a good reason for the rebellious pot smoking bong
And when the corona virus chit chat is dead
Maybe then the stalker talkers will get the memo message ‘enough said’
The Apology
And yes, Joan, was there a time I said there could be a tomorrow?
And when did I say our love would last forever?
Want the moon? It’s yours! The sun? You can have it!
Only that I would be a joker fulfilling a role that doesn’t suit me;
I am what I am. Loving life is wonderful.
Please don’t look at me as if I were some cruel beast,
Scheming and stalking prey for the feast.
We never seem to agree; our wants and needs are different.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I misled you into believing
We were sharing. I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation.
I am caring, but I was naïve and too immature to take that leap.
I couldn’t feel your feelings. Your look was casual,
Without expression, and now I see the hurt in your eyes.
No wonder you despise me: the loathing, the hate,
And I am ashamed for being so mean
And treating you carelessly, without remorse.
There were memories, Joan, intimate and personal,
That I will cherish, and I did make you smile.
And now, after all is said and done, the distance grown,
I apologize.
Let Them Judge You
When you stand up and speak for the things you believe,
Or you show what you feel; wear your heart on your sleeve.
When your thoughts and opinions don’t follow the crowd,
And you’re brutally honest and say it out loud…
Let them judge you.
When you work extra hours for no extra pay,
To ensure the job’s done by the end of the day.
When you cover a colleague who’s often off sick,
Or tolerate bosses who get on your wick…
Let them judge you.
When you finally snap cos it’s all got too tough,
And you throw in the towel and shout, “I’ve had enough!”
When you storm off and leave everyone in a daze,
Muttering and commenting about your odd ways…
Let them judge you.
Let them judge and opinionate, gossip and label.
Let them do everything better than you, if they’re able.
Let them build you up, put you down, doubt your ability.
Let them chatter and natter with puerile hostility…
Let them judge you.
You know who you are, for greater or lesser.
No need to retort or to be the aggressor.
Their thoughts, words and deeds will judge them in turn.
They are feeble, and immature and not your concern.
No larger than a grain of rice,
her face is forming; mouth, a slice.
Her heart, a tube, begins to beat;
at one month, things are imprecise.
An inch now from her head to feet.
Eyes, fingers, toes: not yet complete.
Her neural tube, well on its way.
At two months, things look pretty sweet.
Four inches long, an ounce to weigh;
miscarriage risk drops every day.
All parts are present, there to see;
at three months, fingers grasp and splay.
Her nails and hair seen easily;
eyelid, eyebrow, eyelash agree.
Four months now and six inches long,
the ultrasound clear: she’s a she.
Her muscles build; she’s getting strong.
You thought you felt her; you’re not wrong.
She’s covered with lanugo hair.
At late month five, she hears your song.
Her fingerprints? Whorls present there.
The eyelids part; eyes open, stare.
When she hiccups, you may observe.
Month six births: viable with care.
Refinements to sensory nerves,
reacts to light, from pain will swerve.
She rarely is reserved or still;
month seven, and this gal’s got verve!
At five pounds now, she kicks at will.
Lungs immature, but they can fill.
Eight months, all sharpens, gets refined;
You’re on alert, you know the drill.
It’s nine months now; she’s quite confined.
Delivered, breathes in, and unwinds.
Flesh of your flesh, though quite her own;
Distinctly her, you’re intertwined.
WinLose risks
probably never disappear
for WiseElder
Left-Right codependent Bodhisattvas
messianic co-arising
ecological egotherapeutic healing
and WinWin holonic integrity wholing.
Deep learning bilateral compassion
to meet our basic needs
economic ecology
through more democratically mature
Ego-EcoPositive political fashions
and, yet again, WinWin designs.
Immature competitive adolescent strategies
become automatic normals
re-acclimating double-binds
of WinLose dissonant compromises,
accepted practice for now,
waiting for WinWin raptures
and resonance
in fullness of time.
Resonant resilience of life systems
might become WinWin revolutionary self-deployed
each 3D cooperative identity moment
without takeover
by LeftBrain/RightWing aggressive violence
advocating more competition
to effectively Either/Or obtain
evermore monoculturing resources--
hoarding
as associated
with paranoia
about losing out
to overpopulating climates
of secular loss
sacred pathology of light
through dualdark cosmology.
I need not become a WiseElder
to know that losing integrity
succumbs to a dually endarkened
ego-privileged ecology.
I do not need a PhD in competing Busyness
to discover healthy differences
between not aggressively driving mindbodies
(which is a good thing)
but not as high a love
or health
or grace standard
as Golden Rules
driving active cooperation
as best WinWin defense
against not losing secular
not losing sacred
nondual ecology.
Promising never to be apart
I never knew at the time if it was the right thing to do
If so much of my budding life truly belonged to you,
Yet I proceeded demurely to let you hold my arm
And decided with some trepidation to coyly tag along.
Our life together began so aimlessly unpredictable
Not knowing the directions to a successful endeavor.
Tenuous were the links of love young and immature,
Unprepared to face obstacles potently formidable.
A clash of our aspirations and untenable ambitions
Soon brought about forces of immutable conditions,
As the portrait of young love cracked under pressure
And soon we broke up, bereft of romantic pleasures.
That was some fifty years ago as we now recall fondly
For the interlude of our separation lasted only briefly,
And we began anew to enjoy a triumphant relationship
Cracking the code of life to raise a wonderful family.
The sketch of our being hangs proudly in our hearts,
Never giving a second thought to our wary shaky start.
Brittle bones now foretell life remaining is quite short
So we make the best of it, promising never to be apart.
Placed 5th
November 2, 2017
Eight Word Challenge
Sponsor: John Hamilton