Long Molehill Poems
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The whole world is in panic
The whole world is in fear!
They don’t know what the truth is
But they are zapped with what they hear
A virus has attacked us!
It is going to wipe out the world!
It is going to kill us all…
Through the media, we are told
Is it a danger, is it real?
Or is this just a myth?
As long as we live in fear
We will never realize the truth
Of course, it has killed thousands
And it’s mainly the old
The young will mostly get away,
With a fever, cough and cold
The Coronavirus is a champion
It seems to have a tactic
Though many it appears to infect
But for some, it is asymptomatic
Therefore, we don’t know the numbers
Who are actually killed by the virus
There are many with heart and lung disease
Are they dying because of this?
The whole world is in panic
They think of COVID they will die
They have locked themselves in their houses
Unable to enjoy the sky
Of course, we must take precautions
And stay away from one with a cough
But to shut down the entire world
That is way off!
Fear is the cause of this panic
It is making a mountain of a molehill
Far more than the Coronavirus
It is Fear that will kill
F E A R is False Expectations Appearing Real
The mind creates this thought
But once paralyzed by this panic
In anxiety we are caught
Why are we scared, why do we fear?
Why are humans given this gift?
God gave us this instinct for a reason
From real dangers, so we can drift
There are many types of fears
Some even fear a loud sound
Some fear to go up in the sky
Some fear a lizard on the ground!
Fear often grows into a phobia
An irrational fear of something
Dentophobia is a fear of the dentist
And claustrophobia, a crowd of anything
Some have zoophobia – fear of animals,
Some arachnophobia – fear of spiders
With aerophobia, there is fear of flying
And cyberphobia - fear of computers
Finally, the question that matters most
Is fear actually real?
Fear is not a danger, fear doesn’t kill
It’s just an Expectation that Appears Real
But when fear attacks us
And fills our body and mind
The rascal makes us suffer
And makes our life a grind
Fear is not a danger
There is a difference in these two
A danger can attack us
But fear just makes us feel blue
I can only imagine how n'ice e-z floe...
Tubby in the calving throes
breaking free and clear
shepherding, milking, and honing
rambunctious as bovine bris
versus being stymied courtesy
cow - wordly bull aiming writer's block
for drought of creativity.
Asper this instance,
when a dearth of ideas
like a charred bait oven
finds me (a Brahms man) looking Bach
at drawing board and/or the clock
as if inspiration
can be found teasing out
whimsical child like spontaneity
recalling hickory dickory dock
rather than exacerbate
mental paralysis, akin
to an invisible vice grip,
which tension eventually
far worse than bill
lee esse ness, which former
grips with irony my chin,
I try release -
singsong restraint and chill,
ready to whip out power drill
not surprised finding sawdust,
viz of course after numbing skull
sticking head in deep freeze
or mounting temple
on dry ice, without
receiving nary a cavil
lack of creative noggin fill
intense concentration
invariably heats up "thinker"
as if being scalded,
skewered, sussed out
on a barbecue grill,
(which fixed attention),
never ever engenders
positive flow of ideas,
but absolutely ideal
for reducing a molehill
from a mountain dew,
nevertheless within ma mind,
before long prolonged
cessation to brainstorm induces ill
humor succumbing into
torturous mental state
(fall of the cider
house rules usher),
non poe whet
tick dark age,
whar ah felt jill
ted loom min hated
with panic ready to kill...
mice elf (cue Stuart Little),
cuz dem lil
cerebral cogs and wheels
malfunction for more'n a mill
yen times prompting
to scout graveyards
for fresh corpse, and lovely bones
if results rendered nill
jet over to Doctor Frankenstein,
even if aye gotta
hightail to Trans sill
vein ya, unless....
perhaps ye kind reader twill
donate yar viable gray matter tummy
(right after ya die) denny ya will
almost be him morte till!
Our burdens are lifted—it’s spring break, after all.
Though ocean breezes, surf sounds, the smell of sunblock,
fresh tans and bottomless margaritas at the beach can be healing,
we decided to vacation on campus and find joy in small, everyday things.
Yesterday, we went to the farmer’s market, where one coffee vendor was making real cappuccinos and another was baking fresh breakfast pizzas. The combination reminded me of the 'Antico Forno Roscioli' cafe, near Campo de' Fiori, in Rome.
Then we hit the gym pool, climbed a rock wall (slowly) and played racquetball (rather poorly). We tried a dance & fitness class too—I thought I was in shape but ugg, it was hard to keep up. Peter (my 27-year-old bf) practically collapsed, but maybe he was angling for mouth-2-mouth.
Straight brag: Peter and I are getting new laptops today—MacBook Air M4s—mine’s baby blue, his is silver. So today seems like Christmas.
I don’t know if you people have computers, or use the Internet, but if you do, you’ll get it. I don’t know exactly when it’ll arrive, of course, so I’m pacing our suite.
I’ve always loved tech. My brother started teaching me about computers when I was 10—you know—hard drives, logic boards, power supplies, all of it. I remember it taking about two days to set one up and move all of the data. Today all I’ll have to do is set the new computer next to the old one and click migrate.
You gotta doff your hat to the tech wizards that came up with that, but the hours spent doing it the old way were fun.
“Something’s lost yet something's gained” - I think Joni Mitchell sang that.
.
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Songs for this:
Am I the Same Girl? by Swing Out Sister
Mountain or a Molehill by Kris Berry
Why worry...?
Within the same breath
yukon catastrophize and
make mountain range
out of molehill mental material
impossible to scale
even with best Sherpa as guide.
Take advice from expert
what if...worse case scenario
time and again no fiasco
never makes cerebral showdown
most horrendous debacle
defies savviest soothsayer
subsequent anticipatory anxiety
exhausted body electric for naught.
Courtesy minecrafted psychosomatic zone
access information superhighway
exit ramp marked "Road closed"
inadequate infrastructure funds
against insurance policy
take life in hands
blithely ignore danger warning
emulate crash test dummy
ram thru barricade
torpedo comfort zone
gallantly ford cliff
behold avast airborne aerial view
traverse iter itineris
partake breathtaking view
quickly descend along skyline drive.
Downplay fear of dying
finally impossible mission
to dodge lifelong unlucky brakes
reassurance courtesy circling hawks
future ingestion feather bedded
good luck bon voyage
bid lugubriousness adieu
farewell to arms, legs, torso...
disc hover onset blissfulness
quickly accelerating toward dead end
automatically yields right of way
into...netherland analogous
to Dutch wonderland
monorail singular underground
freedom locomotive track,
otherwise traffic nonexistent
into eternal nesty plunge
steeping, kneading, enmeshing
fountainhead shrugging off atlast,
where well mapped
neurosis/ psychosis
dost no longer dwell.
A life of wealth and poverty have I lived,
When it would rain, it would pour
Heartily onto my canvas of white,
Smothering colors onto my palette.
Like an epiphany, I had a dream!
That I am not all that I see,
Behind the facade of empty fulfilling smiles,
I was but a racoon who'd lost his mean,
Where nowhere I would wish to be.
There were days with worries fused,
And some days I had a heart of cold,
Where I'd make a mountain out of a molehill,
But many were days when I used to be bold,
I'd felt like I could conquer all,
But in deceit was all that trot,
A lie to my ember being,
For worries they make you cause;
A loss of time, a loss of time indeed.
A baffling childhood I honestly had..
Happily married to unhappy parents,
But that wouldn't have made me sad,
For it was a trial to pass my own past,
For an old dog could not be taught new tricks,
Once learned you can never unlearn, was such a thing;
To my parents both young and old,
Fruitful words they'd never speak,
Hate and complain were they're own thing.
So I've come to learn my own way,
That memories warm or cold,
Life is but hastily short,
And this dream is but long.
Always will there come a 'morrow,
Perhaps joy you could borrow?
From people apart from your tribe,
For Loneliness is not a thing to shy,
It is but true, not a lie, so be honest.
18/11/20
Juxtaposition Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
I made a wish upon a star and really got burned
I made a wish upon a star and left Madonna breathless
I hitched my wagon to a star but forgot my spacesuit
The stars in my eyes turned out to be black holes
I couldn’t rise to the occasion so I took some Viagra
Did Harvey Wall Banger? Nope, Willy-Nilly slapped him silly
I once had sex on a golf course but wasn’t up to par and got penalized three strokes
A sex therapist counseled a maggot couple to make love in Earnest
I decided to take a brisk walk but there was this plank…
I WALKED that plank but they drained the pool so I cracked up
I walked the line and it was a very thin line (A very fine line though)
I walked the straight and narrow and had to stop for directions
I made a molehill out of a mountain and the EPA was NOT amused
I made another molehill out of a mountain and the CLIMBERS were not amused
I made ANOTHER mole hill out of a mountain but some mole dug up some dirt on me
I was shamed when the scandal was published in The Holey-Moley Enquirer
So I dug up some dirt on THEM and completely ruined my manicure…
If life is a rat race, God needs to set out some traps
Life was a bowl of cherries til I cracked my tooth on a pit
Speaking of pits, I escaped The Pit and the Pendulum but (Oh, rats)
Speaking of rodents, three-blind-mice ran into a herd of stampeding lemmings and quickly took the plunge…
"
" 7g mic"
Brown dirt on my head now
Soul done left this earth now
I guess I'm blessed and I don't deserve to be walking around its just a circus here
Well I keep my focus here.
I hope I get to speak with her
Maybe I will see her, maybe I will never see her its all the same to me.
I could never believe in more than what I lived in
I got treasure that's buried in heaven.
Where my heart is that's where my treasure is
God please make me a better man
I'm pouring out my soul and I'm trying to do better man every time I think about the letter
Man. that they 'll be sending me if I don't make it to
Hill County for the child support court.
They will find me,they will put my ass in jail just to remind me
They got the power Satan is behind them
They say we are under God but I can't find him and the legislature and the senators
All they do is try do is be my mentor.
And the president he's nothing but and excuse to Mr
Yeah he's black but he never used to be
When he was a kid he played with the white kids grew up
And thought he was still white still why do you think I'm white still
Why do you think I still fight still even when this Life is right still
And I'm waking up and walking on water, believing in more than just my daughter
Turning another mountain into a molehill
The face in the mirror
Looks back at me
It’s not a face
I’m happy to see
It’s withered and aged
Like a wrinkled old prune
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon
My bones they do creak
Like an old rocking chair
My aches and my pains
Throw me into despair
They can burn my old carcass
That'll give others more room
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon
My eyes don’t see clearly
Just a shadowy haze
My precious equipment down under
Has seen better days
I’m a sad lonely soul
And a deaf old buffoon
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon
My ticker ain’t ticking
The way tickers should
Doc says the plaque in my heart
Is restricting the blood
It’s a sick ticking time bomb
Oh dear I’m full of doom
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon
My plumbing below
Sounds like an orchestral disaster
And to get to the washroom
I now need to run faster
Maybe put me down quickly
Then some will be over the moon
My expiry date’s past
God, please let me die soon
I wheeze all day long
My chest feels aflame
The doc in his wisdom
Says the smokings to blame
I could not climb a molehill
And I look like a balloon
My expiry date’s past
God, PLEASE let me die soon
Listen now
Your heart speaks
Soft whispers
Listen here
Your heart knows
Calm hints
A silence fills
Laughter and tears
Punctuate movement
A silence flows
Notice the gap
In between noise
The mind chatters
Unceasingly
Noise feels empty
The mind splinters
Mountain from molehill
Noise feeds ego
The soul sings
Music and magic
Rapture thrills
The soul plays
Wind through bamboo
Sighs in birdsong
The world twirls
Swirl of seasons
Devoid of reasons
The world seeks
Praise and plenty
Secure in empty
Time and space pun
Humour greets wit
Steer awkward fit
Time and space dance
Sorrow meets cheer
Sync with tact
Joy ever fades
Nothing much remains
Dust gathers
Joy even tempts
Offers nothing new
Dinosaur bones
Charm feeds
Empty charade
No escapade
Charm leaks
Messy tirade
Lament in loss
Words come
Echoes fling
Not much done
Words leave
Takeaway noise
Not much gain
Write in rhymes
Sign a song
Mind the glitch
Write in lines
Reason a poise
Mind the route
End game pulse
Matching
Point for point
End game tense
Cleaning up
Awkward feel
Leon Enriquez
25 Mar 2014
Singapore
It could be worse
my problems are hardly there
she has it worse
her parents are divorced
and no one will talk to her
he is slowly losing his hair
thinner by the day
maybe he will live through the month to
his eighth birthday
My depression is nothing
tantamount to the mountain out of
a molehill
in a society defined out of mountains
obstacles to climb
competing for attention
no one cares about anyone
else’s problems.
Apathy is slowly and surely replacing
our empathy
and yet no one sees that people’s problems
are more than farcical
attempts to draw attention
that between the bad and the worse
some people still have it rough
that even if you personally aren’t suffering enough
you still hurt
Blowing off our hurt in exchange for our pride
doing the same to everyone else
‘cause if they can’t see us
then we surely don’t
want to see them
empathy given that isn’t returned
is something for the price of nothing that
maybe could make
the world a better place
a better person
Exchange our apathy for some empathy
start to heal ourselves
for maybe we only need someone to see
that maybe we aren’t so bad