Long Mens Poems
Long Mens Poems. Below are the most popular long Mens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mens poems by poem length and keyword.
There were nights I thought the darkness had decided for me, when silence felt endless and every breath was a battle I wasn’t sure I’d win.
But even then, something small in me refused to give in — a spark, a whisper saying not yet.
Strength came in pieces: mornings I rose anyway, days I kept going with a heavy heart, moments I chose to believe life could still surprise me.
Hope didn’t roar; it pulsed softly, reminding me I was still here — and that being here was enough to begin again.
So I gather what remains: courage I didn’t know I had, softness I once hid, tears that taught me how to feel. I rebuild myself slowly, honestly.
I will stand — not because the past didn’t hurt, but because the future matters.
I will stand — because breaking open revealed a version of me that still believes in better days.
I will stand — because someone out there is holding on by a thread, and threads can become lifelines.
If my voice shakes, let it.
If my knees tremble, let them.
I am still standing — not perfectly, not bravely every day, but honestly, the way real people do when life knocks them down and they rise anyway.
Strength isn’t loud; it’s the quiet decision to keep showing up for your own life.
I’m still learning how. Still figuring out who I am after everything I’ve survived. Still trying to believe I deserve days that don’t hurt.
But I’m here. And so are you.
If today feels heavy, if you’re tired in a way sleep can’t fix, if you’re holding yourself together with hope and habit — hear this:
You’re not failing.
You’re not weak.
You’re human.
Humans break, heal, rise, and rise again.
You will stand too — in your own time, your own way — not because you never fell, but because you refused to stay down.
And that is enough.
The fact is it happens to all men
It’s only a matter of when
The horror we display
Will turn any women away
The hurt to our pride
That she will not get to ride
Our ego is hurt
With an inability to squirt
Our reactions are anger
Gone is our swagger
We felt we disappointed you
That we can’t give what is due
We don’t know what happened
And refuse to get examined
This problem is our own
The embarrassment alone
Is enough to run and hide
The fact we did not provide
You think it is you
That we cannot screw
Make it your own issue
We hand you a tissue
We need your support
Not your report
We are sorry is sometimes happens
It really does sadden
I LOVE AND I HATE YOU THE SAME
How dare you love me, have you no shame? I'm not just touched I'm insane. I'm wickedly evil, a cheatin' lil' weasel, Jackass is my first and last name. I'm Joe Dirt when I flirt, Cousins Eddie of work, I aspire to the least that I can. I sure as heck ain't no Marlboro man. I smoke like a chimney, and drink like a fish, I'm a gamblin' man and also a snitch. I'm short, fat, and bald, I don't come when I'm called, I'm likely passed out in a ditch.
I love you and I hate you the same.
I just can't put out this flame.
I'm a low down, peckerwood, loathsome, misunderstood, weak willed, red pilled, rootin tootin, drinkin, shooting, down and dirty, 30-30, back alley clan rally, hillbilly, redneck, hick.
You're hateful and mean, birthing many mens' genes, and now youre hittin the wall. Gangly & toothless, spiteful & ruthless, you smell like meth and Pall Malls. Stripping's behind you, bills are all past due. You ain't nothin but a booty call. Ferally raised, dropped out in third grade, immune to morals, judgment, and mace. One leg is bowed, you sound like a toad, and you use saddle soap on your face.
I love you and I hate you the same.
I just can't put out this flame.
She's a botox, detox, skin n bones, silicone, Harper valley, mustang Sally, misfit, hypocrite, "Cops" show viral hissy fit, easy, sleazy, dollar store cheesy, hillbilly, redneck, chick.
We scream and we cuss, we never discuss,
we'd rather it come to blows. We don't clear the air, and we never fight fair. She stabbed me and then broke my nose. A sight to be seen, trailer park king & queen. We hail what brings others disgust. We're not worthy of love from heaven above. All we have left is the lust. I've been feelin sick, since your flame lit my wick. Penicillin just might do the trick.
I love you and I hate you the same,
I just can't put out this flame.
Ever been in a Public or Club Toilet
And read the Graffiti on the Wall's
So many Numbers to Ring
Providing such a rich variety of thing's
For a good time and personal pleaure
Finished shook , paused
And thought maybe just maybe after few more Shots and Jaeger Bombs
It would be a bit of a laugh to give
For a good time call Debbie 055
Me Love you long time
But then i thought hold on a second
I am in the Mens Toilet
And if i am not mistaken
Debbie does Dallas
Is probably an alias and metaphor
For # Sad Loser
Probably Confuses
Finds Childish humour funny
Has a Blow-Up Girlfriend
And Lives with his Mother
And writes stupid thing's
To impress his imaginary friends
Lost are we, if we think poetry is about a world,
that must be pretty.
Or, must make us laugh, sorry or be soft as a child’s ditty?
Where are our poetic heads?
Don”t we know freedom is not free?
Have we no sense of literature or history?
This world is greater than crying about personal losses.
We are not here to be any poet’s father, mother or nor a
a righteous head of bosses.
This is a free place, and if we don’t get it, such a loss,and
a disgrace!
To insult, belittle and demean another poet?
With a righteos smile on your face?
Those old words, “These are the times that try mens’ souls.
Carve them onto your heart, let that be your glowing, loving goal.
Be kind, let us all follow Poetry Soup rules!
Positive comments ONLY, being rude is not
cool.
If you can’t say anything nice to a poet,
Best to say nothing at all.
Give each his space and freedom, that is
a mature, delightful and higher call.
8/20/2022
~1~
If old men fought the wars
Would there be quite so many?
Maybe we’d reach a stage
Where we’d not fight any.
Life becomes more precious
With the passing of years
The realisation of mortality
Bringing its own fears.
Let the young live their lives,
No longer treated like cattle
Marshalled and forced to
Fight the old mens’ battles.
Let the old men go
To fight their own wars
Don’t conscript the future to
Go die for another’s cause.
If old men did the fighting
Perhaps there’d be more trying
To find a different solution if
Old men faced the risk of dying.
(D-Day 6th June 1944)
Turnstile Count
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Bökh avarga shalgaruulakh temtsee! It is beleived that he drilled a hole in the curtain wall of
Grappius De Castlia to watch the horses play. According to some he used a saddle as a piloow and sleep in the watch tower of his families castle inUlaanbaatar. The ruins of aBuddhist monastic complex.
He studied Bökh: a mongolian version of martail arts and wrestling.Bujutsu Budo a Japenese martail artist taught him well. It is said that he often wore a netted cloth over his head saying he was the watchtower of the castle he'd stand with a tall walking stick and would watch the grapplers do kicks and thrust and flips. One day during practice two combatants meet in the clayed circle. They had to do a cermony of spitting the green tea before practice. The green tea had mint in it so that no one would become angry of there combatants breath. They bathed in lavender and toweled off dressed and dranked the minty green tea. After spitting the green tea they would bow to the west (first) stand straight and turn: bow to the north, stand straight and turn: bow to the east stand straight and turn and when they'd reach the west again they'd turn to one another meet in the middle and turn there backs and spit the green tea. This done htey'd wait for instructions.the 12-stringed Yatga which is forbidden in Mongolia was played and the malle who liked the song was named villious: during the bout Villious would use maneuvers that were forbidden like fishhooking. His handds must be washed said Bujutsi Budo: that he may be more appropriate. During the bout a rabbit puch rendered the opponent senseless and the Mediias would treat condition. How it is said in America "Him know better"
"My Bokh Shalparuulakh Temtsee had beaten all grapplers in Mongolia: imports from China, Japan all of Asia. Now we go to America to challge mens from world abroad. Make money. Pregant women. Buy flowers and kiss pretty women. with wines and fine linens. And brush teeth for morning breath. We leave customs behind and go to America1"
Baggy green pledge..be mean one could allege
New depths seen to dredge vent spleen sledge
Obscene lexicon ledge to get that slight edge
What do you know here we go first blow
Folks well blokes pokes jokes at Stokes
Campaigner entertainer a cocky complainer
Yawn..forlorn well worn scorn of Kiwi born
Ropey guff about Bazball stuff being dopey
Out of whack flak attack now back on track
Aussie stacks of hacks on a have a go retainer
Haven’t forgotten when Jonny went Rotten
Lost his cool in that whole Lord’s Baz brawl
When Ben’s mens’ gall did enthrall and appall
So one trite slight after another in a row
In a cruel crow from our oldest coldest foe
They bestow their woe of “average Joe”
Get snooty about the beauty of our Rooty
Get fruity saying our defender’s a pretender
Won’t ever get one booty ton while on Oz duty
Just what you’d predict from a convict offender
You wait mate..till your guest & great contender for
Crest of Test best goes on a big spender bender
Men’s Secrets
There are men of god who like innocence for their pleasure.
There are coaches, teachers etc., who never – their actions – measure,
as they destroy the impeccability of this, our worlds Treasure.
There are so many men – thoughtless – leaving so many scares.
Destroying the spirits, the souls, the luster of so many Stares.
Leaving them as barren, distant, cold as the surface of mars.
What is in man’s heart ?, that drives all this horror, all this insanity.
Why do they not see ?, what they are doing to a segment ( fifty percent ) of humanity.
What ?, lies in the murky depths of these men’s sick, broken souls and heart,
that makes them shatter the chastity of a life that will never know how to start
living out their lives, and on a much higher plane
and not know the stress, the depths, the separation caused by all their suppressed pain,
pain that comes on, comes out- screaming with every action,
action that stops one – who cares, who shows with every reaction,
yet neither – these sick men made it impossible – will find peace or satisfaction.
B. J. “A” 2
March 6th 2014
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?