Long Offhand Poems
Long Offhand Poems. Below are the most popular long Offhand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Offhand poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: May 18, 2024, For Unseeking Seeker Contest
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Languid breath dwindles, scrounging panacea air
quiddity remorse core conveyed mindful glare
seraphim guilt throe stems from mind sapidity
heart wispy ousts weltschmerz, hatred morbidity.
Gentleness key squeals heart-tangled inner thread
unboxed core lead ecstatic heart hobnobbed tread
Is my heart-mind rancor overlaid by hazy myopia?
milk with ice is a quintessential pillar of utopia.
Shepherding pragmatic apotheosis wide universe
hampered altruistic love ephemeral zeitgeists verse
emotional outbursts during meiosis—placate impact
forging forfend feeling fallacy focusing on facts.
Seeking soothing sense as silk-satin smoothness
fetches forbearance, fosters faith hearty-filled fewness
ripple aposiopesis words transcend catharsis sight
sate sinew, eschew omniscience, heed hubris might.
Living stubbornly with caesura implies life-moored
we are living offhand, leaving us brittle but allured
Issues occur wisely rather than haphazardly sought
willing for heart-mind coo to fulfill what's taught.
With authenticity, grace, sympathy, and tolerance
respect all people, despite views or providence
uphold merciful attitude and passionate mind
brain-heart harmony molded by cosmic pull blind.
When you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
Near the end, nowhere to go, no friends, no family that understands.
"Stand in a field and scream," it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
You've given yourself away; soul, body turned into a parking lot.
It feels like you exist only in a twilight world, a no man's land,
when you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
When your heart has bled bone dry to leave a shriveled purple apricot,
lover gone, left for another, even worse, you heard it second-hand,
"stand in a field and scream;" it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
You've tried and tried so desperately hard, giving everything you've got.
It's like the walking of the living dead with feet in deep dark quicksand
when you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot.
When you've lost all you desire, your love, your life, your home, your Camelot,
and it's become much more than you can weather, tolerate, or withstand.
"Stand in a field and scream," it helps, they say. I can tell you; it does not.
From all I've learned in love and life, and that's a lot, here's a parting shot;
by do-gooders and hosts of influencers, it's often said offhand:
"When you are confused, anxious, in pain, your stomach in a granny knot,
stand in a field and scream; it helps," they say. I can tell you; it does not.
A sure shot, he sets up a can, and digs his heels in the sand
feet spread, a hat on his head, a gun in his hand: he looks grand.
Cloudy skies shade the sun from his eyes, letting him aim as planned:
and that can, flew apart, just like he knew it would, beforehand.
His friend wants to end their partnership, he said as much, offhand:
a showdown’s coming; it'll all come down to who's quick of hand.
Their morels a hoax: they rob folks and sell stolen contraband
and hide their cash in the wetlands, stashing their loot in quicksand.
Two of the roughest, toughest gringos north of the Rio Grande
stand ready to test how much pain the other man can withstand.
Their shared desire to fire... will send one man to the promised land:
this is life and death, final breath, well beyond a reprimand.
They're fighting for reasons neither man can quite understand:
it's all about ego, and which gunslinger is in command.
Last Halloween was scary
with evil brewing strong
when Peggy planned a party
and things went off all wrong
In tatty robe, her hair awry
she slaved all day with care
her neighborhood to satisfy
with an elegant affair
Fine treats she baked and broiled
and decorated in detail
until her appetite was spoiled
and strength had almost failed
The house she'd scrubbed and polished
to a frighteningly bright sheen
every speck of dust demolished
she worked like a machine!
But, oh- the guests arrived too early
before she was quite dressed
and between her looks, and manner surly
were somewhat less than impressed
And to make things even worse
they quipped in her living room
their clever lines, so well-rehearsed
“Oh Peg, we LOVE your costume!”
They waited half a second, while
still within earshot
and sniped with vicious smiles
about all her house was not
How her home was far too small
to host this gathering
with depressing rooms and narrow hall
too shabby for anything!
The kids came in rolled their eyes
at tacky Halloween kitsch
and consoled themselves by cracking-wise
about it all with Mitch
Now Mitch was Peggy's husband
and should've known her mind
but he said things offhand
that came off as unkind
Then Nan came in with Merrilee
a chef of snobby taste
who (nose turned up), quite warily
declared the food “a waste”
Then as the midnight beckoned
Peg raged against the room
(a “woman scorned”, I reckon...)
the party met their doom!
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A Halloween poem to make up for my deceptively titled 'The Living Dead' poem... which has nothing to do with the holiday!
So many more. Just a sampling of favorites, per contest instructions.
For each poet I have included a sampling of titles in parentheses.
THREE OF MY FAVORITES
Gershon Wolf
Gershon lands me in stitches.
In his wise and funny hands,
I can’t help but smile or laugh.
A grin happens, belly twitches.
(Sex Sells, War is Hell; Tingles, Twitches, Creaks;
Scant Solace in the Solstice, Old Bessie)
Caron Krutsinger
Caron carries me to Wonderland.
Her muse and faeries’ mischievous.
Earthbound - school, kids and pets.
Her quaint stories, written offhand.
(Sleeping Elfin Baby, Santa Puppy Begs for Bones,
Unicorn with the Rainbow Tail, Fluffy Fat Robin)
Evelyn Judy Buehler
Evelyn’s poems’ immersed in hues.
An imagistic touch of stirring magic.
God will gift her with eternal colors -
Not one of them, she will refuse.
(Clashing Colors, Scarlet Noon, Green Door, Moonlight Blue)
12/30/2022
Who is your best PS poet or poetess Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
She reminded mi of Liz thou prettier than Liz
She was engrossed in her smart phone... me relaxed
next to her chat chatting business... i could tell shes engrossed
not in her smart chats.... but in my chat with my buddy Sam
her enthusiasm keeps rising unable to hold it any more she joins
Albeit i an offhand sort of way.... Cynthia is in a quest
same as i... in our academic deans office at the varsity
Cynthia is on an errand.. she needs authentication of sorts
Her she is on an errand.. but going by looks i guess she is fun
fun to be with.. and now i do know fun to talk with am so wired
so outgoing is she...the guys at college call it the 'it' factor
it means the different between being labeled charming or...
outgoing, snob, geek, smart or simply amazing.. am not being
judgmental... and am not into labeling but into connecting..
connecting with... and Cynthia is already so connected
Delightful... a carelessly used word by them con artist
but am not interested in a con game but in the lady...
she isn't snobbish... as i do now have the precious number
if love were religion she and i followers.. we would fly on wings
delivered to the city of pleasure.. for keeping ideals of the faith
Of love and morals.. i guess well have to find out but am betting
betting on my mortal name and by the spark of flames in her eyes...
shes fun to be with and your's am not the type to be snobbish.. especially
especially when am dealing with such a pretty girl its till and until.. i know her
we part me thinking... that our encounter is.. for its the predestined path....
lewis nyaga
mku.. 1847hrs
a dedication to Cynthia
We know not who we are and yet we spar
Striving to somehow gain the upper hand
Fires of desire shift on our heart’s radar
But since taste of joy bestowed now seems bland
We yield to lust consuming contraband
Our ego is blind yet for truth does grope
Our soul contracts but wishes to expand
Heart beseeches head with love to elope
Distance from lust to love indeed seems far
But it’s easy if soul’s journey is planned
First things first, leave the door of heart ajar
Then thoughts that arise, are mindfully scanned
Awareness is by our soul presence manned
Truth transcendental is beyond mind’s scope
So dump ego and obey God’s command
Heart beseeches head with love to elope
Our void-centric eye sees form from afar
Where God hides, we cannot comment offhand
He plays on spine’s thirty three stringed guitar
Some sages point to the pineal gland
Others to monks in a faraway land
Life force ebbs; we see we’ve run out of rope
So in staid silence, beliefs we disband
Heart beseeches head with love to elope
God’s touch dispels delusion, strand by strand
Slippery’s the slope but now we have hope
That we’re living light, we now understand
Heart beseeches head with love to elope
Life back in school is of mess,
Where I chased shadow in fun,
With an almost changed reckon;
Of people's view, thoughts bless.
Then, peace fluctuate ease
Though it is fun chasing breeze
As leave drops off trees
Life back in school is of dreams,
Where I learnt how reality sings...
Of all the tears kings' eye brings,
In captive of his roots' regimes.
Then, sweetness sleeps head
Though the unknown songs are red
To sing its widespread
Life back in school is of record,
Where I benefited from notes...
Of flowing breathes many throats
Taped whenever reading is bored.
Then, feet are unrest
Though tough morrow holds class test
How offhand contest
Life back in school is of part,
Where part are hidden away,
With timed hours on a relay...
To expose halfway outsmart.
Then, ass is covered
Though breeze awaits cloth hovered
To be uncovered
Life back in school is of stars,
Shooting far away the twilights,
Where blue-black sky highlights...
Only the interesting part off scars.
Then, result a moon
Though many hands tear so soon
From eyes timing noon
Life back in school is of friends,
Where you learn from good ones,
And with bad ones have due puns!
Before room makes peace blends...
Then, some are to eat
Though many minds never cheat
Those, benefits feat
Life back in school is of pictures,
In minds worrying over grades,
Yet want all which Big Boy parades...
Receiving hit back cum strictures.
Then, partying fool
Though sensationally cool
Yet drawn school in pool
Life back in school is of wish,
Where struggle is on books,
And may be also on looks,
No stress cum work polish!
Then, money comes free
Though from family's degree
And favour's decree
60's Child
I found myself at the tail end of childhood then,
Coming out of its long sunny sleep;
The days and nights of pleasures, terrors, wonders
Strung together to make up the pitted landscape
Of being small
Still filled my world and made it whole.
Mostly i remember things like:
Summer crab feasts, "I Love Lucy" reruns
"Laugh-In" bits, the drone of ball games on t.v.,
Trips into town to my Grandfather's old store
For candy and comics
Back before my town became Yuppie Central.
Another child raised beneath the cathode rays' glow,
My mind absorbed images, words with only hinted meanings
- Like the smiling faces in the cigarette ads
The offhand reports of body counts
From a faraway, makebelive war,
i heard and felt the many signs of strain
Between the longhaired Bigger Kids and their parents;
But not for me their world of confused revolt.
That would come later, milder in my case
When I became one of their second, weaker, wave.
No, I stepped out of the close land of childhood
Just after it was all over;
Wondering ever since,
Just what it was I'd missed, or hadn't
By dint of being a kid of the fabled 60's.
“I am Gabriel, in the presence of God, I stand.”
The importance, of the angel’s words,
like lightning strikes - holy, grand.
Far better joy than the song of birds.
Silences faithless tongues, stuns nerves.
The predictions come to pass. God does not lie.
Brilliance of wingspan; respect deserves.
Christ’s come to us, The Dayspring on High.
God’s angel was gentle with Mary, not offhand.
Oh, to hear the treasure of choice words.
Still, she’d have to tell her fiancé, to stand
before him with her claim; to cross words.
To ponder, hold joy, in wonder, her world’s
turned upside-down. In praise, she’d magnify
the Lord. God chose a young virgin who serves.
Christ’s come to us, The Dayspring on High.
Zechariah, in silence, saw God’s right hand.
He questioned, even though an angel burns
before him. Sans understanding of what God planned.
A babe in his old age? A gift disturbs?
God means what He says. Listen to His words.
God is not a man, that He should lie!
Every scripture, in His timing, He confirms.
Christ’s come to us, The Dayspring on High.
Admire the breaking of sunrise light.
The canvas of the sky, a morning sigh.
Dumbfounded speak, the blind have sight.
Christ’s come to us, The Dayspring on High.