Long Misconceptions Poems
Long Misconceptions Poems. Below are the most popular long Misconceptions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misconceptions poems by poem length and keyword.
You are so beautiful like Helen of Troy
So brainy, special, and unique
Nobody can compete you
Her smiling reflection answered from the mirror
She was lost in her own eyes
Bang!! From no where a stone strike the mirror
Shattering it into many pieces
She cried___ who is there?
Looked around, saw nobody
Sitting on the ground to have one closer look at the mirror again
She saw distorted, ugly images of her self
Turning her face away, she got up
To find out who shattered her world
From behind a huge rock
She heard some voices
Barefooted, she moved forward,
And heard the exact words
which the mirror had told her
Now it was telling them to a young boy
How brave, intelligent, & smart you are
Like Odin of an old folk tale
She knew the mirror was lying
It lied to her and now to him
She picked a stone and hit the mirror
Bang!! And then there was nothing
Except ugliness, weakness, imperfections
Just Like the real world
She moved forward leaving marks of blood footprints
And shattered mirror behind
I've known rejection, as well as its pain,
and every time I've sworn never again.
At times I feel I'm responsible too,
for doing things I knew I shouldn't do.
I have seen hope bring tears to people's eyes,
and those same tears, as hope dwindles and dies.
Sometimes living itself warps perceptions,
and life responds based on misconceptions.
I've seen fear hidden behind smiling masks,
being led somewhere, and yet no one asks.
I've indulged in the luxury of hugs,
though they can be as addictive as drugs.
I have seen truths overshadowed by lies,
fueled by conspiracies in disguise.
And I've seen people reject wrong for right,
when darkness descends to douse freedom's light.
You keep me grounded
to the soil of my soul
reminding me again
that my words matter
that they help scatter
misconceptions
making connections
pathways to inner places
leaving conjugated traces
of emotional bleeds
and epiphanies
you keep me grounded
when nothing pulls me back
and I float free
tired of poetic mediocrity
nothing new under the sun
not clever enough for that pun
heart sore and word desert bare
when I can't be bothered to care
you keep me grounded
you read the forgotten lines
find a charm, find a rhyme
something of beauty
a pleasure filled treasue
my effort you measure
and when my heart bleeds
you sound the alarm
checking on me
helping me to be
OK
you keep me grounded
Once again, I write
my muse metaphorically in flight
paradoxically poetic
for.....it's now clear to me
you keep me grounded....here
Dedicated to Richard Lamoureux!
Richard, thanks for the many many visits
and for making me want to stay
You keep me grounded
what can I say :)
I was lost
Feeling marginalized
Ostracized
Criticized
Demonized
Feeling
Empty
Forgotten
You wrote kind words
You visited me
You message hugged me
You poured healing on me
You bathed me with uplifting words
You fed me
Confidence
Assurance
Acceptance
A visit
A note
And you lifted me up
Said I mattered
Said I had a gift
Said I was missed
Said I brought joy
A kind word
And I came alive
Wanted to thrive
Wanted to be
The one whom you saw in me
You said a kind word
You whose vision is not clouded
With misconceptions
With what you’ve heard
But rather you speak
Of what you have "seen"
You see the inner me
You see beauty of soul
What a gift to be able to see
Past all the ugliness
To reality
Your kindness
Your kindness
Brought me back
Brings me back
Day after day
To share what I have
For you will read and smile
And that means the world to me
Eileen Manassian
A Poem of Dedication to Richard Lamoureux for constantly encouraging me to write, write, write.
One of Richard's latest posts: Hello Eileen, where are those new ones you promised?? I feel like a baby bird waiting for his mom to come back to the nest with a morsel.
Richard, hope this morsel is nourishing. :) Thank you for always believing in me.
POOR MAN'S GREETINGS
It's a world full of misconceptions and jest,
Riches of the rich makes the poor oppressed.
Though greetings are sincere and heartfelt,
We might often raise brows, leaving us upset.
The poorman's "Goodafternoon," is like backlash
Because desperate demands causes a splash,
So we'd scoff & assume he'd beg for some cash.
But little did we know his sole intention
Might be to spread joy & genuine affection.
"Please, can you spare some sunshine, if you may?"
He'd chuckle, hoping to brighten our day.
But we lie on the network when we hear "Please, can you..."
Making him feel flat and like a failed fool.
Oh no, how we misjudged his humble plea,
Thinking it was a beggar's desperate decree.
With a twinkle in his eyes & a radiant smile,
He'd simply wish to be happy, even for a while
And say to himself, "Not all paupers beg for bread."
But wouldn't forget the insults or what was said.
His greetings, mistaken for pitiful appeals,
Yet he never ceased to spread his good wills.²¹
Though not rag cladded, he's perceived as filthy.
A poor man's greetings might be sincere & pretty.
Some broke dudes might hail you in a jiffy
In order to make a request & set your pocket free.
That's when the broke bloke is broken to brooklyn
Even though he might be looking sharp & clean.
But some greets you with kindness and cheer,
No motives attached, they show it's sincere²8
Give them a smile in return, and hold them dear!
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©? December.
Potatoes And Mushrooms
Fries are not only deep-fried sticks to which nothing permanent connects
But also, what happens when a person makes some serious mistakes.
And a way to eat however many potatoes a person wants to in one sitting
Even after a couple of inconvenient but needed fittings
Steaks are better for people than snakes especially at lakes regardless of who bakes but sometimes more fat than meat -although maybe not in sweet old Crete Maybe that doesn't bother a Pete or a Skeeter - however it does bother me even without bees.
The hatred of mushrooms is sometimes based on uncorrected misconceptions but they make poor brooms for bedrooms and awful grooms-not to mention bad brides but they are pretty good stuffed, as are potatoes!
Salutations!
Are we all just a footnote in God’s mental thoughts?
He’s gotta BIG BANG Universe to run, does He not?
He’s the most masterful, magical, mystical, mathematical Magician.
He’s the “I” in Inventiveness and the thinking in thoughtfulness.
He can be everywhere, all at once. Anywhere, He wants. Anytime.
He can be anyone, anything, everyone, everything, He wants to be.
PURE THOT POWER!!! Hour after hour ... endlessly ...
For what it’s worth,
There’s no need for discrepancies or any misconceptions.
He doesn’t do fake news or have any precognitive predecessors.
Yet now has come to realize as I’m singing out these words,
How absurd, little bird, He chuckles in surprise
Then bursts out laughing with delight, in delight.
So wise, He sighs. Oh my, time flies ...
The Dreamer never dies.
Are we all just a Word in God’s Big BOOK?
Maybe we’d find out if we gave it a look?
Ingenuity is His middle name, envisioning e v e r y thing
We are all the stuff, He dreams up
There’s no need for questionaries.
We are all the fluff between His guff.
There’s no need for any inquiries.
Soooooo, I’m going to ...
Enjoy the day’s fullest when the Sunshines shining bright
Enjoy it at its highest when I’m down and out
Enjoy my every moment from here on out
Overcome the urge to be absurd and shout
From the top of roofs and mountaintops
And now, and now, I enjoy the NOW
With Full Moonbeams on me right here and how.
Hear me, here on me, adhere on me tonight!
So wise, I sigh. Oh my, time flies ...
The Dreamer never dies.
How to take a leak
Marcel felt quite an urge when he set out to purge understanding of how to when
we view misconceptions of who is taking the piss now never thereafter and then
A fountain trickling urinal porcelain pissoir on display impressed me no doubt in
treacherous confusion of images since relief in museums constitutes phallic sin
When streams of revisionist consciousness meet with surreal ‘truth’ of ablutions
seeming paradoxes cleanse body and mind in contextual and continent solutions
A fragmented human condition does not improve with rigid caged in perceptions
in which mindless dogma clearly resists benefits of antiauthoritarian disinfection
Are glass ceilings real are vessels of thought and flush toilets congested or empty
do ivory towers reveal liberation and freedom achieve status of fully cognoscenti
Nothing what it seems is Duchamp's message in a showcase of lavatorial pride
colonising minds need disclosure critique confrontation urinating against the tide
When cognition feeling and action with knowledge have reached full critical vision
I reach for a fountain pen so whether this is a poem or not remains your decision
16th May 2017
Slipping away.
Drifting into a state of unconsciousness
Where the id, the ego and the superego merge in their own perverted world:
Free of inhibition;
Free of intentional thought;
Free of other senses interfering with the unfettered mind.
No physical barriers;
No interjections from other’s prejudices –
Just our own pre-conceived biases and misconceptions.
Rapid eye movements indicating an active mind;
While the body rests, the imagination lives on.
Colors? Perhaps.
Based on experiences and reality? Possibly. Probably not.
Free to dream in any form – no rules apply.
Mostly forgotten when consciousness returns;
Much to our dismay.
“Chasing Ghosts in Cars”
Like automata
we walk inside
winding up the stairs
it’s all mechanical
the romance
programmed
by steep degrees
in the
well-routined
we can walk
through walls
anywhere
to look out
our windows
towards the better view
each cell in the body
and mind renewed
we expurgate
the misplaced
misconceptions
of others, of ourselves
it’s fair-weather sailing
out there,
the transparent come and go
best to turn
a blind eye
a swift kiss on the cheek
make it brief
then close all
your doors
to their artful dodger hauntings
friendships and felicitations
their joyful gleaming commiserations
whole oceans
full of souls
walking and swimming
treading water
all the floating
poesies planted
mindfully fragrant
fresh bits thrown
parlayed introspection
deliciously blooded with the sharks
such hungry poets
with a well-adjusted
deep knowing
and a quiet
unthorough
understanding
of another
unknown equation
in the real world
never making
premature
judgements
outside is a risk
we all take
we write what we know
we know what we write
ghost written
in the Daily Phantom
in the gloaming fantasy
there still exist
real ghouls calling us in
hungry for kindness
burying pity for
the honesty it lacks
inside we are listing
the volume we turn up
to hear messages better
we are
listening
to cars
lyrics
we wish you
to know
to be understood
when you are
chasing ghosts
some say
they’ve gone too far
they’re too far gone away
forget-me-knots
hanging loose
chasing ghosts in cars
Machiavellians
gone astray
the naked minds
of
undressed nuns
and
sanctimonious preachers
oiling their guns
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
It's the only way to live in cars
Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for days in cars”
listing/nautical.
“Listing” is a nautical term to describe when a vessel takes on water and tilts to one side. A ship can list either to port (left) or starboard (right). By contrast, a ship is said to be “trimming” when she tips forward or backward.