Long Irritant Poems
Long Irritant Poems. Below are the most popular long Irritant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irritant poems by poem length and keyword.
It is not all about us
It is all about me.
My feelings, my hopes, my dreams.
Get out of my thoughts; you take too much time
You are begging for attention
Annoying me
So I run toward the hills
To be alone, with my best friend, me.
Your ads come on TV
Begging for this and that.
Begging to live. Always begging.
You are an irritant. I flip off the TV
If I cannot see you, you become unreal
Everyone is unreal now as I hoard and sit
By myself with a boat-load of toilet paper
Not caring in the least about you or your needs
I am not totally happy with myself
But at least we agree among ourselves
Most of the time and this is more than enough
Keep your poverty and your illnesses to yourself
I will not open the door
I will not open my heart.
It is all about me.
Saving and preserving myself. Get it?
The irritant is caressed in the soft folds of a cloak
Layering it lovingly so smooth to stroke
The irritant becomes fit for King, Prince or Earl
To spend their money on a brand new lustrous pearl.
The spherical pearl of astounding beauty and form
Not man made or designed but from nature is born
From the mollusc a lowly bivalve, barely a good meal
This precious pearl is so beauteous that grown men will steal
To keep a pearl looking well it must be worn next to the skin
To keep the lustre shining bright or the pearl will grow dim
A pearl is a gem of much value, and a gem of much worth
Also a metaphor for a person, known as the salt of the earth.
© 10/03/2013 ~GG~
For PD's Collaboration Contest
August 28, 2015
By: Eileen Manassian
Thank you for this string of pearls
What a beautiful sight!
Right?
Yes.....a sheer delight.
You look surprised!
You gifted them to me
Can't you see?
This beautiful pearl tapestry
Exquisite jewelry!!!
One by one....
They came to be
A word, a look, a gesture....
Each one...an irritant
You slipped into the softness of me
So....unobtrusively
You forgot to set them free
As for me?
I had to survive
Had to stay alive
Forged from what pained
My nacre tears rained
With each silky one
I spun and I spun
Now...I'm all done!
This necklace you see
YOU gifted to me
****** ******* *****
The pearl you wear,
Can't be compared
The inner beauty
Your shell gives
A surprise you gave
Upon my face
Blind by beauty upon your grace
A jewel not easy to trace
Perfect in every way, you trend
Hidden deep
Beneath the sea
Grains of sand lost peacefully
Your strength came in a form,
While being intruded on
So precious, breathless
I needed more
Layers of nacre
touch my greedy hands
A pearly tapestry
I gave my loved one
You shun away, giving shine
The Mother of Pearls
I rest my case!
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
1
No, not there! fly! fly away like the swift-winged bird;
When the hungry-eyed passion calls; follow her not!
Into those wild casements of her raped love;
Or to her irritant, militant temples of murder;
Go not by her purple-eyed lust;
No, be not in her fanatics lost;
Go away from her indolent bed of weird dream;
Roll not in those occident waves,
Either by the thick wood
Or the rushing tide;
Beware of the furtive eyes
Of lean young passion.
2
Nor there! no, go not by the dreamy paths of suicide;
You shall in some solitary forlorn cells be! o follow not!
Into these wild caves of young paroxysm’s rove;
Old revulsion, or excess-eyed prowess; be tender!
Let not your soul in thought be so rapt,
That even mild secrets be wrung by craft;
Go by the streets with modest and bonny dreams:
Roll not in hemlock-winged swift winds,
Dwell far from weird mimosa-land,
And from the livid mood;
Be wary of the juggled words
Of cunning old passion.
A Monotetra
I moved into a haunted house,
the ghost there was, an obnoxious louse.
he’d sneak up on me like a mouse,
my hair he’d touse, my hair he’d touse.
My best underwear, he hides,
he’s a pervert, I surmise,
gives me a daily surprise,
patience he tries, patience he tries.
He’ll watch me as I’d get undressed,
oh he’s such an obnoxious pest,
he jokes about my naked breasts,
my friends attest, my friends attest.
He likes to tease my ancient cat,
flapping ‘round him like a bat,
as irritating as a gnat,
obnoxious pratt, obnoxious pratt.
I cannot stop this irritant,
my patience, it is quickly spent,
an apartment I’ll have to rent,
or live in tent, or live in tent.
His trickery is just so rife,
with misery and such strife,
why doesn’t he go irritate wildlife,
he plays a fife, he plays a fife.
Keeps me awake, I cannot sleep,
spews adjectives that need be bleeped,
I wish I could just can that creep,
such joy I’d reap, such joy I’d reap.
What if our planet is sentient
In ways we don’t understand
And we by out actions have
Upset events it had planned,
Brought forward change
By hacking down the trees,
And Interfering in many ways
That just didn't please.
On a body the size of a planet
We are just like irritant fleas,
Or maybe to be considered
As an invasive skin disease.
Perhaps a period of vulcanism
Would quickly clean the skin
Clearing any infestation
Allow new things to begin.
First came grass and weeds,
Followed by spreadIng trees,
Skies full of returning birds
Flitting insects, droning bees.
Animals occupied
Ruins left by man
Earth slowly returned
To its interrupted plan.
Soon the shreds of
Plastic waste
Being Man’s only
Lasting trace.
In a very short time
Mankind had gone
Earth had shrugged
And just carried on
Perhaps the next infestation
Would be more compliant
To the wants and needs of
Its benevolent host giant.
A minuscule spot of dust
In a universe so vast
Without concern for any
Concepts of future or past.
Chapter 1: The End of the Eastern Gilded Age
'Twas thrice yon 'ere time clichés galore, albeit, one two many times, that fairy tale's opening wouldst hitherto a harp. History, the effects of narratives indulgences of a period, like an opening performance as a harp is being tuned then it's time to play expressively to narratives who hear a fiddle. History emerges to a gridlock, then it lies and waits for its prey tomorrow, to give its due. It forces off and reloads it with narratives for in this approach all is done kosherly being formal and beliefs necessitate reassurance. The earth learns that history never replicates itself, just the hereafter and those that are uncovered. Some inequalities are constant and relatively taxing to the accountants who are toiling the timepiece, sort of speak, it is fate that reprises since narratives are an irritant bent on annihilation ergo it reinvents itself a new chapter hoping that the old will catch up and take part but the past feels it lacks motivation, hence, it too reinvents itself, a better way, an effective outlook, they repeatedly say that the results are quite promising, with that on the table, why change history.
Young Crown Prince Imperial, Alexei, Heir Apparent to the Imperial throne of Russia, has been diagnosed as a hemophiliac, ...
*The opener of My Short Story: A Century Turns: Soviet Union's Life Expectancy
There’s a squirrel in the vending machine,
I’ll bet that he thinks he is very keen.
He’s eating up all of the jelly beans!
He’s the worst irritant that I have seen.
He’s devoured all the animal crackers,
pretzels and banana chips, that slacker;
a thieving fur ball of a nut cracker,
who has become a snack machine hacker.
Such a formidable machine invader,
an uninvited and loathsome raider.
I wish I had baby alligator,
to fix him good for stealing my ‘taters!
But as I gaze upon his chomping snoot,
my heart melts because he is very cute.
I suppose my anger is really moot;
perhaps he’d like a bite of Kiwi fruit.
Smiles and blooms have crawled away in haste;
Cool sweetness and incense of the prime
Have receded into the pothole of time
With the irritant summer and the rainy waste ;
Winter is an epitome of the silent knell --
Pale , pensive, plaintive, heavy and cold ;
Colours are all lost in the grey fold,
With the bright charm of the bygone spell ,
As she sits robed in ashen attire again ,
Streching herself with limbs wide across
The deceased crags and the patchy moss ,
Lining randomly along the sickly plain
Weary, withering, wany life and all. ..
Are thus sadly shrouded in the last fall..!
What else but weight endless for devil’s due?
And I’d need a few more tests to be sure,
Grimace or grin, but I ought to endure,
What greater devil was seemed like dawn’s dew:
Was it ailment or treatment of elbow?
Grey visions of an endless dark tunnel
Flashed in my mind, as dark and numbing dull,
More than pain, unknown fear churned in my maw.
Take a course of routine tabs to start with,
Your elbow’s whilst under my careful brow,
He said as tinkered it like a blacksmith,
As if pregnant, pain and swelling did grow,
An unknown growth grew within like close kith,
The treatment tottered for long to and fro.
And my mood too, back and forth, to and fro,
Its spectrum, violet to infra-red,
Let’s aspirate the fluid, at last he said,
If fluid is flushed, hope blister too would go.
My skin dulled, he sucked all the liquid out
And felt as if Everest looked dwarf in view,
But both were back in days less than a few—
The pain and swelling too with all their clout.
As I lived normal life as did before,
Pain was to me but tiny irritant,
If only I’d never seen this doctor’s door,
What if I leave him this very moment?
Whatso was wrong is confined to its core
In a small cell-like cyst and all but spent.
_______________________________________
Crown of sonnets | 03.11.2012, revised July 2023|
Poet’s note: Here are sonnets V and VI of a sequel of ten sonnets constituting one single poem called a crown of sonnets. The last line of the preceding sonnet is repeated as the first line of the next sonnet, but not verbatim; nor is the first line of the first sonnet is repeated as the last line of the tenth as is. The sestets are either a quartet and a couplet or two sets of three-lined Terza Rima. Hurt is the place from where light enters, and it did, I realized after my long-drawn medical treatment.