Long Mismatch Poems
Long Mismatch Poems. Below are the most popular long Mismatch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mismatch poems by poem length and keyword.
The Fates must have been drunk, when they led me to you
or maybe they were blindfolded, they didn't have a clue
I was lost for more than a decade, you already had it made
but still you backtracked, left breadcrumbs on your trail
I didn't even know me, I felt alone and afraid
but you held my hand, and taught me how to sail
On sleepless nights, you lulled me with your psalms
on whirlwind days, you told me "Stop. Just smell the coffee."
In my sea of worries, you showed me there was calm,
in my joy you glowed with me, cried with me in my agony
Looking back now, for you my heart bursts into song
for I am grateful for the Fates, they must've known all along
02.16.2010 Written for Matt's I love you Because contest :)
bomber jacket, dark glasses
blown out hair,
faded jeans that fit me slim,
brown leather belt and shoes,
a dangling cigarette between lips,
is how I would fancy look!
Reality is something else,
and what I look is more like this…
A T shirt straight out of wash,
never seen the underside of iron,
crumpled to show how the machine spins!
trousers broad fit that struggle to stay
at the waist, with a belt that fails to grip,
the colours of these never match,
and the shoes are ones that were
quick to reach, and the result is a
riot of disagreeable colours!
who cares!!! That is me!
When I walk, my wife walks with me
separated by a hundred feet,
with her impeccable attire that
compliments every fraction of her,
with lipsticks to match!!
Style of clothing do not make a man
but they seem to make a woman!
Reality of life is mismatch of things,
that we learn to love and to live with!
That is why we have been married years!!
our distances in clothes is bridged by
our deep understanding and love for
each other! And when this love really
gets to work- we often discard our clothing!!
Why do we draw conclusions
when we don't have valid reasons.
We prefer to make a fuss
we don't see what affects us.
I feel betrayed
but the next moment it is contrayed
I wonder if this is it
Will I in this mismatch fit?
You are the most perfect
You've not got any tiny defect.
You're someone I've never seen
but with you in love I've always been.
I try with myself reasoning
Why couldn't I give up in the beginning?
Though it seems beautiful
it might later prove to be a handful.
But for me this beginning is deep
I'm already standing at the mountain steep.
Whatever may be the circumstances,
I'd stand by you in all instances.
This is a promise I make
to my future self that is in the wake.
Would I keep my vow
Only the future can know.
Form:
Among its existing old leaves of the mango tree
Arrived fresh flowers in early February
At dawn everyday
Bare gay soles at walk felt tiny granules
A pleasurable scent greeted them on their way
Soon little mangoes came out
Tiny green shapes stout
Adorning the same old and pale green leaves
Dust laden shabby grief
Nature doesn’t like the mismatch
Even the hatching birds hated
The striking disparity and protested
In their confused call
The ball moved on to rise and fall
One fine morning comes out
Sprouting in a soft green rhythm
In the spirit of communism
A small bouquet of velvet like leaves
Then another bunch and then another
Slow but steady goes on the development
Beautiful symmetry in the canopy
The mangoes are now
In their way from green to greenish yellow
From hard toward mellow
As we all yellow
The leaves are now combination of old and new
Nature dislikes the imbalance and disproportion
Brings up green leaves very fast
Worthy of gazing and learning
Soon the whole tree
Will be evenly green in spree
Of equity
Had our rulers and policy makers
seen and learnt also
The intrinsic principle of aesthetics
To each according to his need
For a balanced growth
Instead of the incurable wounds of poverty
We are loath to accept
And fruitlessly regret
We are mere spectators in the hall
The ball moves on to rise and fall
____________________________________
April 12, 2016
For the Poetry Contest : If You Could Change The World
Sponsored by : Dan Kearley
Nussar " BigKnuckle" Dander, "Godbout" Lovell Moody
and "Oklahoma Cowboy" verses "Chef" Gussal Van Galloure
," The Goofy" Bostonain and Kaultour Jinx
Ended with a inverted figure four submission
When the Jinx caught Lovell Moody in his patented
Hussy Has-been. 45;44.
Ghetto Sushi and "The Best" Jess Correa beat Union Garcia
Amble and Aston Garcia in a Kangaroo four way
When Ghetto Sushi right crossed Amble and scored a pinfall
At 21:35.
"Boogalou" Bisstin Dagger beat " Deepthroat "Bassey Trifledudebvia a small cradle @ 5:45.
Morgus Bradshaw thrashed World Champion Getts Wright
Scoring a pinfall at 2:33.;the match was nontitled
It was Morgus' debut.
Chopp "Puck" Feral and Diffa Von Hessler loss in two falls to
Giant Simba in a two on one mismatch @6:00
"The Bamma" Borga Dandruff battled The Bankday Brawler to a draw in a Garment Buyout Brawl, where the loser had to donate their purse to a local charity, this caused a member of the charity group to enter the ring and attack The Ba.ma who fought ba k and became suspended from completion for 30 days.
I have seen it slowly coming,
and I do not know what to do,
a slow but steady erosion
in the world’s average IQ.
It started back in the nineties,
a slow but steady drip since then,
decline in mental fortitude
amongst our women and men.
I’m not talking partisan stuff,
though this doesn’t help with that crap,
I’m looking at evolution,
which never really takes a nap.
Some jolly heretics speak up,
but most others tend to ignore
that our success undermines us,
and this has happened before.
It happened back in ancient Greece,
and it happened to ancient Rome,
when we wipe out all our hardships,
when our struggles are banished, gone,
we find ourselves in a mismatch,
we find ourselves rather bored,
our minds are made to solve problems,
this is a fact we can’t ignore.
Part of us craves security,
and leads us to suppress the fact
that instinct craves volatility,
without it we go off track.
We even stop having children,
when not faced with hardship and death,
lose that urge for immortality
if we know what’s coming next.
The ultimate contradiction,
that in order to really live
we must feel like the end is near,
and without that, we’re bored as sh-t,
losing the age-old impulse to
keep things going and carry on,
we are evolved for the struggle,
and without it things go wrong.
Harder still is it to realize
that the fact we all now survive
leads to growing mutations that
make it harder for us to thrive.
As late as the 1800s
half of us died when we were young,
a thought that’s sobering to me,
since I know I would’ve been one.
And cruel as it may be to think
all that death may have played a role,
weeded out weakness, mutation,
left those who lived stronger as a whole.
But we’ve always been caring types,
and our science ended this trend,
we stopped all this mortality,
and thought things would get better then.
For many decades that seemed true,
but now the data has reversed,
without Darwin’s remorseless hand
the incentives are now adverse.
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
They're the Little Sisters of the Poor so devoted in their deeds
And suddenly they are at war or at least as Obama Care reads
They wanted to fine them dearly or give up their religious belief
A mismatch all had thought clearly but for a little heavenly relief
Accused of "fighting an invisible dragon", and called "implausible" too
Such wickedness they would usually shun but this attack of evil is new
And there they are so meek in their way their only weapon being prayer
Many are very old and long since grey yet for whom is it not fair
The Little Sisters just won their last battle a shot right to their face
But I still hear the snakes rattle slithering around in such disgrace
With such a dismissive tone as is their attitude towards all liberty
But His Light has just shone and now everyone can clearly see
The Nuns will forever fight having the Lord close to their side
Shining His Light on all that this administration tries so hard to hide
But the Little Sisters of the poor such a precious special group
It took them to say no more, we won't jump through your hoop
Saint Jeanne Jugan we pray for humble hearts.
Circling thoughts true and imagined
comfortably sitting on the irrational
roping fear around feet and arms
without a spark
from lukewarm heart
to burn the stubble of lies
that gives body
to the wolf of inaction
stretching out mouth to a smiling pout
while the heart silently cries
and who will balm or answer its why:
words weren’t sent
tears left unanswered.
Lighter than smoke from a hidden fire
more like fragrance from ingested wine
mismatching the lying of the mouth
rising from a trembling heart
sadness wells up in the vacant eyes
and the tone of voice
that never lies.
First Place: Brian Strand-Any Form-2/8/19
First Place: Bob Carmack-Premiere II Open-2/8/19
What will they do with Grandma?
What will they do with Grandma, now that she is old?
No longer able to fend for herself, by her home-help they've been told
She's always been there for her children but now none of them want to know
Keeping a roof over all of their heads, not all that long ago
She's been the peacemaker for all of her kids, when relationships hit a bad patch
They've all forgotten just how much she did, though their partners she thought a mismatch
She put home-cooked food on their tables when their cupboards all were bare
Helped them to pay their bills, though none of them cared for her
She cooked them all good hearty meals, served them up on their own table
Sometimes she went without food herself, putting them first when she was able
Often she would dread the ringing of the phone
A sound that would usually be welcomed by someone who lived alone
But whenever her phone rang, she would feel very daunted
Wondering who the caller was, and what it was they wanted,
Would it be for money or babysitting duties?
Or maybe her knitting skills, making numerous pairs of booties
Grandma had to live somewhere but refused to go into a home
Frail and unable now to live on her own
Jim was asked to take her in, but he said that he couldn't
He'd always been a selfish man, it was more likely that he wouldn't
Katie said she had no room, but conveniently forgot to mention
That her husband, a bricklayer, had just built a new extension
So it was decided, Grandma would go into a home
The family went around and told her, she could no longer live alone
The greedy lots inheritance in their minds was already spent
But every penny that Grandma had saved, for her keep at the care home it went
Grandma did all sorts for her family, so she couldn’t understand
Why now she's in a care home they never go nearhand,
We now know of Grandma's fate, her story has been told
A lifetime of caring for family, unwanted because she got old
A fiery red dress infused in yellow sunflowers
green meadows vibrant in a rainbow glamour
smiling eyes shine a lattice of unseen colors
in thousand snapshots of paparazzi clamour
enraptured in your spotlight of radiant flame
zooming in and out my eyes close and blink
in your fireplace my heart, a wild child in tame
wistfully unfocused, I rise and float, then sink
your photogenic frame, in a wide open shutter
love races in speed, it's an exposure mismatch
"photography not allowed", flashes in a flutter
picture saved in darkroom of my cactus patch.
16th May 2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Shutter Speed |