Long Overreacting Poems
Long Overreacting Poems. Below are the most popular long Overreacting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Overreacting poems by poem length and keyword.
This disease is so much contagious!
You see it stingy and so terribly delirious.
Tears kept on flowing like a waterfall,
My eyes were trembling like a shaky voice call.
I spent red times on this happiest season.
I couldn't smile enough because of this unexpected treason.
I kept on opening my eyes and I found it so hard,
It’s exaggeratedly too much and I found it so barred.
People tried to avoid me! That’s so much pain!
Were they thinking that I’m viciously insane?
They couldn't stare at me because they were so much afraid,
People were overreacting like a cowardly cat scared.
I woke up on Christmas with one eye opened,
Seeing blurry figures and I was totally frightened.
Guess red days will just turn into dust.
I promise this won’t happen and this is going to be the last!
Form:
I thought I had maybe clicked to ignore six or seven poets on another site.
Being open minded, and flexible, I was horrified to see
I actually had blocked fourteen people
who had irritated me at one time or another.
I do not even know what they did, but I am a Gemini
This is no excuse, but I do know I react swiftly,
sometimes overreacting, without using the intelligence
Geminis are born with.
It was so liberating, freeing, and it made me happy to unblock them.
I cannot explain how or why, only that now there is nothing
standing between me and my fellow poets, including my temper
So thank you for the terrific idea, my darling new best friend!
It is as if an elephant sitting on my chest just hiccupped
and flew into the air in the form of a monarch.
How wise this was! I am grateful.
Knowing I would have never done it “on my own.”
Living in an open book,
I am everywhere I look,
I thought I took a wrong turn,
Feeling the fire burn,
I yearn for peace.
Releasing my hold,
Dropping the load,
Eroding into the landscape,
There's no need to escape,
The lesson is taking shape,
I am the paper,
The vapor in the air,
I wrote every word there,
My story to share,
For those out there,
Looking for a reason to care,
Life may not seem fair,
Careful of overreacting,
You may be redacting some content,
Seeking consent,
For how your day went,
Letting another use the pen,
Until you say when,
Rising up again,
Writing your way in,
The firing pin,
Locked in position,
Awaiting the decision,
Primed for the mission,
Exploding with precision,
I am spiritually driven,
I've written this story over and over,
Never crossing over,
The older I get,
The more I see it,
I am perfecting my gift,
A rift within the present,
Choosing different,
Changing each instant,
The end is in the distance,
I see another chance,
Will I return for another dance,
Or play in the expanse,
I love this experience.
Hope y'all are enjoying the chapter your writing.
Substance or alcohol abuse,
Number one.
Joins a gang and carries a
Gun.
Makes bad decisions,
Impulsive.
Appears nervous,
Often disruptive.
Irresponsible with life
And finances.
Takes a lot of risky
Chances.
High emotions, no emotions,
No in-between.
Always in trouble,
Can't get clean.
Inability to process the highs
And lows.
Running against the way the
Wind blows.
Completely shut down,
Overreacting.
Filled with doubt and
Self-loathing.
Inconsistent with no
Motivation.
Often ruins the family
Vacation.
Full blown mania,
Deep dark depression.
Super funny then
Full of aggression.
Takes everything and makes
It personal.
Always combative and
Confrontational.
Have problems paying
Attention.
Shows resistance to
Intervention.
CHILDHOOD TRAUMA SIGNS
Turbo 1904 ?
People tend to overthink and overprocess this “love” thing and this thing called “relationship.” Somehow and for some reason, you want the “Perfect” relationship with “Imperfect” people.
Why does your mate have to be “PERFECT” when we are ALL imperfect, even you, including you, especially you?
A relationship does not consist of being “insecure” - Trust
A relationship is not obsession or controlling - Chill
A relationship is not separate this, separate that - Trust
A relationship is not yelling or arguing to get your point across - Chill
A relationship is not phone patrolling through your mate’s phone - Trust
A relationship is not overreacting - Chill
A relationship does not keep secrets - Trust
A relationship is patience - Chill
A relationship is not I, my, or me, but WE, US and OUR and when you both understand THIS, you will have a better, stronger, solid relationship.
Find the areas in your relationship where you need to “Trust and Chill,” and when you do, then Trust and Chill.
When I was young
I longed to
be surrounded by trees,
water and flowers
without bees,for
fear I might get stung:
Overreacting I would run...
act a fool when I'd see one.
But no-matter
the price,bees or not,
I had to be in my poet spot.
My poet spot was there back in
the day,but now it is not.
The sun would undress me,
I'd just sit while the
soft breeze caressed me.
There I could ponder,
with the water trickling
underneath my feet.
No one knew this spot,
I'd always go alone,
so I could think
my selfish poet thoughts....
In my Poet spot,the spot
I deemed to be just for me!
Thinking clearly now,writing freely,
Breathing oxygen in,
I wrote so freely back then....
I'd put back on my clothes,
and dry off my feet,watch
a butterfly carefully....
I let the beetle free ,
who kept me company
against his will.
Made two Praying Mantis fight.
I knew this wasn't right to write.
Then I'd go home .
poets hate to get straight to the point, well she hates it, but she's clearly not a typical poet, she may choke on a metaphor or two, but she can express herself with the best of them, unfortunately this poem will not flow as poetically, she has a vivid point to get across, contrary to other works, this poem, well letter, is for him, she didn't just ask for a "just because" teddy bear, she asked him, she noticed him lost near a familiar horizon, perplexed if not tormented by his own thoughts, she noticed him, from the calming waters she danced in, knowingly stepping into shallow waters, that same horizon had her lost in translation, now words that once came easy she cannot convey, his sudden appearance in her life, scares her, she's frightened by possibility, for he could be the "more" she's prayed for, he could be colors to paint the gray skies she's accustomed to, he could be the world that revolves in and around her, he could hum her favorite song to save himself for the sake of her, he could be like a tree rooted deeply in her, keeping her cozy like her poetry, he could be human form poetry, he could be her poetry, the medicine for her sleepless nights, he could be her awakening that jolts her up at 3am to write, he could be as refreshing as rain, he could be here simply to combat her deepest pains, if only he knew more than just her name, if only he could adapt to the rules of her game, a tricky game where he could earn her heart, through writing this her anxiousness, her lion, her inner lion, is tamed, with hopes she ignited his flame, she hopes he runs into a crowd, pushing strangers left and right, all to see her, to seek her, revealing to her that she is worth the pursuit, worth being sought out after, she won't reveal a word, she vows to remain the silent southern hummingbird, but the melody, her lone melody, could come alive in him, now harmony, but she's probably overreacting, she knows she's overreacting, she knows why he's so overwhelming, she'll continue to write and vent to you strangers, she waits until she connects with him... this was her long-winded way of getting straight the point.. in short, this is why she asked for a "just because" teddy bear.. (she laughs)
Alone
She was always alone
Making a shield out of her phone
Alone
So alone
The feeling engraved into her bones
Maybe it's because she doesn't act normal
She's not insane
But there are so many things in her brain
That makes her act out to escape
Even with others
She doesn't feel among
She's like a lone bird
Singing the broken melody of a sad song
So many thoughts run through her head
Thoughts she think people said
Every time she takes a walk
She thinks everyone just wants to talk
She says 'hello' and tries to smile
But she's just awkward and silly and feels so vile.
Maybe she's just overreacting
About the gaping hole that fills her chest
That she may never be with the others
And be loved by the rest.
She knows someone out there who loves and acknowledges her
And she loves them too
But some days are just hard
And filled with so much sorrow and rue.
I know this poem doesn't make sense.
It's not neat or organized like the rest
It's messy and lonely and runs through the lines
Of a blank page or document
Goodnight
Casserole
The word strikes terror in my family
They know it will be all the leftovers of the week
Thrown into a bowl with a couple of raw eggs
Maybe doused with cheese sauce and cooked until
it is a lovely golden brown.
Casserole.
They begin making other arrangements.
“I am dining with friends.”
“I am meeting my friend Carol at Pizza Hut.”
“I have a business dinner tonight.”
“But you are only five,” I argue. “What business is it?
Casserole
This could include but is not limited to lima beans, carrots,
French fries, creamed corn, brown sugar, hamburger, peas,
spaghetti o’s, macaroni and cheese, and a bit of peanut butter sandwich.
I thought they were overreacting until I left huge dollops of one
that they would not even taste on paper plates for the raccoons
who tippy-toes around them and did not eat them.
Written 8-2-2019
Contest: Cornucopia Cooking Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
So, I’m home for winter break
and trying not to break
because I thought I could break away from my problems, my chains—
but my wrists break instead of the shackles.
I don’t want to be home—
I came back, and no one was home.
Just like the week before,
and the month before,
and the year before.
And when I think more,
I can’t remember the last time anyone was home.
I’m starting to think
that I don’t have any home mates.
Not housemates, not roommates—
they’re here, but they aren’t home.
Because home to me isn’t here.
It’s somewhere between love and fear,
somewhere between far and near,
somewhere I don’t have to hear from any of you—
about how I’m overreacting
and unprepared
and indecisive
and just, scared.
I know that.
That’s why I bought new bedding and towels and hangers.
That’s why I spent four months with so-called world changers—
just to feel like I’m no longer in danger.
The people in this house can’t see
I’m building a home somewhere else.
That’s why I came home and didn’t see them anywhere.
Because most days, home is wherever they’re not.
But I need them like water—
only, I can’t swim.
I’ll die with them and without them.
I had a semester-long break.