Long Just me Poems
Long Just me Poems. Below are the most popular long Just me by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Just me poems by poem length and keyword.
As long as it may appear to be, life is short as we all come to see
The things we hold so dear the things that we thought set us free
In the beginning, middle or near the end no one ever really knows
But this is the time to mend making His Way, the Way you chose
Once everything is said and done at that point theirs no going back
For if you don't know the Father's Son, put it this way, we all lack
Some people think they'll have a say but your course has been set
How many times were you showed His Way that He paid your debt
The rich man with Lazarus at his gate, the lesson learned too late
Pleading for his brothers very fate nor can anyone set you straight
Take a walk in the park today and ponder upon these things I say
Ask Him to show His Way and don't act so formal when you pray
The proof is there for all to see but I never needed even one sign
I guess you could say that's just me but that's not a trait of mine
If you Praise Him for His Glory He will begin to make Himself clear
And here is the best part of the story our loving Lord is always near
The jack hammer on the street,
cannot compete, with the thudding of my heart,
Oh lest you think, it beats for something sweet,
you’ve got it wrong—its torn apart,
And the constant fret that decorates the edge
of the skinned ripe cherry pulpy thing called my heart
laced with sadness, forget to recall the ledge
wished it was the liver instead
assigned to sting
And I don’t want to read another poem
from those in the know, about love
And every other poetic thing bring to light
why you left me or let me go or let me go in order
to hold on,
or why one shouldn’t hold on too tight
or how the color white brings to mind milk,
touting the words milk, or undulating
in every single modern poem,
and how the word single,
reminds me
reminds me
me,
that its just me.
Hollow-
An emptiness inside,
A lonely sort of aching
Never resting,
Always present .
Hollow
Like a dead tree;
Still standing,
Wind whistling through,
But interiorly feeling
Detached
Hollow:
A darker feeling,
Happiness seems unreachable.
Trapped in the abyss of your own thoughts,
Seemingly no way out.
Hollow
Akin to hunger
But not as mendable.
Forlorn whispering,
Like a lover who was never there;
The feeling of something missing,
But what exactly,is uncertain.
Hollow,
Does it ever end?
They say it gets better -
Is that from experience,
Or just a way to be nice?
Hollow
When life seems pointless,
An ocean of solitude,
But just in my mind;
Overwhelming at times,
And relentless.
Hollow
When reality becomes bland.
Sleep,that vile temptress,
Threatens to be more interesting
Then the wakeful hours.
Hollow
That helpless feeling
That you're the only one.
Other people seem satisfied;
They all seem uncaring
Although it's the opposite.
Hollow:
A temptation
To hide behind a mask;
To keep them from knowing
Of the darkness inside.
Hollow,
Maybe it's not just me?
Perhaps everyone
Has a bit
of hollow
inside.
There’s something called repetitive behavior.
There’s something called listening to a song at night.
Again, and it feels like scooping ice cream so easily.
When I don’t have the strength in real life.
And freezer burn usually hits at the worst time.
When I listen to the same song 20 times…
It becomes a gemstone that is smoothed out.
And it feels like- I’m on stilts and not fumbling this time.
It’s like taking back a speck of “trying to get them to understand.”
No grimacing.
Instead, I place a scented eye mask over my eyes.
It’s more than “Again.”
It’s me moving up in line a little bit more and cheering.
That eye mask is lavender and the song is boldly reminiscent.
There’s something called repetitive behavior.
Lives with me in the folds of my mind.
It’s more than “Again.”
It never felt like “Again.”
Just me standing on higher stilts.
Just for fun this time.
I am not my father not that I didn't love him
but my dreams deferred along another path
and I have no desire to make the mistakes he made.
I see the past in a haze recalling youthful observations
of love and lust and foolishness
of failed obligations and any responsibility.
He was a good man with a kind and generous heart
but his attention always focused elsewhere
to frely love and laugh and play
with women not his wife.
I am not my mother,
an infatuated, naive young girl
loving a married man and bearing four children
with no plan for raising them in this world.
She was just a lost and wishful bride to be
anticipating love, trust and commitment
but dreading its arrival, choosing instead
to abandon those children as she did.
She was a woman obsessed, lost
and bedeviled by fear, youth, insanity
deprived herself of love and care
having herself no parent knowledge or foundation.
I am neither my father nor my mother,
there was no child for me to bear,
no lasting, permanent love for me to share,
those that were, are too forgotten to recall.
I am but myself,
living, loving while trying to find my way,
lonely and stuggling here along my path,
taking and facing this journey myself each day
I am but myself,
just me.
Just an Old Cooler
Not much to look at,
Hard to carry,
Won’t through it away.
To you, it looks dirty,
To me, it looks used.
From the late 1960s
To you, it appears empty,
To me, it's full of memories.
I miss my dad so much,
The tears well up, flowing out.
Camping trips to Spruce Knob.
Just me and dad and
The squirrel that got the Oreos.
Yes, they eat chocolate.
The cooler was full of ice.
With drinks, sausage, bacon,
Eggs, hamburger, hotdogs. and potatoes.
Everything a father and son needed.
Camel tent camper with
Nothing fancy, two beds,
Screened in room.
Coleman stove on the picnic table,
Old Cooler by her side.
Fishing Spruce Knob Lake by day
The fresh mountain air.
Campfire by night
Marshmallows, chair, lantern,
Nature one of God’s greatest blessings.
That old cooler made it to
Cherry Grove Beach.
Drinks and sandwiches for the day
I just wanted to play.
Drinks from the
Old Cooler, refreshing.
Old Cooler even went deep sea fishing.
Drinks for the day.
At the end of the day,
Filled with Sea Bass
to filet.
Old Cooler you made me cry.
Now I’m happy.
You really are full of memories
Thanks for letting me reminisce.
Copyright © Robert Moore March 6, 2021
I don't know me or the world anymore,
I'm sure I'm unsure as I search for a cure.
I look for a reason to fight,
I've lost my bark,
I've lost my bite,
I can't see the dark,
I can't see the light.
I've got nothing to live for, nothing at all,
there is no wall, no floor, it's just me in freefall.
There's no pill that'll heal this feeling I feel
and nothing can conceal this feeling so rotten,
I swear falling like this is really rock bottom.
There's no stop to this drop,
unless I top myself and slot
into the floor and live in a coffin.
A year ago today I'd only wrote one poem,
now look at the flow and the skill that I'm showing,
my own unknown talent which I have now grown,
went from dormant to the forefront, I'm so in the zone.
On the day of the crux when I could of collapsed,
I opened a door never opened before,
and found some new tracks and to them I strapped,
there was no going back from a light I had found,
my bite came back and my bark made sound,
there were walls and floors, I stood tall and warred,
now I'm a poet and I show it to the world.
From never even being interested,
to rhymes that are easily digested,
I went to that place to get to this one
and out of nothing rhyme is the outcome.
POTD 14/09/2018
A friend corned an expression that arrested me. I had heard something similar before, but not exactly the way he said it. I have not been able to get away from the depth of its meaning. In my heart, I was saying, "Wow, I have for the longest time felt that way, but now I have words to express it. In a class that my friend was teaching, we were speaking of issues that sometimes defy comprehension and often leave us in a state of wonder and questioning. We often feel alone in an answer-free zone.
In this mystery zone, God is there, but we are challenged by life's adversities, illnesses, and by walls and roadblocks of the theological variety. In this mortal life that comprises thrills of victory and agonies of defeat, sometimes we are only consoled by the words of my friend, "Eternity is the great equalizer".
Is it just me, or do you also feel that our prayerful pursuit for answers, truth, and understanding, often fall short of genuine satisfaction.? We feel that we have a right to know the rhymes and reasons; that we deserve to understand the times and seasons; that divine healing is our portion of 'the children's bread'. We feel that our God has given us the keys to unlock such doors of mystery. So as his dear children, we do not feel any way defiant as we stand
upon what we perceive to be His promises to us.
At the same time, if God chooses to leave us in a state of, "What, why me, how come and how long, who, where, and when?", our love for the Father and submission to Him and His Sovereignty must become and or remain standard-fare.
Yes, our hearts are pure and our prayers are genuine. Yet, sometimes we are left with a sense of, "If I must drink this bitter cup, it's okay Lord, it's in your hands, and I will always keep faith with you, trusting you no matter what to the very end because you, Father, more than myself or anyone else, know what is best for me". Yes indeed, my dear friend Bob said it best. "Eternity is the great equalizer. Therein, we find closure.
05302018cjPSSent to Bob61918
Know that you can sleep well if I’m not right
Grabbing anything to brace my border
Instead of this time fixed to pick a fight
Getting lost in your twisted disorder
Grabbing anything to brace my border
When you carry on with your bigotry
Getting lost in your twisted disorder
You think it’s a joke when you laugh at me
When you carry on with your bigotry
It isn’t just me who can see right through
You think it’s a joke when you laugh at me
I’ve nothing to prove anymore to you
It isn’t just me who can see right through
My insecurity is miles away
I’ve nothing to prove anymore to you
I love me more today than yesterday
My insecurity is miles away
I give you an earned twenty cent goodbye
I love me more today than yesterday
Before you bury me I have to try
I give you an earned twenty cent goodbye
Instead of this time fixed to pick a fight
Before you bury me I have to try
Know that you can sleep well if I’m not right
5/19/2016
Musical Pantoum - 10 syllable count
Favorite Band: Goldfinger
Songs used: 1. If I’m Not Right 2. Anything 3. Pick a Fight 4. Disorder 5. Carry On 6. You Think It’s a Joke 7. It Isn’t Just Me 8. Nothing To Prove 9. Miles Away 10. More Today Than Yesterday 11. Twenty Cent Goodbye 12. Bury Me.
I sat down to play a few hands of Blackjack
Next to a beautiful woman with quite a stack.
I lost quickly, but she won the next hand or two.
I said, “Good job and congratulations to you.”
“I sat down next to a pretty lady and a winner.
Is there any chance you’d like to join me for dinner?”
She replied, “No thanks, I’m going to go play poker.”
As she walked away, I couldn’t help but stare at her.
Not too long after that, my chips began to multiply.
A crowd started forming from all the passersby.
Hand after hand, it was just me and the dealer.
Then I sensed the woman com back, but I couldn’t see her.
Apparently, she’s not very good at seven-card stud.
She came back with nothing and my heart fell with a thud.
She sat down beside me and gave me a kiss for luck.
The cards went cold, as if a deal with the devil had been struck.
I said to the woman as I got up to go play a little poker,
“Just to let you know lady, you’re worse than a cooler.”