Long Mopes Poems
Long Mopes Poems. Below are the most popular long Mopes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mopes poems by poem length and keyword.
Three boyfriends have I, whom I could marry
Just hit '39' again, so I'd better not tarry
#1's hair is so long and so curly
I don't know anyone cuter
Sleeps all day, and mopes nights away
I call him 'My Active Brooder'
#2 seems polite, a man with some manners
but when he gets mad, ain't nobody ruder
He's into MK-47's, MAGA, the NRA
I call him 'My Active Shooter'
#3's vision's amazing, like Superman's
though frankly, there's nobody lewder
He stares at every skirt that comes his way
I call him 'My Active Denuder'
O, What should I do, I just can't decide
I've got to get married, before I die
Wait - My cat's my best friend, I'll marry him
I'll start a Go-Fund-Me, get 'Jaspar' neutered
21 June 2020 9:33 AM
Love and Kindness are a wonderous couple
When one is increase the other is doubled
Love is a beautiful lady indeed
Caring and giving to all in need
Long golden tresses glowing with hope
A smile filled with cheer that never pouts nor mopes
Her pure silken complexion white as the morning snow
Her stature and steps so sure where she goes
Faithfull to Kindness her companion so dear
In his arms there is nothing for her to fear
Kindness is a gentleman true
Man kind is his business, his care takers due
Eyes that see what can be and not what is
His heart is all wise and knows just what to give
His shoulders are strong and longsuffering as trees
His legs ever enduring and rushing to need
His arms are gental with strength for all
His stature is humble he is never to tall
Together they wander this world hand in hand
Dispersing the hatred and fears of man
we invited her into our home
she settled in and stayed
that’s simply how the two of us
a threesome we became
it was him me and that other woman
still never a dispute or cross word
the plan was to be the three of us for good
but one day suddenly gone he was
never to return he left us to our own devices
me with the other woman all alone
she shared our daily life
privy to intimate deep secrets
she got so close I’m not surprised she mopes
and I catch her on occasion shed a tear
it sure is different now without him
she keeps her distance and I keep mine
she’s off real quiet in her own world
and that’s just fine with me
but I know she misses him as much as I
at times to keep the peace
and break the silence
as loud as loud can be
I’ll call out clear across the room
‘Alexa, good morning…’ and
politely all's forgotten
she tells me to have a great day
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Dreams of treasures and material things
Cause us to heed the loud voice of reason
While true dreams – the ones with gentle wings
Enchant the heart with love for a season
Hope alive with bright hue who sweetly sings
Sighing soft on winds of faith that breeze in
The New Year resolves whisper to my soul
Assuring that my life has a good goal
Some resolutions are based on lost hopes
Visions from within that fill hearts with grace
Mourning follows the assurance who mopes
Warming the secret thoughts with an embrace
Showing ideas on how the heart copes
Making aware of the ways we can face
The New Year with resolutions assured
Sentimental thoughts sought to be endured
Brilliant wishes color hearts with splendor
Vivid emotions murmur with kindness
Vision paves the way for the contender
Passions encourage sweet refinedness
Breathes of light capture all who surrender
Yearning for those who don’t have a blindness
The New Year pledges often bring a peace
Since much past grief we finally release
Isaiah 43:19
King James Version
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert
I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?
Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.
She had many sad stories,
they were filed away, labeled,
color coded;
tales presented as apocryphal bibles.
He would listen as she pulled them out
of her droning breast,
intoned then as if reciting
poetry to an acolyte sponge.
Her stories festered the air
with pitiful sorrows,
scratched yet more stigmata
upon hide-bound woes.
White paper moths would fly up to his eyes
as if to illustrate her narratives;
tissue thin, he would see within them
the many skeletons of her living ghosts,
bones free now of all minerality,
fish-wet and wriggling
in the gel of a long preserved plasma.
He often closed his ears
to make his lips numb. The nasal gnarl
of her broken voice
coated his tongue with sticky commiserations,
a jejune sympathy
that had the texture of mildewed goatskin.
Her words mechanically ticked off
every injustice and persecution
ever heaped upon a martyred mind.
Eventually though, her deep well of mopes
dried to a blubber of sighs.
Then all those emaciated moths
would flutter around her
anointing her echoing skull
with a seeping urine-like substance
she called love.
After 9/11, there was the "War on Terror",
a conflict with a lot of trial and (mostly) error,
and few of us asked during all that commotion
"How can you declare war on an emotion?"
Well, now in America, there is a "War on Laughter".
The POTUS - "His MAGA-sty" - is going after
any and all of those pundit folks
who like to make him the butt of jokes.
(And, sadly for him, he can't call it a hoax
as he sits in his tacky Oval Office and mopes.)
Dozy Don, with the cheesy orange hair,
thinks he has beaten Stephen Colbert
and will try again to get Kimmel banned
but "Against the assault on laughter, nothing can stand." *
He can try to cancel all the critics he wants
in a pathetic display of impuissance,
but his prospects will be nothing but grim
because we will always keep laughing at him.
(* A quote from America's greatest humorist, Mark Twain.)
Eternally Lovely now,
The Bride of my Dream of Gold.
And rolling down grassy slopes,
Whose smiling heart ne’er grew old.
Eternally Helpful, too
The Braid in my burgeoned beard
That round my loquacity ropes
And sees that I’m rightly reared.
Eternally wise and kind,
The Bread of His Life and strength
The Child of the King of Hopes
The Lifeline of endless length.
She rides through the ethers now
E’er calling forth clouds of snow
The crying child, helps, as he copes
Wherever his troubles may go.
And so, I have finished my tale,
Except the Divinest part
The poor fool who grumps and mopes,
She JOLTS by her Heavenly Art!
The milquetoast Henry Limpet looks
through horn-rimmed glasses at the books
and four dull office walls each day.
He dreams someday he'll get away.
The sailor's life to Henry seems
the stuff of grand and noble dreams.
Attempts to join the Navy fail.
He faces facts; his ship won't sail.
Denial of his fondest hopes
confound his mind. He walks and mopes
for many hours--then suddenly
before him lies a deep-blue sea.
He knows about the oceans. How
can this one be before him now?
Confused by this discovery,
he falls into this strange new sea.
He doesn't drown as you might think.
He transforms before you could blink
your eyes, and now the Limpetfish
will have great deeds to accomplish.
The townsfish soon become aware
this new one's special and declare
they've never seen so smart a fish.
To make him Emperor's their wish.
He wears a crown in this new world,
a splendid one that's gemmed and pearled.
When asked to name their kingdom, he
says, "Limpet World the name shall be."
His former life's a memory
dimmed by the grandeur of this sea.
The gaping void has now been filled;
his constant need for meaning, stilled.
199 words
posted 11-26-15
March 25, 2018, entered in Deborah Guenther Beachboard's Fantasy Poetry Contest placed 3rd
September 8, 2019, entered in Caren Krutsinger's Your Choice 333 Words Maximum Contest
Involved with illumination in my imagination
Feeling the urge of sudden frustration and agitation
My spirit, with wit, is legit and yes, I admit
I’m a believer and a giver
But, I’m not your chopped liver
So, don’t butcher me into your oven of diseaseful danger
I’m unlimited with opportunities, so please don’t reduce me to anger
I’m drowning in doubtless hopes
I am coping, hoping I won’t hear your mopes
Loving you isn’t all that easy to the core
I’ll put my input into being free once more
I’m a fighter, levitating with a lighter in hand
Understand I am not going to land in your land
I will evolve eventually
And elegantly, you will rise robustly
Somehow, I’m living in the now
The silence of my past took a bow
Promising you peace in all aspects of life
Giving up and for the thousandth time, I will find my wife eventually as long as I don’t cut myself with life’s jagged knife
We have each other’s backs
I just got to sit back and relax
I am languishing in the literally bewildered mind of mine
Don’t worry about me, how are you? Are you doing fine?
Hold on to me and don’t let me collapse with cold hands
I am the twinge of pain of a flick of rubber bands…
Discard desires from the wicked
I want this loneliness and dread
To leave me the hell alone
Because, God is on my side
My rivers are running so wide
And narrow like trekking the pathway
From night to day, from night to day
I’ll be okay, as long as you are, darling
I want you to take wing with them and see what happiness will bring
I’m calm and getting ready to rest a little more than usual
Don’t mistaken me a nonsensical, dense fool because I’m not fooled, that’s bull
I am digging a grave to ingratitude and hatred
I am resurfacing reminisces, radiating in my head
Evolve with me for an eternity and beyond
I am a fish, flamboyantly flipping my fins in this peculiar pond