Long Nighters Poems
Long Nighters Poems. Below are the most popular long Nighters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nighters poems by poem length and keyword.
Should 21st Century poetry
For the new minds of a culturally bombarded generation
Be limited from 3 to 7 lines?
Before you answer
To me personally, even though to answer, makes my Heart aches
I like reading poetry built around subtlety
Concealed layers or secretive depths
Relatable interchangeable meanings
Powerful raw stuff that sometimes leaves your eyes wet
Unearthed within deciphering their carefully crafted imagery or subtext
3 to 7 lines of reading, might sound like heaven, but I'm old school
Give me Lord Byron
Shelley or Keats
But I guess
Like an Ode to a Nightingale
Maybe that's the beauty of poetry as She walks in Beauty
And like To a Skylark
It must sing
So I can only hope new generations enjoy poetry, so it continues to thrive and still live
Within whichever form, and exciting tales that will continue to make their own hearts beat
With all it can give
But for me
Reading deep poetry
Feels like sitting briefly, metaphorically, underneath a Cherry Blossom Tree
Enjoying a delicious drop of spiritual tranquility
Are you too, old school and what emotional fluctuations resonate with you?
Are you a three to seven or more like:
Eleven or more is heaven
Reader or writer
Who enjoys late all-nighters
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Teri supari
Your Supari Chaat Stall (Delhi's Famous One)
"Look over here too, have you forgotten?
I'll show you sights as well,
It's not about samosas, it's about chaat.
Now I'll set up a cart—not on the street,
But in the heart! And feed it straight from the heart to bhabhi too.I'll tease for sure, but nothing for free.
I'll pull all-nighters in shifts, just keep tabs on the updates and accounts,
Madam, or else in the rains of Sawan—
I'll shut down credit and sulk with you!!"
"Didn't ask what I earn from this chaat? Your love and my beloved's heart! Gotta expand this cart (business) soon, or the bride will run away... gotta buy those bangles!!" For kangana
With love all,
R.jrtanmb Aghori
Everybody want that old thing
everybody want that new thing too
got me on my Billy Paul ya know…
when love is new, it's perfect it's worth it
those hugs and kisses goodbye got you
feeling like yeah I deserve this
yeah everybody want that old thing back
but want that new love too
nobody told me in order to get that
you gotta sacrifice a piece of you
You want that old thing? they want that old you too
That passion, that desire, that fire, them all nighters
but is it truly sustainable? Obtainable
after so much time has passed?
Married life, kids, careers is it truly meant to last?
I leave that one for you to figure out
yeah I know you can't change the past
but when life comes at you
with uppercuts and haymakers
you got parry wit your own combination
of hooks & jabs
They say to shoot for the moon
because even if you fall
you are a star,
but the stars hate the moon,
hating how its existence
is a beacon for a race won,
a goal reached.
they hate the moon
and the way people plant flags
and footsteps,
shouting to the rest
how they are the best,
and that the moon is big
and theirs.
they hate the people
who land on the moon
and the all-nighters who see it,
how they explore and adore,
how it changes,
and how even in the light
you can see it.
they hate the moon.
the only one recognized
as our very own,
orbiting in our circle,
making even Jupiter jealous
with its many moons.
their small successes
are nothing like the moon we have
famous words on.
the stars are jealous of the moon
because it will never burn out,
never be long forgotten,
an afterthought of constellations
burned with the fuel
of missed opportunities
and dreams so close.
no villains seeking the adoration
of owning merely a star,
something anyone can put
their name on.
the moon is imposing
in every sky,
the only one
that is great on its own,
craters and all.
it does not need to be arranged,
named,
or aligned just right
to matter.
the stars are only as great
as the ones they are clumped with
to make a picture
or a story.
the stars hate the moon
because they are second,
the consolation prize you win
when you weren’t great enough
to be loved
to the moon
and back.
Form:
In crowded halls, ivy clad, walk the sleepless zombies - the walking dead.
They’ve come to grapple, the chosen few, in trials by pen and pencil too.
Long ago we quietly agreed to trade studies and stress for a lives of ease.
The fire of competition burns within, a pyre fueled by challenge and adrenaline.
We’ve been grinding from morning’s light to dark midnight, fueled largely by tasty caffeine's bite.
Sleep’s a distant memory, that’s been swapped for all-nighters, notecards and highlighters.
Professors who have taught us now plant briar-like, trickster-questions, to try and fraught us.
Have we synthesized it all - the labs, lectures and quotes, the chapters, quizzes and notes?
The hours we’ve spent, dissecting texts, parsing equations, crafting essays - pay off now.
Or don’t - the clutter of fact, theory, and tensors will separate the scholars from the pretenders.
But fear not, dear reader, for we’re tough, seasoned cowgirls and this is just another rodeo.
True, we chew erasers not tobacco and ride desks or lab stations, not bucking broncos.
But some are thrown, bruised and scarred - finding their future careers discarded.
We’re required to hand-write our test essays out, a trap that negates AI with age-old foolscap.
We know the challenge, we’ve studied and crammed, to tackle the hurdle of ‘top-tier’ exams.
Beyond the stress beacons the sweet release - of holiday parties and presents that please.
But perhaps the sweetest possible tease, is the promise of slumber and weeks study free.
.
Webster: foolscap = a piece of paper
"...a band beyond description,
like Jehovah's favorite choir."
Though I'm only old enough to be
Some hippie's kid brother
I've been to hear the music play the band
Times more than a few.
I liked the carnival atmosphere,
Smokeladen from passage of pipes,
Filling the thrumming concert sites
Wherever they appeared,
Everyone dance-happy, everybody friends
When Jerry's Kids and their kids
Got together for awhile.
I remember one of the last times,
A summer's night breezily warm,
The day shedding its bright heat
Drawing slowly down in orange light, purple clouds
While a multicolored audience drew itself together
As a living kaleidoscope for initiate eyes.
I watched one buxom girl,
Clad solely in a blue cotton dress
Wrapped like a mist around her,
Dancing trippingly 'round and 'round through the crowd,
Spinning and hopping,
Lovely as some windblown flower.
They played their usual four-hour set,
One song melting into another
Weaving melodic tapestries
Waxing better the more they went on,
'Til old Bobby Weir got to screaming out
For sheer joy.
Well, I say you can keep your Metal Boys,
Your screeching Fly-By-Nighters,
Deride if you will such nostalgic things.
These gents survived to play their hearts out
From the Summer of Love to the Spring of c.d.s,,
From tiedye n' jeans to Music Video
- Yet still, head-to-head, they could bury
The best the newbies could hope to show;
Could play 'em right into the ground.
Myself, I find it hard to see
What was so funny about a generation dedicating itself to love.
Give me a band like this any day,
Who can draw out well-tailored bankers
To pass and puff,
Fire up forty-year-old mothers-of-five
To dance in place for two hours, enthralled -
Yes, I'm grateful for the Dead, my friends.
They'll always be all right by me.
Age is just a number they say,
But when it come to relationships,
They take that back,
When it comes to applications for work,
They take that back,
When it comes to a sound mind ,
They take that back,
When they don't value experience,
They take that back,
When they think retirement homes ,
They take that back,
When they think good health,
They take that back,
When they think value to society,
They take that back,
When they want opinions,
They take that back.
Yet when they have tried inexperience,
Yet when they have tried overconfidence,
Yet when they have tried arrogance,
Yet when they have tried lack of initiative,
Yet when they have tried professional turner uppers,
Yet when they have tried those when seldom turn up,
Yet when they have tried those who look good on paper,
Yet when they have tried fly-by-nighters',
Yet when they have tried those who party all night,
Yet when they have tried those who take yet more sick leave,
yet when they have tried those with hidden agendas,
Yet when they find customer relations are at rock bottom,
Or when the aged person is the last one standing,
Or when they start losing money because of any,
Or all of the above,
Age really does not matter.
Just ask the average 5 year old,
Who look at the person not the age,
Save yourself all the hassle,
And heaps of money.
Embrace
This prelude has arrived, and now I can feel our
Initial romance takes shape.
On an everlasting horizon.
Genesis, unshakable conviction.
Embarking on the wings of freedom.
Here, desires call out to us.
When we are next to each other.
You made me forget myself.
Into the turning pages, reading
Between the lines of our fascination.
Flipping through curious highlights of infatuation. All-nighters anywhere,
Anytime. How about now as we embrace?
Take me home with your hands in mine.
I’m lighter with you: waiting for your kisses,
As it was the first time. Surrounded by city lights.
In this moment, our interlude, laughter at play.
Sudden moves feel like the way life goes.
Here were things that were meant to be.
Embraced.
Been called sexy, been called old and crotchety
Maybe I'm somewhere in between
I'm probably closer to the sex symbol type
With this body, you know what I mean
Young ladies are always clamouring around
For a piece of this gorgeous physique
Sorry to have to tell them, to take a number
For a chance at the thrill they seek
I'm usually an extremely low key kind of guy
But since building this stunning body
Females flock around, it can get quite annoying
Sorry, really don't mean to get snotty
I'm hankering for just a little peace and quiet
To recharge my batteries so to speak
Eventually all-nighters are gonna catch up
Leaving me real pooped out and weak
Think I might return to my overweight self
Less hassles with the opposite sex
Didn't realize all the women it would attract
Not something I'd really expect
Just funnin'
© Jack Ellison 2104
somedays its crushing
life.
somedays its all i can do to smile
to pull a breath into my shaky lungs
and still my hands against the tremors of my legs
i want to press pause. or press stop. for good.
everything aches,
from my head to my chest to my knees to my back to my wrists to my eyes-
stop
stop
stop
stop please stop
stop
im done
im tired
im done
im tired (and i think ive said this before i think ive said this before i-)
im breathing. i swear im exhaling. i swear im trying. i sweariswearisweari-
im remembering now, the days when
pulling air into these lungs wasnt so difficult
when laughing freely was mere assignment
when smiling openly wasnt so tedious
and hugging didnt make me want to dance my way off a cliff
of my own thoughts
but now id very much like to crawl out of my skin into your veins
and feel something other than my freezing blood and trembing hands
and tired eyes
because of one too many all nighters
because of my shallow breathing and foggy thoughts
could you find it in you to fix this?