Long Overhaul Poems
Long Overhaul Poems. Below are the most popular long Overhaul by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Overhaul poems by poem length and keyword.
A lmost always late (unless it’s for a movie);
N ight owl though I am, I love the sun.
D imples when I smile; to dance or drive a ragtop are two things I find groovy.
R ational and “real,” I tell it like it is to everyone.
E xuberant at carnivals or joking with someone;
A ware of all my flaws, and one of them is having too much fun!
D iligent and dedicated - words that well describe me.
I n things I love to do, I give my all.
E nglish is my forte. I’ve taught since 1983.
T hankfulness I feel, though now at 56, my bones could use an overhaul!
R egret I rarely feel. Most things I do - I know I’d do again.
I ntolerance, injustice and ignorance I hate to see.
C onscientious since a child I’ve always been.
H appy, kind, forgiving, and easy-going. Now you know more about me.
Written by Andrea Dietrich
for kristen bruni's contest:
"Love Me Why?"
I took a visit inside my brain today
To check what was happening
It has been a little sluggish of late
Like a cloudy day not a clear day in spring!
It was dim on entering
So l turned on my lamp
It was really quite foggy
Felt a little damp
The memory section caught my eye
As there were countless empty spots
A bundle of wires nearby
All tied up in knots
The vision section was labelled
Though extremely hard to see
From a distance
I think it read:
h E L p M e
The emotional section was out of control
Eratic movements up and down
Huge highs , deep lows
Overstressed and unwound
My brain it seems is in great need
Of an overhaul and mending
Overwhelmed , l swiftly exited my brain
Service and repairs left pending
Summer months in the Tropics
zestfully endowed by God
for life-building endeavour
spiritual wellness' overhaul
cheerful reaching-out
empowering… yet exhilarating
while basking in nature’s bounty
granting rejuvenation-triumph
along prayer meetings’ delight!
Breathtaking faith-adventure
via miracle-propped lessons
upon mountain-trek ascent
for fellowships sublime…
invigorating blissful stewardship
volunteer-works' revival
nurtured and nourished by Christ
Who reigns in every Season*
toward victorious journey ahead!
*Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
April 17, 2021
Edited on March 16, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND 1090" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/17/2022.
Reality is rising out of the earth, mixing water with dirt, the children are playing in the mud from morning until sun down and the crisis in the street have disrupted the long awaited peace, and I patiently watched their short lived freedom evaporating in thin cold air.
They once bore the amour of truth from the days of their youth but with the passing of time, wisdom has crossed over to the other side and reality runs like mad men through the street.
You don’t know the price of goods for you have been living in the woods, raisin buns have gone up and the eagle bread is soaring in the sky. The prices are way out of reach and it is hard to compete; anxiety is running throughout the town and the hustlers are running around looking for cheap barging.
Food is going to be rationed again, run and tell your friend, get ready for the big overhaul, it is going to make some people bawl, a pound of chicken for ten American dollars, a pound of steak for twelve dollars, eggs for six dollars a dozen, rice, flour, sugar and cornmeal for three dollars and fifty cents per pound, oatmeal for six dollars and fifty cents per pack and seawater fish for five dollars a pound what more can I say when reality stares you in the face, you have to do something before it’s too late.
Come and share your bread with me and I will make your dream come true, come and share your bread with me and enjoy my company. The people are coming out of the lion’s den, they are looking for new friends, one bread to feed a family of five; and there peace and love will abide.
There is just not enough for everyone and reality is singing a different song so meet me at the garden center before noon because my family and friends will be coming home soon.
I have to buy buckets, mops, bleach, and detergent to clean out the place and air freshener to neutralize the mouly smells in the corners. I need garden rakes and brooms, a big shovel and a wheel barrow, we are going to clean inside out and we are going to make the devil shout; I need board hammers and nails to keep the dogs behind the gate so meet me at the garden center before it’s too late.
As night falls, a dark melody
fills the air with a feeling so deep
it is the song of a dark rose
tweeting near a corner fence.
Dahlia, a withered pale woman
lies on a granite slab, still and serene
The song transforms the air, calm
infuse her chill cells, pungent.
Cells overhaul false refluxes
taint her veins with lethal hues
rose rummages the window
like a creeper it probes in disguise.
A noise of a phantom stirs in the void
The deadbeat song reaches its peak
undermining her heart waves
the roaming restless phantom roars.
"Who is the next cadaver to join me?''
then dark rose turns from grey to white
the source of the call slowly deranges
with the rise of a promising dawn.
The sunrays pack her vitals with life
a dark rose is reborn, its music unheard
may *Prana saves helpless cadavers once again
a wish for a dark song seems wanted.
*Prana, a Sanskrit word meaning breath, a life-giving force.
Is it just me or do all old guys drool
At the sight of every young chickie
Could it be I'm a perverted old geezer
Or normal but no longer picky
Once thought I was quite sophisticated
With very discerning tastes and all
But the older I get, the less picky I am
Probably need a complete overhaul
Don't go calling me a nasty old pervert
Females were meant to be admired
I'm sure they're totally aware of this fact
By some of their provocative attire
Sure not complaining, trust me on this
Wouldn't have it any other way
Just to ogle these beauties walking by
Brightens up the dullest of days
Not a pervert, just a healthy old male
Enjoying the finer things in life
The female form in all it's perfection
Counteracts all of life's strife
New Year Change
Kevin Davis, 2025)
Each year we promise to overhaul life,
Become better humans, improved and refined.
We’ll drop a few pounds, quit smoking—or try—
Join a gym we’ll attend while the mood’s still high.
We buy shiny planners we’ll never complete,
Sneakers engineered to remind us of guilt.
We meal-prep salads, determined and brave—
Then reward our commitment with fries on a plate.
By mid-January (give or take a day),
Our willpower fades and the couch has its say:
“You’re perfect already—why struggle or strive?
Sit down. Relax. Let’s binge Season Five.”
So this new year, when drafting resolutions,
Remember: real change ignores quick solutions.
To alter your habits, begin with your mind—
And stop trusting fitness apps… especially mine.
Listen in,
We tend wallow in the hatred we swallow,
it cuts us deep to the core and leaves us empty and hollow,
so we look for someone to borrow a pinch of joy just to cover our sorrow,
but be careful who you follow, cuz everyone can't promise you a better
tomorrow.
You see if everything is nothing, then everything is true,
and even tho we swear it don't fit we still wearing the shoe,
some of y'all don't get it, so let me make it easy for you.
Everybody's the truth according to their own lies,
and everybody's the realest nigga in their own eyes,
everybody wanna be someone no one can defy,
and everybody's searchin' for truth, no one can deny.
So can you please tell me why,
we always lying to ourselves,
denying to ourselves,
crying to ourselves, then replying to ourselves,
we advertise our lies then we buy into ourselves,
we wearing a disguise but we just hiding from ourselves.
But that’s the motion,
and you can take a sip of that potion if you want to,
it’s the ghost of the past and if you let it it will haunt you,
twist the truth into a lie like a tie,
then strangle you with your failures 'til you suffocate and die,
straight up and down like a stalker hangs around,
it'll eradicate your sanity, a mental overhaul, an emotional calamity,
it will leave you high and dry like Colmes did Hannity.
But I won't get political,
while you lay in critical, condition,
trapped in the matrix on the road to perdition,
but if I was politicizing this is my position,
and if I were philosophizing this is my submission….
As dark descends upon the day...
When footprints park a kiss today.
The slight divide of lips young verve.
The soft meringue of love that seeks.
The lemon sweet ~ the pie that peaks.
Innocent brush ~ a slice that serves.
A reddened cherub cheek ~ a flush...
A downward slide ~ a cherry rush.
The binding hips and luscious curves...
O moon, aglow, round full-blown blithe.
Release of pheromones that writhe.
The stars so bright the twilight swerves.
As dark descends upon the day,
Thus closing in, where wrinkles prey.
Two hearts surrounded by quick sand,
And consequential limbs free fall.
The limits up, for overhaul.
A smack of lips — to taste is bland.
But still...their eyes — with crescent love,
Sweet smiles with heaven’s glow to move
The waves of sea — reflection’s hand
Of memory between two moons —
The sensuous palm trees that swoon.
Under the milky way...falls stand.
The tongue of milk and honey-speak.
A resting place in bosom’s peace.
Two hearts of gold on twilight peak.
5/25/2018
Contest: Hutinashro
Sponsor: Connor Lotts
Iambic Tetrameter
I write because my world revolves around it,
It pulls me to itself,
It’s ionic bonding.
I write because it’s a relief for me,
I overhaul myself,
My struggles and battles are let out.
I write because my muse opens its door to me,
It comes in a subtle flow
It illuminates through.
I write because it opens to me a new world,
It transcends me to a new realm,
I journey in an unseen space.
I write because nature communes with me,
I'm in relation with it,
Seated in its abode.
I write because its fun,
Seeing my thoughts and ideas in print,
Is a huge delight.
I write because it’s one of my interests,
If I'm not doing the others,
I'm drifting in its world.
I write because it’s a calling,
I'm at my duty post,
Putting away any dereliction of duty.
I write because it’s a career,
My services are given out,
In exchange for money.
August 29, 2022.