Long Messiness Poems
Long Messiness Poems. Below are the most popular long Messiness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Messiness poems by poem length and keyword.
My joy and happiness
(Through time and space and choice)
By Michelle Morris
26/04/2023
I am blessed to have known you
I am grateful for our time
It gives me solace that God has given us
A relationship that touched our souls
That He brought us together
Through time and space and choice
Through the messiness of being human
Through the mortality of our shells
I am blessed to know that we have forever
That we'll be together always
Through time and space and choice
This Universe is our everlasting home
I thank God for you each day
I know that we are truly blessed
Thank you for your love
And for being my joy and happiness
© Michelle Morris, 2023
The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain. - Gary Zukav
Spring silences the wintery chill,
flooding spirits with gentle,
concealed by the birth of new, the nature of beauty
on petals and leaves, colored by green trees,
inspired – in the breeze, on the song
who sings and believes…
Summer drifts out to the sea,
melodious singer, arriving to bring grace,
in amazing whispers, gentle and gifted,
reflecting the sun’s breath, gasping
creativity, in laughing stars
twinkling, reflecting a sincere heart…
Autumn paints the moments joyous,
polishing the night glossy,
leafing through the journal of dusty pages,
where melancholy forbids dreams dissuasion
cautioning the oaks and pines,
revealing the intimacy of a story’s insight…
Winter challenges the skies with gray,
soothing away the distant dread,
where angry blizzards, with awkward thoughts
encourage the drifts, the flakes, the icicles
to touch the nights with a silence
both blessed and brilliant, alive….
Seasons of hope, seasons of charm
teaching the spirit to let go of what’s gone,
to reach out to the forthcoming
with open hearts, open arms,
savoring the blessings brought to our lives
by the seasons He created…
Seasons designed
to encourage and brighten,
inspire and excite,
fulfill hearts and souls,
relieve worries and restore
so the whole world can see…
God Himself is the maker of peace
God, our Father
is the creativity that sees
beyond the messiness of life,
into the feelings that abide,
when He shines His brilliant light…
all over the world, all over the heart
all over the seasons
that can only be remembered
as the reasons
each heart feels grateful for the grace
that God provides throughout all time!
I'm consumed by jealousy's flame
Overzealous emotions, hard to tame
My highs are intoxicating, lows devastating
Anger burns, a fire I'm hesitating
To love you fiercely, or leave in haste
My heart's a rollercoaster, hard to predict the pace
But you don't judge me, and that's my reprieve
For I'd judge you too, in self-defense
We're flawed, imperfect, yet we fit
Our issues entwined, a complicated knit
Give me your demons, I'll share mine
Together we'll face the trials of our minds
Bask in the glory of our brokenness
Our love's the solution to our messiness
I got issues, one's my need for you
You, with your quirks, and hands that pull me through
Poorly wired, yet perfectly mine
You break, you mend, with an ocean's design
Push and pull, our love's a test
But you see it from my side, and I from yours, we're blessed
We got issues, but love makes us whole
Embracing flaws, our hearts now unfold
I need you, you need me, in this imperfect dance
Together we'll heal, in this messy romance.
National Panic Wednesday March 9th, 2022 actually... every day
Founded by Tom and Ruth Roy
solely to acknowledge hardship
of A. R. Harris
and her husband M.S. Harris,
who cope poorly
(even courtesy medication)
with anxiety attacks, especially when
violated, probed, interrogated courtesy
Highland Manor inquisition,
which traumatizing event happened
on aforementioned date
included with poem title.
J. G. and P. F.
constitute management team
under jurisdiction of Quoss
(pronounced chhath tt) and Grade,
who espouse principle laissez faire
but whose exhibited heavy handedness
pertaining to the married couple
named in the third line of this poem.
Either one or the other gals
who attend these premises
here at the Schwenksville location
(I won't mention
the state as penile solitude)
alluded to a peculiarly nasty odor
emanating from unit B44,
our man/woman cave.
We received a twenty four hour deadline
to get into shipshape the disarray
messiness even Pigpen
would find abominable,
yet upon receiving both
oral and written admonition,
me and the missus
buckled down and kickstarted
frenzied whirlwind one bedroom
apartment cleaning spree
zoned out like zombies of Sugar Hill
when the clock struck bewitching hour,
more specifically that alluded time
synonymous with midnight.
No matter we felt dead tired
whereat neither option
to acquire additional time,
nor desist existed,
and yet nearly impossible mission
to continue, but appealing
to temptation of sandman
out of the question.
Deep sleep for the weary
appeared oh so heavenly,
on par with plate
of powder milk biscuits,
our mandate (analogous to pilgrims
adults and children -
forced to fight in crusades)
forbid cessation, thus to plod
and plow onward
despite overwhelming urge to plotz,
(not the slang definition)
found yours truly
blissfully in dreamland
when me noggin hit the pillow,
Not for a minute
could yours truly
sit down and take a breather,
despite severe lower
(rightside) back pain.
Said dull throbbing ache
diagnosed as tight muscles
by Doctor (physical therapist)
John R. Mishock,
he would not countenance
(approve, comply, honor...)
I popped one Ibuprofen.
The mishmash mayhem of jumbled clutter
at first seems to be confusion's cause.
But after tidying up, nothing can be found.
Nothing is where you left it lying, easy to find again.
Last in, first out is the principle of your piles and stacks
of assorted unsorted stuff you left lying all around you.
As you contemplate clearing up the mess to see your desk,
the gathered hodgepodge medley of mess
hums a melody, a ditty in warning:
"Messiness is the sign of creativity"
"If a cluttered desk begets a cluttered mind,
what does a cleared empty desk beget?"
Enough already! I want to be more creative!
It’s not a mess, it's inspired creativity on active duty!
??v ?? ?? ?? ? I Love You.............!! ?? v ?? ?? ?? ?
•.?*... ...*?.• •*.
these myopic ocular orbs pine
for an attractive gal to be adored
far eye got the near rest insight
per a magic bullet if jew r bored
undue flattering praises
might induce her 2 c come floored
perhaps without any family, friends, relatives...
or if religious ye kin pray to da lord
unless ya r moored
den let dis senor you ken ease
(doll ling) any troubles
like egg nog gently poured
and unable to move,
or...mebbe trapped by
a white striped tiger who roared
cornered in a spit of jumbled
feeble woodland where
a retinue of wild animals stored
analogously tube he ying
closeted in a mental ward.
not that ye care one whit
boot ta many approximately
72.57 cheesy full moons ago
when me younger days alive
i lived at pennfield manor
where the stern rebuke from robin kratz
faulted disgusting messiness
and angered water bugs
who marched against getting evicted
(where spouse twas
one chaotic rabid follower of entropy
and adherent of utter disorderliness
if such band name of aforementioned
the audience would wave meat cleavers
and as tokens of appreciation,
I love you dearly, in ways your little foibles can never deny,
With your laugh, your smile, the bright twinkle in your eye.
But when I see your clothes strewn all askew,
Perhaps the smitten, has bitten off too much to chew!
The dishes pile up, the socks are everywhere.
The clutter expands to chaotic mayhem in which I despair.
Your shoes live like vagrants, begging on the stairs.
Your papers, like confetti, cast litter over tables and chairs.
So here's my plea, my love, a fear I must confess.
I love you dearly, but not your lovely mess!
So let's tidy up together, or hire a helping hand!
While rocking, rolling, jiving to our favorite band.
For while messiness is a sign, they say, of a creative mind,
Mindless mess does not feed my mind to be creative in kind.
Cobwebs And Other Nonessentials
There are things we often tend to forget.
Unimportant though they seem to be.
Clothes in a dryer, not started, still wet.
I'm sure it's happened to you and me.
The gathering of cobwebs in a corner,
And dust left high on the top shelf,
May make a room seem out of order,
But not if messiness pleases yourself.
Many autumn leaves are left in the gutter.
They don't find much cause to complain.
So why should anyone mumble and mutter?
Let them get washed away by the rain.
Nonessentials are things that we don't need,
But that doesn't mean we value them less.
A cage that once held a bird that's been freed
Now serves much better as that bird's nest.
Clothes not worn because they need ironing,
Because wrinkles show more than a smidge.
It's hard to remember, unless we are trying,
To clean the food stuck in back of the fridge.
It's not being lazy of which I dare speak.
Sometimes we just don't seem to care.
We should fix that board with the creak
And put overdue color in graying hair.
Does this train of thought amuse you?
That's much better than wearing a frown.
When next you see a cobweb that's new,
Shoo the spider before sweeping it down.
She didn’t run – she walked
Her hands by her side
Graceful and girly, like a lady
She was certainly ladylike
I was her girl, her baby
The twinkle in her eye
And the scatterbrained reminder
That love is never silent
One afternoon
As the sun embraced my thoughts
And laughter spun joy through my heart
There were flowers in the meadow
Daisies that had such happy faces
And I was drawn to them the way that
The moon seems to attract the stars
I ran messily toward the flowers
Not more than a few steps away from her
And I felt my heart giggle with delight
When I looked back at her behind me, running
Never more beautiful than in that moment
As sun poured across her shoulders
And I led her into the messiness
Of a childlike happiness and grace
At a gentle, innocent pace
Since that day so long ago - I always imagined
Her favorite flower was the daisy
A Tender Moment From Childhood Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
June 4, 2021
I can feel my pulse in my fingertips,
like my hands are trying to escape.
Do I lean in? Do I lean back?
Please don’t let me stumble over my own feet.
My heart is doing that ridiculous thumping thing.
Why does it feel like the world is waiting?
Should I say something? Something clever?
No, just stay quiet, it’s fine.
Just breathe…oops, too noticeable.
Why is everything suddenly so tricky?
Your eyes are so close, almost too near.
Okay, maybe not, maybe it’s the perfect distance.
What if my lips are awkward? What if I taste strange?
I’m panicking, yes, in every corner of me.
I tell myself stop, act normal… but my pulse gives me away.
“Hey… is everything okay? You seem nervous.”
I nod too fast, my thoughts scattering everywhere.
I want to laugh, I want to crawl under a rock.
I feel like I might float or fall all at once.
My eyes dart everywhere, but you’re right here, holding my hand.
And then it happens, gentle, hesitant, soft.
Our lips meet, and my stomach flutters.
It’s awkward, it’s funny, it’s perfect in its messiness.
I think, maybe this is how first kisses are meant to feel.
And I secretly hope it never ends.