Long Out of fashion Poems
Long Out of fashion Poems. Below are the most popular long Out of fashion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Out of fashion poems by poem length and keyword.
Don’t
Superficiality,
I hate it with a passion
Authentic speaking, thoughts and deeds
Are almost out of fashion
It is as if a curse has come
Upon the human mind
To keep us empty from within
To keep us dumb and blind
The thinker is now ridiculed
His thought process is ’*****’
His presence has become a pest
They wished he’d disappear
Just keep it light, don’t think too much
And don’t try to be real
Don’t tell the truth, it will upset
Who knows how one might feel?
Don’t stir up things, don’t question none
Don’t teach, do not inform
We like it shallow, it’s more fun
And that should be the norm
We’ll talk about the trivial things
Like fashion, the weather, and food
But not the troubles in the world
It won’t do any good.
Let’s focus on our pretty selves
We’ll stay well fed and groomed
And let no one dare to frighten you
By saying we’ll be doomed.
Wendy Nipas
Reflected in morning, rising in the still light – birdsong, strumming guitar solos on the winds of hope ~ quote by poet
~~~~~~~~~~
Graceful wings, rustling gently with softest song,
Amazing the wind with ballads so stirring
playing with July’s zeal, in hues who belong.
Singing hope and joy as the stars weep, blurring
Those moments of tender kisses, sharing life
Like the skies with their affections recurring.
Silent mists whisper sighs who cut like a knife,
Stilling aching prayers with sweet compassion,
Healing lonely souls who’ve known such heavy strife.
Love this alive never goes out of fashion,
Listen to that light flowing over blessed souls,
His amazing grace marks the worst fears ashen.
Despite what some believe, only God consoles,
When the worst comes, just believe, His love controls.
Stars shimmer in the quiet night
Erasing the laughter of sun’s light
Twinkling a rhythm in the glimmer
In the quiet night, stars shimmer
Dreams sigh in poetry and prose
Written verses, hearts do compose
Rhymes who’ll inspire and imply
In poetry and prose, dreams sigh
Raindrops gentle the darkest storm
Stirring passions so love will perform
Voicing nostalgia, joy so sentimental
The darkest storm, raindrops gentle
Lightning flashes, hues so brilliant
Silencing the dark, totally resilient
Pouring out hope, despair crashes
Hues so brilliant, lightning flashes
Thundering wonders, rousing life
Healing doubts, worries and strife
Breathing hope despite blunders
Rousing life, thundering wonders
Echoing songs, sparkling desires
Vibrating with love, building fires
Embraces gentle, the soul belongs
Sparkling desires, echoing songs
Wet showers, drizzling with grace
Intimate promises who souls chase
Nourishing all the pretty flowers
Drizzling with grace, wet showers
Rainy nights alive with compassion
Despite that love is out of fashion
God still inspires heartfelt writes
Alive with compassion, rainy nights
(Swap Quatrain)
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Entered on August 27, 2022
I bow to you with a rose in my hand
and hope you press it between love's pages
I will not assume nor will I demand
I'll promise to love you through the ages
hear my heartbeat when it speaks to you, love
it will give you all of your heart's desire
with love no more than what we can dream of
through all the days and nights that we acquire
Look into my eyes and you'll see passion
the kind that stays faithful and burns always
our love will never go out of fashion
for it's built on trust and respect's slow blaze
accept this rose and pin it on your dress
let its sweet fragrance tantalize your dreams
holding hands together, let us progress
to a future filled with love's bright sunbeams
3/23/23
contest Collaborate With Me "Romantic"
syllable count 10...ABAB
McCaffrey, a champion golfer in his own mind
All bluster and bull, you know the kind
Like the fisherman who’s big one’s always got away
He will never change, even at the end of the day
One-day last autumn, maybe at the end of the summer
Anyway, for McCaffrey it turned out to be a bummer
Playing eighteen holes in the championship match
Tried to look good playing off scratch
Everything went smoothly out on the first nine
Holed out the thirty six in thirty nine
Out on the tenth all went to pot
He hit a large Kangaroo with his driving shot
Retrieving the ball was a bit of a disaster
The Roo decided to show him who was the master
Up with his legs, catches McCaffrey off balance, and unsteady
When he should have been aware of the danger, been at the ready
A painful kick in the groin had the golfer down for the count
As the Kangaroo hoped off over a nearby grass, mount
McCaffrey now seething got into deep stress
How he finished eighteen holes is anybody’s guess
In the nineteenth hole, consuming drink like it was going out of fashion
Well oiled at closing time a home he went dashing
A cut across the course, striding out nicely, though a dark night
Tripped and fell into a bunker and went out like a light
The Ladies foursome the next morning, teed off at nine
A bright sunny day, everything fine
Arrived at the tenth, driver in hand had she
Mrs Montgomery walked up to the tee
With a good whack from her right hand, the ball was sent aloft
Came down with her ego, it fell in the bunker sand
A loud scream erupted and all heard around the course
A mouthful of expletives greeted the women as McCaffrey crawled out in full force
Mrs Montgomery as bad tempered as he
Took a swipe with a number nine iron right onto his knee
Swearing and cursing McCaffrey sloped away
Fortunately for him to fight another day
Nursing his ego, his groin and his knee
Arrived home hoping to get sympathy, and a nice cup of tee
But Mrs McCaffrey was waiting, and whack, McCaffrey had another bruise
With her frying pan in hand had no time for any excuse
Not impressed at all at her husbands night out
Her heading still aching, then there was the gout
From all the wine consumed the night before
For the rest of the day McCaffrey was ill, and felt rather sore
How much does it take
to express real power and heartfelt passion?
How much does it take?
How much does it take?
Speaking from the heart
Never goes out of fashion.
So if you feel it... now's the time to start...
now's the time to start.
Don't think about tomorrow.
Now is all we ever have.
It's only in this moment
that we are full of life.
So you must take this moment
and give all that you can give...
open up completely
and maybe we'll all survive.
You have no idea
how many stand against us.
And it's best you don't.
Yes, it's best you don't.
Just keep on moving forward
with this vision in your mind...
"As much as I am able...
I'll be welcoming and kind...
but when an arm is lifted
'gainst a sister (brother) or a friend...
that's the very moment
that all kindness ends."
Power must face power
complete in all it's force...
fighting every minute
till strength has run its course...
and we stand in victory...
or we lie in defeat...
having given all our passion
and met the fate that we were meant to meet.
We each must find our way
through this tangled land
filled with smoke and mirrors
to find our place to stand.
How much does it take
to express real power and heartfelt passion?
How much does it take?
How much does it take?
Speaking from the heart
Never goes out of fashion.
So if you feel it... now's the time to start...
now... is your time to start.
Two Dimensional Love and Life
Some lines move horizontally
Others go diagonal
There are lines that travel up and down
They all make love within their set parameters
As is their culture and tradition there
Always within the lines, as is their prerogative and mission
For years Mr. E-line traveled from the east alone
One day he stumbled into Le Le Ling, from a line of high position
Coming from the east straight at him without permission
She was a fine line worth knowing, from a noble lineage
Both wanted sex directly when they met
They fell in linear love from point to point
Neither could continue forward, nor go up or down
And forget about left and right, as their world was flat and straight
They had to do everything frontal and did so on the spot
In the two dimensional realm you were caste from birth
To mate with someone from your universe
From your circle so to speak
Obviously they are lines so let’s proceed
In any case they came from flat lands of the east and west
Horizontal was the only life they knew
Le Le Ling and E- line were destined for each other
Other lines outside of Horizontal World were frowned upon
Diagonals were out of fashion, up and down too
Looked down upon in flat land prejudicial manner
Though “down” in their reality was not an option
Other dimensions did not exist for them
From their narrow point of view
Mr. And Mrs. Line had a baby line one day
They named it Little Liner
Raise it to be direct and true
And straight as an arrow too
In their religion there is only one commandment
Look in front of you to find your way to heaven
Since you have no other direction any way
Stay in line, head toward the light to find the truth
Another prompt, just another poem,
but are these genuine feelings I'm showing?
I think of past versions of my existence,
changing with each season without resistance.
But now I'm too fatigued to study myself,
so leave me alone on a dusty bookshelf.
Sitting upon the edge of unread distant shores,
soul sighs, tired from being a misunderstood metaphor.
Sometimes the inner child loves to run wild,
try to be patient, he forgets how he once smiled.
I can't keep blaming those ghosts from childhood,
but it disturbs the mind when all I see is graphic blood.
I'm trying hard to control these red mists of rage,
to start a new chapter with new verses on a page.
I search for avenues that lead me to chapters of purity,
but this facade hides behind deep suppressed insecurity.
Low self esteem massacres my confidence,
I'm just a man who sometimes lacks common sense.
My outbursts of slaughter are just a means for defence,
apologise in advance if I caused any offence.
Forgive me, I can never take back the sorrows I caused,
but is that any reason for love to remain paused?
You won't see any tears, but they hide my fears.
I've seen through the years that torment never clears.
Encrypted musings of my heart hide behind pain,
Sometimes the wounds reappear and still strain.
I close every door to find silent solitude,
but these devious demons begin to intrude.
Ranting and raving as the Devil joins the queue,
wanting to take me to a darkness that I once knew.
Toxic vampires sucking at my bleeding empathy,
compassion goes out of fashion lacking sympathy.
I try to explain but my views only frustrate,
after a while it seems my opinions are out of date.
Then you wonder why I refuse to communicate,
ignorance of my emotions isn't up for debate.
Silence seems to be the best form of narration.
No one is listening to the angst of my damnation.
I'm content in the deep depths of isolation,
don't summon my soul without an invitation.
Silent One
23 March 2022
When in doubt, write about love
A real good blueprint to follow
A popular theme known the whole world over
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
You can never ever really go wrong
Writing about love and passion
We crave the love of another human being
It will never go out of fashion
The words will always just seem to flow
Without ever searching in vain
A natural instinct we forever rely on
Takes so little to fan the flame
All through my life, I've forever been
In love with the passion of love
Some are born with it while others are not
I have never needed a shove
So when in doubt, write about love
It will always have a likability
As well as that you'll expose your heart
To show you're vulnerability
© Jack Ellison 2013
CRY PLANET CRY
Every country is guilty of polluting planet earth,
All the way down its length and across its girth,
We all will ultimately pay the deserved price,
Who will be first, it’s like rolling the dice,
To mention a few, Moscow, to London to Perth!
We throw plastic bottles, packets of take away food,
From car windows, from high buildings, so crude,
Rubbish mounts up horribly in suburbs and cities,
We are committing suicide, was it this bad in the fifties
People then could plan for tomorrow, no longer dude!
Factories, trucks and old cars emit carbon dioxide,
We walk and drive through rubbish, have we no pride,
Do we not sorrow for the future, even the morrow?
We might as well go freeze at the top of Kilimanjaro,
I see a planet mourning, hopeless tears will be cried!
We must practice dialogue intellect and compassion,
Is all this now out of fashion, where is our passion,
Presidents, prime ministers, all rulers look ahead,
For quite plainly if you don’t we are all dead,
No malignant plans please, and no more dispassion!