Long Pathetically Poems
Long Pathetically Poems. Below are the most popular long Pathetically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pathetically poems by poem length and keyword.
Meeting God in a stranger is always a treat.
It was a rare day. I was totally beat.
I was exhausted from trying to change a tire.
Had left my wallet at home. Was at the end of my wire.
My jack was not working. Triple A was two hours out.
I was irritated and hot and ready to pout.
Hey! Someone said Do you have a dollar for me?
I turned and was astounded to see not one but three.
The man had the nicest smile. The child looked sad.
The dog was pathetically happy. No one was mad.
I wish I did I told them. I left my wallet at home you see.
We all blessed each other, and they prayed together, these three.
Yes, I am including the dog for I feel there is no mistake
That God and Dog have all the same letters you make.
I met God in these people with their homemade sign.
Determined to come back and help them later, a decision, mine.
I came back to this spot around noon the same day.
But they were gone, these beggars put by God in my way.
Ominous and squishy thing in bureau drawer
I know because I head his silly roar,
Which angered me, shaken to my core.
You’ll go check it, if me you do adore…
What am I supposed to do? Ignore?
Your checking was rather pathetically poor.
I only gave you one tiny bitty chore.
Why must you right now go to the store?
Maybe I will run down to the seashore.
I stick out my tongue at the closing door.
I’m right back where I started before.
The interloper makes a tiny roar.
Next I call up my new armoire’,
Love you I say. He says “Love you more!”
Hey, what else do you need from the store?
I have multiples, you see, at least four.
Our husband’s life will never be a bore.
I’m not making this up, it’s not an urban lore.
That bureau drawer is starting to ascend and soar.
Good bye, I say to that ominous roar.
Growing up playing sports
I was raised to compete
Confront face to face
not hide and seek
it’s unsportsmanlike
to slyly sneak
If you haven’t played sport
that word may lack meaning
it teaches you to play fair
not behind backs meanly
Teaches you teamwork, you play with all sorts,
teaches you to lead and learn from faults
it teaches you it's not all about me, and of course
teaches lessons untaught too dorks
Makes you honest, fair and respectful
Makes you up front, letting know, so all equal
makes slander look pathetically deceitful
Those are ways of weak feeble people
Let loose the whip
and tighten the lip
with its reasons for humble cause.
And I'm alight in darkened entries
shrugging my shoulders to warm
my picked pockets with another's
shoes.
Burning down the towered clouds
for the gas chamber streets,
why burn the bills
whilst flesh is still flamable?
And the crier rang out silently.
Could only make out the action,
of something she was trying desperately
the reasons of the destraction.
"You're too blind to make out colours
which have mixed to make brown.
Just a human illusion
of light under cover of sound."
The cobbles are disrupted
and yet its just another cup of tea
to watch on with, pathetically.
He's so phoney in poems, moaning only,
same tone, same story,
a war he can't endure anymore that beats him sore and sorry,
exploring his core for strength absent before in writes of sheer folly.
Wanting to write powerfully like Churchill or Eminem,
but unable to create an impact as do many men.
It's easy to ridicule the metaphorical irrelevance,
as he revamps old writes lacking in intelligence.
Always using the same twist from behind a different mist,
ending with insistence he can return from great distance,
but he's not fooling anyone,
his fall's evident to everyone.
If he'd focused when he wrote this and applied a thought process,
he might have aspired beyond mono syllable rhyming and formed continuous structure,
but too useless to see it rewrote and tidied of mess,
he tirelessly goes on n on with simple investment of
contagious rupture.
He used to try and rhyme three words in each line,
double-rhyming words that evoke the mind,
concludes over time ease occurred with decline,
now forcing sounds heard or spoke in the rows behind.
By this point in the poem he is aware of his failure,
after reading back the words he's just tailored,
happy to cliche but not be a sunken sailor,
he tells of new fire, desire and determination to respond braver.
Follows the procedure of "seeking the peak",
covering up the fact he's pathetically weak,
forgets he lives worn down, always too tired,
and suddenly he's electrically alive and wired,
the traits of the self conning compulsive liar.
Self critical now in his inhospitable soul,
existing solely pitiful on the whole,
typically critique doesn't motivate towards the goal,
believing he's snowballing too fast to stop the roll.
All he takes from being mentally broken,
is his bravery to tell and let it be spoken,
doesn't care how they judge his way of coping,
because all he has left is being completely open.
Tomorrow I will wake up and work out just a half hour,
And yet I find myself weak.
Today I will limit myself on the sweets I devour,
And yet I find myself weak.
Now I will get up and actually do something and clean,
Yet I find myself weak.
I will read today! Instead of stare at a screen,
Yet, I am lazy and weak.
I will hold my tongue, be less mean and obscene,
And yet my soft lips turn to a sharp beak.
I sail on, a captain ignoring a leak,
Not taking steps to fix the wheel that squeaks.
I promise myself hollowly to improve week after week,
As I sit at the bottom just wishing for the peak.
I can do it, I can make steps, have it be more than what I speak,
If only if only…I weren’t so pathetically weak.
I pictured you nefarious, but the montage washed away,
Your thorny bouquets and ivory letters, rotting at the bay.
hurting the devil isnt a sin, so your morality stays sterile
A glimmer of hope you flashed, and I surrendered to beguile.
Your eyes were clouded with stars but still empty alas
Nails you hammer to my chest, crack my ribs made of brass
Like a crown you wore me, then veiled every last visible jewel
You prophesied my doomed fate, but still made me fight the duel
With your coloured blades I slashed my eyes, and seen the mirror hued
Tears turned red filling my cup, with blood my caffeine brewed
You carried me on your back, always kept me afloat
Yet at the end of the war, my lungs so pathetically soaked
From wondering how Im real to making me not to be
kept making me pick my wounds, taking the last chance to flee
One promise after the other, the first still unfinished
Your flawless anatomy, by my hopeless decaying blemished.
Its absurd for me to mourn, Ellipsism feels like a sin
I'll let you go just as I engrave your words, onto my blistered skin
I whelve and bury our sacred alliance but worship the rot that stayed
Fell into a dream never mine, and the price by my youth i paid.
She met him on a Tuesday
On Wednesday she was giving him rides to try and find work.
On Thursday he was evicted, so she asked her mother to wash his clothes.
He had to find a job, right?
He was down, and out.
Pathetically sad, could not make eye contact.
A pup.
Tragedy had kicked him and beaten him.
But she was determined to save him.
Nothing had gone his way.
His last six bosses had been mean, rude.
He had been with teams of awful co-workers.
His ex-wife was vindictive, nasty.
He was hiding money from her, so she had to cash his money orders.
His own mother sent him money with a snotty note
It said “This is all you are going to get, Keith.”
Weird since his name was Brian.
Keith was his nickname.
He was fast to explain.
She decided she would do whatever she could to save him.
She loaned him her car, and rented him an apartment.
She bought him clothes, even though she could not make her car payment.
She did not care.
She was going to give him all that she could
Whatever it took to save him.
It
Took
All
She
Had.
Pathetically gifted - magnificently twisted
Forced to be Christian - I resisted
Future declined - humbly sublime
Time for this world - I resign
Deep space/time coated memories of old
UFO's and Motherships - dipped in gold
Getting jaded thoughts about him again
I think he's cheating - when us we were supposed to mend
Almost every single night, he'd rather be away
'Cause I think with someone else - he's began to play
I miss Florida and I miss him - I WANNA GO HOME
Where I find a home in Florida - I'll forever roam
I miss him even more as he continues to talk to me
But until I ghost the other - he'll never set me free
He promised tonight, he'd make dinner with me
But all day long again today - him I never did see
I pay for everything and am still expected to give up my happiness
I already gave up my confidence, my joy, and my appearance - all for his bliss
He doesn't stay anywhere long enough for us to make a home
But he's okay as long as myself or others - he gets to lustfully bone
His one-way street needs to be shut down
He humiliates myself, my friends, and my family - like some sadistic clown
Laughing as he cheats - he walks to her
He's probably even texting her as he walks to his newfound pu$$y, I concur
I'm building the courage within me to a fine light brown toast
'Cause when he least expects it - I'm gonna f--king ghost
This companionship no longer suits me at all
'Cause he stands in wait - for me to slip and fall
He just wants someone's body to beat
So he chooses them smaller and weaker - a victorious defeat
I really in my heart, body, soul and mind - find solace going to the East Coast
Maybe one day when all is well and unexpected - BOTH my roommates I'll ghost
Oy Vey Smear -
More'n' $500.00 For Car Repair!
Hence mine plaintive strut forward
doleful poetically lamentable
forlorn shell shock mental state
Hyundai deniably forced
me to absorb, sans
requisite auto repair tab
this (Sonata kidding) reality
steered me sigh key -
wracked (in my pinion)
into abysmal suspension tooting horn aye
didst painfully, palp
ably, and pathetically,
(albeit mutinous on bounty of life)
envisioned good bye
regarding woebegone condition
wallet sadly, how checking account
suffered near mortal blow -
cents less lee principally reason cry
ying yup possibly heard, asper
the doll la bills blues and die,
perhaps hastiness dashing
off metrical missive
blindsided, clouded, and obscured
wheely tired call for Eli
(schwa sound) to whisk
this mister where angels fly
essentially taking Matthew
Scott Harris goodbye
from money shortages, away high
yar into the outer reaches
of the twilight auto zone
yet...deep down I dear
lee would rather engine ear
a rescue attempt by claiming fear
less flyer self as charity and gear
legitimate funding to help
a worthy cause, but such chutzpah,
would be here
see within thy coda,
dogma, and car ma,
thus eye shed headlights for
"NON FAKE" truth to app pear.