Long Indie Poems
Long Indie Poems. Below are the most popular long Indie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indie poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes I think my friends don't care
They say you speak the truth drunk
And they never ever sober up
And they say I'm annoying as
They do stupid and flirt around
And I shake my head and eat my crisps
Yell at them to get to bed
Tell them they should sober up
They've never really sobered up
Instead they just trigger each other
And get on my nerves
DIY piercings and dresses with curves
Flirt with a boy I call him sir
But he likes this girl he knows from school
Yet he flirts with me anyway
Call it screen testing chemistry
And I was meant to sleep while it was sun
And now it's shade and i can't say
What l need to say to say what I need
So I'll say I'm fine and I'll say goodnight
Lie awake and listen to indie pop
With I could take off this top
Lie on the floor and just rot
Turn myself into ing dust
When I kill myself they'll make me dust
They'll make me dust
I don't wanna be dust
Looking out the window,
Waiting for customers to give me their money,
I look from a distance and see the trees change
Day by day their color thickens,
leaves sprouting out and growing fuller.
Thinking about the hot afternoons,
reading a book outside and noticing my skin darken.
Being surrounded by ducks and cute bugs.
Cumulus clouds filled up with water to damp the earth’s ground.
How I miss the rain, twirling in the puddles and catching frogs
after the earth's cry.
Waking up by the sunrise,
smelling the brewed coffee.
Dreaming about the summer days,
listening to indie rock and making an adventure with friends.
I thrive in the beaming sun.
Maybe I'll find love and become a fairy tale.
We talk about poetry and take strolls in the park while holding hands.
As we dance,
we mold into each other.
Becoming in sync and understanding we are meant to be.
Looking at the trees from this window,
It’s finally arrived.
Time to plan and enjoy the ride.
Manifestation of métier write
finds yours truly sitting today
December 24th at 2:41 P.M. with slight
hunched over mien as edge of night
quite some hours away when height
of Santa Claus appearance bright
rosy cheeks glow insync with
Rudolph the reindeer red nose.
As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha dishabille poet,
I view the challenge of writing analogous
to betting an heir or heiress
which includes gestation of an, emotion,
idea, sentiment,...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,
not quite ready for
prime time and beak comb devious
though, as swollen
womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort, the proud
pro-creator bounteous
which success inspires this scrivener
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.
Oft times the sacred seconds silenced
by stillness louder than "Big Ben"
ear splitting only to me - squirreled away
in this makeshift basement den
the dead quiet, a riot
with audio logical sonic boom decibel -
asper a water nymph sprung from a fen
or when a sneaky fiery fox
slips into the crowded house,
where the yolk cull doth roost
long fostering mass squawking
of manifold egg on eyes zing hen.
The end result metamorphoses into
a totally tubular unforeseen jumble
analogous to uglies that bump
of gibberish senseless wordy clump
aspiring to convey some essence of logic,
though best to take furlough than persist
to interpret dump
of discordantly strung English bits,
which intractable insistence
might spell f-o-r-c-e-d g-r-u-m-p
as the mood one may find them-self,
unless he/she can call
the literary mod squad
to resolve harrumph
and with any lucky trump
petting, the once amorphous lump
pen pro lit tarry hit might undergo
an amazing transformation -
a cherished poem plump
with juicy fruit
weighing down the boughs
as if limbs ready to slump.
Sitting inside a local coffee shop,
Just a brown-haired girl with glasses and a book.
Sitting alone, hands wrapped around an ivory-colored mug filled to the top with piping hot coffee. Her brown eyes watched the wisps of steam rolling off her coffee, slowly disappearing into nothingness.
The coffee shop was her getaway.
That comforting scent of fresh coffee beans with a hint of vanilla.
The music melting into your soul, indie music engulfed the room.
Closing her eyes, taking in the soothing moment to keep under lock and key in her memories.
With each sip of coffee, this moment was engraved into her memory for life.
Meet me in the corridor after lesson
it’s been a long week, this weekend is our blessing
we’ll go to lunch and discuss the latest person we can’t stand
and I’ll show you that new song,
remember?
the one from my favourite indie band
the way home is long and so far away
yet before we know it we’re living the next day
that test was tough but throughout it I knew
I would be okay because there’d be you
laughing with me at this broken place
planting a smile on my face
When I reach home, I’ll message you
and we’ll avoid all the work we need to do
I state my dreams at the dinner table
and no one doubts just how much I’m able
I am impatient for a taste of life
a taste of freedom when this is out of sight
I climb into bed and I turn off the light
in years to come, these will be simpler times
Indiana, you’re my most special friend,
My friend who waits patiently throughout every single day.
You know, I still can’t comprehend
How you rip and destroy my pillows whenever we play.
You run, you fetch, you climb and you chase,
Then “sit” and “stay” and “gets back” like the kelpie you are.
I admire that focus in your workplace
And that you love going to the farm in the back of the car.
And then the food, Indie, you’re like an ogre
That breathes in a meal because you can’t wait.
Devouring food like a bulldozer,
Indie, it’s not a race to have a clean plate.
Indiana, you’re my special friend in red,
That has his own mind, but does exactly what he’s told.
That sits beside me in this old shearing shed,
Tough enough not to care if it’s too hot or too cold.
Oceana
Oceana flings her sequined petticoats
Upon the sands as if to toss the seaweed
From the swirling edges
While she dances with the wind
With each turn she swings her skirts
In thunder
As she passes – faster, faster -
Until her laughter foams upon the waves
And in the early midnight dawns
She turns to cover up
Her turquoise evening gown
With capes of fog so thick
The soaring gulls seem to carry
This her summer train
To quickly change into a dress of silver satin,
Bound with trims of frothy sprays,
Rising and swelling,
When morning reaches for windy afternoons,
She teases sudden lightning outbursts
Leaving behind upon the outstretched strands
A foaming lace of pearls
That decorate her new rippling dress
Of brilliant sapphire blue
Drawing it around the world in flowing currents
To follow, ever follow, the lilting music
Of her lover moon,
Softly singing enchanted melodies,
Ever beckoning his earthbound bride unto himself
To watch her gaily waltz upon the rolling seas
Circling to his rune.
8-22-25
3rd - Rob Carmack Premiere VIII
6-29-22 - N/A
Contest: Marathon Mile Five
Sponsor: Mark Toney
8-13-22 -
5th - Poetry Marathon Mile 12
Sponsor: Mark Toney
6/20/19
On Top 100 All Time Poems list
1st - Trophy Win - Juliet Lingon
1st - Julia Ward 11/29/20
1st - Brian Strand 1/14/20
Featured Poem 5/2/21
Included in Poetry Soup Anthology #2 - It's Still Poetry
Included in CWC Anthology - First Prize Winner Independent Publishers Award
Indie Press Awards
A wink and a smile from near or from far
A small little wave when I play the guitar
I think of you often, it's on you I dote
And send off my love on the wings of a note
I'll blow you a kiss, with my hands form a heart
Gestures that signal that though we're apart
You're still on my mind in whatever what I do
And this snippet you're reading is all about you
Harney's tea, fresh coffee, raclette fondue
Indie guitar folk songs reminding me too
Denin and Converse? Oh yes, by all means!
Red, blue, and last week a green pair of jeans
Sweaters, long dresses of many designs
Style and fashion, you dress to the nines
I guess you can tell by the words written here
How much I adore you, the message is clear
Indiana opened up the letter that spoke of the ancient tomb
The letter gave directions and spoke of doom and gloom
indie ain't no scaredy cat and loaded up his gun
he dusted of his trusty hat and his journey it begun
Mythology tells of many threats that would chill you to the bone
cannibals and poisonous snakes , and spiders 2 foot tall
And of Jungles dark as night and tales of dreadful frights
Indiana fought the cannibals and put the spiders to the sword
diverted round the snakes as they make his skin crawl
he lifted up the sacred headstone and before him stood the bloom
And then he heard the dreaded sound
His mum called supper time
damn computer games !
It’s hard to describe the feeling
of capturing that spark;
The zing there are no words for
that thing that makes you write;
I get inspired by creating,
I’m awestruck by a new definition;
The flow state is addicting,
delivering me to zen;
It’s a soft touch on scabbed skin
healing better than a band aid;
The emotional ointment
that gets my voice flowing again;
I get inspired by creating,
awestruck by a new definition;
It’s a new school spin on a classic,
something never done before;
The groundbreaking revolutionary
that leaves you renewed and inspired;
That flow state is addicting;
It’s everything around you
that controls your pulse deep within;
Indie songs, art, simple moments,
they inspire creation;
Blue flames and fresh seeds;
Innovation leaves me awestruck
delivering me to zen.