Long Irritations Poems
Long Irritations Poems. Below are the most popular long Irritations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irritations poems by poem length and keyword.
I yearn for when my troubles were as frost flowers; when the intermittent wresting
of my inner strings was natural , a part of growing up, and when, from tender stem ,
there emerged feelings of confliction that whirled into a strange collage-puberty's
design. But whether my ordeals then were unique, like the latticework of
snowflakes, or as simple as a raindrop on my pane, each one, wing footed,
eventually melted from my mind.
Later came the common plagues: marital discord, effects of growing old and other
irritations, weeds I plucked and dandelion fluff I blew away. These I could abide.
But other winters passing now have brought trials which are as a thorny web.
In unexpected times of drought, from seemingly nowhere. . . they sprout. Star
Thistles (over which I've no control) come time and time again to prick my soul.
Unlike the fleeting flowers of frondescent youth (whose memory retains for me some
beauty), these thistles of infliction are both ugly and unyielding. Surrounding me are
melancholy notes, and though the melody is rallentando, I think this dirge may
never have an end.
For Catie Lindsey's "Dark Prose" Contest
When you love someone.
When you love someone, they possess your whole mind
they're in control of your entire body, soul and time.
When you love someone, their absence is cruel torture
dark shadows of solitude follow their brisk departure.
When you love someone, your darkness turns to light
their moonlight brightens even your blackest night.
When you love someone, you love their imperfections
idiosyncrasies, irritations melt under love's reflection.
When you love someone, it's complete and forever
time seems to stand still, whenever you're together.
When you love someone, you always put them first
living altruistically, allowing love's illusion to burst.
When you love someone, their smile mesmerizes
supplanting desperation with hopeful surprises.
When you love someone, your whole life changes
disillusion cedes to hope, your mind, it rearranges.
When you love someone, you feel totally complete
desires satiated with pleasurable emotions replete.
John Derek Hamilton
December 15, 2015
There was a pretty young thing,
from just outside of New Orleans,
that worshipped the ground that he walked on.
She was an innocent girl,
not understanding how the world,
could be so full of hate and frustration.
Was her husband’s love and joy,
and her blue-eyed baby boy,
were what gave her all that she needed.
So when he brought home his lies,
and then convinced her to try,
the warning signs were never heeded.
At first it was only beer,
until it soon became clear,
that she had to have something stronger.
Used to be work and straight home,
but then she started to roam,
out for just a few hours longer.
Looking for the kind of men,
who would give her joy again,
nothing now was too hard to swallow.
She found that alcohol made her feel alive,
the pills could keep her running high,
without them she only felt empty and hallow.
Now it’s Jack Daniels to go,
a couple lines up her nose,
to just relieve the day’s irritations.
So when her husband moved on,
and they took away her son,
left her filled with grief and rejection.
Now there’s little more than bones,
when she stands there all alone,
watching fear reflect in the mirror.
She is lost and neglected,
with a mind that’s infected,
there’s no escaping from her terror.
She was a pretty young thing,
from just outside of Reed’s Spring,
that worshipped the ground that he walked on.
His love led her down a road,
that no one should ever go,
and everything she was, is now gone.
Cartooning has been my go-to-hobby since I was four or five.
For years when I have to sit, I am drawing.
In a car, as I waited for children, or a husband, I would draw.
My go-to-subject is faces.
Usually women’s.
My men look effeminate.
Because they are really women
With man hair.
I always begin with their eyes.
Faculty meeting? No problem. I can concentrate better if my pen is moving.
My co-workers have learned to ignore my ability to giggle at the speaker’s jokes
As I never look up or express any additional proof of listening.
My principal smiles, as she stands behind me, watching my fluent pen
Doing its dance. She knows I am hearing every word.
While drawing I am in another world, not caring a bit
About the irritations or annoyances of the day.
My imagination is giving me relief from common ordinary things.
I can cartoon page after page, turning them furiously
As my mind picks up momentum.
My pen is on a mighty roar now.
I always start with the eyes.
Your arguments seemed to me great irritation,
Like cold water poured on body in winter season;
I adjusted with you though it was not easy,
You had been my friend for long; still sneaky;
Your philosophies I gradually detested,
Though your concepts seemed tradition-tested;
Your well-thought about lectures appeared to be,
Exercises prepared to silently and constantly woe me;
I was not much convinced of your ancient thoughts,
Though didn’t find, anyone else, thoughts with plots;
I knew you wanted to say something great,
It seemed as though words got struck in your throat;
You were, indeed, good-nature man, although,
I do not know why I could not feel it so;
Well, it’s then when you bid me good-bye,
Went away from my sight to somewhere high;
(High they said, but I found you going low,
Under the earth as if hiding from some sorrow);
And your coffin closed before we buried you in,
I knew the tight mud will hide your entire grin;
None will discuss with you any philosophy there,
Nor will be drawn by your divine theology, pure;
Yet your constant irritations live in me alive,
Like termites are on a destruction drive;
Come back, if you can, let’s discuss philosophy,
You might know, within mud, life is an agony…
06 December 2021
What do theologians call a life without events?
The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush.
I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning.
I begin the puppetry of morning routines:
I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain.
I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I splash cold water
on the face with an almost determined lack of expression.
I’m absorbed in an ocean of predawn cold
as I 5-mile-walk away my sleepiness - this small freedom
- keeps me fit and acceptably sane.
Later, bathed in hot indifference,
and clothed in exhausting obligations,
I dine, at my reserved table, with my gang of irritations.
Soon I’m ready for another taxing day
of waiting for the disease to run its course.
Peace of mind is the unique quality
of any individual person
depending only on own emotion
identifying personality.
Life is a struggle, life is a challenge.
Path of life is not smooth, but uneven.
On you, vast field of action is given.
You think on peace of mind, how to manage !
One may not go for conflict to carry.
Peace of mind is being’s priority.
Other confronts on own ability,
leaving peace of mind as secondary.
Dynamic activity at random
can never get along with peace of mind.
Turbulence and irritations entwined.
Peace may leave, while working in broad spectrum.
Enthusiastic aggressive being
hardly bothers about peaceful environ.
‘Righteousness’ is only criterion.
‘Work for each other’ : Song of life to sing.
In life peace of mind is not the target
Be compassionate and stand for justice
Be ruthless truthful to destroy malice.
Act always right, even peace to forget.
Disappointed that most of the things
she kept contained
on a daily basis
were far too banal to entertain
memories of sad things
over the years
ho-hum anxieties, insipid fears
rather mundane
and not even interesting
unlikely worries
like being kidnapped by pirates
or eaten by a polar bear-
but worries like her favorite dress
being ruined by the cleaners
and not having anything decent to wear
or getting a bad permanent in her hair
Disgusted by the
blandness
of my Mama's secret life
I flipped and skipped ahead
to after she and Papa wed
but it was no better
just drab descriptions
of her experience as a housewife
and lists of petty irritations
things he did that annoyed her
but she hollered those out
in screams and shouts
so even those were no great surprise
'cause it didn't take much
to 'get a rise' out of my Mama...
Eventually I learned
that people will answer
those questions every day
in the way they live their life
in the things they say
for there's a pattern to everything
and ultimately we each reveal
all we try to conceal
whether in our work or in our play
...and my Mama spoke volumes
in her diary
in all the things she
didn't say
We live within a Matrix
Much like the movie suggests
Being held captive by unseen forces
A food source to keep dark ones full and fed
All while we are dormant and fast asleep
?
Don't want us awakening
Because then we will fight back
We will keep them from using our life force
To feed and fuel their dirty little deeds
They cause all of our life's fear and worry
?
All of life's irritations
And life's inconveniences
Is the matrix's way of making a feast
The more we worry and fear in our lives
Makes a fine gourmet meal for the dark ones
?
When your powers realized
It puts a kink in their plan
Then in cutting all cords to the matrix
It allows body and soul to be free
Showing you how you should be living life
?
Are you ready to break free?
The matrix reality
Nothing Is Something
There are so many trivialities to throw you
Things that matter, but don’t
Irritations that pass in the night
Important in an instant, dead in daylight.
Nothing is permanent, I preach to the converted
Everything passes, but stays
All problems cease when the final arrives
One thing for certain, no one survives
Gaze at your loved ones, who you’re lucky to have
And don’t count your chickens
All things are nothing and nothing lasts
It’s an effort to strive when you can’t smash the glass
Please look in the mirror, tell him he’s great
Only you know what’s deep within
Belief in yourself is the hardest belief
Perhaps a failed moment, brings a sigh of relief
David Cox 08/06/22