Long Man Poems

Long Man Poems. Below are the most popular long Man by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Man poems by poem length and keyword.


Ms. Jealous Girl 3-1-06

Ms. Jealous girl thinks she's better than me
Why should you be mad at me for the things I can do?
I live my own life and do my own things
Why are you so jealous of my life and such?
Ms. Jealous girl wanted to where I go and who I chat to
It is none of your besswax what I do and don't bother to ask.
I am sick and tired of you telling others that you're jealous of me
And sick of you telling my man things that you made up about me.
Ms. Jealous girl stop asking the girls at work if I'm there or not
Because I had it with you and ever since you left, I don't want you coming around 
starting trouble with me.
I don't want to speak to you or see you at all and leave me al alone.
Ms. Jealous girl, you're not welcome at my home and see my friends there
Because we all don't want to be your friend.
Lies and Lies and I was sick of it, really from you.
You got mad when I went out drinking with friends from work
You got mad at me when my man and I went out or away for a while
You got mad at me when I wasn't scheduled for work and yelled at me
You got at me for things I can do, even cleaning around the house is one thing 
that you never ever did in your carppy life.
Ms Jealous girl, stop calling here at the house, cuz your ex Kevin doesn't want 
you back and not allow to step foot in the house
You call crazy hours of the night just to get a hold of him but he also has a life 
and you get jealuos at him going bar hopping with his buddies and you got mad 
when he goes out with my man.
Ms Jealous girl, if you come to see me at work and start things with me, 
All I can say to you is this,
"You have been totally JEALOUS of me for the things I can do and where I go and 
leave me alone. No one at the house want to hang with you." 
Ms Jealoud girl, you have your own things to do and don't worry what Iam doing 
next week, next month, or next year. I have better things to do.
Ms Jealous Girl, let my pals and I do our own things and don't call my place when 
I go out.
Ms Jealous Girl, everyone is sick of your lies and you gotta stop that or everyone 
around you won't want to be with you.Ms Jealous girl, want to know her name? 
Her name is Tiffany and she is known as the 
Ms.Jealous girl cuz she is STILL JEALOUS OF ME FOR DUMB REASONS AND 
SHE NEEDS TO STOP BEING LIKE THIS TO ME.
Ms Jealous Girl, I have a life and better things to do and screw you!
Form:


Deep In the Piney Woods

Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!

The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a 
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon 
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago. 
The mica was 
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death. 

Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines. 
The local children like to scare 
themselves with the 
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at 
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave 
and  pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."  

In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods. 
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming 
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end. 
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
 A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on 
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk 
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
 carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.

On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered 
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers, 
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
 ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger 
across your face and neck. 

Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an 
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen 
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville 
holler offers more
 than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
 young lovers 
brave or you
 may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Form: Narrative

Lamentation 1

What is life without joy and happiness? 

what is life without self honour and pride? 

Upon this mountain hell i lay every day

Battered and frustrated

A man of sorrow, forsaken

My spirit groans for mercy which failed to come

All is taken away from me including the smallest pin

 

 

of what is life without  a mother? 

painted black and  red

I mourn every seconds for that pretty damsel

swifter that the eagle, my heart pounded

Joy whispers sadness in my ears

and tears becomes my friend

In despair i feast and dance sorrowfully

they mock and throw me around like a forbidden coin

 

 

men are evil, my spirit moans

Raising my eyes to see my ears

i could tell of their wickedness 

my goats, cows and jewelries gone

Hear me evil souls, the nature has its judgment

Once in life, it cometh and it hard to escape

It hard to escape the judgment

 

look at father native compound

it been taken away by strangers

those who once dance with us

In good fortune and share our breads and barns together

NOw, they are against us in fury

Dare point us in the face and laugh

Hear me old friends, nature has its judgment

The nature has its judgment, beware

 

In my old age. bitterly i weeps all day

in affliction and harsh labour

my foes had become my masters

 the roads to my hut mourns

my compound groans and grieved

None to comfort me, all my friends had betrayed me

All the splendor has departed in the air

 

 

this is why i weep and, 

my body shivers

My eyes overflow with water

All who pass my way clapped and laughed at me

Enemies open their mouth wide against me

my grieves are many and my heart fainted

i am in torment within, disturbed and  distracted

I remembered my wandering and pains

In the dark forest alone

Covered my self with anger

 

 

perhaps my father had sinned

And i didn't know and, 

we now bore the pains

Getting brad is at my life risk

Because of the sword beneath

look and see our disgrace

Those who pursue us are at our heels

my siblings scattered abroad sorrowfully

No one to caution us and drag us back

Till end i know the earth has it judgments

i shall sing beautifully with joy in other phase of life

when the gate shall open.

 

ALL RIGHT RESERVED (C)  JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT 2013
Form: Elegy

Pierrot Lives In Sorrow

The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.

It’s because though, 
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying 
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…

And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative, 
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say 
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,” 
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than 
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by 
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively 
from others simply because reality goes before me. 

Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is 
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think, 
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.  
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.

Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose, 
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality 
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men 
who are not able to face the facts as they are.

[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby 
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place 
full of wonders.]
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Don'T Be Left Behind

~Don't Be Left Behind~
( Couplet)


Please don’t miss out and be left behind
Salvation only thru Jesus we can always find

Try not to do, what you know is not right
And pray to Jesus to keep you in His sacred light

Don't do evil and keep company with the wrong crowd
In front of our God we should be humbled not proud

The ways of the Lord are always good and perfect
He deserves all our unconditional love and respect

Find the Lord first and to you all His blessings He'll surely add
For your sins and mine He paid the price so we can be glad not sad

For the love of God we can come anytime  and have with Him eternity
Only through Jesus we can have Salvation, not in our own way and ability

We can not attain Salvation just by doing it with our own power or good
We're not good enough, just "God" is really good and perfect and that’s understood.



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2006


February.25.2016


~Author's notes:

Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. 
 1 Thessalonians 4:17  (NIV)

I tell you, in that night there will be two in one bed. One will be taken and the other left. There will be two women grinding together. One will be taken and the other left.” And they said to him, “Where, Lord?” He said to them, “Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.” 

Luke 17: 34-37 (NIV)

Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth. 

Revelation 3: 10 (NIV)


“But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 

Mark 13:32 (NIV )


“Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other. 

Matthew 24: 29-31  (NIV)
Form: Couplet


Premium Member The Dreadful Mourn

I'm a Piketown son who left his mum
To sail the eastern shores
Spent a year in Gloucester
'mong the barkeeps and the whores

Then a man came 'round to Gloucester town
Said boys I need a few
Strapping lads such as yourselves
To join me whalin' crew

The pay is mighty lowly and
The work'll break yer backs
But if ye crave adventure, men
You'll ne'er get a better chance

Those who'd go out wi' me, lads
Prepare ta leave at dawn
There's a whaler at the dockside
She's called the Dreadful Mourn

Ho! Called I to Captain Frye 
My services you've bought 
I've traveled here from Piketown
To earn a tale heart'ly wrought

Aye, me lad then ye shall have
A yarn ta spin yer sons
So join me on the Dreadful Mourn
'Ere long's the risin' sun

I nodded Aye to Captain Frye
Then turned to swig my ale
When a man appeared beside me
And pulled up to the rail 

He shook his head and then he said 
His offer you should spurn
There was another Frye set out 
Yet ne'er did he return

This other Frye for he was kin 
Of the Captain now about
That fortune on their family frowns
Of that there is no doubt

I turned to the stranger, smiled
Said thank you for the warn
Then headed down the gangway 
Out to the Dreadful Mourn

For weeks on end I coiled the ropes 
Boiled the oil and pulled the line
Though it was grueling labor
I was feelin' pretty fine

But the winds they soon blew colder
And the ship began to slow
The Captain said don't worry men,
This is how the whales go

One day the ice so thickened that
The ship came to a stop
The Captain cried a wild whoop 
Boys I think I've found the spot! 

For 'twas about this latitude 
Where me brother's ship was lost
And now I've come ta bring him home 
No matter what the cost!

Sorry I lied ta ye lads 
I blame ye not for yer ire
Now calm ye selves, we've work ta do
Afore we can retire

Of course you know we would not go 
Along with his plan 
The crew decided mutiny 
Right down to the last man 

For Captain Frye's madness
We must pay an awful price
But he would join his brother
As a ghost beneath the ice

The ship was stuck, the stores near out
'Twas nothing left to do
'Cept sing a sailin' shanty 
And toast the Dreadful crew

So I took a final dram of rum,
Cursed the day that I was born
And lay down to my icy fate
Aboard the Dreadful Mourn

June 24, 2017
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Ballad of An Unsung Hero

Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium. 

Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.

He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.

His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes, 
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.

Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.

Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.

Charcoal clouds rumble, 
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.

Before him platinum priests preach, 
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.

To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king 
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.

It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.

Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen. 

In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
 Sold to the biggest idiot!

His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.

Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.

Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.

Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.

Silent One
25 July 2018
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Immunity To a Death Sentence

Now the public library in our town contains the knowledge for mankind, 
and there’s not much happening ‘round the world, that I cannot find.
I can think of any subject that I like and tell Jenny what I’m after,
and she can find a stack of books that darn near touch the rafter. 

The library’s helped me countless times from days when I’m at school,
and I’ve become a handy man with books my back up tool,
but aside from books on lifestyle needs, on fiction some are geared,
and some authors write for little kids, and some write on the weird.

I’ve hired books about our history and read about some shocking wars.
Our garden is designed from books, and I’m obsessed with reading ‘Jaws’.
But crime became my new desire with cases filed from years gone by,
where Capital Punishment was handed down and why some had to die.

Description of the victims sent a chill right through my bones,
right to the guilty on death row with all their over-tones.
I read about their last few weeks, with how and why and where,
before they took their final walk to the electric chair.

One story written by a Warder based in a Southern US gaol,
is penned about a chilling case that for you I will unveil …
Leroy murdered seven folk; the warder wrote down in this book.
For twenty years appeals were held then Leroy’s goose was cooked.

When you’re with someone for twenty years, no matter what they’ve done,
you can form a slight attachment even if a fragile one.
So one week before that final stroll Leroy was asked by Warder Black,
if there’s something special that he’d like, and Leroy answered back.

“There is something I do desire - but it must involve me faithful wife.
“My wish is” Leroy grinned. “Is to eat her meatloaf now for life”. 
Well Leroy’s wish was granted and for three meals every day,
he ate the meatloaf that he begged for while the hours ticked away.

On the eve of Leroy’s execution there was tension being shown.
The corridors were creepy now with a ghostly eerie tone.
Forgotten were the seven victims - in the morning there’s one more.
Leroy must face ‘old sparky’ waiting down that corridor.

His final meal of meatloaf was brought before him on a plate.
Said Warder Black with teary eyes “You don’t look worried mate!”
Leroy laughed “I’m not my friend, that chair won’t kill me man.
If this meatloaf couldn’t do me in - I know that nothing can!”
Form: Rhyme

Spaceploitation 1

With looks of celestial damsel
On mission of mystery unravel
A fairy flies from foreign land
Fabulously to discover dreamland
With colourful feathers silky
Plumage so soft as cream milky
With a huge brain and physique
Seemingly bereft of travel unique
Marches with her wings vibrant
Only to devote herself on front 1

Space being her intriguing place
With supersonic speed that’s ace
Surmounting all hurdles many
The angel gathers speed gluttony
Hovering over planetoids tiny
Cosmic powers she has bonny
Revolving around many orbits
Surpassing all heavenly bits
Eventually lands on planet afar
Near the superb system of star 2

The landing leaves no stone unturned
For she knows her vision churned
Deep insight and attitude awesome
Make her an alien winsome
Tidy looks and trendy gait
Extremely stunning to catch and get
Her device offers a beverage strange
That has unique aura and rage
Pinkish perfect pure porridge
The cosmic food it seems from fridge 3

Tailor-made for her specific physique
Is the space suit with electro-magnetic
Induction full speed and winsome
Mere touch causes sparkle wowsome
A protective shield made of an alloy
Thus making her a space decoy
Satellites she whirls like a key chain
Space capsules she twirls on her mane
An enormous angel from an alien abode
Now at my solar system crossroad 4

What could be her mission possible!
Has been my subject of marvel
Is it to bring apocalypse fatal
Or just to revamp my earth petal
Before her I am like a neo natal
What to do to know her mettle
Time passes and she starts 
To peruse my earth full of arts
Wonders at the seas and bays
Astonishes at mountains and rays 5

I am now beside myself 
As she drills the earth deep herself
Oh soon there comes an mystery man
With torso made of crystal brand
The drilling continues till the dusk
There is a mist and her voice husk
I know it’s their language mutual
Based on the heavenly acts factual
Perhaps the mission is to find gems
In the earth stomach that overwhelms 6

Thus I’m sure she is down for mining
And exploiting the earth for farming
The drill lasts for hours twenty
Finally come out jewels aplenty
Like that of ocean-churn by Gods
Here going on planet-pumping by rods
The purpose is to adjust the axle 
Though imaginary-full of miracle
Eventually gathered all gems
Putting axle in firm place     7
Form: Couplet

Jet Lag

I see him stumbling around looking for something to hold on to but there was nothing there except the open thin air and a bunch of bureaucrats wearing thin frocks walking around on wet grass with fake greetings and a forced smile that caught us by surprise. 

Bob has been in the news and this has left everyone confused he is running for office again, midths the barrage of criticism running down his spine weakening his legs and making him look like the walking dead. At first, he looks like a robot coming out of a hut, and then it appears like a man in despair. There was no one around to cover him except for gravity and his own sanity. 

Bob is fun to be around but this time his attitude makes me frown, he does some weird things, like walking with his nose pointed in the air and use his finger to show you the clock.  

Sometimes he is agitated and his temper cuts deep causing everyone to proceed with caution while he rolls the dice and shuffles the cards. He is a nice person to be around but the mood swings will drag you down; yesterday I invited him for tea, we had a small talk and it left my aunt weeping in the dark, what is really going on with Bob?  

Bob is a very good man but sometimes he looks very sad; he has a very tight schedule and attends more than ten meeting in a given day, heaven knows how he stands up while going through the gate.

 He knows his work quite well and he can talk up a storm from hell and still remain true. I watched him come and go and how he presents himself while he rides the big ship, and the ceremony he attended with the mercenaries hiding in the bushes and the guard of honor marching every hour to pay their respect to Bob.  

He wasn’t quite in it, he was always looking for something to hold on to but the air propels him along and John, his closest friend, stood next to him and pushes him on. 

I could sense a silent annoyance rising up in john’s emotions, as he reached for support while climbing the steps. He attempts to hold john several times from his back but John shrugs and show him the way with a polite gesture. 

They and had a cup of tea towards the end, and spend some time feeling out each other. What was said, I really don’t know but the cluster bombs exploded and close that chapter. The tennis match was a blessing in disguise, and it is an indication of how the story will end, I love happy endings.

Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Reflection on the Important Things

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter