Long Jumbles Poems
Long Jumbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Jumbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jumbles poems by poem length and keyword.
Maybe it's me
I just don't like the tempo
maybe it how I'm feeling
or is it just not
that simple
the harmony
put it in perspective
Maybe it's me
what's this songs
objective
try to be
have great intent
music dropping
crowd for concert
since
they want to sing
and party down
maybe it's me
the music is
so different now
remember when
people could really sing
the words meant so much
the joy songs did bring
maybe it's me
I just can't be inspired
they drag in the intro's
and by the time
of the verse
it makes me tired
I lose interest part
or midway
the wors don't make sense
what did that fellow say
why is she so happy
about end
where did this come from
how does it end
maybe it's me
who are you try'na inspire
the background lacks
sound
the forground doesn't inspire
the words are well
try'na get me to think
a reposition
that aint the right thing
rangey and groovey
a bassy tenor thing
the alto's want more
representation
attention to her
then she'll leave
a somble
sample spur
maybe it's me
shouldn't we just click our fingers
hum and muble
when the words
jumbles
and dissittters
likeit
like it
but let's improve
we want people dancing
we are not encouraging to move
maybe it me
or maybe it's you
Would you like to comprehend existence?
Come down off your high pedestal and see.
Here, you will find your psychic sustenance—
It's because here, from truth, you cannot flee.
Come and see. Here there is light and darkness;
It's you who should discern what you should choose.
You would feel nature's softness and rudeness;
You can certainly still have your own views.
Come and see. You'd meet the rich and the poor;
Life, here, is like a puzzle with jumbles.
Gloom is all around—there's also grandeur;
You'll see meadows here as well as jungles.
Must you not trace your path in nature’s lore?
Is not each breathing soul your neighbour?
The wind is blowing through my mind
Not gently breezing through.
It ruffles my thoughts and jumbles them
It will take time to file them anew
I like to file my thoughts in order
Of good ones and of bad
Its keeps things on a steady level
And stops one going mad
Happy thoughts are lifted
To the very fore
Memories of when we first met
You were sitting on the floor
The party was a bit of a flop
We left together and walked
And as we got to know each other
We talked and talked and talked
The wind is blowing stronger
The bad times it reminds
We split up for a lifetime
Well it seemed so in our minds
You persevered and asked me out
I decided you were true
My memory of our wedding day
And how happy I was with you
We had a little flat and furnished it with love.
The trouble was we were ground floor
And the water came in from above.
I look back through some memories
All tumbling in the breeze
The hard times the fun and laughter
The winter of the big freeze
We booked a holiday that year
The best time we ever had
I know it scared us half to death because I was so bad.
It’s a pity I missed part of it as to hospital I went
The baby we were having, to be born he seemed hell bent.
The wind is blowing on my head, now I fight with it for real
It’s just ripped off the shed roof, it looks like it’s been peeled
I better shut my memory box and find my hammer and nails
And fight with wind that’s blowing outside and stop my reminiscent gales.
I dream dreams in rhymes and verses,
A poet's blessing in curses,
Vague images pop up in sleep,
Words in jumbles assault me deep;
I dream dreams in rhythmic fragments,
Thoughts quiver without enjambments,
Prompts come in syllables broken,
Illusions signalled unspoken;
I dream dreams that shake me awake,
Midnight muse greets drowsy daybreak,
Ideas cross o'er slumberland,
Muddled whims in poetic strand;
I dream dreams in staccato beat,
Contemplating meter and feet,
Nodding to nightly notions new,
Creative fancy's fleeting view;
I dream dreams that direct my pen,
Grasping glimpses beyond my ken,
Composing fading melodies,
Breathing life into memories.
What good would it do to have everything
And you have nothing
You can never claim anything as your own
Because anything is owned by God
Your friends, your possessions, the people that you love
You don't have nothing
God determines it like that
When you don't have nothing
That is when you have everything
Am I talking in jumbles?
Why does God want it like that?
Why does He want you to jump a lot of hoops
Only to the end to leave everything
He is nuts!
That is all I can say
Kidding aside God
Forgive me but there is no logical reason
for what You say
for what You do
And I don't want to think of it
As You are going to do something else anyway
No one can figure it out, You out
And I gave up trying
I like things the way they are
You say - NOT
Okay I don't like the ways things are
You say.....what?
(My ears perked up listening to You)
He knows when I don't mean it
There is no way getting around You
I gave up
You got it God
Whatever You want
Whatever You say
I don't careeeeeeeeeeeeee
Lol
I do care
That is the problem! Lol
There's nothing calming about static; white noise
Whether whispers or screams, it honestly annoys
me. We live in a chaotic world with a bit of dread
where lies are what many of us are being force fed.
I try not listening to the news and all its negativity...
it's like static on a radio that makes no sense to me.
It keeps echoing in redundancy to the nth degree
I've found a way to tune it out and find some clarity.
No longer am I overwhelmed with the hectic script
It's all propaganda but the wires can be snipped.
"It's Breaking News" cried out by a panicked fanatic
Always on the scene of something less than dramatic.
Voices talking until I feel like their words will smother
as if it was a rule of law, made by the Queen Mother!
I find a sense of calmness in simplicity found in clarity
It's worth ignoring the noise and finding transparency.
I can't embrace the uncertainty of something so erratic.
There's more truth than what’s covered up by static.
It's important that I keep my mind clear of idle chatter
Only allowing in my thoughts, what I think should matter
I don't want my mind to be cluttered with mimic mumbles
So, I ignore unnecessary cacophony and mindless jumbles.
Seeking silence helps keep things in my head a lot quieter
which I would prefer to protesting vehemently as a rioter.
At times He shouts to clear his throat, AHEM!
We are the phlegm.
Puffs of dandelion dust,
ignoring life, allowing hearts to rust.
Each day we rush upon ourselves,
shelving more decisions,
piercings and incisions,
in the side of eyelids, nose, and tongue.
unknowing victims, of
what we know not from.
beaming like returning martyrs,
blown to Kingdom Come.
matter splattered, gut ache or remorse;
no age is better for it; no age worse.
it’s what we choose to look at now;
it is our Holy Cow.
maybe sin is in the looking,
maybe in the not,
eyes averted;
disaster flirted with,
Mr./ Mrs. Smith,
composite couple;
doubling our efforts
to keep up, win the cup;
get the bowl;
satisfy a never-filling hole.
Our procedure is to marry;
double-feature of our troubled futures;
sutures for the wounds inflicted
in a psyche so conflicted;
we sit for hours and hours
hours and hours, paying folks
to analyze the guiltiness of flowers.
We simply grow, didn’t you know;
afraid of what we have created.
Frankensteins,
so overrated, - tall,
but not so unrelated after all.
A universe jumbles unfinished in the mind
picture upon picture
a laconic dimension of perception
where comprehension hides in brambles
and rubbish churns like a river
emptying into the soul
the murky and the luminous converge
forming an enclosure of concentration
where nothing exists, except focus
time melts away...a word
then another, then another
like falling leaves washed by the wind
carried to the inner eye
read, questioned, reasoned, unleased
spread across a white sheet
where a sentence grows
giving purpose to lucidity
translated by each reader
in their fashion
to be liked or disliked...as the page turns
A restricted freedom is not
a true freedom at all...
to allow the mind to think less;
keeping with wishes will not
endow you with the power
you pursue and without a good cheer
and a bit of fortune you seem powerless
in the meteoric hemisphere
as the mistress jumbles...
in her untidy emotions:
submitting your confusion in the meshes
of disorder without merit or deserving praise!
A free nation shares her enormous harvest
without distinction or meticulous handout,
or mending its ways with a meretricious disposition:
to give an illusive luster to its adversity; and menace
truly lies in those untruthful promises
that are quickly changeable when authority is grasped...
to allow the mind to think less, not to carry on its quest,
and before a reprimand, it imposes punishment!
A fair nation is not that tyrant rending peace and trust;
repulsing the merciful demands without consideration!
Allow the mind not to think less,
but let the impulse be stronger and insuppressible,
and if the mighty hand imputes, be ready for the improbable:
the incumbent Caesar gathers his troops to smash
the ideas that snarled his anger towards renaissance,
and driving them off he repels a greatness
that could replete his dark palace with sun-light!
And you the repressed ones, don't repose in silence,
or rescind what was denied, but oppose and fight...
with a courage and a dignity so admirable!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
I was the hottest boot in Texas, Missouri, and Cheyenne.
I could dance the mumble jumbles off every other man.
My mate, my wife, my lover, was almost as sexy as me.
We could not be stopped once started, joyful as could be.
We danced up the hills and meadows, we clattered in the street.
We jingled, and we jangled, our loving circle dances could not be beat.
We smacked against the pavement, astounding those around.
We were the most desirable boots in the USA, stomping on the ground.
There was no stopping us. We were joyful and alert.
There are those fancy boots! Some child would often blurt.
I would swing my partner like crazy, toss her high up in the air.
We boots were simply terrific, with positivity to often share.