Long Improved Poems
Long Improved Poems. Below are the most popular long Improved by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Improved poems by poem length and keyword.
At twenty-three, Brett found his girl,
A green-eyed vision with strawberry curls,
A year of dating came and went,
And wedding bells the sky did rent.
Life was good, he worked as a welder,
And rushed at night, tales to tell her
Of buildings built and bridges spanned,
Far and wide across this great land.
But as he watched football on his day off,
While he watched the Giants, nursed a cough,
His fun interrupted by a sudden call,
And from his hands the phone would fall.
While out getting some groceries,
A trucked plowed his wife’s car into a tree.
And as if just to make the situation worse,
She was just four months from giving birth…
He fell quite hard, into depression,
Triggered merely by his wife’s mention.
For years he took refuge in hard drink,
Lost his job, and was pushed to the brink.
With nowhere to go, he moved back home,
His parents watched, they heard his groans,
And knew there was little they could do,
But be there and hope that he pulled through.
At thirty, after a long stint in rehab,
He stopped the drinking, and drove a cab,
Eventually moving up to a long-haul truck,
Made some good money, improved his luck.
One day at thirty eight he pulled in
To a truck stop diner, for late dining.
The waitress, May, proved a friendly soul,
Thirty-seven, dirty blond, eyes of coal.
After eating they talked like old pals,
Then went to his rig for something else,
He got her number, and she got his.
They agreed to be friends-with-benefits.
And every time he drove on through,
Each the other they hotly pursued,
It seemed to him to be all too fleeting,
And ever harder when it came to leaving.
A year went by and Brett came in,
And found a worried-looking benefits-friend
She said he’d given her something great,
Fruit of the passion of his many stays.
Brett felt a fool, they were quite a pair,
Like two overeager and foolish teenagers,
But as he thought of it more, it became clear,
Brett never wanted to again leave here.
So Brett married May, and their child came,
Then another a year down, more of the same!
He found himself juggling two screaming boys,
At age thirty-nine, the late nights and the toys!
But Brett didn’t care, better late than never
And with May he would remain forever.
And give thanks to God whenever he prayed,
For showing him that even tragedy fades…
I used to wonder
What you sounded like
What you looked like
Why you weren’t here
For so long,
I thought my punishment from God for all the wrong I was GONNA do, was your absence.
I wondered if I were simply a mistake of two teenagers who didn’t know their head from
their a$$es.
I used to ask about you, a lot.
I was either sent outside to play or given a look that told me I shouldn’t even be asking.
So I stopped and simply accepted what I had
And I always had plenty,
Even when I was too ungrateful to realize it.
I let thoughts of you go
During what I call ‘The Dark Years’
The years when I’d hardened my heart and my mind
The years when I felt like my life was founded on rejection and pain
The years when I didn’t care about much of anything, including myself
My teens and early twenties weren’t much fun at all.
Then something happened
I became a mother
The father proved that he wasn’t ready to be a father
I entered the real world
I got a better understanding of what you and Mommy just have faced
A better understanding of the responsibility it brings
Over the years
I’ve matured
I’ve gotten smarter
I’ve grown into a woman
And my mind came back to you
I started again to wonder
What you looked like
What you sounded like
If you thought of me, like I was thinking of you
My wonderment got the best of me and I replaced it with a need to know
To know
If you were still alive
If you lived close or far
If you were a fine, upstanding person
Or some cracked out drunken loser
Not that any of it really mattered
I just needed to know
So I began my search
For answers
For closure
For my father.
Each leg of my search brought me new revelations.
You were still alive
You were married
You had other children
And finally
An exact location
It took courage I didn’t have even know I had to send that letter
It took even more to answer that first phone call
Stomach flipping
Heart pumping
With a simple “hello”
A door opened
To my past
To my future
To the unanswered parts of me
To my father
Now that I’m here
I don’t regret a moment lost
I know that time cannot be replaced
But a new, improved future can be made.
And with you, my father
I’m looking forward to it.
Groundhog Day derives from a Pennsylvania Dutch superstition that if the groundhog emerges from his burrow on February 2nd and sees his shadow due to clear weather, it will return back into his den and winter will persist for six more weeks. However, if he emerges and does not see his shadow due to cloudiness, the spring season will arrive early. So for 2018, on Groundhog Day, "Will he or will he not see his shadow?" Following the lines of the seemingly illogical, I forecast that on Feb. 2nd it will be cloudy, and Mr. Groundhog will not see his shadow. Thus, spring will arrive early this year. That whole groundhog thing doesn't make sense to me, but I do believe that spring is coming early in 2018. I'm thinking that the snow, ice, mudslides, sub-zero temperatures and the like will have lost their punch by mid to late March.
I forecast that although there will be lots of devastating tornadoes this spring, they will be totally upsetting but not so record-breaking. Although there might be a selfie or two of someone with an approaching funnel cloud in the distance, there will be fewer lives lost due to more shelters being built and improved warning systems.
The 2017 hurricane season was unusual and is unlikely to repeat itself. The hurricanes picked their paths and packed a powerful punch. I forecast tamer and fewer hurricanes during the 2018 season. I don't think that mother nature is angry with us, nor am I certain that the 2017 season was indicative of the wrath of God as some seem to believe. He has plenty of reasons to be, but I don't think that our Maker is angry with us.
The temperatures will continue to be higher in general. The fire season will be normal to slightly above normal relative to the intensity and multiple outbreaks. Also, I suspect that people will make better adjustments regarding their environment relative to forestation.
Our prayer should be that there be less spring rain. In some parts of the country, if the heavy snowpacks begin to melt combined with heavy rains, that could be catastrophic. It would be a perfect storm for massive flooding. I anticipate more flooding in 2018 especially in the mid-western and eastern states as a result of the heavy snows this winter. May God forbide the perfect storm.
01172018PS Contest, Weather Forecast 2018, Viv Wigley; 3P
King of Lies
It's all about you,
Isn't it?
Always, no matter what the disaster
You've most recently caused.
It always comes back to you,
How badly you're treated
By the Fake News
(By which we mean the real truth,
As reported by those Enemies of the People).
You, Oh naked would-be king,
Are the Enemy of the People.
And more, and more, and more of them
Are coming to understand that.
In a way I suppose you may be right;
After all, were it not for you,
We wouldn't be mocked by the rest of the world.
We wouldn't be force-fed 'Alternative Facts".
We wouldn't have our honor and our very lives
Held hostage to your need to be the center of all attention.
Your citizens are dying, by the way,
As you keep us floundering like a Third World country.
You haven't even the grace
Not to insult and belittle
The many, many everyday heroes among us
Who risk their lives incessantly
That others may live.
So go on, our unclothed wanna-be Emperor;
Make your pronouncements
To your emptying, echoing audience hall.
You are king of one thing,
That is true:
You are the king of lies.
You have lied so much you have no idea
What truth actually is.
You are delusional;
The reality you inhabit
Is not our true reality.
There is a real world out here;
Believe it or not.
And one day the nightmare you've created
Will fade into the grateful past,
You will be vilified
Down through the centuries,
And no one, not even your enablers
Will mourn your passing,
Not even your family,
Because you have no virtues.
Know this; you will die - soon;
No doubt this will be a great surprise to you.
But come it will,
And when it does,
Will you be able to put forth any account for yourself?
Will a single human life
Have been improved
As a result of your existence?
No.
You will go down to Eternity
Unmourned.
Not your wife, not your children,
Not your spineless lickspittles
Will mourn your passing.
For this I pity you.
It must be nice
To be so isolated
From reality;
To just accept
That your version of reality is correct;
That everything works the way
You want it to.
But this is not the case;
In the end it will be acknowledged
That you were the worst of all our Presidents,
And somehow, we survived you.
Thank God you will fade into our pasts;
Thank God we are stronger than you.
I've been beaten down, back stabbed and drug through the mud
But yet all I search for is my true love
I've been thrown down stairs and spit in my face
I've never really found my own happy place
From a sexual abuse to my first love with a razor
I let my family down, "that's not how we raised her"
Because I failed school and I saw all these guys
That would later account for the tears in my eyes
I tried filling the void where my abuse burned a hole
in my life, in my heart, in my mind, in my soul
But nothing could mend it no matter what I tried
All the drinks, the pills, or the tears I have cried
I was hurt, I felt broken, I wanted to fade away
I couldn't bare to look in the mirror another day
So I fought and I yelled and got wasted again
And I tried to fix it with more pills and more men
From one relationshipship to the next trying to find love
I just didn't understand the plan from above
I just knew I was cracked like a porcelain bowl
No matter who tried they couldn't make me whole
I made people cry, and I hurt their pride
And I just didn't care how hard they would try
Because when they hurt I felt happy 'cause now theyre like me
Sitting there wanting what just couldn't be
I couldn't be happy, joyful or smile
Unless I put on a mask for awhile
But I still felt useless, depressed and alone
Because I couldn't have a love for my own
I kept my walls up because I didn't matter
And they wouldn't fall down no matter how tattered
I was quick and replaced every person that left
Because I couldn't get back that initial theft
I lived out of my car with another boyfriend I 'needed'
I wouldn't go home no matter how bad I'd been treated
Eventually I felt all the pages had been turned
My self was gone again, my heart had been burned
My life felt disappointing I wanted to give up
Then you came out of no where and redefined love
So like always I pushed all the feelings deep down
For the fear I'd come home and you wouldn't be found
You were always there and you never gave up
You made me feel worthy of somebodies love
So with this I thank you for just being here
And helping me love what I see in the mirror
And you mended that porcelain crack
You filled it with gold and gave me love back
And it's more beautiful than ever
Shiny new and improved like our love is - forever.
An Awful Harvest
I went a hike up to Wawa in Montalban and up the mountain roads. Here I was to go past the peaks of Mt Parawagan, Susong Dalaga and Mt Lagyo plus others. The road had been improved by engineers with trucks and plant equipment. I wanted to hike a big circle right back to the beginning. This was possible a few months ago but not now due to the building of the Pamitinan Dam. It will take four years to do this and flood a complete valley near the peaks. A guard told me no entry by the construction site. I talked to a head engineer and he told me more details. The dam will be eighty metres tall or deep more than the Kaliwa Dam of sixty four metres. These are big structures. Hikers wanted to hike from Wawa to Casili by the newly improved mountain roads but the dam construction stopped this. In time a new road will be built above the dam level replacing the old road. Even if the road is built in a year the dam will still be unfinished so still no entry.
I saw a sign saying beware of UXO Unexploded Ordnance. A local man told me about this, of how the military was looking for it and would defuse any found. His details matched much of what I’ve heard before, like finding shrapnel in the soil. The sign was for the road improvement and dam construction. Sleeping shells waited to knocked awake and kill.
The digger, bulldozer and plant drivers need to be paid danger money. No joke. The area they work on is a small part of a huge World War 2 battlefield. An awful harvest litters the land with unexploded ordnance being buried in the soil having not detonated. Mortars, shells, bombs and other things; these all need locating and safely defusing by the military.
People live in the area and many have found live or exploded shells. The live shells are complete and the spent ones are in varied sized pieces. On my hike up there I was given a piece of one five five millimetre shell from a local. This was in two parts, the biggest weighed many pounds. I estimate between one in four and six fired never exploded. On the stone mountains like Mt Lagyo the shells and bombs will explode on impact if the detonators are triggered. In soil covered peaks the shells can just dig in and don’t go off. The army went up to Mt Lagyo looking for unexploded ordnance. They found nothing.
A queen was spinning flax one day.
She gave her loom a jerk.
(Don’t ask what “flax” or “looms” might be,
or why a queen must work).
She pricked her finger (careful, now!)
yet Sigmund Freud would say
these children’s tales are full of smut –
there is no other way.
Three drops of blood fell in the snow
(she’s spinning flax outside?)
She thought that she’d commemorate
her perforated hide.
“I’ll have a daughter,” Queenie thought,
“with lips of ruby red,
and skin as white as that there snow!
Let’s go!” And so to bed.
Her weaving-loom was black as jet
- another tint to add –
and when she found she was ‘with child’,
a daughter’s what she had.
The girl grew fair, with jet-black hair,
and skin, unblemished, white:
those curvy hips, those luscious lips!
She was a gorgeous sight.
But mother never missed a chance
to put her daughter down:
“Just understand, I rule this land –
the only babe in town!”
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
who’s the tasty totty?”
The magic mirror told her straight,
“Queen, you’re the only hottie!”
But adolescence changes things,
and Snow White turned out fair:
to use the common parlance, she
had grown a lovely pair!
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
I’m still the choicest chick!”
“Well, just about,” the mirror said:
“the kid’s improving quick!”
We’ll drop the Huntsman who was tasked
to take her to the river
(Snow White, that is) and rip her guts,
so Queen could eat her liver.
Why did the hunter like the girl?
Was it her curvy bits?
A friend, he proved – and probably
A friend with benefits!
He told the truth, and now the youth
slipped something in the booze.
She turned real mean – she got the queen
the reddest pair of shoes!
The birthday bash was fairly flash:
for Queenie, two surprises –
no, not the wine ‘improved’ with hash,
as everyone surmises!
Snow White was still alive, the first:
she wore a see-through blouson.
“Mommy Dearest,” red lips pursed,
“Just slip these bright red shoes on.”
The Queen put on the birthday gift
and started twirling, prancing:
the mirror told her, “You’ve been stiffed!
You’re dying, Queen – not dancing!”
That Snow White dame must take the blame:
for she had put together
two metal sheets, a red-hot treat!
Those shoes weren’t made of leather!
WHO WERE THE PILGRIMS ?
JAMESTOWN
1607
Four hundred years ago high-born Brits sailed to America
Seeking fast fortunes, adventure and fame.
Many would never endure their first year here
Cultivating, foraging, and hunting game.
Arriving in Virginia they came ill-prepared
In search of gold and a route to the South Seas
What they found were hostile Indians,
Insects, starvation, and disease.
“Virginia is Earth’s only Paradise!”
The laureate of England would proclaim!”
However by August of 1607,
Every day there was anguish, and pain.
They ate their horses, dogs, cats and rats
One man ate his wife and hid her bones in the ground.
Despite their hardships, half managed to survive
Becoming America’s first permanent, English town .
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING
The Pilgrims held their first Thanksgiving
At Plymouth in October 1621.
The bitter winter of 1620, was over
With a loss of many father, mother, daughter or son.
Life for survivors was much better now
As a good harvest improved what was rationed
Settlers enjoyed good health and prosperity
As homes were raised from the logs they fashioned.
They walked unafraid and safely in the woods
For they had made peace with the Indians.
After the signing a long-lasting treaty
Natives and Pilgrims shared the land as friends.
Sending four men to shoot waterfowl and wild turkeys
The Pilgrims decreed a holiday of good fortune
A chief was invited who brought 90 braves
And five deer to increase the portion.
It was an open-air roast and festival
Held along the north bank of Town Brook.
Where there were games of skill, chance and dance
While everyone gorged on the feast they cooked.
From then on Thanksgiving spread through the colonies
Though each region chose its own date.
Till in 1789 President Washington proclaimed
November 26 a day to give thanks and celebrate.
The theme of Thanksgiving has always been the same.
Though its date has changed many times.
A day for giving and remembering the less fortunate
Expressing thankfulness with our prayers, hearts and minds.
It is our duty as a nation to acknowledge providence
Of Almighty God, and to obey his will.
To be grateful for his blessings, and protection
As we humbly partake in the tables we fill.
notification of fire evacuation
slated to occur
April 12th, 2018 (between the hours
of 9:00 am and 12 pm) did spur
me to validate Google asper,
that direct object heave ving,
pro noun sub bull, verb bose,
ingenious American historical figure
attired in tailored clothes
careful sans his just keen
liberal mien pro
claiming necessity to doze
when body politik
didst need restorative source
analogous to drained battery expose
zing lack of electricity
mechanisms need did tubby supplied
(in one direction) flows
accorded stealing thunder and lightening
from Zeus where prominence glows
vis a vis via leaving
his tell tale fingerprints
upon flame inextinguishable hose
imprimatur of renown Founding Father,
a one man gifted born
improved quality of life
during Colonial American stage
buttressing forlorn
during his deux score and four years
fledgling United States heed add horn
bequeathing blueprints
(functional contraptions,
posthumous patents procured
after populace did mourn
gadgets kickstarting leveraging more novel
Ongepatshket prescience,
quietly revolutionary,
strikingly timesaving),
utilitarian value shorn
tattered stitched timeless totemic tenets torn
unimagined visionary watershed worn,
where underworld webbed wide world burned
with thermal coupling that churned
ferocious infernos
describing how Hades learned
tubby managed
to maximize efficiency
zealousness zeroed Zyder Zee
in said Netherlands
and hellish hot house turned
into a near utopia (More
or less nsync) with Doubting Thomas's,
where many mortals yearned
to escape corrupt fat cats, sans
those condemned to mortality
found minimally a mew
zing, and doggedly trudged 10,000 leagues
under the sea, entombing
jewels for vernacular speaking Josephine shew
wing scars from fire
that threatened Philadelphians thorough
lee hence, forcing many civilians
to dive vining Davy Jones's locker pre view
in 1736 after swallowing embalming fluid
ha I did "FAKE" you
tubal heave poetic pablum from human zoo!
You asked me the other day, my friend,
who I am and I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true,
Look, how much the same we are,
No matter what, the color
The creed
The race
The status
Look,
I am born and I die
I suffer and I enjoy
I love and I hate, just
Like you!
I am a father, a brother, a son,
A mother, a sister, a daughter, just
Like you,
Happiness I seek,
Family to raise is my wish,
Peace to find I look for,
Just like you
I yearn
I abhor
I fear
I hope
I bleed
I heal,
Just like you,
I believe
I doubt
I accept
I refuse
I laugh
I cry,
just like you
We are alike
We are the same
We are brothers...
Children of a unique father.
Tell me,
My brother,
My friend,
My ally,
Why do we have to oppose,
To fight
To hurt
To destroy and
To eliminate
One another?
Are our seas really that narrow,
Our oceans that small,
Our lands so limited
To contain all of us?
Or
Is it the case that
Our hearts are not big enough
And our minds not so wide-open to
Enfold all mankind?
Listen to me, my other self:
It is up to us to change this world
We have inherited, with its virtues and vices,
History and culture
Flaws and merits
And
Try to make it
Better
Nobler
Kinder and more caring
By obliterating harmful beliefs,
Demolishing injurious divisions,
Destroying detrimental distrust,
Annihilating racism and eradicating
The erroneous feeling of poisonous superiority
For
To bring the dawn of a new loving world,
A world of acceptance
Of respect
Of justice
Of equality
Of love and
Of universal brotherhood
So as
With peace in our hearts, liberated we would be
From the past’s deleterious tribulations
That for myriads of years,
Have kept us, fighting one another!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
21 MARCH 2015
Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015
NOTE! Today because of the “ World Day Against Racism” my moral duty, couldn’t let me stay away!
This poem of mine is an old poem of 2013 that has been edited and improved today thus it is posted now as a new poem!
* I did this for all my friends who wish me to come back. I will come back when I am ready! Thank you for your love!