Long Month Poems
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Ms. Jealous girl thinks she's better than me
Why should you be mad at me for the things I can do?
I live my own life and do my own things
Why are you so jealous of my life and such?
Ms. Jealous girl wanted to where I go and who I chat to
It is none of your besswax what I do and don't bother to ask.
I am sick and tired of you telling others that you're jealous of me
And sick of you telling my man things that you made up about me.
Ms. Jealous girl stop asking the girls at work if I'm there or not
Because I had it with you and ever since you left, I don't want you coming around
starting trouble with me.
I don't want to speak to you or see you at all and leave me al alone.
Ms. Jealous girl, you're not welcome at my home and see my friends there
Because we all don't want to be your friend.
Lies and Lies and I was sick of it, really from you.
You got mad when I went out drinking with friends from work
You got mad at me when my man and I went out or away for a while
You got mad at me when I wasn't scheduled for work and yelled at me
You got at me for things I can do, even cleaning around the house is one thing
that you never ever did in your carppy life.
Ms Jealous girl, stop calling here at the house, cuz your ex Kevin doesn't want
you back and not allow to step foot in the house
You call crazy hours of the night just to get a hold of him but he also has a life
and you get jealuos at him going bar hopping with his buddies and you got mad
when he goes out with my man.
Ms Jealous girl, if you come to see me at work and start things with me,
All I can say to you is this,
"You have been totally JEALOUS of me for the things I can do and where I go and
leave me alone. No one at the house want to hang with you."
Ms Jealoud girl, you have your own things to do and don't worry what Iam doing
next week, next month, or next year. I have better things to do.
Ms Jealous Girl, let my pals and I do our own things and don't call my place when
I go out.
Ms Jealous Girl, everyone is sick of your lies and you gotta stop that or everyone
around you won't want to be with you.Ms Jealous girl, want to know her name?
Her name is Tiffany and she is known as the
Ms.Jealous girl cuz she is STILL JEALOUS OF ME FOR DUMB REASONS AND
SHE NEEDS TO STOP BEING LIKE THIS TO ME.
Ms Jealous Girl, I have a life and better things to do and screw you!
Form:
Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
It is a beautifully warm and sunny day.
Here in the pleasant spring month of May.
It is the month's very first Saturday.
It is here in this place, I am to marry Elaine's daughter.
The church is full of flowers in each corridor.
The organ plays the melody of Richard Wagner.
What I see next is such a lovely sight.
My Stephanie draped in her gown of white.
She appears as a lovely delight!
Standing alongside of me,
she appears a bit misty,
as the priest begins the ceremony:
Dear family and friends of Michael and Stephanie,
we've gathered to witness these two in matrimony.
Michael, will you take this woman Stephanie to be your wife?
It was quite a long time for me to wait for this day.
However, it has arrived, and here is what I say:
You now stand before me. In your sapphire eyes I see,
a sparkling of unending love between you and me.
The joining of our hands exemplifies unity.
Symbolizing relationship in complacency.
Our universe continues to unfold endlessly.
Each star’s light shines upon us until eternity.
As we both live, they shall guide us on our life’s journey.
May we both come to share in a plentiful harvest.
As He looks down on us, and makes us forever blessed,
May we come to share happiness, until final rest.
Now mutuality is considered coalesced.
Stephanie, will you take this man Michael to be your husband?
I love you because you are special to me
In everything you do
You make me laugh
And touch my heart with your kindness
Your words expressed so lovingly
All I want to do is be near you
I want to feel your arms around me
Holding me close to your heart
Now take me on this journey
As we unite as one
For the rest of our life
To be with you
Is like music
That enters my heart
Soft and gentle in you’re loving ways
You came to me from afar
Showed me how to give love never ending
And receive it back
Completely surrendering
Tonight a thousand stars will look down on us
And Angel’s sing
Of our great love
A kiss from heaven is sent
It enters our hearts
Our souls have touched
Never to part
My love I give to you
As pure as the snow
Take it my love
It’s a gift from the heart
To remember this day
Until death do us part
By the power invested in me
by the Diocese and State's authority,
I proclaim Michael and Stephanie
in the bond of Holy Matrimony.
May you live and grow happily!
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
The original version of this piece is too long for me
to post in its entirety, so it had to be sectioned off. Of
all that I've written, I am most proud of this work due
to its historical accuracy. I hope you enjoy it as well. It
was an honor to write this.
Lying in this shallow ditch I hear as they arrive, the
miracle of God is all that's keeping me alive,
and it is that belief in God to which each day I strive,
surprised at this much faith? Just simply gaze into
my life.
Was born in 1800, month October 2nd day, and knee
high to a hopper when my daddy ran away,
before you climb your soapbox and begin to think
that way, remember these are times when all the
black folk here are slaves.
Imagine being sold like stock, to work when cold or
hot, the overseers beatin people if they're old or not,
do not defy the owner, best believe you will be sick,
of getting 10 to 20 lashes from the master's whip.
My last name wasn't given at my birth and that's a
fact, my given name's Nathaniel but they choose to
call me Nat,
the surname of my owner Samuel is what I claim,
you put it all together yes, Nat Turner is my name.
I think about Old Bridget, that's my grandmother you
know, they snatched her out of Ghana, brought her
here to freezing cold,
she ran the Coromantee who were known for slave
revolts, she watched the seeds get planted in me
grow and take a hold.
I thought myself the lucky one for I could read and
write, it brought me to The Bible and I learned to
read it right,
then spent my childhood years admidst the Spirit up
above, it fit my needy soul just like a mitten or a glove.
I ran away at first when I was only 22, I should've
stayed away because I really wanted to,
but 1 month later, picture this it's me a black man
free, a vision told me that I should go back and that
was key.
The visions I receive I know are messages from
God, Old Bridget had religion shining deep within my
heart,
I will inform the brethren and won't stop until they're
saved, The Prophet is the name that I was called by
fellow slaves.
As 6 years pass of this I know it never is too late, the
hands of the Almighty have me primed for
something great,
I carry heavy shoulders for a man of 28, until I
worked the master's field one faithful day in May........
To Be Continued
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
A new song to celebrate the month of Love. This is for all those who have lost loved ones. Blessings.
Without you
By Michelle Morris
28/02/2024
It's not easy trying to live down here without you
I have all these feelings and memories
Deep emotions that won't let me go
Deep emotions that you already know
Life goes on, even if we're stuck in reverse
Life goes on, no matter how much it hurts
And one of the craziest things we have to accept
Is that the one we miss will never be seen again
In this life... In this life...
In this time... In this time...
No more running... No more running...
No reasons or rhymes... No reasons or rhymes...
Because...
I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
And I... I have to make my own dreams come true
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to live my life, my whole truth
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
I hold on to my dreams, my dreams
You're the best my world has seen, has seen
I know you're real and here with me, with me
Even though you're unseen, unseen
Life will still go on without you
(Without you)
But I don't see how it will be of any use
(Any use to me)
All I want is to hold you in my arms again
(Hold you close)
All I want is our dream to never ever end
(Never-ending dreams with me)
In this life... In this life...
In this time... In this time...
No more running... No more running...
No reasons or rhymes... No reasons or rhymes...
Because...
I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
And I... I have to make my own dreams come true
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to live my life, my whole truth
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
Because...
I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to make it through without you
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
And I... I have to make my own dreams come true
(Without you, without you)
Oh, I... I have to live my life, my whole truth
(Without you, without you)
Without you
(Without you)
© Michelle Morris, 2024
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
GHOST MIRRORS
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
A sudden shimmering, in the beguiling mirror of illusions,
As in the icy eerie chill of this frozen man made pool of
Optical delusions, something within shifted and moved!
Disembodiment's outcasts to incisions resistance, cut at
The bitter edge of the graves stone marker, are these
Silhouette shadow beings, trapped within clarities maze
Of solid crystal!
Black sheets haunted, hidden behind the spiritual mirrors
Of religion, encasement's prison of soulless mists, a vaporous
Cage without iron bars, nor steels reinforcement, these are
The lost or damnation's cursed unto the light of salvation!
What skeletal keys can unlock these dimensional doorway,
And just where is the keyhole to fit, this illusionary anomaly?
At the shutters sudden flash, in ethereal creature slides
Across the screen of realities review mirror, a dark
Hauntings presence that alluding the neck eyes detection!
A dead man’s situation lies exposed, by the elemental
Reflection of lights retraction, hidden beneath the graveyards
Bones of the unsolved murder!
Within the winds of the whistling breeze, hear the unruffled
Cries of fates lost children, crying out for justices guiding
Light to save them, from the disembodied hands of their
Tormentors!
Running children of the ethereal night, whom rage in
Vengeance, against the glass prism of shattered light,
Weeping in devastation's despair, for their loss of life eternal!
At the flashing neon point of no return, the devils forsaken
Sake at the tempered glass of realism, clamoring to be
Recognized for once existing!
Within the four squared frame of reality, dwells the
Infinite pool of the ethereal realm, and in its rippling
Waves, phantom faces are shone in the tormented poises
Of the after life’s jail cell, without the possibility of
Paroles final tender mercy!
Ghostly images captured within the prism of reflected light,
Ethereal waves rippling against reality’s framed surface
Of the translucent, as phantom hands press, slamming at
The fragile glass of dualities deadened zone of existence!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
BEWARE THE MONTH OF HALLOWEEN IS COMING
She frowned at him, still dressed in his skins,
then cast her gaze upon sweet Nell.
“Why do you bring a savage with you?
Long, lost, little brother, do tell?”
Prent knew this would be a hard sell.
“She’s your niece,”he informed,”My little girl.
I came home so she could learn the ways of the world.”
Annabeth laughed, then she glowered at him.
“If only our father could see you now.
Consorting with whores, laying with squaws,
that’s how he figured you would turn out.”
But Prent would let no one talk down.
“I came here to settle, and do right by Nell.
If you don’t want to help me, I’ll do it myself!”
Annabeth sighed, and motioned them inside,
but the scowl never did leave her face.
“Mother, I’m afraid, was laid up by a stroke,
I’ve taken over running this place.
I guess you and your…child can stay.
But I’m telling you now, just so you know,
I’m not associating with folks in such ratty clothes!”
The days that came transformed them both
Into good facsimiles of civilized folk.
Prent wore waist-coats, Nell put on a dress
With a high collar that nearly choked,
So tight it was that poor Nell spoke:
“Daddy, daddy! It huwrts my neck!”
Said Annabeth,”Child, you’ll get used to that.”
Days went by and a tutor was hired,
to try and teach the irrepressible girl.
Annabeth grimly took it on herself
to impart on her manners of the world,
still scowling at her like a churl.
While Prent went to his brother Ike,
to see if the banker had a job he’d like.
But luck was not with him at the bank,
owned sixty years by his family.
He still had no skill for business talk,
or keeping the customers happy.
He found his spirits soon flagging.
Plus, when it came to finding a love,
it seemed he was cursed by Heaven above.
Some would walk with him if he called,
but most ran when they learned of Nell.
One was so shocked he’d married a squaw
that she loudly condemned him to Hell.
In truth, it was all just as well.
A mother, he thought, Nell needed to grow,
but none of these women would make that so.
A month passed, and things grew strained,
Annabeth seemed more and more disturbed.
“She won’t learn her manners, and only talks
about trapping, horses, and pet squirrels!
That’s no kind of talk for a young girl!”
She threw up her hands, and said,”I’m done!
There is no helping that little one.”
CONTINUES IN PART III...