Long Nosy Poems
Long Nosy Poems. Below are the most popular long Nosy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nosy poems by poem length and keyword.
I know you, I know your thought,
I won't be intimidated by their sunny
Red blazing eyes that hurts minds.
My ink might not be better now but
I won't give up in the quest to know more,
I will still swallow my pride and work.
The essences of living is not seen in not failing
But failing and rising make up life journey.
Life has knocked me hardin many attempts
Yet, I will triumph bravely over those critics.
Tell hardship that I can't let go of my dreams,
Tell poverty that he has lost the game of the
throne, wink at frustration and mutter to him
that he should keep off from my burning zone.
I may share the bleeding part of the nosy economy,
Tears may flow here and there like a rain drop,
Leaving me helpless and hopeless; dumbfolded,
I must never give up base on what you say to me.
Tell them in the house that we, the penlords,
Will survive the melt down of the sun on us.
Strongly, we will prowl in the darkness alone.
The sweat on our brows had been brave always,
We've seen many times when the sun changes!
We've seen the moon as a chameleon here;
Yes, we've seen many transition in life and life
Itself have seen us with a bleeding souls and legs.
We will cross the bridge of a disgraced shame,
From the faculty of insanity to home of sanity.
We can't leave words alone, we can't leave Nigeria
On fire and run to a sagging strange land, no!
Look at our eyes and find out that there is
A tinny boundary that connect home and abroad,
Love knows no bounds but suffering has bound
That cluster in many ways in the polluted air.
Look at the forest of men astraying,
Panting in an endless depressions that bark.
I refuse to be among the rejected in the street,
I refuse to be frustrated before the new rain,
If their head is censored in the field, many will fall.
I refuse to be stranded in the hands of the so critics,
None those Animaticians on the their white chairs.
Today has seen our stripped heartbeat broken,
Tomorrow shall we overthrow fear in a combat.
This is from my hand; hand of a pen refusing
Frustration from the clouded prison wall of poverty.
I can't be devastated, we can't be demoralised in
Our own land where enough milk are gathered.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Apology to the missus at nighttime...
first day of January
two thousand and twenty three.
While the wife then in the process
of leaving a telephone message
for our eldest daughter,
(on vacation, thus unreachable)
her cajoling tone of voice
beckoned, intimated, and _underscored
curiosity to discover
how romance blossomed
between first born
and soulmate of offspring
while both progeny and
Puerto Rican young man
both freshmen in the same dormitory
at University of Pennsylvania.
I unthinkingly blurted out
thy spouse acting nosy
triggering cascading denial
of marital transgressions
(quite brutish and nasty of me)
scoring invisible black barbs
upon tender flesh
seriously contemplating divorce
to implement bartered bride
blithely cavorting with bonnie lass
abandoning desirability, eternity, fidelity...
adopting following motto de jure
gather ye rosebuds while ye may.
How innocuous for spouse clamoring
to get low down how biological daughter
came upon midnight clear
acquainting, befriending, cohabiting...
eventual future linkedin lucky man
at least once upon a poem ago
aforementioned perfect match
(like two peas in a pod).
Seconds after the rather
sarcastic word (nosy) uttered
yours truly wished he never blurted
underhanded stinging rebuke.
Whether twas love toward the spouse
who approximately twenty seven years prior
yours truly pledged troth and vowed
to uphold sanctified covenant,
when me late father in law
escorted his "baby"
down the wedding aisle.
Nevertheless I blurted out
acid tinged comment
(as iterated above)
generated an after effect
recounting me being unfaithful husband
suddenly nauseous surge
induced gag reflex
synonymously tasting like bile
no amount of washing mouth out with dial
could affect comparable retraction
wanting to turn back hands of time
best recourse would necessitate
severing ties with humanity
and accepting nothing short of exile
(for questing, trespassing, violating...
acquiescence toward verboten fruit)
walking barefoot over hot coals
every last desolate mile
despite exhibiting weariness
qua swiftly tailored harried style
years later still experiencing
gruelling emotional trial.
To President Joe Biden
Anecdote : It is an ode to poetry, nothing personal, nothing satirical, and the ultrasound is a personal experience of further need in contemplation of my left breast, where unwanted growths gave me a huge dilemma of metaphorical islands, benign or cancerous, does not matter.
Shawna has a sharp shape , robust figurative speech
Strange, nosy, but arrogant, stern and stubborn in beauty.
Her newly wed face had a bridal glow, sunlight mystery
She is particular in her pink dresses, pink lipsticks
and in her pink stones in carved jewels.
I remembered her through the legacy of thirteen years
Hospital floors are shiny, hinting in polished and polishing epigraphs
Reasons. Limiting definitions. Wanted and fine-tuned reasons.
The soap opera in happening time on the TV screen
mounted on the higher end, had an obnoxious hetero-mixture in latency
Las Vegas casinos or improper door fixation in pious inter-courses, timely or otherwise or whatever.
Always an earned longevity in otherwise, other way, in urging other needs.
No one permit it though
The janitors in duty, or the front desk attendants
All were busy too, belonging somewhere elsewhere.
Then I realized, I was wrongly -matched in my pairs of shoes
No one spared the other control, endless saga of two edged folding.
Although, I am a success story of a substantial assimilation of homo-sapiens tribal affair.
I have two eyes, two hands and two strong feet,
Strong, sensible and rational in a rationalizing world.
In the wider sense, too.
I did not recall Shawna , it was still a cloudy aftermath, till that pausing time.
But the end time was drawing closer and closer..
In the beforehand receipt of the ultrasound , and with the post one also.
So that doctor can convert these images into information
humane information
A rusty bastard life earning generous aristocrat reason
To keep it ongoing in Shawna's impeccable life
and in mine too, with my formal prosecutions of cacophony
of falling short in paired shoes.
Therefore the sonic time can heal and deal and reveal
The eternal research question of
The supplicating feminine weep hole.
Father Christmas in the night sky his sleigh and reindeer a silhouette in the moonlight,
He has traveled all over the world to lavish his presents to small sleeping children,
The family has retired and left a mince pie and some sherry, the little ones dreaming,
Mr. Christmas climes up and down chimneys leaving special gifts it is a magical time.
Earlier on this Christmas Eve, many excited little children on their little tippy toes,
Straining to place their stocking high on the front room wall away from nosy grey rats,
Some scarcely reach higher than these rats frantic that sweets will have bites in them
Older brothers and sisters unhook the stockings and pin them higher up, out of the way
Mother has sat them round a table and coaxed them off to their beds earlier than usual,
Told them all about the story of Christmas and why it is such an important special day,
They sat there wide eyed listening to every word the very young not understanding it all,
There faces rosy from the heat of a yule log burning in the hearth and everything quiet.
They understand that Father Christmas only visits very good well and behaved children,
And the children feel guilty as they cast their mind back over the last very long year,
The children find it hard to hold their tongues hoping Father Christmas won't ride past,
And that if they go to bed without any moaning and go to sleep early he will be very kind.
Laying in their beds can they hear the the sound of whistles, penny-trumpets and drums?
They squeeze their eyes shut tight, just in case it is Father Christmas flying nearby,
A wind blows the downstairs door could that be the reindeer's and the sleigh flying past,
Gradually they tire and one by one drop into a deep sleep the sort only known by children.
In their sweetest dreams they hear the cries of dolls, singing wooden birds, gold ribbons,
The ticking of pewter watches looked at by the raggy dolls, toy soldiers guarding oranges,
They are asleep and so very happy the emblems of innocence, at peace on this Christmas Eve,
And when the morning finally comes they are loaded with beautiful gifts it's Christmas Day.
25th December 2012
Me and the missus live in decent
sturdy accommodations (formerly
Schwenksville Elementary School
ofttimes referred to as prison,
and manager as the de facto warden),
albeit not so shabby nor chic low income
quite modest (rather unmatchable cost wise)
low slung building we rent,
for mere dime a dozen
pennies on the dollar,
which facility lacks no shortage
of gossip mongers
with mail delivery major event
whereby many old people smelling of unguent
housing faux superman
thumping flabby chests nsync
with hooking thumbs around
suspenders feigning to be affluent,
and self important as secret double agent
yeah, minus the countless snitches,
livingsocial buzzfeeding rumors
outside our one bedroom apartment
at Highland Manor ranks
as satisfactory ascent
to appease our taste,
and general environmental ambient
aspects compared to other
(mice and roach infested)
housing previous situations of ours
so, despite most every nosy, ancient
snooty, hoity toity...tenant,
particularly one butch,
cock eyed louey, facial accent
a perfect spectacle for circus big-tent
single bucked sharp front tooth
sparkles, mocks, glistens...
as if brushed with Pepsodent
of course displayed "FAKE"
seventh heaven-sent
friendliness, when poor us
being penniless with just tencent
copper piece experienced warm welcome
short time after moving here
(five plus years since July 1st 2022),
but demeanor thereafter went
postal stamping like the dickens
as if me an unrepentant
jokester, nonetheless yours truly minds
against hateful words adamant
lee averse to cast aspersions,
cuz a friendly gesture linkedin
preference to be cogent practicing
what this atheist doth silent
lee preach, sans attempt tubby tolerant
in the face of someone belligerent
attentive to credo, dogma, ethos
while alive in world be tolerant
of others, whether he/ she wuzzent
pleasant recalling days of yore,
I felt disgusted when hell-bent
to hurl expletives (adding insult to injury)
if bad mouthed me, thus
object lesson not requiring fervent
fanatical religious fervor
improving health of Clark Kent.
Father Christmas is in the night sky his sleigh and reindeer a silhouette in the moonlight,
He has traveled all over the world to lavish his presents to small sleeping children,
A family has retired and left a mince pie and some sherry, the little ones dreaming,
Mr. Christmas climes up and down chimneys leaving special gifts it is a magical time.
Earlier on this Christmas Eve, many excited little children on their little tippy toes,
Straining to place their stocking high on the front room wall away from nosy grey rats,
Some scarcely reach higher than these rats, frantic that sweets will have bites in them
Older brothers and sisters unhook the stockings and pin them higher up, out of the way
Mother has sat them round a table and coaxed them off to their beds earlier than usual,
Told them all about the story of Christmas and why it is such an important special day,
They sat there wide eyed listening to every word the very young not understanding it all,
There faces rosy from the heat of a yule log burning in the hearth and everything quiet.
They understand that Father Christmas only visits very good and well behaved children,
And the children feel guilty as they cast their mind back over the last very long year,
The children find it hard to hold their tongues hoping Father Christmas won't ride past,
And that if they go to bed without any moaning and go to sleep early he will be very kind.
Laying in their beds can they hear the the sound of whistles, penny-trumpets and drums,
They squeeze their eyes shut tight, just in case it is Father Christmas flying nearby,
A wind blows the downstairs door could that be the reindeer's and the sleigh flying past,
Gradually they tire and one by one drop into a deep sleep the sort only known by children.
In their sweetest dreams they hear the cries of dolls, singing wooden birds, gold ribbons,
The ticking of pewter watches looked at by the rag dolls, toy soldiers guarding oranges,
They are asleep and so very happy the emblems of innocence, at peace on this Christmas Eve,
And when the morning finally comes they are loaded with beautiful gifts it's Christmas Day.
Line of inquiry
‘Minus Identity Who am I’
‘What a piece of work is a man!’
……… ………
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust’
(Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act II, scene 2)
From Shakespeare, through Hamlet,
It rings down to generations
And falls heavily in my ears too.
In vain, I attempt to probe into the mystery
Nay, the enigma called man,
Both in the silence of my solitude,
And in the learned circle of friends.
(Fool…! Unable to find who you are,
Can you venture to say who the other man is?)
Man is a jumble of contradictions,
I know, a hard nut to crack!
So unfathomable, so mysterious
At once a Satan and an angel
To the outer world I am someone.
But in the well-guarded cellars of my privacy
Aren’t I different?
Hiding my innards to light, as every other man.
Am I not a masked player in life’s pantomime!
I wonder what’s true to my being
And what makes me, the real me.
I see contradictions abound in me
And my personality, like an ocean is volatile,
Sometimes tranquil, sometimes agitated
Placid without waves very often,
But at times roaring with billows crashing!
I am openminded, but hide many secrets.
I am instinctively emotional, but mature.
I am an extrovert and feel happy in company,
But I like to withdraw into loneliness often.
I am mostly thoughtful, but tend to overthink.
I act confident but am diffident at heart.
Though satisfied with what I get,
I tend to crave more for the love people give me.
I am a poet and an artist, feeding on the encouragement I get
And stimulated by internal inspiration.
I am never a nosy parker, but curious about things
That pique my interest, be it of people or of the world.
I am a good listener, but need someone to listen to me.
I am easy to get along with, but get easily flustered.
I am compassionate, adjustable, loyal and humble.
At best I am a child of God, but lets the Satan,
Take over me sometimes when my temper rises.
How often, I wish to change myself
Change some of my characteristic traits
But minus my identity, I fear who I will be?
A lady in Washington sent her little girl to school the other day,
For what she thought was the usual study work and play.
School nurse talked to her and quietly drove her to Planned Parenthood.
Yes they told her, you are to have an abortion. For your apparent good.
Don’t tell your parents or there may make a big fuss.
We are your friends little girl, you can count on us.
You know how some parents are always trying to be nosy at home.
As if it was their business what you do and where you roam!
After all this is legal now you know ; We’ve had some long hard fights.
Your parents voted for this in the name of choice and women’s rights.
We here at Planned parenthood have fought hard for this legislation..
And it’s hardly ever on the news station!
Aren’t we nice? This is legal in fifteen states now. Hooray!
So don’t tell your parents and the taxpayers will pay.
The President and legislators have made this your right.
So don’t tell your parents or it’ll cause a fight.
You see we got voters to suck for the choice jargon. It‘s quite a line.
By voting for so called choice, they lose more choice every time!
What ? Yes we know you have to have a note from your parents to take an aspirin.
Don’t worry, the legislators fixed it so you don’t need a note for this abortion.
This happens and is true. It was on the news the other day. A small news item in the middle
of the day
A Mother found out the hard way there was nothing she could do about it because in her
state as well as fourteen others and rising, it is legal for organizations like planned
parenthood to perform an abortion on under
age children without notifying the parents . …….
Strange how the news people don’t get right on this…. Interesting. …
Also interesting is the fact that some people get angry at me and others for even talking
about it…..Do you know the laws in your state?...For your child? - Robert
Cold air whistles acquainting
me with Arctic Blast, when
roundly forcing acquiescing
into half foursquare corner, activating
most recent spate of
ideal linkedin warm weather
ah...,my favorite sweet
spot for read ding
partially secluded from
gossip mongers addicting
fellow nosy residents,
who rarely brave elements
of style lush nature addressing
natural environment, sans leaving
comfort of their hermetically
sealed apartment adhering
to zero risk exposure
even during pitch
perfect weather adjusting
cessation to renouncing
"cabin fever" administering
most potent panacea
for heavenly solar fling
nay, most every tenant
here at Highland Manor
prefers vicariously admiring
terrestrial flora and
fauna, even when nature
bursts forth with adoring
"The Rite of Spring" adorning
the snapchat buzz zee
flight of the Bumble Bee
the still frozen, yet slowly aerating
rib rock solid state terra
firmae slowly alleviating
thick slabs of iced over terrain
indiscriminately allocating
patch of landscape
legion limitless almsgiving
then as instagram dusk
preempts afternoon alternating
cathartic, fantastic,
and iambic anesthetizing
magic, opportunistic, and therapeutic
reverie blitzed, viz banshee screaming
mother nature's wound
dead spirit expressing
agony dost vent wrath
heartfelt lament vacillates, manifests,
and explodes analogous
qua red bull who readily
didst get smitten angling
to expunge anguishing
cumulative racking torment
hell bent on annihilating
primate responsible species
akin to a silent spring announcing
slow but inexorable annulling
guardian (nee abuser) role usurped
by *****sapiens,
who need answer
for relentlessly antagonizing
writhing, lowing, and bristling
Planet Earth!
We (me and the missus)
live in a decent
accommodations low income
quite modest rent,
which facility lacks no shortage
of gossip mongers
with mail delivery the major event
many old people smelling of unguent
faux superman thumping chests nsync
with hooking thumbs around
suspenders feigning to be affluent,
and self important as former
triple secret double agent
yeah, minus the snitches,
the one bedroom apartment
at highland manor ranks
as most satisfactory ascent
to appease our taste, and
general environmental ambient
aspects compared to other
housing situations of ours
so, despite most every nosy, ancient
snooty, hoity toity...tenant,
particularly one butch herd gal
with a cock eyed louey, facial accent
a perfect spectacle for circus big-tent
single bucked sharp front tooth
sparkles, mocks, glistens...
as if brushed with Pepsodent
of course displayed "FAKE"
seventh heaven-sent
friendliness, when poor us
near being penniless with only tencent
experienced a warm welcome
a short time after moving here
but demeanor thereafter went
postal - stamp ping like the dickens
as if yours truly an unrepentant
sin nurse stir jokester,
nonetheless minds hateful words adamant
lee averse to cast aspersions,
cuz a friendly gesture linkedin
with my preference to be cogent
practicing what this atheist doth silent
lee preach, sans attempt tubby tolerant
in the face of someone belligerent
attentive to mine credo, dogma, ethos...
while alive in this world be tolerant
of others, whether he/ she wuzzent
pleasant still recalling days of yore,
I felt disgusted with myself when hell-bent
to hurl expletives (adding insult to injury)
if somebody bad mouthed me,
thus object lesson not requiring fervent
fanatical religious fervor
plus gluten free and NON GMO
improving health of Clark Kent.