Long Moody Poems
Long Moody Poems. Below are the most popular long Moody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moody poems by poem length and keyword.
WILL-SLAP-ROCK
Perilous mixed up in the industry,
Troubled rumbled "situationship" tainted gentry,
epitomize a couple's open chemistry?
Oh...!!! What a timely tangle
that spangled in a world of Illuminati triangle.
Society's predicament sums up a night of quagmire
even though the story ends up ephemeral.
In betwixt the slap and Rock
was a moment with Chris and his long talk.
In betwixt Will Smith's "Oscar best actor" win,
was a comedy of errors and his open sin;
Global warming was the cheek of Chris Rock,
Oblivious of the disgrace that he couldn't duck
but had to be man enough
to receive that hot stuff,
steaming like a hot stove.
Twas like a Hollywood movie
that makes you shock, jocund or moody,
like when Mom hits you in front of your friends
and you act like it didn't hurt.
And so, "everybody hates Chris"
for cranking-up a bald joke about Jada Smith
but missed the moment Will noticed Jada wasn't having it
and had to slap Chris Rock for it,
just to make up for laughing so hard in a bit.
And just like that in one hour half,
this saga was passed around more than his wife.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©March 28th, 2022.
When the Universe created the Universe and allowed for challenge
It was quite open to change and the preponderance of ageing times
Youth is not a crime and the respect for seniority has to be earned
Oh my Lord let there be earth under heaven it might have intuited
A primordial bang and atoms swished as mute mutations ensued
It had not considered that people were to talk back or quite forward
Like moody teenagers or wayward sycophants refuting the Source
Seven days later the mess was complete and an apple indigested
Abel was disabled and begetting begot generations of philistines
Time is a stretchable concept but conception quick and unpredictable
Dinosaurs passed in the flash of a pang before stones turned to bronze
And into dogma of gold mined for the pockets of inequality and gluttony
Arcs for walking on water and one lousy fish for many wretched souls
A sole and meagre bouillabaisse yet diamond soles on feet in contempt
Dinosaurs came and went stones turned to bronze and with it tools
Of destruction where synthesis and harmony should have prevailed
But that was then and there and today is here and now and counting
We have lost the abacus in computerized algorithms and the plot in the
Process of post modernity and post selfies and trivia on glittering face book
Discarded essence and existential meaning on face value of tale telling times
An icon once had a different meaning as smiling faces are arrested in botox
But not all is lost when social media and mediums hex and bewitch the planet
Opium for the masses finds novel experiences addicted to shallow delight
Ten Year Challenge before and after a self-righteous pride in rigid acclaim
A decade is a miniscule timeline of Self that speck of dust in a galaxy
And thus I cherish my wrinkles the grey in my hair the scars and defeats
Have no need for glossing and photo shop and for the denial of passing
A crooked tooth here or there and a broken crown of vital humanity
And thus I will not diminish my hunger for living in the moment of truth
22nd January 2019
her hair is wild
her smile so mild
but her heart is true
my little moody blue
her style is free
she's happy to let it be
but as long as she needs me
i will be loving my moody blue
moody blue i can't stop loving you
no one could ever replace you
sweet little moody blue
her moods tend sad
seldom seems to be glad
but her tone is sweet
the sun embraces her physique
her voice is smooth
she can dance a fun groove
but as long as she loves me
i will be loving my moody blue
moody blue i can't stop loving you
no one could replace my sweet
sweet little moody blue
moody blue i can't stop loving you
no one could replace my sweet
sweet little moody blue
Each new day, my imperfections are on display,
I'm not perfect, but I'm here to stay,
I get jealous even after telling you that am cool with it,
I preach communication but l go silent when am in pain,
With depression overclouding me,
Loosing several days of memories with this heart that is ten times softer than yours,
I start endless fights with you because am not perfect,
I make mistakes, l make errors, l flop because am not perfect,
I got no smooth lines, no long texts to impress you with because am just not perfect,
I can be territorial, that’s true, even jealous I guess,
Bedtime anger, scars from the past, which some created fears that might never perish,
I will slide in your DM, seeking connection, annoying, and boring you because am not perfect,
I always leave space for the worst, expecting history to repeat itself because am just not flawless,
I will questions once,twice,thrice,even ten times because once is just not enough for an overthinker person like me,
Every tiniest change is big enough to make me feel less of a woman because l just need assurance,
As much as l expect the worst, l expect inner-felt love, instant replies, random texts, long hugs,cuddles,night walks,open love because a little distance makes me worry too much,
I would even be jealous of those who have been there before me, because am just being insecure,
l wanna see your mom, your sister, your friends even your Ex’s because am just too curious to think l fit in,
I cry at every tiniest argument we get into, l overthink, l become moody, l worry too much, l over-express myself, l do too much because am just not a perfect,
I can be irritating sometimes, squeezing myself in your arms, sitting on your laps, sleeping ontop of you because close is never close enough for an imperfect person like me,
Am so flawed, but I'll put in work for you.
Under a dangling theatre of brilliant, gilded leaves
October wraps herself in crisp, burnt orange splendor
then boldly sashays across a flickering pumpkin stage
leaving an aroma of exotic spices in her wake.
October sings a moody song, darkening brooding skies
her charcoal hair, parted by lightning, accents amber eyes
her aura wafts exotic, lingering through autumn season
she entices her admirers to follow her spellbound ways.
Mysterious October comes, quite often uninvited
she settles round a random hearth, telling haunting tales
while wandering ravens perch, scratching at peeling sills
October spins her dark enchantments, then suddenly flies away.
9/26/2021
fast as a blitzen comet,
this dashing prancer
contra dancer
(i.e. Rudolph nary hoof) didst zip
with cupid ditty toward his vixen wife,
who loosed a suppressed yip
asper one discovering remains of the day
from the donner
(newt the majority) party whip
ping her olive drab camouflage attire,
as if she hapt to be a vip
endlessly congratulating herself
(and bow wowing her ego) bing awarded
the housekeeping seal of approval,
and expected me to tip
her gore gee us Martha Stewart déclassé
snoop doggy dog rendition
as she did slip
agilely (with broom and dustpan in hand) rip
peat head lee uttering
an apropos Mary Poppins quip
booting muck can clear across to Compton
(wherever that might be) pip
pin like a cat on a hot tin roof,
where no cure existed to nip
in the bud at this stage,
and rid thine beloved Narberth bride,
who caught a bout clean destine
feverish frenzy to make house beautiful,
oblivious to beseeching despair,
sans this husband who cried
plaintively imploring divine intervention,
lest extreme heroic measures
need be taken, thus guide
me asap before her blistered hands
rubbed red as tender (vittles) raw hide,
which could find her catatonic, doggone
ill eagle lee flying a boot
like a bat out of hell, and stupefied
hence, this urgent message typed out in a huff
for less severe invasive
experimental treatment truly tried
on this, that, or some other missus so and so
.....please pardon this abrupt end,
plus initial idea wide
lee differing from my initial intent won
during how to write an elegy to mister son
describing, how aye felt enervated with run
hills of beaming solar rays, oh how none
synthetic drug to bathe,
enhance, suffuse away mon
day moody blues,
and now...gotta tend tummy hun!
compatible enough to understand
the differences.
compatible enough to make you wonder why.
lovable enough to cause conversation
brilliant enough to say why
woman enough to be loved
moody enough to be evaded
love me enough and I will marry you
trust me enough and you'll understand.
beyond the ways of me absent
woman enough to show me I her man.
" they sat frustrated", their effords to make her not want me had failed: a riff between the two shall unravel them, in their unraveling all that they have gain shall be shared among those who, worked against them. But who's the foolish, and who's the most selfish: that stubborn women, create envy among those who can't understand the trust. And steadfastness and devotion to a woman causes, women to hiss and stick their tougue at others. ...... Edgar Delgrin
5-7-5
Tragedy striking
all the children are dying-
A master prevailed!
4-5-4
Tragedy strikes
Children are dying-
Masters prevail!
7/6/2017
Kobayashi Issa as a child was cared for by his grandmother. Due to the death of his mother. When his grandmother passed he was left lonely and moody. Not too long after his father sent him on is way to make a life of his own. During this time there was a span of 10 yrs of his life that is unknown. From there he wrote a journal titled "Last Days of Issa's Father". He was also misfortuned with the loss of all his children on top of a fire destroying his home all separate occurrences. Issa wrote over 20,000 haiku's in his life and died November 19, 1827.
There’s someone that you want to kill,
but ride it out, avoid the rope?
You’d spare the chair in prisonville?
Then I am here to give you hope!
Number one, you don’t want blood.
Don’t be Wilson, be Joe Starrett.
You’ll never come to any good
the day you spill your victim’s claret.
Blood will give the game away.
They’ll find the pattern on the wall,
connect you to his DNA.
You’ve never heard of Luminol?
And throw away that mobile phone.
The slowest of slow learners?
Read my lipsalve, Al Capone –
nothing’s safe – not even burners!
You ditched the stiff in some dark wood,
so far away, you drove for hours –
the cops can prove the spot you stood,
while pinging off the local towers!
You’re seeking an illicit gun
(in London slang, a ‘moody shooter’).
Want a tip? I’ll give you one –
don’t type it on your home computer!
You won’t believe what suspects ask.
Do ligatures require a knot?
Where can I buy a full-face mask?
How long do bodies take to rot?
The first thing that the cops will do
(believe me – it’s no mystery)
is take your Dell and rummage through
the questions in your history.
It’s mushrooms that you need to use:
they’ll do the job, without a doubt:
put Dapperlings in your ragouts,
Destroying Angels (check them out).
Eat some yourself, but check the dose.
Be plausible. Moan loud, and puke.
It bothers you, to get so gross?
We’re killers, pal – not Daisy Duke!
Leave no fragments in the fern.
You want your partner/mother dead?
Shun that gun, friend: spurn the burn:
deathcaps are the way ahead!
What Llama Lil Saw in Baghdad
In Llama Lil's Cafe eating crackers and Stilton
surveying the street and reading Milton
Sits a strange and moody itinerant
Icon for a well-known roll-on deoderant
Under cover spy for a US president
Devoid of all human sentiment
On assignment he was hand picked
And his code name was Eggs Benedict
Perusing the pages of Paradise Lost
he re-read the phrase "At no human cost"
For his orders were, to him revealed
between the lines of Milton concealed
and I suspect, though I really can't say
the reason for this strange communique
Was due to the results of a wide-world survey
Showing few are caught dead, reading 'poet-ray'
Deep in thought on his plan of attack
He heard a blonde from the table at his back
Summon the waiter with fingers clicked
to order a double Eggs Benedict
Mysteriously, in dark glasses AND reading Milton
She slipped him a note- her number at the Hilton
He felt a strange rumble in his tummy
He remembered how the cheese tasted funny
The last thing on earth our hero has seen
are the spinning walls of Lil's, Argentine theme
The rest of his life flashed past his eyes
Is this the way a hero dies?
Super -spy and icon for a well known deoderant
Killed -from effects of a straying rodent
Missed his liason at the Hilton
Some one mailed his copy of Milton
pages torn and stained with Stilton
(Yes! It was from the Bagdad Hilton!)
To an address inside the cover
T'was to: George W Bush or someone or other