Long Miser Poems
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You see, you make me wanna write,
You make wanna write words
So sweet and on the other hand
Words wind up so tight
Until it squeeze you when you feel me
Setting my poetic heart soaring free
Like a bird flying in mid air
But I don't care
As long as I can bring these poetic words to your ears
Leaving with happiness or either in tears.
I am like an addict unashamed
And an addict by deed and name
Over poetry deep, deep, deep in my soul
No matter how deep or how old
Or how it sounds in words so dear
Until it just burns of your ears.
Fire flame to touch
No but yet not too much
Just a little at a time
With somewhere in there with you on my mind
Because I am an addict for poetry.
Poetry by any means you see
If by anything else is messed up,
Like the Crack head on the streets
I need to be fed my "drug" that inner beast.
No not beast but pleasure deeply so
Until I feel and really know
It's that thing call poetry I am addicted to
Yes, it's very, very, very true
I love poetry for I am an addict.
And if poetry was a woman she would be my mistress,
My chick on the side I won't miss,
For I am an addict baby a poetry junkie,
Because I need my fix everyday,
And sometimes i a worst way.
My suppliers range many like Langston and Nikki and Maya and even a Butterfly too
Because I am an addict of poetry and this is very true.
Every time I mix the poetic lyrical measures spinning in my brain,
As I write them down like a person whose going fool and going insane,
For I am an addict baby; a poetic, lyrical, words spinning miser, spitting out words so,
Addict of rhymes
Endless i space and in time
No matter what moves me
No matter what grooves me
I am what I am what I am so.
Give me a fix and I'll give you a rhyme
Give a little bit of time
And I'll be spitting out poetry as fast as you can say "BLACK BALL"
I love poetry and I am an addict that's all.
If there was an "Poet's Anonymous" I would be in every meeting every time,
Spinning a rhyme for you in every way I can find.
My name is____________and I am a poetic lyrical of rhyme of a poet
I AM A AN ADDICT----
A POETRY ADDICT!
Pain is falling. Into your arms; pain is calling. Answer me! Pain says. Pain says jump. Anguish says how high sir. And the sky's the limit. It's right there. Here in your face; can you touch it? You cannot! Says Pain. Fear hides behind its stalker, awaiting wrath. Judgment withstood beside Pain and the verdict is in. GUILTY. Come again? GUILTY YOUR HONOR; sir. Bow down to Pain. Crumble beneath pains' ridicule and fall...Into Pain's arms. Snuggle with you? Pain will coddle you until you forget all of your dreams. Hope floats away. Bye bye hopes and—See you later those dreams.
Pain says never. Again we buckle under the pressure, of Pain. Hate hoards our love, collecting—An emotional miser of goodness sakes. Hate simply takes and hate takes...takes...but you just you wait...We have enough of our own strengths. We mustn't let hatred to take...take...take...
Fall out of love with this Hate...hate...out of love with this hate. Back in love with our fate. Knowing...I got what it takes...takes...I got what it takes...oh goodness my grace...put me back in my place and end this whole chase...whole place of this chase...Pain Pain go far far away. I say pain go away...Way...wait.
I need more than one plate. You all break with this slate. I'm done chalking up crapes.
I'm strong like an owl. And ya'll smell fairly foul. So times come to be towered. And I hoo hoo like an owl. Out of my circle, leave this powwow. I'm all over this now now. And Pain falls to the ground round; and...Hate trips on his towel. They both sit in time out now. Pain is gone now I'm falling—into grips with my calling. Reconnect with my family; and own up to ole' Sammy. Finally doing the damn thing. And this ending is happy. But don't let Pain gain way into your backseat. Life's a journey, don't call you the wrong taxi. Time has come, Pain go head try and get me, cannot catch me. Yes sir, (says Pain) just don't put me back into that taxi. I say that's right look right at me. When you speak talk about me. No more hate, pain is now but a memory. Hopes and dreams, love and family....Pain is falling—But not at me...
-end
8-29-17
I remember the night of our anniversary so vividly.
Cyril, who locals call 'Cyril the Squirrel' because he's such a miser,
had just taken a seat at the next table with his date Muriel, the local gossip.
Muriel was clutching a wilted red rose that Cyril must have given her
I could clearly see a half price sticker on the wrapper
He really is so darn cheap!
Cyril sat drumming his fingers on the table whilst Muriel perused the menu.
"Hurry up and order, Muriel.
It's buy one, get one free if we order in the next five minutes," he barked!
The waitress arrived to take their order.
She didn't have a chance to say a word before Cyril declared,
“You certainly took your time.
Muriel tell the girl what you want and make it snappy or I’ll miss out on the special offer.”
Muriel ordered tomato soup followed by roast chicken.
“I’ll have the same," said Cyril.
“It will save on the cost if we both have identical meals.”
I was feeling sorry for Muriel when the soup arrived and I could hear Cyril twittering on.
“Hurry up and eat your soup, Muriel .
We can go dancing at the Palais ….
It’s free if we get in before seven o’clock.”
“OH I LOVE DANCING!
BUT NOT WITH A PENNY PINCHING SCROOGE LIKE YOU!" she screamed in annoyance.
The restaurant fell silent; all eyes turned to their table.
Muriel stood, tipped the bowl of soup in his lap,
and whacked him across the face with the limp rose.
"First and last date, Cyril, …
and it didn’t cost you a cent, after all MY meal was free!"
She turned on her heels and stormed out of the restaurant.
Cyril’s face went puce as he looked like he was going to explode.
I'm sure Muriel would head straight for the bingo hall to tell everyone about her first date with "the squirrel."
And by tomorrow, her disastrous date would be the talk of the town.
"Happy Anniversary, Honey,"
my husband whispered to me.
He looked at his watch and exclaimed, "Oh dear!
“We were so busy watching the floor show that we’ve missed the special offer!"
08-16-17
First Date Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
Prelude Note: The Poem Tesu is based on a folk story of India.
The Tesuwalas* as depicted in the Poem are gradually
diminishing with the passing of time and changing life
styles. It's a tribute to that great warrior and lover,
who sacrificed his life because he had promised. How
and when you would come to know shortly.....
Hope you would find this wonderful Indian traditional
story a thing to remember. With best wishes before the
festival of Dewali (Light) ...Ravindra
Tesu A Folk Love Story of India Part 1
The festival of the splendid lights
Of Dewali, is not very far off,
The Tesuwalas* would come to wish,
You, your dreams and homes,
Remain illuminated
With happiness and colorful lights. 01
The Tesu* has come,
With its pomp & show,*
We have come to bless you,
“Your dreams may come true”
But please, take out some coins,
From the far-far corner
Of your miser purse,
For the little girls and boys of Tesuwalas*
Who come only once in a year to greet you. 02
The prevailing darkness,*
Would eliminate soon,
And all the blackness
Of the night too,
Would vanish soon,
Just light your lamps,
In this black dark night,
As, only one single lamp
Has the powe,r
To eliminate any darkness,
And you began to feel,
The glimpse of light sublime. 03
Ravindra
Kanpur India 4th Nov. 2012 To continue ….....
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws. Copying this story without the permission of the writer is strictly prohibited and would be subject to legal remedies taken by the writer.
Tesu* - The Name of the hero of this Poem.
Pomp & Show* the earthen pot (Handiya)
With a symbolic light in it and nicely decorated
with a face with big mustache on the earthen pot
is the pomp & show of Tesu.
Tesuwalas* - Hindi word. The young boys
and girls, who carry The decorated
earthen pot with holes and a light
inside on their head and come
Once in a year near Dewali are
called ‘Tesuwalas’
prevailing darkness*- A night without Moon
There is a time post mortem intertwined in the sickosocio scheme of thoughtless thug things reflecting
in a morbid mirror mantle miniscule memberance of total times timid. How do u resurface the old times
for your perservant to retro hold and resubmit inheritant
herient inheirency heriarchy to your you off spring the capalto
able incapable sociomeasures of cool yet unpredetermined human mosaics.
Prism a cameo contrivance with cumulo capable cruel conspiracies. Watch while unlimit
my self selves to an appleant analogous **** appetities announcing all is well that
ENDS WELL. Copious credence couples our co current exoexistence with a degraded
deluge of not guilty by reason of you are and idiot!!!!!! Thank any legal god that technomorons
preclude the rational reason preplanted brain cell cortex countenance required for prepost pitiful
civil problem solving as an archaic form of all that exists is natural in its circumfrance
anatomical indifference whereby an initial topical tone approportioned is aforementioned
esquire ano acquired in its literal latent lotioned spreadacre entirety. Call me
what u want but I will not delve give in to the pre dis prosed **** contrivity
of pre ambled rhyme ,grafted guilded, some stupid pseudo format u like or have slept with to confound the poet powers that could be, creep it to yrself lowlife, insecure innane idiot so u can prove yrself stupid superior to all that applies as a PREMIUM MUST MISER MEMBER. GLWT. Read poems by,
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!. For4give me 4lord. I am a 4lowpolife cause I donot/didnot/willnot pay the poem piper a
4po 4price for 4premium 4importance in the PAID PRELUDE of LOOK AT ME LOWLIFES. M
My head pounds a massive ache
A rotten pain that must surely shake
The piece of Reality away from the fabric
I am wounded by the Fear
Something wants to end me here
Who would do this with such unflinching feeling
These knees do tremble and I am barely reeling
First of all,the Mark is shown
A Black spot on my Eye,can barely make it home
Sweet pinch of brown sugar calorie
Suck it with a tongue but only causing misery
As My mind does the thinking
This nose picks up the odor stinking
Wretched smell coming from for warned hell
Undescribable
reprehensible
I am the only nitwit without any notion
The force of out there,pulling me towards that ocean
Maybe I will die there,after a sky dive fall
This would deny,a love that I would want after all
Alas..I am the Ass,the Miser,
Ready to Fade but no more the Wiser
Rain from the sky and water from the geyser
My body will feed you,a last but worthless appetizer
My Life My Way 1
In childhood mom says:
don't
In school mam says:
don't.
In youth she says:
don't.
After that my age will say:
don't.
Don't! , Don't! , Don't! ,
don't .
Count how many times
don't.
Now go to hell
'don't'.
All is well, I say
My Life My Way.
PART_2
Can you change my
Yesterday (past)?
Can you predict my
Tomorrow (future)?
Uncle if you reply
Can't.
Then why are you spoiling my
Today (present)?
Don't mess with
Me and my way
My Life My Way.
PART-3
Let enjoy life with full
ups and downs
As lion in the land
As hawk in typhoons.
Do or don't may confuse
But not me if I choose
Forget nonsense rules
To enjoy life soon
Be ready to win the race
I honestly say
My Life My Way.
PART -4
I am happy with my beliefs
Without worries.
They sell a story in series
But a miser don't have more pennies.
All miseries dying where
Jumping without parachute from air
Can you like feet in sack
Mind your business o! Jack
You can entertain heaven only
With in my way.
My Life My Way
I would give you my advices
If they weren't overpowered with spices
And things. Believe me, I hold
No control over these bold
Statements I make, nor the clever
Phrases and quips. I have never
Told a story of my own imagination—
No, 'tis the work of some abomination
Running amok in our sad homes.
They carry foreign, mysterious tomes
Filled with ghastly images and
Recipes for the witches' gnarly hands:
Indeed, a witch would benefit from
These outlandish ingredients, some
So abhorrent I dare not say their
Names aloud. But alas, they are,
At the same time, wonderful items—
Spices and things—bizarre and exciting:
They provide a necessary embellishment
To the newly made unintelligent—
We call them newborns, for they eat all,
So why not tell a story for them all,
About dragons and knights and the blood
Of the hopelessly valiant in the mud
Where their decaying corpses lie.
Spices and things—to show the fly
That is shooed away by the fairy
So that she may revive him and be merry.
And all the world's a miser, but who
Must know? We promise you will never know.
Drink this, or eat that—it is delicious.
None of it at all is remotely malicious.
It is soul-cleansing and stomach-filling,
Bad only for the vision you're killing,
For who must know? It is not needed.
Take root in the head I have seeded,
O Truth, so flexible, so malleable,
But not in the least detrimental.
Truth likes spices and things, she does.
Boys and girls, you and I, she loves,
She feeds us, clothes us, kills us
On the day we are called, the Day of Lust,
When we fight for our afterlives,
Be it Heaven, or Hell. It is a beehive
Of swirling angels and demons
That vie for our trust—daughters and sons,
The parents care not, for Truth doe say,
With much spices and things, that away,
Up high or far below, both are right,
Because both are eternal; both are a light.
"When it comes to money, you can't win. If you focus on making it, you're materialistic. If you try to but don't make any, you're a loser. If you make a lot and keep it, you're a miser. If you make it and spend it, you're a spendthrift. If you don't care about making it, you're unambitious. If you make a lot and still have it when you die, you're a fool-for trying to take it with you. The only way to really win with money is to hold it loosely-and be generous with it to accomplish things of value." - John C. Maxwell
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Listen to the lessons
Who remind me that I spend,
More than I can earn,
More than I can learn…
Is too much, too much, too much.
Listen to my conscious,
When I reach for the cart,
Shopping – my obsession,
When will it finally stop?
When will I park that cart?
Listen to the lessons
Who remind me that I’m broke,
Spent more than I am making,
Spent more than I can earn,
Spent more – don’t have money to burn!
Listen to my conscious,
When the cash is burning holes…
Deep inside my pocket,
Where they yearn to finally know
How it feels to go into a jar,
Saved from the shopping sprees!
Saved from their enemy, ME!
Listen to those bills, tempting me…
To pay with cash, pay with my debit,
Pay with credit – pay with anything…
That allows me to spend, spend, spend,
Spendthrift I am – spendthrift is who I hope…
To quit being, throughout the coming year!
My new year’s resolution, then…
Is to write X spendthrift,
When I take up my pen, to sign by the x,
Where I’m signing my earnings away,
For the next purchase that I’ve made –
As a NEW X-spendthrift, I hope that I can say…
Together with my money, I will finally stay,
Able to look at the future with savings that I pray…
Will keep me from poverty as I go on my way,
Keep me from the spending that took me astray!
Shutting the door on my face
He showed his dominance,
Raising his voice on me
He reflected his control,
Cutting the phone before my reply
He nurtured his ego.
He perpetuated the same
Blooming his masculinity,
His miser brain and elite ego
Fueled her insanity.
She kept tucking her thoughts
At the back of her brain,
Eyes as beautiful as sapphire
Were flooded with rain,
The rain didn't quench anyone's thirst
But emptied her pain.
Those sacrifices were arcane
Her smile as pure as dew,
Those deep sorrows , shallow smiles
A soul piercing view.
He was a recidivator
First sorry , then get out,
Stabbing her, lashing her
Not with words but with core shaking shouts.
He himself broke the pristine jewels
Throwing the pearls one by one,
All alone in his deficit life
He was feared but respected by none .
Now counting the scattered pieces of her heart,
He realized he was striking her part by part.
The parasite found a new prey
His ego darkened his way,
Struggling to find milestones
He stumbled,rolled and ran.
But how could he ask her
After all he was a Man.
He found a desert
Desperately waiting for oasis,
Should I turn left or right
They became important choices.
He found one
But the water tasted salty,
Alas! He couldn't catch -
In his desert life
Her tears were forming that oasis.
On reaching home, he couldn't find peace
He laid himself in her arms,
Sanity, satisfaction and jubilation he felt
Which he couldn't attain in any realm.
It hit him hard-
Those tears were not of smoke but of hope,
He would emancipate her from that strangling rope
When his ego would elope.....
- REEVES