Long Lgbtq Poems
Long Lgbtq Poems. Below are the most popular long Lgbtq by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lgbtq poems by poem length and keyword.
Will you be my friend
By Dustin Branum
I think I hate my life today.
Why must I feel this way?
And this pain just won't go away,
And there's no sunshine for me today.
My blue skies turned to gray.
I think I hate my life today.
There's got to be a better way.
Orchestrating my own dismay,
I need to find my happy place.
Fake smile on my face,
Please help me find Amazing Grace.
I think I hate my life today.
Can anyone hear the words I say?
Please help me find a better way.
I don't want to be alone today,
I think I need a friend today.
Please help me find my happy place.
I think I hate my life today.
Must I need to compensate?
Suicidal thoughts I contemplate.
I think I hate my life today,
All alone, and to my dismay.
My beautiful mind, it fades away.
Does it really have to end this way?
No friends, no life, no reason to stay,
There isn't much left for me to say.
I think I hate my life today.
Will it be just another day?
Will someone finally hear the words I say?
Sunshine through the blue, no longer gray.
I think I hate my life today.
I think I found a friend today,
Will you help me find my happy place?
I think I like the words you say.
I think I like my life today.
Dismantling my reason for dismay.
You helped me find a better way
With your gift of blue to paint my gray.
I think I love my life today.
You are more than just a friend today—
You're my Destiny, my life, my happy place,
My hero, my heart, my reason to stay.
I think I love my life today.
• National Crisis and Suicide Lifeline: Call or text 988 anytime in the US and Canada. In the UK, you can call 111.
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor.
• The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386 (for LGBTQ youth)
You're not alone and nothing is worth your own life. Please reach out to one of these resources, or to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional. Your life is valuable, and there is hope for a brighter future. I will always be your friend.
Love peewee
I’ve brought this up a few times before…but again I have to share
how there is a kind of magic imbedded in this tie-dye bucket hat I wear.
There is something welcoming in this hat…something safe and kind and gentle.
And, having just returned from England and France…it’s appeal is intercontinental
It’s hard to imagine all the wonderful conversations this little hat’s begat…
and I long ago lost count of all the people who stop to say, “I love your hat”.
Perhaps they understand when they see its bright colors draw near…
that from the person underneath this hat…there is nothing they need fear.
Take the other day for instance…I had an encounter I won’t soon forget
when I found myself in a conversation with a man I’ve never met.
We began talking about a stove Deborah and I were about to buy then quickly and with ease…
the conversation turned from this stove to our families.
This man felt comfortable sharing that his daughter was transitioning…
It had to be the hat I thought as I lovingly touched its brim
as this man was proud to tell me now his daughter now looks a little more like him.
I wish every one in this world who is prejudiced and bigoted…
who have a distorted and misinformed point of view…
would understand that 1 in every 10 people they meet is LGTBQ.
Which means the most die-hard bigots out there…if they opened their eyes would see
there’s probably and LGBTQ member hiding in their family.
Hiding from their hatred…developing lasting scars…
afraid to let the world know…exactly who they are.
But there are people who acknowledge and accept people the bigots don’t
who offer them safety and love…where prejudice people won’t.
A place where they are not only welcomed…but emboldened…Imagine that…
which makes me wonder if that is the beauty, and the power and the magic of the hat.
And makes me wish more people out there…
more parents, politicians, world leaders and diplomats…
would one day wake up and discover…
the kind of magic that’s in my hat.
Why at our age are we still protesting?
Why do we feel the need?
Because the fire of hope for a better world still burns inside us…
and because it’s never too late to plant a seed.
If we can plant one seed of understanding
help just one person open their eyes and see
perhaps one day we’ll stop ignoring
and whitewashing our history.
If we can plant one seed of knowledge and wisdom
help just one person understand
then minds will be free to be opened
and books will never be banned.
If we can plant one seed of love and acceptance
help just one person to open their eyes and see
then the world begins to be a better place for the LGBTQ+
and me
We protest to plant one seed in one heart
because in our hearts we know
unless we plant that seed
it has no chance to grow.
That’s why at our age we’re still protesting
and we will keep protesting as long as it takes…
although we are protesting less for us now
and more for our children’s and grandchildren’s sake.
Sleeping Beauty move over, you got fierce competition
Ain't no vicious rumor,
but dead serious joke
cuz no princess
can kiss bajillion times
to get yours truly woke
ah... just one garden variety generic
Geico Frog Prince
(in actuality I
wanna be caveman bloke)
nothing will disrupt me,
not even minor noose,
so hence go ahead
to get dude duke to choke,
or light a fire under my keister,
nsync with strong arms
issuing lances jabbing poke
but natural gas within me
will endanger nearby folk.
Now listen up,
cuz Zarathustra hath spoke
randomly selected Matthew Scott Harris
sitting prettily athwart
(think Boy George of Culture Club)
on his toadstool,
his (courtesy Zarathustra)
divine inspiration he doth not cloak
couched admonition forewarning
demise kisser will croak
unless he/she qualifies as
bonifide LGBTQ - okey doke
don't say, I did not give fair warning,
while going for broke
courtesy one gay (ping) small/medium
at large frog, usually found soak
king up sunbeams
nonchalantly taking toke
exotic blend comprising
flies, mosquitoes, moths
and damn dragonflies
after they did marinate and soak
within solution mainly egg yolk
to offer greatest smoke.
Oh don't be confused, flummoxed,
nor ill humored regarding mine
married status with tadpoles
totalling ahem... sixty nine
heterosexual biological reproduction
consummated as faux sign
unable to retrofit, reddit, ribbit...
no I honest got a short backbone (spine)
with large hip bone to support
powerful leg muscles taut as pine
yet smooth and glassy as River Seine
out true self before I feign to croak
purportedly rumor heard thru grapevine,
but twitch started by yours truly.
Postscript: my apology,
noah arked intent cited as offender
toward any living creature sexual gender
who might take objection regarding
unfairly labeled, hashtagged,
as duped pretender
cuz thy persona, karma,
charisma... genuinely legally tender.
some days,
i wish i liked my reflection.
i wish that i didn't hesitate when saying my name,
afraid of that a look will make me take it back.
i wish i my name didn't feel like an alias,
that i didn't feel like a alien.
i wish i didn't choose their convenience
over my identity,
my truth,
me.
because now,
i look in the mirror and see
a stranger,
a mutation of mistakes.
in my mind
i am him,
but my eyes see a girl,
i see a woman lost
in too many addictions,
doomed to perish
in her own actions,
because she could never see
who she could be,
them,
him,
her.
she didn't have to be her.
she could change,
but life could only offer
a cage around her heart,
and tape around her chest.
her.
I don't want
to
be
her
anymore.
i want more than this.
it's hard to know
that who you are is of
no importance,
not even to those you love.
some days,
i wish i liked my reflection,
but i fear i would rather die
than love myself.
Although we are are not born racists
Racism has always been around
Symptoms are: feelings that you are bound
And you cannot turn around
I may be treated indifferent,
because I am not Caucasian:
I may be Indigenous, East Indian, African, Asian or LGBTQ
The color of my blood is still red
The color of my skin comes from my origin
So, how can we blend Orientation, Colour, Creed, and Race?
It is By joining our hands,
And looking face to face
believing we are all equals,
Thinking that everything is fair
An that God holds us all in his hands
Very dear
Written by Mintra J. Mankasingh
2005
I should begin by saying there are many things in life I do not understand…
so many things under the sun…
Today, however, because of what I see happening around me
I’m concentrating on just one.
The moment we learn we will be be parents…as partners as husband and wife…
we feel blessed to have been chosen…to be the ones creating a life.
And for 9 months we do our best
to keep our baby safe, healthy and happy
Before they become part of this world and enter our family.
For all those months we spend celebrating little milestones
excitedly welcoming each day
without ever thinking about the color of our baby’s skin
If they will be bi, transgender, straight…or gay
We are wishing…praying…for a baby with all their body parts
that they are breathing on their own…and come to us with healthy hearts.
And we rejoice when they finally arrive
It’s hard to express the joy we feel that day…
Without ever giving a thought to the color of their skin
if they are bi, transgender, straight…or gay
As they grow we care that they are close to us…
that in their lives…we play a part….
that they have gentle souls and spirits… and kindness in their hearts.
Now here’s where we get to the part I find difficult to understand…
when I see prejudice toward LGBTQ+ people…spreading out across the land…
To all you parents who cared only that your children were healthy and happy…
when they first came your way…
who didn’t give a thought to the color of their skin
if they were bi, transgender, straight or gay….
That same child you created…why would you now disavow….
If you didn’t care about this when they were born…
please tell me…why do you care now?
Our national anthem ends with the words…
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave…
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
When I was young I thought the brave meant only the men and women
who fought to keep us free…
but over the years I’ve come to see their are many sides to bravery.
Certainly soldiers… our respect and admiration they have earned
for their bravery on the battlefield
and for facing the demons of war that remain with them after they return.
But when I look around…I wish we’d find a way
to honor the non-soldiers out there who exhibit bravery every day…
People who need to be brave in the world the way we have created it to be:
The single parent working two jobs to provide for their family.
The people battling ALS, Alzheimer’s, cancer, MS, depression
and the family members taking care of them…standing by their side.
knowing there is nothing they can do as they watch their loved ones slide.
The farmers losing their farms…the people losing their jobs…their ability to earn
Those out there without health care…or insurance…with no place they can turn.
Native Nations people trying to hold on to their culture and their history.
People of color who every day brave the uncertainty
of those prejudiced against them…in our society.
Immigrants or people who look like immigrants…
some of the nicest people you could meet…
wondering if today’s the day they will be arrested…pulled off of of our streets.
LGBTQ+ people who brave the abuse of ignorance
and still proudly show the world who they are.
I’m sure I have missed some of you…but…you know who you are.
To all the soldiers past and present…thank you…I’m glad you were and are so brave.
Your bravery has allowed our star-spangled banner to wave…
And to all the others mentioned…you wouldn’t have a need for bravery…
If we were a country that helped each other…
If we were truly the land of the free.
The telly fed me the propaganda. Of princesses and princes.
Damsels in distress. Knights in shining armour. That was
Love. It was always a man and a woman; perfect, no flaws.
In spring, blackbirds sing outside my window;
Males calling the females. But one blackbird remains silent.
It watches me. It doesn’t sing for a mate like all the other
Spring lovers; it sits in the tree and waits.
I watch a programme where two men kiss. The blackbird
Tells me this is wrong. I ask it why. It doesn’t respond.
It follows me to school. I think another girl is pretty;
My heart flutters when our hands brush. The blackbird
Trills loudly. I never look at her again.
When I see someone reading a book where two girls are
In love, I point to the blackbird and tell her this is wrong.
She asks me why I think this. I say I don’t really know.
I kiss a girl. It s me up. They don’t do this on the telly;
That’s not how the story is supposed to go.
I try to ignore her after, but I struggle to pull my eyes away.
The blackbird sits outside the window and dares me.
I kiss her again. I don’t feel so ed up this time.
She says we should be together. I look to the blackbird,
Who doesn’t say a word, and say yes. Sometimes,
Princesses don’t need princes; just another princess.
That night, the blackbird sings again
But, this time, I finally understand what it says.
It says my life matters, despite what the telly shows.
Does life seem to you,
as love does to we,
that virtuous circles
engage healing intent
While viscious squares
of bad-tempered stomping
marches much less gayly
toward escalating drama
with harmful trauma
and persistent
discontent
Positive engagement
does not engage negative performers
as if some lives
are divinely entitled
to redemptively matter more,
and thereby attract glowing floodlights
Upstaging those worshipping lesser
unstraight
unmale
unwhite gods
and goddesses of trust
and compassion
without boundaries
Backstage,
opening opaque
and closing vulnerable curtains
breathes diverse gender icons,
sexualized idols
Muses
recomposing noted feelings
from inside out,
hard erect warriors
embracing soft receptive catchers,
absorbent empathizers
Integrity's copassionate healers,
pulling and pushing together
1 way
with 0 means.