Long Overdressed Poems
Long Overdressed Poems. Below are the most popular long Overdressed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Overdressed poems by poem length and keyword.
my animals overdressed for Christmas Eve
the bat wore mistletoe on his left sleeve
cat and giraffe dressed like Santa that day
Reindeer kept running around hauling a red sleigh
tabby brought peppermint and was dressed in holly
giraffe wore blinking bubble lights that were overly jolly
flamingo was ridiculous, dressed like a drag-queen elf
crow had never looked more unlike herself
zebra and penguin came in wearing a fake carrot nose
they brought in tinsel, frost, and a wheelbarrow of snows
I was frustrated that they had all gone overboard again.
Luckily I was the only one with a white beard on my chin.
What is me...misery...imbedded deep within
Buried at the bottom of a heart drenched in sin
Washed in doubt, turned inside out, nowhere to begin
Left alone, my unhappy home with silence as my friend
Unable to grasp how to act left borrowing the pain
Overdressed within distress and nothing left to gain
Down each cheek, water weeps, leaving a snails stain
Unable to sleep, incomplete, insanity grips what's sane
What is me...misery...company no one keeps
Eyes open, red rimmed, tired, but still never sleeps
At the slightest intrusion the miserable me only weeps
Slowly every passing second throughout me it creeps
Everything looked upon is envisioned to only depress
Even the happiest of moments cause unneeded stress
Killing all other emotions now already dead more or less
Nothing left, for my misery has become a miserable mess
For Poetry Contest: "Misery" 12/29/18
Hosted by: Edward Ibeh
Placed 2nd in Contest Results
Awkwardly he made a pass
Bumped his head against the glass
Cheesy lines flew far and wide
Didn’t notice spinach fried
Ego big, but brain quite small
Fumbled trying to make a call
Gave her flowers — they had bugs
Hugged too long and popped her lugs
In his teeth was something green
Joked too much — the vibe turned mean
Kissed her hand, then sneezed real loud
Laughed alone (not in a crowd)
Made a mixtape: wrong girl's name
Narrated dreams that brought her shame
Overdressed in latex pants
Professed love mid worm dance
Quickly tried to do a dip
Ripped his jeans — then broke a hip
Said, “I love you” way too soon
Tripped and mooned her under moon
Unbuckled shoes in sexy pose
Very much stepped on her toes
Winked so hard, his eye got stuck
X-rated dreams but no real luck
Yelled her name but got it wrong
Zero game… but writes her songs
Note: This is an echo to "Poison" by a dear poetic friend. I have read a lot of these ABC poems recently, I'm assuming for a contest, and they are wonderful! I'm not in the contest and I am sure these lines above don't dance as well as others. I wrote this because my muse (the one with all the ideas), Chance Summer (that's the name he goes by).. wanted to dance with Cay Cay's muse. Chance is no dancer. And the kid is "Heartbreak City" as is reflected in his work above and many of our heartbreaking songs. Does that make Chance awkward? Yes, incredibly.. but he don't care. Cause tonight, he is out on the dance floor with an exciting lady muse, and his echo echo to her is a dance that will never get old!
A fine day in Cascais
A beautiful spring day in Cascais, the centre full of people
which I found a little disturbing.
We moved slowly on old legs like weather bitten barges
in a sea of jubilant racing boats.
It was warm, down by the sea, and we were overdressed.
My wife’s niece had the patience of an angle adjusted her
strides to our gaits, not easy I’m sure she is a picture of
healthy living.
We had lunch, theirs was fish, I settled for a Greek salad
no wine though knows from experience unless you by
a full bottle, the wine served individually in glasses tend
to be inferior to the residue of bottled wine of dubious taste.
We drank beer, and the healthy niece stuck to water.
Fragments of 1972
David J Walker
I carry the year 1972
in a leather messengers bag
That sags and strains the strap from my
shoulder to my hip
and I claim
to open it only
once a year at midnight
but that is a malleable lie
that has
morphed as I have aged
Have you ever raged at a minor
Injustice
Do you trust your minister to dispense
Only the holy truth
Are you glad that you are not
A traffic cop
Directing traffic
Do you believe you can solve the world’s problems
By inviting everyone
One at a time
To be your neighbor
Do you ever see yourself as the antithesis
Of a solution
To a problem that
You were the only one
Who didn’t know
My calendar is a fragmented rag and has lost
The first week of
January
including next Wednesday
When I go back there I feel
Overdressed and
Out of place
At first glance, time had stopped.
The air felt light, a sweet scent followed the current.
A solar flare, there she stood.
Weeks of dreading, months of pondering.
Years of emotional tournament.
Was it all worth it?
Sleepless nights, mental starvation.
Loathing for that bright light,
always a little out of reach.
Freezing forests,
traces of growth exterminated.
Black skies weep droplets of sorrow.
Always too early, and always too late.
A path that splits in two,
yet I’m always walking a familiar road.
An uninspired rhythm,
a melody lacking any hint of beauty.
It's nothing more than noise.
Born to follow my heart,
I can’t endure the harsh tune of hers.
It was always bad timing.
Underdressed and bold, overdressed and vulnerable.
There has always been an unspoken truth.
With wings clipped, unable to fly away.
Blood embedded in the snow, bones pierced.
Break through this barrier and reclaim the sky.
Soar as high as you want, my friend.
A galaxy heart, free to explore the universe.
Go, be at peace.
Surely we are all voting for Piggly Wiggly Squiggly she said.
She was dressed delightful, but obviously touched in the head.
Yes, we are all voting for the same person, I agreed at once.
I always like to agree right away with an overdressed dunce.
And who are you voting for? She prodded, her fat neck protruding.
I vote by secret ballot, I told her. So my ideas will not be annoying or intruding.
She did not get this and proceeded to tell me about Piggly Wiggly Squiggly.
The woman across from me caught my eye, and we both became giggly.
Whatever is so funny? The woman with too much make up asked.
At that second she was annoying me even more, for she was unmasked.
Let’s all put on our masks, I suggested boldly, loud and clear.
She let out a shriek and ran off, for it would take away her rights in here.
Did I do something wrong? I asked the woman across the way.
Her eyes were dancing. She looked like a friend who could play.
I think you annoyed her because you would not tell her your vote.
Hopefully the next time we meet, it will be virtually, and remote.
I’m a spiritual vagabond tonight.
A broken neon soul in flight.
The universe just cleared its throat,
Now I'm existential, adrift afloat.
I asked the void to make things clear.
It dumped static noise in my ear.
The stars blinked twice, then looked away,
Like gods too tired to stop by and play.
My sense of purpose lost its keys,
Now drifts through hollow vacancies.
I overthink things to find out what I am.
A frightened drifter, all spam and scam.
True meaning slipped through the cracks.
Now I survive on shredded facts.
Infinity keeps passing me by
Without explaining how or why.
I tried to meditate on truth.
It charged me for my wasted youth.
Enlightenment sent its thoughts and prayers,
Then vanished vainly up the stairs.
The future showed up overdressed.
With panic stitched onto its vest.
Destiny looked slightly bored,
Like someone gripping their rip cord.
I met myself beside the sea.
We both denied the banshee's plea;
My shadow asked what life was for,
Then wandered off, and closed the door.
The cosmos keeps on expanding.
I can barely keep up, stay on track.
I laugh because the dark laughs too,
Neither of us has any idea, nor any clue.
So raise a glass to doubt again.
To existential uncertainly, and its strain.
Keep searching skies for one bright spark,
While humming sea shanties, on a wooden ark.
I once took my mother’s pearls
and wore them to kindergarten.
I wanted to look like an
Adult—
a word now bitter on my tongue.
In playgrounds, we believed
in monsters—
now we drink with them,
learn their masks,
mirror their smiles...
We say growing up means
ties with clips and red-bottom heels
when really
it's just learning—
to shed off sincerity,
so adulthood can
grow wings
threaded
with histories we never told.
In the shedding,
we never asked—
if the silk unraveling from our backs
meant we escaped—
or just overdressed
for the fall.
timing is everything
pretty much anytime
anyhow anyplace
morning noon or evening
whatever the birth date
no matter the season
or how tight the G-string
victuals and drink
the chiefs of a good diet
this old woman could not be quiet
she wiped her clammy hands
on a mellow yellow chiffon dress
Circa 1959
timing is overdressed
always never again
maybe sometimes never thrice
the aging colors
of dusty dreams
invite us to frolic
but only briefly
now that it's technical
there are no more heroes
this old lady only waved
when she was yawning
where had her archives gone
into a lifetime of sea
timing is to blame
cooks faster than bacon
doesn't stop and carries a knife
hour after hour reaches out
blinds us to see
takes us half the way there
days tripping over rock stars
nothing is by accident
in adjoining rooms
that old lady never listened
had many years of unread messages
lost the keys to the Jeep
waited for the next available rep
timing held its breath
up-to-the-minute
it was no small matter
prior days posted
atop one another
stealing sunshine
never recoiling
yesterday at sundown
she crashed the ATV
this old lady lived to skål
joy rides at the speed of sound
backward and past the contrasts
always in a leopard pill-box hat
timing had meant everything
still in response to yesterday
it was no grand prize
a gray higgledy-piggledy shrub
below the tidal noise
standing in the doorway with poise
blocking the Entrance
that's what ^tiempo_ was
cowbells and castagnettes
this old lady kicked it
in an instant such as this
cursed by seasons of glare
life kissed her feet in recompense
timing and it's belongings
had paced past and present
and lasted but a moment
in the vestibule by the portal
there is a possessed clock
it stages lifetime shifts
every step you take up or down the staircase
days weeks months years decades
a life-span of keeping your eyes on it