Long Misread Poems
Long Misread Poems. Below are the most popular long Misread by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Misread poems by poem length and keyword.
The Monarch Who Thought He Was King
Once there was a butterfly
who fluttered by a gate.
The gate was closed, that’s when he said,
“O shucks, now I’ll be late!”
He danced and pranced and shouted
and did not hesitate,
“I demand,” he said with power,
“please, open up this gate!”
To his surprise before his eyes
the gate did open wide.
“A lovely thing; I am the king!
I’m surely qualified.
I had no choice so with my voice
the command I simplified:
‘Just open up this gate!
I need to get inside.’”
He told to all who’d hear him:
“I am the King,” he said.
While some bowed down and listened;
some would not turn their head.
They huffed and puffed and scoffed away,
“We’re sure that you misread.
To open up a gate is easy;
like falling out of bed!”
His shoulders drooped, his forehead sagged;
his eyes filled up with tears,
“You cannot make me less a king
with your scoffing and your sneers.
I am the king,” he fluffed with pride,
“the ruler of my peers.”
Then off he flew without a thought
of all their laughs and jeers.
He fluttered to a purple bush;
the hue fit for a king.
And there he sat to contemplate
and other kingly things.
“I’ll show them all; the small and tall,
and all the scoffs they bring.
A proclamation for my nation:
we’ll hold a royal fling.”
From low and high, from far and near
they gathered close to see
the monarch make his grand command
and show his identity.
A thousand monarch butterflies
watched with frivolity
with five or six ambassadors
from the queendom of the bees.
And there he came with pomp and pride
the self-made king to share
he was a monarch butterfly
and worthy of their care.
He preened his wings and listened for
the sound of his fanfare,
but all he heard was rustling wind
which threw him in the air.
He crashed and tumbled to the floor;
they could not believe their eyes.
The kingdom they had counted on
was built on fibs and lies.
The king was crumpled to the ground
ashamed in his demise.
He let the rain fall down on him
from clouds in the gray skies.
And then he woke up from his nap
and turned inside his bed.
He saw the flowers of his home
of purple, blue, and red.
Right then and there he promised
and to himself he said,
“I’ll be the best of butterflies,
than to be king instead.”
Character.
That's where the biggest measurements,
truest tests of worth
should lie.
And yet, 'tis not so.
Sometimes, mostly, I believe
that it's indeed enough.
That being a good man
is enough to keep me afloat.
Sometimes, rarely, . . .
I don't.
How many good men die?
How many great people, nice guys,
saintly women, shining paragons of humanity -
are shunned?
People don't always look at you
with virtue in mind,
don't gaze through honor's eyes;
too often they look through you, into you,
to what you can do for them.
Too often they choose,
not to see the real source of light in front of them,
but instead just the glow of fool's gold;
warping your worth to mean usefulness
instead of selflessness,
utility instead of altruism.
Or they misread you entirely;
focusing solely on your looks,
or your wealth, or your mannerisms,
your attitudes;
one is chosen, only one is seen -
the one made to blemish and demean.
Very few gaze on the whole picture,
take in the whole work;
these are those you treasure.
The ones, also, of value,
the ones who are what they claim
and claim little more than living
in a respectable way.
But still, in this life,
character matters oft too little;
gathers all but nothing corporeal.
In the end, one must make a choice;
tangible wealth, or wealth of pride?
What matters to one more -
the character of the substance,
or the substance of the character?
I strive to continue
to believe that great people are there;
that who you are
makes a damn bit of difference.
But throughout that strife,
ever am I haunted, shadowed,
by one ceaseless question.
How many good men die?
That's it. That's what I want to know.
That's what follows and taunts me.
How many of them fall, without ever knowing
just what they've meant to those they've helped -
those they've served, protected, assisted, befriended?
Whether it was a much-needed pat on the back,
picking up a dropped cane, searching for something lost;
or something bigger -
a life given, an oath fulfilled,
a love or a friendship began and striven for -
how many never believe they've made a difference, however slight,
never realize what they truly were?
How many good men die,
having once or more asked a question of their own -
am I a good man,
was I a good man-
without their answer?
A HOUSE DIVIDED
What right do you have to tell someone
Else how to use their bodies like they should
You don’t run their life and they not yours
How they meet their mistakes
Is their own decision, to do as they should
Just because you hold up a book
Written so long ago you believe
the words of ancient hate…
you still have not the right
to tell me how to think
How out to date, out of context,
used without understanding
A text you can’t comprehend
only misread, misrepresented
A book you claim appoints you to say
This is what you should do
and this what you should believe
A false narrative in the ugliest
of thoughts, deeds
How misguided, how blind,
now corrupt and so naive
This is not that, not all the words
were meant to be used as you see
If you are not meant say, then don’t,
it will set you free,
It is your hypocrisy, your disease
To love and to be love,
as that is the New Covenant
Not the blasphemy of this
the current government
What gives you
the right to tell someone
Else what to do
Yes, life is precious
Life is glorious
A Secret, none are
born Holy N Perfected
But this is the
real world, the world
Of life in flesh and blood
not archaic stories
Or bullet points to approve
a false Armageddon
This is the real world,
keep your high thoughts to yourself
Let a man or woman,
be a person who decides what they should be
All by themself, if they are ready
to reap the rewards or oblivion
Let them decide with love and caring
from those around them
To make the correct decision
Do not judge
Or yet ye be judged
Mistakes are made
We’re all human
We know it is up to that person to define
What they need to do
Or which way to go
If you want to do the thing that is right
Support them with all your might
They may be inspired
by what you feel is correct
Done in their best interest
to give them
All there is. ...is respect
What right do you have
to tell someone
Else how to use their
bodies like they should
You don’t run their life
they not yours
How they meet their mistakes
Is their own decision,
to do as they should
Only they alone will stand in judgment…
Someday!
Why this?Because it just feels right!We had the fakest lying hearts;ever in sight!
This isnt my idea of love,or what I thought would be?Wondering why it feels like this?
Between you and me?Ive questioned if I love you?I doubt I ever did!No more games, fights
or battling like we’re little kids!We’re so unhealthy?Going at it like we do?Always in
competition?But only with you!You have to be right!Its always been that way?Im Ready to
leave,But not with arguing!I try not to speak,or even battle you?You make it so hard,With
the things you do?I try to ignore you?You never let it be?Where did your heart go?And words
you use to speak?Ive missed that about you? Why did it go away?True smiles?Because we
made each other that way?Theres so much distance?Its almost sad?We knew from the
beginning,it wasnt going to last.Everyday is misery?Each day seems the same?Why couldnt I
make you happy?With who Ive always been?Hearing your nasty words,What did you say
again?I feel like I hate you?and cant wait to leave this sin!Why do I get so angry?These
feelings I cannot mend.I think its time!We go our separate ways!And bring this to an end!
This is for both of us!To see our future days,With joy and happiness,We’ll soon see again?
These days are getting longer!But only making us stronger.Do you see the future yet?I
surely do!Only growing fonder.Im not quite finished yet?I have to make this clear!Dont
misread my thoughts?And conversation Im having here?I want to remind you of the guilt
indeed!Never appreciating, the time you had with me!You tell me that you love me,I must be
blind to see?My Life with you is over!My heart stopped the bleed!You said again you Love Me?
Sorry!Im Not feeling you!Remember the night making choices you chose to do?That was the
day you forced feelings I ever had away!There’s nothing left to talk about, nothing left to say.
Love wouldn’t allow getting in bed with her that day!Your actions spoke louder than words!
Nothing but despite!You wanted to know what I feel for you?Well here you go!Im excited to
be single!And cant wait to mingle!When Im around you?It’s hard to look in your face!
All I see is a cheater!And that! Can Never be erased!Game over now!Dead memories of my
Wrong bread for Fred
here I am sick in bed
got the chills and aches in my head
called the pharmacy and spoke with Ned
was told of a remedy of oatmeal bread
thought that was new so I tried it instead
smeared some butter and jelly was spread
laid down with a book that I hadn’t read
Did not like the novel , the cover mislead.
still feeling the blahs I was getting worse
hoped that I make it without calling a hearse.
got the bible out and looked for a verse
thought it might help to relieve this curse.
I called back to the pharmacy asking for Ned
was told he didn’t work here, it’s a bakery instead
I had dialed the wrong number to get the med
they thought I was ill from not being fed.
that’s why they told me to get some bread
I went to the bakery and told them I was Fred
Ned was there and told me he had misread
‘ ginger bread would have been better instead”
bought some gingerbread and some whipped cream
thought this was unusual and kind of extreme
perhaps a remedy, am hoping not a scheme
I’m sick enough to just wash downstream.
the gingerbread went into the oven to bake
ate most if it but then my stomach began to ache
felt dizzy enough but not like floating in a lake
what could be wrong with me, it was only a cake.
was admitted to the hospital, had an abdominal scan
they asked me if I had eaten cereal with bran
told them I made a cake in a non stick pan
added some prunes that I had in a can.
was put in bed dressed with just a flimsy gown
wasn’t enough material to go all the way around
where’s the rest of the sleeper I asked with a frown
‘there is none, you’ll be spotted in case you skip into town”
I need to find a way to slip out the door
where’s my bag with clothes that I wore
the bed has an alarm sensor if you try to soar
using a bedpan will be quite the chore.
wrapped myself up in sheets, hiding my buns
ran down the back stairway before morning comes
Security frantically searching and yelling to everyone
“gingerbread man is on the loose with the runs”!
2024.4.25. Thursday
It was ANZAC day, a public holiday.
It was our 2nd trip, we visited SR.
Misjudged the weather, cloudy and windy,
Crossed the bridge twice
Misread the bus time table,
Ended up wasting lot of time,
Sitting at the bus stop waiting.
The weather was drilled, the sky was grey,
The wind was brushing on our faces,
It was cool than expected.
On the way back to Melbourne,
You expressed your disappointment.
Our V-Line coach moved slowly,
Tagging along some transporting vehicles,
Which carried lot of cattles.
All of a sudden, you became so silent,
No more curiousity questions.
I observed and saw uou pulled your face long,
I asked "What was wrong?".
You said you always have special place in your heart,
For these unfortune animals.
You starred your eyes as turned your head to one side,
I looked out the window and actual saw the cows,
Gazed at us with their sorrow eyes.
The next day, I messaged you
I was so sorry the trip had some unpleasant situation.
You replied that you were hurt,
Not only your toes but also in your heart.
I simply shook my head and stated.
"Sorry B, could not help you, mate"
It was our second trip,
It also turned out to be our second last trip.
I still could not believe it.
It has been exactly one year,
Since we did it.
How could you be so cold blooded,
Able to end our friendship
And wipe off all the memories.
I wished I could forget everything including you.
There shall be this day,
When I do not even remember who you are.
Today, after 366 days, the memories
Of the entire trip flashed back to my heart
To warm me. once BB and I
Had have a good time travelled together.
I am now on my way travel to Bright,
Where I should be brightened up
With the colourful bright autumn leaves,
Rustling of the leaves on the maples trees
Which line up nicely along the streets of this city.
I have come here at least three times
This shall be the fourth and the last
Without my friend BB and any of them.
Orwellian over the horizon
Don’t be unnumbered fish in the sea
From a parent to son’s
Big brother’s hole blows nineteen degrees
Eight to star port yah see Liberty is free no back sass
Or yah may be swinging from the mainstay
What do yah see mate
Capt. think it’s an ism but it’s dead
Harpoon it anyway we’ll tell them we saved the day
Your double think is misread
Bloated and stinking in the water I think for the best
From the crows nest you get a better view
As the crow flies put peace back in peace
The truth sets you free it does not hurt
What you don’t know could hurt
Your ignorance is not always bliss oh well
Wake up as they say war is hell
Freely you receive life freely give
Before I kick the bucket, I plan on
riding this vehicle called life
until the wheels fall off. I want to
touch The Wailing Wall.
If I could, I would carve my name
on Stonehenge and write "I was here"
underneath it. I plan to visit it
in my lifetime!
I plan on floating on The Dead Sea.
I plan to continue seeking happiness
without it, my life would be bleak
empty and meaningless.
I plan to continue appreciating
the abundance of riches
that life offers me, to continue
loving God, my savior
.
I'll keep dreaming lofty dreams,
with both eyes wide open,
I'll keep doing what brings me
joy and satisfaction.
I'll keep my passion for poetry
white-hot! You best believe I'll publish em'!
I'll continue taking risks and chances,
as scary as the what-ifs are.
And most importantly, I plan to
continue living a life of purpose;
choosing love over hate and loving...
all who love me in return
.
I've got plenty
of life to live
before...
I kick the bucket!
Date: 11/14/2020
*oops, misread Chantelle's contest, which is a bummer. oh well, lol*
My heart races as time runs by too quick to notice standing still is I,
warmed by the days burden full from the nights closing curtain,
pen to paper my thoughts take over scribbles lines phrases on the paper they cover,
flashes of a time of a place far away searching for lines that still hide from the day,
inside roams a child within outside a cast of some one he calls a friend,
miss spelled thoughts for thats how I see it in my head,jumbled words always misread,
a laugh from he who is within a laugh for today he knows it was a sin,
the heart scared from a lesson learned long ago in many words it shows,
yet the bitter taste in my mouth isn't remorse suppressed anger are a pity party of doubt,
its the mornings coffee, the rest I let it all go years before now I just write to set it
free,
for it's not what I'm going through but how I made it through,
look at the faces that fill the streets inside of them are poems words phrases they keep,
some times you can't make on your own and they don't know we don't have to go it alone
stop...look around you...your not alone...let it go...your not the only one
smile and some one will smile back at you lend a hand know now where you stand,
the past is there to show how we aged the present is before us lets turn the page,
we all lived life's we never chose but how we are now is our choice this we must know,
get over it move on stop ...theres so much time to change... your life this moment is for not,
you are...two words easy enough to say ...the words that come after... are for you to
display,
I am some one, I am..., how would you finish it?what words fit?I am...
this is just a moment in our lives a moment to remember are forget moments in our eyes,
this write is just that words I wanted to say lines I wanted to display,
not looking for nothing in return I just wanted to write and now this page I will turn.
I.
Rain beats down on the smoky beach,
all paths the gull flies, and in his
resistance.
A thousand white shells in the mist
are seasoned with stinging pepper.
You reconsider
signs, velocities of strummed winds;
of which sand dunes, waves bound, would have
you become king,
had you not surrendered to ask?
The speakers know about this thing.
Through the windshield bodes a dark church.
Men have come in suits not to search.
II.
1st is 3rd street; 4th is Main street.
We sit like naked apes
and call upon our fake names
in a nameless world where we meet.
Slightly wave to the guard
at the gate, lush gardens and palms,
carried in songs,
any road has glass shards.
Shiny ravens squawking hard,
the flat morning. Traffic eye.
III.
Conspiratorial circles
over bland coffee, cigarettes, dull
wits, and a drunkard's revolution.
Sparrows hop, pick crumbs of muffins.
A clock faces a mirror's lull.
Presidential debate
on TV is like something to mull.
They say there is a solution,
sort of a truth-be-told.
And when I notice her, I misread her,
absent of me, what does war matter?
What do I care about human bombs?
Sand camouflage, countries' elephants,
Abraham and Cain and Able?
But I turn my head, shoot more bull.
Top the hill, at the broken tombs,
as kids we had no resistance.
IV.
Insufficient data coming
through, through the speakers a call,
Father is Son, Son is Father.
Turn around to watch free seagulls
in the mist above; they are becoming,
three of us on one sheet cumming.
Turn around, one bombed another.
And the whimsical cat meows.
I no longer read the papers now.
The news crowds like the Japanese
in Tokyo, when they sing Karaoke
and buy the latest game for Wii.
But you, my brother, send messages
about what you have heard, done, and seen.
Then life is as gentle as can be.