Long Mediocre Poems
Long Mediocre Poems. Below are the most popular long Mediocre by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mediocre poems by poem length and keyword.
People betrayed me because of what I don't have
Now they have what I want but can't give it to me
Kindness is who you are not what you have, take note
Common sense is not common but discrimination is
Discernment is the guild of a wise man every dawn.
Think different from others staying unique amidst
Behaving in a reasonable way without condemnation
Taking good decisions reach intelligent conclusions
In a world of instant gratification and dishonesty
Strong moral principles refuse to change to fit in.
People laughs and bully the man with driven purpose
But comes around when it's beneficial and nourishing
Supports you when they see growth and bountifulness
Despise when you start creating boundaries not bonds
Unaware of the trauma's their ridicule did to the soul.
Police station closing by 10:00pm for security reasons
Traders, transporters are now the watchmen of the city
An engineer is now working as an accountant in the bank
Criminals are now the leaders and rulers in our country
Men of integrity are now slaves and prisoners of the law.
Apprentice portraying as master and masters now apprentice
The only fire station in the city was burned down by fire
Power holding company of Nigeria using Gasoline Generators
Brothers are now strangers to themselves because of money
Mediocre spirits had been great oppositions to great mind
Non believers are now preachers and leaders of religions
A pilot resigned due to the fear of heights, unbelievable
Show compassion, offer support, and refrain from judgment
Always an unspoken initiation every person is undergoing.
The youth or adolescence of today coming
from all walks of life will be the future generation.
You are all born with talents, gifts and some knowledge.
Some show these talents, gifts in early and late childhood
and early or maybe even middle adolescence.
However, there are times when these talents and gifts
are not developed for varied reasons, like growing in a
dysfunctional family, poverty, tragedy, loss, peer pressure,
parental control, abusive environment, negative influences,
medical conditions and other circumstances or issues.
No matter what, you are the driver of your life.
Do not be a pedestrian, a mediocre, an ordinary.
Take an extra step by giving your all in everything
you do, you say, you touch to be extra ordinary.
Give your all wholeheartedly, to yourself, your family,
your school work, your work, your friends, your hobbies.
Have faith and believe in you for you have the potential
within you by taking responsibility to know and build
your character and develop your talents and gifts.
Take the extra steps to be resourceful, knowledgeable
in what you do and you will develop passion within you.
When you have a conviction to give your all,
you bring out the best in you and giving your all,
believing in you, being passionate in what you do
will make you confident; give you courage, determination,
unfaltering spirit; find your inner strength and inner drive.
Think, thank and appreciate the people who would
influence, encourage and inspire you and always
show your gratitude for what you have by being kind.
12/12/20 Your Advice To The Youth Poetry Edward Ibeh
I just want to write poems for You all day
What do I want to write about?
I will write about comsi comsa
Do you know what that is?
That is mediocre, so so, whatever comes whatever goes
Do you believe you will live a mediocre life?
No big waves, smooth sailing
Settle for things, anything
Don't rock the boat
Don't toot the horn
Why? You may wake somebody
Offend someone
You want to be like everybody else
Eating the same thing
Do the same motions
Sing the same tunes
No no no
Don't you want to break out of the mold
And for once live it how you want to live?
If you don't like it, step away
Don't feel like you have to hold back
to please somebody
Don't feel like you have to remain
to maintain your sanity
Lose it, my friend
You will then find it
That is the funniest thing of all
- The thing you fear the most will come upon you
when you hang on
And the thing you love the most will decide to leave you
I can't tell you why
That is just the facts of life
It tends to have the opposite effect
It is care when you don't care
And it is not care when you do care
Why? Because who needs it
Who needs you the most when you don't care
will show that person's true color
I don't need you when I am loving
I need you when I am bad
I am just kidding
I don't need you
No way no hay lol
Anyway you get the idea
I may say one thing
But I mean another
You may have to decode it
Or you may not
No say no hay
Comsi comsa
No chance
To get where you want or what you want
You have to start from where you are
With what you have at hand at that moment
doing what you've never done consistently
To get what or where you've never before
Giving what the masses want and love.
Success do not comes by playing mediocre
Very timid no venture no success no fun
Failures ain't stop signs but stepping stone
After hitting rock bottom keep trying
Success decorates the doers not the don't er
There's always a way when you make one
Skills are tools for navigating through
Acquire as much as you can while thriving
Striving until you've attained your desires
Creating multiple streams of income is great
Multi tasking according to schedules unfailingly
With a persisting relentless attitude.
Your behavior and attitude towards your goal
Will determine the outcome of your establishment
Connections and growth depends on your ability
Greatness comes from going the extra miles
Winners are not surrender's, steady revival's
Active and always improving in skills and worth.
The warp and the weft, repeating the beat
The weave of the ware of the fabric of life
What's looming? What's left? What pattern repeats
In this tapestry seems to be sweetness or strife
Shuttling between them's emotional whiplash
A journey in learning the middle is midrash
Extremes between seams can leave something coarse
The coin of the realm, from barter to bourse
The subtleties woven and worn of whole cloth
Become torn and tattered when the weaver is wroth
Weaving's deceiving if not done in good faith
Leaving a tale more frail than the wraith
But if the tapestry woven is living with care
Not mediocre but choosing what's apt
The tale leaves a pattern not tattered or bare
And a story that's left the reader enrapt
Vision clear not that it was blurry before
Just couldn't see those things Moma tried to tell me
Always seen through the dreams the streets tried to sell me
Knowing if I didn't get the honest way
In time whatever I was doing would fail me
Not because of mediocre hustle but in time the line light would get me notice
Then cops would get warrants to jail me
Everything that glitter ain't gold that's what granny use to tell me
A constant race to Excell at something before my time on earth has passed
I'll try to better express my thoughts using poetic rhymes
Ready to get in the game skip making the playoffs go straight to winning the whole thing
Pretty slick talk for someone that's just getting in the game
If I could I would remain nameless cool on being famous
Cause then I'll you'll be wondering how many of these people here 4 me
How many people here cut the bottles or free
Old saying pressure bust pipes or make diamonds
Just trying to see what category my poetry skills fall in
Isn't life funny?
You spend hours and hours writing and revising
re-revising and rewriting
and then starting almost from scratch again
making sure each line sounds right
each and every word fits,
does what it's supposed to do,
and then of course making sure there's enough
imagery, symbolism, metaphor, and all that there gobbledy-gook
Finally (!) you post your poem
and then you have to edit it three or even four more times
anyway, because you saw something else that didn't quite
work right when you viewed it again...and again...and again...
On the proverbial other hand
You decide that you can't go to sleep without doing one more
so you dash something off in 7 minutes or less
you don't even check it for typos, errors, or omissions
and you figure, "What the H," at least I published another
one before I hit the hay...btw, you sleep like a rock that night...
The next morn you wake up with the nagging feeling that your magnum opus
is mediocre poetry at best, humdrum stuff:
Hmmmmmm
As for your 7-minute rush job -- Ehhhh, Phoooey! Fugettaboutit!
You regret posting it, and vow never to act so rashly again
At work though you reverse course and suddenly can't wait to see how many comments your masterpiece got..
So, after work when you get a chance to check
you find no comments on your you-know-what
and a dozen or so on your hack job.
Form:
Pride is a motivator, a stimulator of scarlet soul
an accelerator to the next glorious goal
generator of newcoming awakening
cultivator out cunning the unkind
cutting away all the doubts and flouts, leaving the babel and rabble behind,
a slayer of beasts and witches,
pulverizer of all that threatens my wishes,
Pride is an educator, a teacher whom need not flatter
or conspire to push passion higher,
a preacher promisin that you can be better than you thought you were,
transformer from the mediocre to a raw reformer
makin my heart the perfect love performer
romanticizer of the love battles that my Lady and I thunder
reinforcer of our durable dreams, encourager for our beautiful hunger,
Pride has weather, moving me to smile at the wind and bear the barbs of error,
an innovator of my instincts, reflector of bleeding color
It compells me to be a competitor, a finisher, and a star runner,
my blessings won't bow to humble hoaxes
my talent cannot tolerate the tamming of tragedies
my courage will not cower with the false virtue of humble hypnotism
ain't no way a honkeytonk humbler gonna wear away my sway,
my faith will not stumble upon the stones of humble wastelands,
I wasn't born to walk with humble eyes,
I'm alive to thrive with a sacred strive,
in pride I hear the voice of my Creator say, be great or die!
J.A.B.
this fool with his
drool baby drip spewing
bull nobody
asked for it no one
here for it (hands over ears for it)
so exhausted
tired fuming, the mediocre
mosh pit, little boys with ties
tongued to the language of men,
women know, have always known,
how to speak it, boys do not
know, the tongues of women
never learned how to learn
the world was already
theirs, left soft, for the taking
was too easy now they sit
with bibs
eating sea roaches
calling it haute cuisine,
buttered-up shellfish
on a baby bib
when half the world
is allergic
still, anaphylactic
we sit, drooling from it
waiting
for
their
desolate
epiphanies
We act.
Rationally or irrationally,
logically or at random,
often intuitively.
Wise is he who considers first
the consequences of his actions.
For we do fashion our destiny,
like it or not. Then we complain,
a futility of whining,
nitpicking trivialities
fashioned by our own hand.
We oft do wrong:
For which we pay.
Then
we blame our God,
we blame our devil,
we never blame ourselves.
Society loves immorality,
it is food for the ingenious,
served so well by a mediocre media.
The gift of wisdom,
the discerning of what is right
is trampled underfoot,
much to our later dismay.