Long Nervy Poems
Long Nervy Poems. Below are the most popular long Nervy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nervy poems by poem length and keyword.
Looking inside yourself is no east task
things found there aren't too nice
but you can't ignore for ever
ignorance will eventually charge a price
One so alone so often
even in crowds an only one
but have accepted this years ago
so don't feel a need to run
Within me are two people
one accepted and fluent in tongue
the other stammers nervy and uptight
unable to be otherwise but be stung
In the midst of this is divine knowledge
of having received and found God's love
loved for eternity for no good reason
than God's chosen me from above
But still life's hard to walk
many a bump still along the way
nothing can be done about that
for only God can end it one day
AUTHOR NOTES: I was just setting myself the challenge to look into myself
and then look even deeper and tell what I do believe what's really down deep
inside.
Watching the marching ants, while I wondering their monotonous strife,
A weary one left the line, away he walked to a lonesome land.
Hands on head with faltering gait, dearth of joy he wandered a bit.
There he lied low to the ground, kissing mother earth like a depressed ant.
Is he an osculator, mourning on his vacant love?
Or he an emulous one, cudgeled by a better brain?
A miffed rummager of copious grain, or he repenting on a horrible crime?
I pondered on his dreadful distress, longing for the profound stillness.
Watching the painful life astir my humanity, finer ways I posit to end his endless tomorrows,
From a creative mind, unknown to the quizzical ant,
First I gifted a bubble of water, for him to drown in style.
But he moved in insolent silence, may be knows the art of swimming!
Then I helped him to the edge of the land, for a profane jump to the bottomless deep.
A coward, fearing height he retreat, back to the land panting nervy.
Later I offered bane of death, but he sniffed and moved away.
Then a knot for him to hang, eyeing it he jumped through it.
While my drained splendid mind, puzzled by his mocking insolence,
Sneering at my humanity, picking a hill on his shoulder,
He walked back to the line of labour, leaving me - the foolish human.
Life is dancing in the background, on the stage of silent death.
Date of Entry : 26/07/2020
Contest : Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsor : craig cornish
Dedicated to Kyle, my son ... my smile
I recall many unique meals of special appeal
but one dinner replays on a fav memory reel
that I shall never forfeit or agree to forget.
This meal was years ago yet still remains clear.
I will not err as I share about this meal so dear:
1. One box of complete HELPER contents
2. Two six-ounce cans of tuna that to item one are lent
3. One can of lima beans as chosen by ingredient number four
4. One eight-year-old son excited for cooking fun
Once ingredients were gathered and patience near battered
from repeatedly explaining all preparations while choking
frustrations at ingredient four's refusal to voice them over
and over for maternal perusal, it was time to pretend with
a bent peace of mind that cooking could begin. I know,
because this is when four said with nervy ease, 'Out the
door until I'm ready to serve. Please.'
While waiting, cardiacs were avoided so dinner wasn't aborted
before four, smiling grand, served the tray held in his hands.
All dismay was forced to abate while viewing the plate.
Four's enthusiasm should not be parent zapped
just because he served unknown brown and red crap.
A smile was forced as he explained that he spiced it up
by adding his own creatively thought up stuff,
Chocolate Sheen Beans and Cinnamon Bazooka Tuna.
... CayCay
July 31, 2019
LOVELINESS
Lovely smile glisten on your face , cheerful, frolic.
Overwhelming deep dimple sinks in left cheek.
Valentine of my Heart, I would like to kiss.
Engrossed in your charm : You are my best bliss.
Looking into your dreamy eyes I sense your love.
Ineffaceable passion, I dedicate to you and keep reserved.
Nervy nature of yours is your unique personality
Enchanting ecstatic elegance is supreme quality.
Sweet Heart, you possess the sweetest heart.
Sacred sublime soul ! I won’t leave you apart.
02/16/16
Loveliness-Acrostic Contest fifth place
Sponsor John Hamilton
Re-edited on 11/03/22
2022 Poetry Contest Marathon Mile 19
Contest by Mark Toney
Jingle jangle went her wrists,
jangle jingle rang the rings that swung from bell-roped ears.
Unless she shook like a tambourine, she could hardly be seen.
When in motion Bodhrán drums and pursed wind-blown pipes
marched upright, legs as stiff as Irish dancers.
Maybe fairies danced in her eyes, or maybe drunken dodgem cars?
Something was turning and bumping,
something was walking and talking, jangling, and jingling
upon a nervy trampoline of being.
Though fascinatingly thrumming with the sonics
of a madcap Calle band she failed to transmit, nor fit,
as if she had shaken free of the crowd to be this
jiggling skeleton key seeking any keyhole of attention.
Oh to the whoa, Honey, today I saw a trio of funny!
Walking the street, my blink did many times repeat,
mercy be, I did see three furry cats wearing hats.
One cat was quite curvy, two chunky, but sturdy.
Curvy was all a-curtsy in a flat, wacked, black hat
that on top popped a nervy, floppy drunk skunk.
I don't think nervy knew or gave skunk any thunk.
One of the chunky cats was pure funky to look at
for his hat seemed to have been picked at
like a muskrat laid splayed on a slat from train splat.
The third in the herd on that quirky street journey
was quite the brat-cat, a tweet putting on a show.
On this cat’s head sat, to my dread, a wee placemat
that was threaded in a somewhat hazmat format.
So, my honey-bunny, not for love or for money
could I scat catalog three felines in asinine hats,
but I worked at chit-chat with the quirky cats
and was agog to learn through our dialogue
that their names were Dog, Frog and Hog!
Now, let's go eat fishes to stretch our britches.
We bear bunnies must avoid tight pant glitches..
Daring to Walk Around the House Shirtless
I am a daring woman, a wanton woman, a top heavy woman.
My 44 Double D’s are pressing down hard on my chest today.
I decide to free them, to let them loose, to give them some air.
Which is nervy because even if you are an old lady, and I am….
If you have a husband like mine
Who is still seventeen
And still thinks of me as sixteen,
you know he is going to run up and play with your boobs.
My back stops him in mid grab.
What is on your back?
Apparently thirteen wood ticks.
He is completely grossed out and says he will take off six of them.
Thirteen is too many.
I am pretty sure he got all their blood-filled ugly rounded brown bodies.
The heads are still in my skin though, I bet.
Those heads are keeping him away from the booby grab.
I guess those stupid ticks bites are good for something.
HEY!
Never mind….
Ex pat Pom loving aplomb & many a flickering F bomb of the OG.. GC at the G
No spin larking bickering barking larrikins clearly hear the din of fans chagrin
The culprits the ex players pundits in their pampered and champered pulpits
I want baggie green spleen to be vent outside the oh so privileged pro tent
Your spectacular curvy vernacular is the quip fillip in times so topsy turvy
Cricket’s pervy badgers nervy starved of nuanced narratives..like Test scurvy
The game increasingly nihilistic your ballistic bants & rants..holistic chants
Sycophantic semantic antic relishing & cherishing your loquacity, audacity..
Bodacity & sagacity…got them by the gizzards with your verbal blizzards..
Rapacity of skits & gambits..tenacity of wits...our own proverbial Oz Wizards..
Coz boys your ploys are the everyman not fancy dan talisman of fan elan….
Joy envoys of odd bod sod the cricketing Gods run roughshod pod masterplan..
Your reffing gift wrapped in effing & jeffing.. a bucolic vitriolic frolic & tonic!
No fibs his nibs is loving the cut of your jibs….this old timer rhymer pondered
Wondered does cricket's ultimate bastard..The GC.. like Lord Kitchener.. need me..
Saluting a highfalutin cultural calling card.. your own Bard as two become three?
familiar foot traffic
past a garden, plush
menagerie of color and scents
nervy stance
from a snowball bush, resplendent
with white rounded blooms
stately with milky petals
tempting touch like a face symmetrical with compelling eyes
two small girls totter ahead
cup flower-clusters
push petals into rosy faces
peacockish vain
in a cherished space
a grandma explains, "snowballs of summer"
soothing presence for children, giddy
who cradle plump blooms like giants in hand
white petals plucked
specks in small hands
never fully sure of what they hold
moments that stammer
bursting
as time flits through summer eves
to touch worlds that bead like water on skin
a flow into comfort - when it comes
in streams
A rattle snake sunning itself
on a well walked hiking path.
I should have killed it
I had a 410 shot pistol
carried just for that purpose.
I just edged around it and walked on.
I mean it really was a beautiful creature.
Later that day
talking to a fellow walker
he mentioned a lady had got bit by a rattler
on that same path just an hour after
my meeting with it.
Sometimes you have to select
between two likely evils or two
predictably bad choices
and let Intention and outcomes
fall as they may,
especially if you are too nervy or cautious
to prod a snake away with a stick.