Long Impulsiveness Poems
Long Impulsiveness Poems. Below are the most popular long Impulsiveness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impulsiveness poems by poem length and keyword.
Line of inquiry from Unseeking Seeker:
"discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse"
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Ahhh, Spontaneity! How wonderful it is.
It separates adults from children more often than not.
It’s that magical quality which often seems to me
that some people in their older age simply have forgot!
Spontaneity . . . Maybe it’s the essence of authenticity
when you can be yourself and say exactly what you think.
Maturity can keep us from being much too blunt,
yet spontaneity can be subtle like a winsome wink.
Spontaneity . . .Imagine yourself when young.
How easily you laughed; how happily you simply played.
Sadly, it’s not that way for kids from homes of terror,
yet I hope that most of us recall impulsiveness we once displayed.
Did you hop onto your bike, riding anywhere without a care?
Did you ever jump into a pond where tadpoles swam -
trying to catch them while cupping them in your small hands?
Did you grab an apple off a neighbor’s tree, then have to scram?
Did you play with tiny cars or trucks, causing them to crash?
Did you pretend your doll was you and then converse
with your best friend’s dolly as if that doll were her?
Did you make up little plays you never did rehearse?
I did all those things and more. It was a different time.
I could run, play ball, and all through town I’d roam
with friends or siblings. How we laughed and had such fun.
It was not till darkness fell we even would go home.
Today kids have to be more careful, yet I see them play
showing imagination like when as a child I did.
Were you like me, and do you ever dream about today
those fascinating things that you dreamed of as a kid?
Unfortunately as adults, we have a lot of rules.
Rule are necessary, but we must not let
the rigidity of them replace the joy of having fun.
The inner child in all of us we must not forget.
Spontaneity . . . Reclaim what you may have lost.
Calm your mind; lighten up; laugh and smile more.
Embrace creative thinking; be as honest as you can.
The child inside of you is one you never should ignore!
DISTANT THINGS CONTEST
Sponsor: John Lawless
Detached from my beliefs I carried your burdens. I thought our love was for certain. I was reserved for a heart so giving. You were my reason for living; a relief of madness that encircled my mind daily…nightly…daily. I needed you back then. I craved attention from auras of white and sunbeams of gold. Truth be told, I thought I was the one for you, and you walked off through the distance into the darkness. Space doesn’t seem to be far enough, and the stretch of the moon seems too close. For you were the one who meant the most. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
thoughts fading away
needing me wasn’t your plan
off in the distance
Pretending to take care of my heart just seemed too much for you. You fell apart with my words so true. You sat there and gave a message I couldn’t handle to hear. Was your plan to fill me with fear? You seduced me into your universe marching off into the nothingness. I think it was your impulsiveness. I reflected on last week’s conversation. You stood without hesitation. Me begging you to stay and you running far away, pleading me to leave. I was left to grieve. Off into the light I was shining and all of a sudden you cursed a blackness shadowing my radiance. I was left in silence. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
too much to handle
no room in your universe
off in the distance
Tears flowing and no more hearts glowing. Me betrayed wishing you stayed. So absurd how you intentionally lured me through the caves of broken hearts. You left with outspoken scars. Underneath the shadows you journeyed into your own realm. I was left overwhelmed. Couldn’t you try just one more time? The poetess inside me just didn’t seem to rhyme. Was I too blind to notice your leaving? I only wish it was me you were retrieving. After conceiving the way you wandered away, my memories notice the days following up to your disappearance. I was left wallowing waiting for your remorseful clearance. I miss our vows that were tenderly sworn. You so cold and me so…warm.
tears of betrayal
leaving me was too easy
off in the distance
Date Written: June 10, 2016
As the light turned red, she reached for the door handle
About to jumpt out of the car
When all of a sudden
He slammed on the brakes
Reaching passed her,
He pulled the opening door shut.
She felt his weight against her chest
His close proximity unnerved her
And she pressed as far back into her seat as she dared
Hoping to create space, so he wouldn’t sense
The mad pounding of her heart.
“That was not wise,” he said. His voice was not angry, but tired, sad.
“You could have gotten hurt if a motorcyclist was passing by.”
“I’m a big girl,” she shot back hotly. “I think I can handle myself.”
He sighed..
“Listen, whether you like it or not
Or you find my presence repulsive or not,
I promised your brother to get you home safely
And I will honor my word.”
The light changed, and he continued driving,
But not before he said softly, “I’m sorry I reacted strongly.
My wife died in a car crash. It was avoidable.”
She could hear the anguish in his voice
And as she turned to look at him
She noticed that the cloud of memory
Was producing rain out of those sky blue eyes
“I’m...I'm so sorry,” she whispered.
Without even thinking…
She reached across and touched his arm.
He looked at her
His expression pained and yet,
There was a tenderness in his eyes
He seemed to be looking right into her heart
Knowing about her pain
Reading her frustration with disappointed love
But how could he know
“Love like that comes once in a lifetime,” she whispered
Shocked at her impulsiveness
She looked down at her hands
“You are so like her,” his voice was pained.
This was one confession she did not want to hear
Nor would she absolve it.
“You have her spirit: carefree, bold, passionate, full of life, wild, and”…..
He looked straight at her, “amazingly beautiful.”
He pulled into her street and parked the car outside
Her apartment building.
Before she could thank him, he was out of the car.
Coming to her side, he opened the door
Gave her his hand and helped her out.
“This is not necessary, really,” she protested.
“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d see you home safely.
I won’t leave till you are inside.”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
To be continued....
you show me your room and i never thought that i would be here, in the living space (the music space, the sleeping space, the dreaming space, the touching space) of the person i always stared at across from me in class—the one with their own stare unlike any other, focused and fading into another plane of existence. and then you'd look away like nothing ever happened. i was that plane; i was the one you wanted to crash into your mind and be handed the gun as a partner in crime. i am seen as just a painting hanging on a wall by everyone and everything else, but you saw the gory scene within it—the guts poured out along the paper and the blood soaking it so that you could see the words written on the other side. you drew a picture of it; it's on your wall. i look up and there are guns along it, too, above your bed like they belong to the both of us. they are 8 balls—clairvoyant and dark like your eyes—telling me what we are already going to do. i will never see your emotions except for in the form of what we'll do together: kill and die. your bed sheets are cute, with lace along the edges, and stains from orange Crush and Nehi soda. everyone else had always been repulsed by you—by your gross messes, your stains, how unkempt it all is, and your impulsiveness and plans. all equally evil. all equally brilliant. the soda was amazed by you so it exploded on your bed—or, you just blew up their heads (blew their minds? yes.) your parents wanted me to be good, but they don't even know you—so they'll never know me. they couldn't even hear us from outside your door. we are both iron monsters with golden hearts; you are cold and careful on the outside, and kind and careful on the inside. i am gated and immalleable on the outside, and—who am i kidding? you love me because i'm not made of gold, but because i am a fallen angel with human skin and meat, blood and tar. you and i sip the tar steadily.
—we are both angels and we will live forever after death in rebellious harmony, haunting what their God doesn't want us to haunt.
I spoke those words impulsively,
I didn't think them through,
And now I disagree with me,
Knowing you do too.
We analysed at the same time,
simultaneously conclude,
Scrutinising my own mind,
disagreeing just like you.
What a stupid thing to say,
Is what you say to me,
Confusing if I say the same,
Even though I now agree.
I live aware but can't prevent
the impulsive words I speak,
I live with this embarrassment,
An everyday repeat defeat.
They say there's always one,
that one is always me,
And I guess what is said is done,
that is just the way it be.
Sorry if I am unpleasant
I speak truthfully,
unnecessarily and blunt,
beat them down beautifully.
To be honest I can't lie,
when I do I'm transparent,
so I live an honest life,
facing what the others haven't.
How can I hide my ADHD
when it's so apparent,
wear my heart on my sleeve,
resilience my talent.
It's all I know so ordinary,
I said before it is defeat,
not though more importantly,
worn down on repeat.
Some people who manipulate
steer clear of reality,
Denial first then stipulate,
weirdos reek of vanity.
They are needing this protection
against things I have overcome,
I'm the odd one out, the exception,
strength confronting things they run.
So yes I'm stupid blunt and nasty,
awkwardly impulsive often,
the spoken truth can be ghastly,
but fake's repulsive and chosen.
Project your self image as immaculate,
full of wisdom and intelligence,
skilled hindsight speaking accurate,
foolish symptoms and pretence.
I face the world that I live in,
impulsiveness is not my choice,
some fake the world they live in,
decisiveness in a lying voice.
At least I'm not scared to be me,
openly showing my personality,
never faking my identity,
pitying those act unnaturally
As a young teen I sadly confess, I dreamt of becoming an actress.
A class assignment drew me to Warner's in D.C., where I
brushed up against black history..
I stumbled into a meeting of the NAACP.
The people welcomed one out of touch, this
young white girl who had way too much..
Months later, although mom's words were harsh my dad and I
went to the Poor Peoples March. I was amazed to see thousands there,
those pop up tents from every where. I drove by with peripheral vision,
those fleeting glimpses of how others were living..
Early years passed and I matured some how, remaining oblivious to "black
power".
I graduated from high school and was freed from mom and watched as
several of my class mates went straight to Viet Nam..
I never went to Woodstock nor protested the war, too caught up in my
story to care about the poor..
I moved from sheltered Silver Spring to New York City and had my own
adventures there, some not very pretty..
I indulged in a little "huffing and puffing". My hands were in a wheat film
buttering an English muffin..
Impulsiveness and hormones got the best of me so at a young age I
began my family..
Many moons later while finishing my degree I learned so much more
about Black history. As a minority student at Bowie State I had a teacher,
Dr. Kondo and he was truly great. He had just consulted for the film
Malcolm X and filled me in on all those voids not written in the texts.
The greatest of gifts that one can bestow is to take off those blind folds
and help some one grow.
Oh, lofty love if for you I could smile again
I’d never on you inflict further pain
Nor your love trap in my miserable chain
If only you could grant me upfront
A second chance to confront the affront
I pinned on your sensitivity at the waterfront
Where you and I first met
You wearing the love helmet
That made my resistance plummet
As I gazed at you lost for words
Until you surrendered passwords
That grew into affection catchwords
Graduating our puppy love into substance
Until forces of circumstance
Tore you from me in an instance
Where a rush of mad blood to my head
Made me wink at a redhead
Plunging you and I at loggerhead
Turning my world blue
Losing the love glue
That left me without a clue
On where I could obtain forgiveness
For the obtrusiveness and impulsiveness
Inherent in the unattractiveness
My gauche action brought in the wake
Of the mistake
Made fully awake
But sleepwalking
As I knew you lay quaking
Breaking at the thought of my shaking
The foundation of the love we built
Not in a word or a quilt
Not in loam, sand, wit or silt
I beg you to take me back
Cos you and I can pack
Again more love in our stack
Where I pledge to play fair
To lavish on you more care
As I dare say I’d no longer stare
At anyone but you
Each day, each night to love you anew
To prepare for you and share a new love stew
Filled with freshness
Genuineness
Truthfulness and happiness.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Forget All Her Daily Worries.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Forget All Her Daily Stressors.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Dull Away Her Chronic Pains.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Fools Others that
She was Fine Everyday.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Forget Her Constant Isolation.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Forget
Her First True Love.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Distance Herself from
Memories of A Deceased Father.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Distance Herself from
Memories of A Deceased Mother.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Distance Herself from A Living Brother.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Leaver Her Birth Place.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Succumb to the Needs of A Demanding Supervisor.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Forget Her Current Unemployment Status.
$9.95 is the price she Paid to Deal with Her Youngest Daughter's Impulsiveness.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Let Go of Her Youngest Daughter.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Make A Servant of Her Eldest Daughter.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Cope with Her Eldest Daughter's
Wedding Nuptials.
$9.95 is the price she paid When Her Daughters Had Betrayed Her.
$9.95 is the price she paid For Her Fifth Sized Apricot Brandy Bottle.
$9.95 is the price she paid While Crying in Her Final Hours.
$9.95 is the price she paid to Her Final Hour.
Form:
Hopping across fields of happiness
Early-morning Fluffy rejoices in the edibles of earth
Glowing white and pearly, a real spunky bunny
Points her petite, pink nose upward to daylight’s boundless birth
Fluffy personifies cute, cuddly impulsiveness
Jumping skyward when she perceives birds
A teeny-weeny bunny feels like eating something yummy
And unearthed veggie delights are preferred
Adorable Fluffy hops to kids with contentedness
To be petted by children moving back and forth
Catching their gazes requires Fluffy to be jumpy
While competing with their laughs to be heard
Dancing grasslands and flowers evoke merriness
In the wind, requiring Fluffy to be alert
Watching the merry bunny nibble food is so funny
Then away she goes, sneaking under the fence, undeterred
Fearless Fluffy, famous for her choosiness
For natural treasures that she’s unearthed,
Her earthly bounty provides the sunny
Orange carrots as reimbursement.
In springtime, Fluffy displays fuzziness
Fennel, hay, crisps, and zucchini are her preferred
So, when fuzzy Fluffy plays joyfully in the country
This dancing cottontail will hide the chicken’s eggs for disbursement
Throughout the rabbit kingdom, coats of arms are emblazoned with sunniness
Warming her boundless heart
Fluffy is undoubtedly a lucky bunny
Living life lovingly, lighthearted and reaffirmed
Mundanely divine!
If there none to be of poetry
The night would have no stars
to guide love slaves their incentive
to produce yet a simple flint to spark
and swoon pulsating hearts their claim
steads a blank page none commit to mind
If there none to be of poetry
Shakespeare would be a beggar
on the streets of London for pence
as Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet
would be none to chapter or verse for fall
as there be no impulsiveness of poor Romeo
no sincerity nor persistence and from fair Juliet
no thoughtfulness, caution or her maturity of her
young age, and if their death is, it would be in vain
If there none to be of poetry
I would fail to peg my life from a
wandering and be ever consumed
passing by an emptied church made
voiceless due to nonexistent hymns and
psalms or gospel music, nor festive tunes
to enlighten souls concerning merriment at
the unparalleled holidays or bands to play and
nothing but political and psychological tirades on
the musicless auto radios offering for a boring ride
If there none to be of poetry
the world be eternally bane
2020 January 20 *2nd Place*
If there was no poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2020 January 26 *3rd Place*
STRAND CHOICE 6,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand