Long Important Poems
Long Important Poems. Below are the most popular long Important by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Important poems by poem length and keyword.
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across the site
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important in their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and OTHER THINGS in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about them
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Weekly”
Ta-Ta!
Six relatives have I, all much like me.
The ones most common are WHICH, THAT and WHO.
There’s also WHOM. A formal dude is he.
WHOMEVER and WHOEVER I like too.
These relatives, with last name “Pronoun” are
quite important fellows, for their causes
include being descriptive. Each one’s a star
showing up to start adjective clauses.
Partial just to people is dear WHO,
WHOM, used less often, has a formal ring.
WHICH likes animals and things too.
THAT likes folks, animals or anything!
Having the distinction of universally
applying to people, the two that have this fun
are WHOEVER and WHOMEVER, but don’t forget me!
Unique am I. My name is WHOSE – the possessive one.
November 12, 2020
For Caren Krutsinger's Six Relatives Poetry Contest
94 degrees
and rising
4th day in a row
Vegetation is turning yellow
Flowers are wilting
Tempers are rising
Air conditioners are cranking away
TVs are blinking
People sit idly in chairs, not moving,
staring at screens,
mesmerized,
until they fall asleep
Too hot to garden
Too hot to clean
Too hot to neighbor
Everyone is hiding
inside like they do
in the winter
when it is too
cold to go outside
We are held hostage
by our weather.
Why do we live in
a climate like this?
Our children are
here, or our parents.
No other reason
unless it's our jobs.
Money is important.
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
The most important day of my whole life,
Was the day I went to Uni, bold and stark,
‘Cos it said to my parents that my mind’s state,
Was with the academics and society’s quark.
They called me as a child insane and *****,
For wanting my brother’s toys, books and pencils;
They also actually called me mentally ill,
For not wanting girly clothes which did frill.
I had my nose in the encyclopaedias and dictionaries,
And they just couldn’t figure why or understand,
And wouldn’t leave me to browse and scan:
Wouldn’t in love care and just let me have my stand.
Society was for sinners, every day they pointed out,
But I felt that it was the fundamentalist Christians,
Who were cold, uncaring, and without clout;
Ready to explode in anger at any societal person.
But they knew who I was on that day going to Uni,
On the journey to Glasgow in the Grenada car,
And so when I was subjective, contemplative and still,
My dad rudely V’d me with his fingers in a spar.
I think they thought I'd say nothing and carry on,
But I waited a few seconds and then firmly replied,
“What was that for?” and he retorted “What?”
And that glint of something in me for them died.
I gave a few murmurs, but succeeded in letting it go,
Having quietly shed a tear about my childhood and early life,
But I promised myself to tell the Hall wardens about the gesture,
Who also made me swear to tell them of any future strife.
And then in my second year, when my dad became,
The conductor of Billy Graham’s choir,
When I made the wardens aware of my pain,
They took me to the cinema and loved me plain.
It makes it so much better, other people’s concern,
Just that bit of interest that you've never had to earn;
Talking about one’s problems puts colour in your cheeks,
And life will be to you that whatever one truly seeks.
I have reason to believe there are no beliefs with any reason
And the only changes that will occur are the changes in the season
Human beings are not being human and mankind is not kind to man
And not everyone is doing the things that everyone really can
We complain about complainers and believe the headline news
We don’t really know the platforms of the leaders that we choose
We haven’t met our next door neighbors and lock all of our front doors
We hate the mess our country is in but won’t do our household chores
We have polarized political views and have lost the middle ground
We are buried so deep in a hill of lies the truth cannot be found
We close our eyes to pedophiles but won’t let our children hug each other
Are terrified of same-sex marriage but divorce our children’s’ mother
If we could just stop and listen, we might find we violently agree
About all the real issues that are important to you and me
If we took the time to understand the points of the other side
We might feel safe coming out of our house and not feeling the need to hide
We should stop letting news anchors tell us what to think and form our own opinions
We, the people, should once again get control of our own dominion
Don’t vote for a slogan or straight-line red or blue
Take the time to learn the issues and let the platforms speak to you
But, who am I to say all this from the keyboard side of my PC
When I myself have no intent to get active politically
Today I stand in front of the mirror
Naked with a big cheeky smile
Eyes pooping out of their sockets
Teeth big, white and beautiful
I dress up and put on a flowery suit
I stare at my obviously muscular build
Almost at the door when I remember one important fact
You're not fully dressed without a smile
I go out into the bright, shiny sun
A still breeze caresses my shiny skin
I dab my face with my white handkerchief
Complete with my plastered cheeky smile
I drive off on a long stretch of road
Listening to the softest, gentlest tone
I nod my head to a booming beat
All while I wear my brightest, cheekiest smile
I get to a hill at a lonely place
I walk slowly to the looming hill
I look at the height with a slight relief
As I wear my brightest, cheekiest smile
I step back a little with a deep breath
I looked around but there's no one to see
I wear my smile for one final time
And then I go up, up and away
We all live double lives; the first
Is what appears outside,
The way the world perceives us
As opposed to what we hide.
That outward part is what we wear
And say and how we act.
We’re judged by all our positives
Or qualities we’ve lacked.
Our other life, though, is what flows
Through arteries and veins
Plus, more important, what resides
Inside our hearts and brains.
This second part may differ from
Its other half or not
And we may choose to share a little
Or, perhaps, a lot.
Relationships are based upon
The way we seem to be,
Yet just below the surface is
What others cannot see.
Surfacing with gasping breaths,
as subtle as exhaling whispers
Subtle as flutter-by touches, I felt it,
and that is how I noticed you.
a ghrá! Love!
And once I saw you spiralling through Space,
Lifetimes came crashing down on top of me.
There is no wall in a world that can hide you,
no form that can keep you in,
There is no key to fit the unlocked door,
there is no map to the unknown kin.
That is why you are aching,
Longing
deeply in your soul.
Your purpose is so pure I can barely take it
You do not need a key!
Don’t you know?
Each awakening I witness is intense;
deeply loved, beautiful, and
Soulful.
Shocking the core to Life with visions;
confusion and fear can be a spoonful.
It is the time for Recognition and Remembrance
Cramming your Being into a small temple of skin
Open your eyes, beautiful darling,
your mission Here is very clear.
[Yes, I am a Welcome Committee,
if there ever was one, who knows?]
Tales are told of who we are,
songs are sung about our existence
Poetry?
Oh, yes, poetic truths are written,
trying to lure us out
It’s been lived for, but also died for,
This Love.
That is why we are here, dear Kindred.
We're creating the Dawn of a New Day.
Meeting Awakening Souls, one at a time
- weaving the remedy against Nothingness.
We are not handing out keys.
There never was a spoon,
you know?
No, no...
We are pulling the veil for clarity,
allowing the Unfolding to occur
The door is never locked,
and Love is never force-fed, see?
Like legends of Old,
the myths, and the rumors;
envisioned by many,
yet only assigned to the few.
Now, the stars are on fire,
the Solar system is realigning,
It seems that Time is here, Love,
it's True.
Being Anointed Vessels is just this,
we're not more important than the next human,
but we are keeping the oil safe on this Journey,
Illuminating Love, Vibrating Love,
Being Love.
Tá an-dáimh againn le chéile
[We're kindred spirits]
Remember now?
My Grandmère and I have long, gossipy conversations,
where we fall into our own chatty, slumber party rhythms.
She’s met or knows everyone important, and people tell her things.
They DM her or whisper secrets of lives ordered but loveless,
of careers choked by excesses and indiscretions.
She gets stealthy, leaked business reports of purported fortunes gambled and lost or of innocence wasted in bittersweet embrace - delicious, tangled narratives that expose the gaps between facades and realities that can’t be purchased.
Sometimes we pop popcorn on our private ends of the Atlantic
watch Netflix, share secrets and laugh conspiratorially.
.
.
Songs for this:
Us by Regina Spektor
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee