Long Off Poems
Long Off Poems. Below are the most popular long Off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Off poems by poem length and keyword.
How easily the words roll off my tongue
when decisions become too hard to make.
Even then, I only admit them to myself.
Sometimes I get confused, indecisive,
and hesitate in moments filled with doubt.
If only I had more confidence in myself
I would trust my voice not to stutter,
and maybe my heart wouldn't flutter
when you come so near to me.
Sometimes I turn and walk away
instead of smiling when I feel you there.
Sometimes I wonder
if there could ever be a you and me..
If only I could get past being so shy
Maybe, just once, I could look you in the eye
instead of lowering my head and walking by.
Maybe my life wouldn't seem so bleak.
If only I had the courage to stop in the hall
and find something to talk about.
Am I weak? Sometimes, I am.
If only, maybe, sometimes, and I'll add 'what if,'
I admit I use them as lame excuses.
my thoughts are profuse, and cluttered
with the 'what ifs' I only dream about.
I believe my alibis are lies,
but what if I remove the mask I wear
to hide the things I'd rather not see?
Maybe then I'd be more content with life.
If only my pounding heart remained silent
long enough to rid me of this fear.
Maybe I'd find the courage to be free
so you could see the real me.
If only...
August 4, 2020
Contest by Silent One
If only, maybe, sometimes
off the beaten path we go
nothing like the thrill of newness
even when it gets old, something new is discovered like a dylan record
we embrace our respective kid at heart approach to things
it definitely brings us closer and alleviates unneeded stress
we already are graduates of lonely street university both with a masters in isolation studies
now here we go....eager students of professor unexpected
what we learn is more than valuable to our minds and our potential future endeavors
it is like a blank page full of colors with the beautification of water for the purpose of intrigue
when life goes in directions of low places, it inspires you to strive of the highest heights
we are giants....yet still so microscopic in our travails
we yearn to see more, but in the reality of life duty calls in the form of a time clock
however, we bless the heavens for the earnings bestowed upon us nowadays....
....so off the beaten path we go....
Here's my suggestion
how to fight off your blues:
pick up a brush and paint on a canvass
whatever comes to mind: landscape, birds or flowers;
pick up a pen and write some silly lyrics for children...
to release your tension!
Dedicate that happy song to yourself or others,
nobody's story is similar to yours;
the happier it is, the better it feels!
So, get busy and send away your monotony:
distinguish loneliness from happiness,
make the words sound alive with sincerity!
Time becomes morbid and eternal as disdain...
thinking of unpleasant images and thoughts;
time can be swifter than a clock pendulum:
try to stop it, your attempt will be in vain;
such is a kid's behavior causing a tantrum:
choose well and write songs of gladness!
Isn't it time to take that trip my beloved home,
is the dormant bay sleeping sending off gleams,
or it's the vagabond moon adorning its waves;
couldn't nights be magical as those in Rome?
In that small bedroom, I cuddled under a cotton quilt
mom crotched for months, there I hid my teddy bear;
my sight reached way beyond the tallness of pines,
even the sparkling fireflies competed with the above stars!
And praying I was relieved of the heaviness of guilt,
hoping I would wake up worriless and be free of fear!
In adolescence, there's no reason to fight off your blues...
all is given with open arms, surprises are endless;
in middle life, we clash with them without any defense:
find a hubby among many and boost your confidence!
Here's a hint how to fight your unbearable blues:
detach yourself from isolation and uncover clues!
No twilight concerto to sway not yet
as zigzag street lights pound upon
heavy fog clutching iced flakes on rooftops
like hushed matte from night's gale
pouring bitter ovules to a past in need of relief.
While in her vein is a constant downpour
of Bach's untenable requiem
as hands pound on ivory keys,
immersing in the fever of the moment
until fingers carve a solemn journey
into wiry trails of insolent rain.
How she summons the goddess of morn
to cure thistles of wait and pang,
sifting each beat, each note without interludes
until this child- woman shifts her face against breezes,
tasting madness rawness on lapping winds…
In disheveled lingering she cuddles
unspoken words, her own song
on panels of cut-glass-------with acceptance
the world could still breathe despite a torment:
just then...in a twirl of air's cadence
the night shuts off.
.............
1/18/2016
Jamie Pan's How Long Can A Poetry Go
This poetic attempt is a cross between existential expression
and stream of consciousness technique. The former highlights
contemporary man's response to anguish, isolation,uncertainty
of life in the midst of change.Thus, this poet explores
the outpouring born from inner annihilation-- being
absent from the self- YET allowing space to exhale for a new
awareness to surface.
Dovetailing this language of despair to the stream-of consciousness
technique allows the spontaneous, raw float of thoughts without
the pleasure of edit, like journaling and ' writing down the bones.'
I feel that literary devices ( from metaphors, enjambment to alliteration)
come into play , well, quite instinctively.
In my creative writing class as a college professor, I ask my students
to write with their less dominant hand to discover the 'heart of the matter.'
Then again, that's beside the point. This author will leave this piece to assault your senses, and then, softly break all defenses. Thanks!
Let's see now, I've got 20 minutes here
I'll just whip off a poem
or two. Who knows?
What should I write about? I need a topic
Animals? Nature? Romance? Technology?
Nah! Those have all been beaten to death
and then some
I know! Bowling! Yes, bowling! No one
I mean, NOBODY, ever writes about bowling
In fact, let's google it...Aha!...Oh, no! What's this?
There are all sorts of people who've written about it
I mean I even know some of them: Cay Cay Jennings and
Jack Ellison and Jim Yerman have written about it
Even Caren Krutsinger has alluded to 'God bowling' as have
others, and there are lots more poems about bowling too...
Well, there goes 10 minutes already, but uh, er, I have written about
Bowling, haven't I?...
So, how'd I do?!
The deletion of one's post will then have a direct impact on one's totality of posts being reduced by that action, in equal numbers,
where the relevancy will be the act of adding a post to one's totality of their posts being increased by that action, in equal number.
The consequences of those plus or minus acts should directly impact one's posts encountering a stipulation.
Albeit, the modus operandi forestalls, at which point the deletion of two posts almost immediate to each other, and in pursuit, similarly its totality reduced, with the recommended window for numbered of privileged posts--
--Should have ascertained relief of two deletions upon its immediacy, an act for an act, and be accorded the window of opportunity times two within the same time frame:
~~ Explanations needless warranty of a suspenseful guesstimate.
One day, my son asked me, "Which one of us do you love more?"
I grew uncomfortable and I looked down at the floor.
It was an answer that I didn't want to hurry.
He's an only child, so his question made me worry.
Could it be that once I dropped him on his brain,
or had I forgotten a child (which would have been insane)?
Should I tell him, "You have always been my favorite.
You should take satisfaction in that and savor it",
or should I be fair and diplomatically proclaim,
"I love all of my children pretty much the same"?
Perhaps, it would be more circumspect for me to say,
"I love each of you, in your own inimitable way".
I finally chose, "I love you more than any other child by far",
and he said, "Good - can I have the keys to the car?",
to which I replied, "It wouldn't be any bother,
except that I've already lent them to your brother".
(the following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized).
as a former ace procrastinator, i abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying car
pet case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)
to hoist self with one's own petard,
which emergency best warrant a re ward,
otherwise if fate doth NOT
require one to break
from ordinary business as usual
to enlist the "FAKE"
help of a grenadier,
who doth make
his/her livelihood
risking their life,
and limb without quake
king (obviously compensating bravery
as he/she doth stake
out mortal danger with adequate adorn
ing mortal kombat
with ample legal tender and/
or promising first born)
for unstinting mettle,
especially tolerating accompanying
martial baritone horn
player screech (like fingernails
scraping blackboard)
in close proximity - eliciting a scorn
ing glare from soldier spy
tinker tailor with a torn
smile while trained
special ops named Bjorn
incurs deadly hazard from one morn
to the next amidst adversity
shouldering care worn
Marine's motto semper fidelis,
which unnecessary loss of young life
predicated on add
age, viz being at the least,
a day late and dollar short egad
inadvertently dooming
princely valiant warmonger,
a mere stripling lad
whose mourning brings
heavy pallor of sad
ness, which imagined situation - aye
tangentially congruently analogous by
and by to the butterfly effect,
or sparrow's swan song i.e. die
destiny wrought, when one dost espy
a single occurrence no lie,
(the flickr ring, instagram
ming, kickstart ting well nigh
linkedin shutterfly of a butterfly)
say twerks catcher in the rye,
hence no matter how small, thee or thy
can change the course
of the universe forever,
no idea how nor why!
Be it sunny or cloudy
The weather determines my mood
On a bright sunny morning
My mood is upbeat and cheery
And conversely on cloudy days
My mood is sombre and sad
I really wish this weren't true
I see people every day wearing big smiles
And I wonder if they have down days like me
I assume myself to be an average joe
But have forever questioned that
We really need an “on/off” switch
To control our emotions
But recognize that's not about to happen
It is up to us to make the most of each day
And share as much joy and happiness
As we possibly can with our fellow man
EVERY SINGLE DAY!
I am so looking forward to my week off work.
I have no travel plans, getting paid is the perk.
Paid to stay home and sleep in if I might.
Not to be ruled by dawn's early light.
I can put pen to paper and indulge my passion.
Forming my poetry in many a fashion.
Barefoot I'll be for most of the week.
Clad in my jeans, relaxation I'll seek.
Reading, crocheting and just staying in.
This much relaxing is probably a sin.
I'll stock up on groceries the very first day.
I just hate to shop so I'll get it out of the way.
If this warm weather holds there'll be time in the sun.
Visiting the parks, yes, that will be fun.
Coffee with friends, a walk on the beach,
Chatting on the phone with those out of reach.
It's only one week and I know it'll fly by.
I'll need to work on some crafts, for Christmas is nigh.
Once back to work there will be no relaxation.
Not until spring when I get another vacation.
for Carol's "Week to Do As I Please" contest