Long No comment Poems
Long No comment Poems. Below are the most popular long No comment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long No comment poems by poem length and keyword.
Did i a) release a co-written novel
----------------with a guy who promised his sister and created a book of own poetry
-------2) sat beside my son and heard him giggle
-------W)hat is going with his let hers and numb bears
-------X) look sideways see the chortled smile
-------A as in again) what is a bove and have you ever seen a lert
-------S)pent our moments slowly
---------------------------W wonce a gain
----------------------------------- -Oncest a up on at Thyme
----------------------------------- ------come on the time bit was good
--------S)hould it be a shoop
---------No umber ember embers remember-
----------1) eventually every photograph contains a ghost
----------H)ow fast is an instant tan bus
----------T)he Mother and the mother
----------------------------------- dying in the same weak
------------D) id i use the wrong week
------------B) four-
------------E) very word every head
----------------------------p and d
-------------I) s made--u-------o
----------------------------------- --w
----------------------------------- --n
-------------T) he fourth forth in forth in this sentence
----------------------------------- -----------------is the scotish firth which is a river
---------------But the firth of fourth is real
---------------I)f i comment but don't mean it
---------------w)ould that be a commentnot
---------------W)hat no comment---------------------r a line at time a
---------------B)reaking the-----------------------------e
----------------------------------- s--------------------------i
----------------------------------- p--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------r
----------------------------------- e--------------------------a
----------------------------------- d--------------------------b
----------------R)oadrunners can fly
----------------O) nce heard a really old guy in
----------------------------------- -the kiss of Glasgow
-----------------R_eprimand some dope ladden chuckles
-----------------S)oon changed when asked through smile if they had
-----------------anymore
----------------If ifs could change their names what ifs would be galore
----------------w)h
----------------?)
>Why did that writing bug, choose me?
Why is it when I lay down at night?
That is the time I have to write.
Otherwise when I rest my head.
Words float around inside instead.
When I should be, fast asleep in bed.
As I listen to calming music now.
Those words still float around somehow.
They pester me, they really do.
Are words also pestering you too?
I really do not know why.
I wonder if they will, until we die.
But why has this writing bug visited me?
I did not choose it. It chose me.
I never sought it. It sought me.
I never paid for it. It’s just came free.
Why did that writing bug, choose me?
The reason I really do not know.
What do words from my pen flow?
I asked, not for it, you know.
So why did that writing bug, choose me?
Time is now nearly midnight.
And can I sleep? No, but had to write.
I read some poems on poetry soup.
Made no comments on the poems read.
As feel inadequate, is it my age?
As made no comment on their page.
Some poems I don’t understand.
Their words so wise and oh so grand.
Dare I make comments with the pen in my hand?
Would words of praise come from me?
Or that writing bug inside of me.
Sometimes I wish I knew the score.
Why was I chosen to write more and more?
You see, as I write what’s in my head.
More words come to replace what I’ve said.
Simple words just seem to flow.
Not complicated ones, I don’t know.
Should I write of loved ones lost?
As years pass their numbers grow.
All those folk I used to know.
Some in real life some on the TV screen.
When loved ones, it causes me to cry.
TV screen ones, well they never die.
As on that screen, they always stay.
Loved ones, only in memory, stay.
I wish they were here now to-day.
For them, I’d give this writing bug way.
Knowing that, I can never do.
I guess I must just write it’s true
You see, I know inside of me.
The writing bug, has taken to me.
I did not ask for it to come.
But write I do. As now you see.
What that bug’s doing to me...
( Character space prevented me placing here what I wrote so I shall split this poem into two parts. Always hoping my copy and paste works lol Stanley the mad author)<
Form:
Words I write...erased
Words I speak comes out one ear
Love I send...hated
Your words left unsaid
But, instead, tucked in my head
Wondrin' when it's said...
I dread the silence
I need you, I want you now
Patience...self-control
Singing and dancing
Playing piano in mere bliss
Thought of you kindly
Then, the atmosphere...
Gets colder and shatters me
Nothing matters...dear...
Words, like birds, release
Out of my once concealed lips
Take a look...hurry!
Please...please...pardon me
But, I express truthful thoughts
Truth hurts, feelings burn
Oceans~emotions~
My ears bleed because of you
Your problems are deep
Cut me open, fenced in
Wounds ripped apart by harsh words
I can break ease-ly
Lost inspiration
Given the impression of
I-Do-Not-Care-Hun
Do what you do best
Speak that speech, so blessed and free
Liberty loves rest
Bargain with me your-
Your words...your-your everything
Don't disappoint me
These lines are meaning-
Less than perfect, but more than
How you just view me...
Damaged to the core
Because your words translate that-
That you don't love me
(Anymore...
Anymore...)
Qin edoba ou liha toghil...hil...
(You abide in the light)
Dona nobis pachem...em...
(Give us peace)
Asthma comes b-back
Backstabbing me for breathing
Happy as can be
Words I make...vanish
Words I speak, earns rejection
Peace I send...jaded
I regret nothing
I'm sorry I'm not sorry
I regret everything
Forgiveness I seek
I lack a leg to move on
I beg you...don't leave
Ignored for life...wowed...
Baked in the oven of angst
Here comes shame cupcakes
Oh I long to hear...
That you're near my side truly
Your response - I fear! ??
Cursed Verses...pure cured
Blessed miracles in disguise
Words unsaid...no comment
(Speechless...actually...)
You were but a dream
You were but a dream
I let out my passion scream
I'm the floating boat and you're my beloved stream
Words left unsaid
I'm off to bed
I'll hear no more of your solitude
Now, I'm naked and ashamed...I'm a ghost in your haven, uninvited and shooed
Dependable Defender Jésus Christ of Nazareth Football Club
This morning lost His appeal for the red card He received
During His side game with the highly rated Pharisees
He’ll be unavailable for their match against the Sadducees
He was sent off by no-nonsense referee Pontius Pilate
For defeating a host of Principalities and Powers
The Club failed to have the decision overturned by the Jurisdiction
He will therefore be sentenced to death by crucifixion
The ‘Special One’ is to make no comment on the decision
After Herod Disciplinary Committee dismissed the club’s appeal
Jésus offered Himself as a *Sacrificial Lamb* for a collective guilt
On the football club’s recent sloppiness and wilt
The Stalwart Defender's Penalty
Will begin with a physical torture
Followed by carrying a heavy rugged cross
Is the Disciplinary Committee right? Make your gloss
GLOSSES FOR JESUS LOSES RED CARD APPEAL :
Tony Taylor writes, March 28th…2:17
A typical King Herod Decision!
I think the decision needs a
Gary Neville writes, March 28th….2:19
Watching Jésus on the field is immensely enjoyable
This Rock from Nazareth is just unconquerable
Rashford writes, March 28th….3:15
Corrupt official! Corrupt leader
All they care is 30 pieces of silver
Major Buckley writes, March 28th…3:17
HE CAN’T GO AWAY WITH IT!
CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM! I submit
Nana Ama writes, March 28th…..4:17
The decision by ref Pontius Pilate was very harsh
Jésus triumphed! And He did it with great panache
Wolf writes, March 28th….5:15
The blame must lay with Judas and McCoy
Surely it’s their fault not Jésus. Sorry boy!
Omar writes,March 28th….. 6:17
You’re an idiot’s wolf!
This Jesus should go play golf!
Crucify Him sir! Crucify Him! I rest my case
Jonathan Reid writes, March 28th…7:17
I personally think Herod can’t rescind the red card
We talking football politics. He didn't tackle too hard
Leave your gloss in the box below
Thirty Five
At thirty five I am starting hear,
That old age will soon be here.
The wolf whistles,stares and male conversation,
Are now friendly comments and admiration.
"Don't you look good for someone your age!"
This compliment is all the rage.
Comments of beauty,intelligence and fine figure,
Have been replaced with "How's the kids?" and "Lovely weather."
In younger years,when all dressed up looking smart,
My husband would drool and nice compliments would start.
How proud he was to show me off to his mates,
But now no comment except "Hurry up we will be late."
The mirror shows signs of the years going by,
The wrinkles,blemishes and crows feet don't lie.
At thirty seven,my husband is now going bald,
"Distuinguished looking,"he says it is called.
In the companyy of attractive women my husband will flirt,
If only he knew how much it does hurt.
No more does he buy me presents or take me out on a date,
Instead on a Friday its down to the pub with his mates.
If I feel like this now at the age of thirty five,
What hope is there left,how will i survive.
As a mother,a Registered Nurse and a wife,
This combination has me speeding through life.
So how do I slow down the course of time?
Or learn to age gracefully,one day at a time.
The meaning of life is a question we all ask,
And everyone's here to complete some sort of task.
As depressed as I feel about growing old,
Stay healthy and active is the advice I've been told.
Take each day as it comes and try your best,
Advancing through life is the ultimate test.
A lesson to be learnt that is comparitively small,
Is if you can't say anything nice,say nothing at all.
Despite all the negative comments about appearance and age,
Each day is another chapter so just turn the page.
One day a handsome prince will come and take me away,
So I will sit here drinking coffee and begin to pray.
One hopes he will come and rescue me sometime soon,
Before the wrinkles set in and i resemble a prune!
.
Maybe the guff was empty—Cancer full moon eclipse
Left field call on the black wall phone
faint cry from the distant end
spoke with throat lump of capital
disaster and a troddened womans most
everydom—lost before found—somehow Jan
knew and put forth a celestial no comment with
I-hope-I-am-wrong-love gesture for the
love torn bull awaiting a cancerfold friend
offspring no spring-perhaps next spring. Anna
solid Anna so poised of classic stock sometimes
never bending to an antiflexible Taurus mood
was caught in a never place, the why of questions-
depleted character strikes. Will the blood
hordes rally for the fallen “fetalrade” and
heal the internal emohurt temperature
inferno of unknown bliss. Does it ever come
at the right instant? Like where’s a cop when
you really need one—maybe 7-11 therapy would
bring solace and peace. Forgive the forgiver
and pass your senses into another birth ability,
Keep your mind and your soul for the little
lost egg. I don’t know or could never compromise
no more of a complex juxtaposition of life
and death than that of biobeings so
closely connected that share the same
existence, one within-one yet
percent infinity bonded in a tidewater
liquid symbiosis that no manbeing in time
past or future will ever hope to match let alone
entertain. Be that as it may, you’ve felt the
sting of life and the creation of flesh for a brief
moment of time in time and all time is that holder of all
events we hope to achieve—your time in both
will come to be—you will share
and create from within, and not waiver
about the fallbacks we run down for
no explanations from anyone will suffice
or reason to make a whole sense of such
a fathomless inconsistency. I felt your
loss deep in my knees and thoughts flew
to your little soul upstairs. There are words
and there are no words—my deepest senses
to you and Dana—I know it will happen for you
as all things come to pass for those deserving dave collins
My pocket like a onion
I eat onion a lot,
Cos I feel so good about it taste,
The flavour from my lips,
scare's men that gossip,
away from me,
My pocket like an onion,
I understand the benefit,
of an onion
It lower my headache,
Help relax my body temperature,
A white herb,
Yet when I slice the onion
Tears run down my eyes,
Like a man moaning his wife,
My pocket like an onion,
Like a jungle,
Like a ghetto,
Life is painted with a fight,
Where Struggling is ovious,
Like a do me, I do you,
Competiting for survival,
In a tiny line of opportunity,
My pocket like an onion
When it comes to money,
The space of the rich,
to the poor,
Is largely clear,
in the third world,
People always eager,
To do something,
But still found,
nothing to do,
My pocket like an onion
When I was a boy,
I was never worried,
about tommorow,
Cos! In my youth,
I never understood,
what the system is all about,
I never worked,
cos I was at school,
My parent provides,
all that it take,
Papa use to say! son,
one day you will be a man,
I love when he says that,
cos! it create a joy in me,
Doe I never understood,
the gravity behind his words,
Now am older,
Is time to be a man,
My pocket like an onion
I found my self working,
First job In Africa,
It like a play,
The wages,
was nothing to write home about,
working so hard,
For a common wage,
when I check my pocket,
Hmmmmmm........, is a word,
No comment,
My pocket like an onion
throwing out all in my pocket,
Yet nothing is found,
So bitter I grief,
Is a funny world right?
tears run down my eyes,
Like when I slice the onion,
Cos of an empty pocket,
After a hard day job,
My pocket like an onion,
situation like this still
Exist in the third world,
On a high scale,
Where empty pocket,
Provokes one to shade tears
like when u slice an onion,
What a past life experience,
My pocket like an onion!
My Sullivano photographed bad
He was a simian ghost so sad
He was dispirited
Now he posed for an ad
" Uncle Sully goes to nuptial bed"
Meenie stands erect in the mews
This morning she has heard a news
Sully has gone to hell
To collect a bombshell
Safe for a ghost? she has to muse
My pet ghost Sullivan was quite beyond the pale
He smoked my tobacco pipe and sipped my ale
He danced before my wife
Who was a squid in real life
She Kicked his butt and he started chasing her tail
Sully kissed Meenie on the spur of the moment
She was nursing her ass a cute boil to foment
Love really ached
The cute boil was baked
Meenie screeched like a ***** Sully made no comment
Cubism or impressionism
Wife Laura looked through her prism
She saw the open sea
Made her eternal plea
God give me back my squidism
Sullivan/Sully/ Sullivano= my pet ghost
Meenie= my female tabby cat
Laura= my wife a squid
Speechless
Unstable
so now I'm off popping more antidepressants
after jonesing for the truth
so glad someone
anyone could offer me reality
that I'm truly
seriously
deluded and misunderstood
and now i know there is nothing i can say
Oh sinead
what does the con man sing to the bones of metaphors in the soup fiasco
about belligerence and brutality and psychological abuse
is it me
is it me can anyone here this plea
The pearls Jam the gates
oh my king throwing flames from his mouth
what can i say what can i say to Jeremy when he speaks in class?
i have no comment just the delusion
i am unstable
but intoxication of another
love note from you and broken homes is all i really need to spoil my therapy
Fred is Limp
The bizkit has me in a Full nelson
and if you listen closely to the words of wisdom to the new aged nuns of wood
stock 98
you will see the revolution spinning full blast
but the hippies are Jonesing flamethrower
the wars of winters are cold and frozen
take this Will I Am
and realize the place inside the fire
is something
something for you
for my rights in my living room
and the king i am
of plajerised words and themes
I am no saint so whats my name
and isn't it sad to know life is more than who we are and know
oh flame thrower
i don't know what to say
but hush your temper tantrum and pay attention for this Will I Am
finds That Mr Jones
has inspired me to say
steal the rythym while you can
and i know the pieces fit
so enjoy the schism
and flame thrower
everyone knows i am the liar
ask Mrs O'connor
ask Mr Durst
ask wuts under rug swept and rediscover
the place within the fire
Here comes a word,
A word that cuts as a sword,
You could have heard it’s foreword,
From a songbird or a ladybird,
But I renew your memory,
Of the rocks in our eyes.
I will whisper, mime or even shout,
If this will bring attention,
Prevention and intervention,
Of this hurting, pinching rock,
Preventing the shutting of eyelid,
For the rock is in the eye.
The monster is taking shapes,
octagon,
Will take you for a marathon,
Not in Babylon but imaginary,
Building unseen houses and castles,
For the rock remains in the eyes.
They press it through the blood,
And power press it by the nose,
Sink it down the belly by mouth
In the hope of rising and firing,
But bears so much detention,
For the rock is still in their eyes.
The pain becomes unbearable,
Tears are flowing freely,
Eyes are shutting truly,
Ooh! Lives are surely ending,
And desperation is now showing,
For the rocks are in the eyes.
Some will end on streets,
Roaming with insanity,
Many will return to infancy,
Mind, speech and deeds,
Others bed partners in jail,
For the rocks are in their eyes.
I will sing a song of desperation,
For the song of joy is gone,
I will lament with no comment,
For the lives that are destroyed,
Man and future squashed,
By the rock that is in the eye.
We all stand accused,
And amused by the situation,
Let’s all get attached,
To save the situation,
We all are getting worried,
By the rock in our eyes.
Dear listener, is there hope?
Will Mary, Stacy and Tracy perish?
No! No! No! We all are afflicted,
But will never ever be defeated,
We will all take positions,
To remove the rock in the eye.