Long Peevish Poems
Long Peevish Poems. Below are the most popular long Peevish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peevish poems by poem length and keyword.
Sudden kisses, in lusty stealth - warming as morning sun - unmasked favors to allure and added heat to deep affection.
Those eyes, fair heaven should be spangled with such stars - and those radiantly concupiscible lips perform witchcraft.
Slow hours of marriage-like joys soon followed - lover’s tongues tanged from the sweetest flowers not of the field.
In that dear company, I surrendered, like eve's apple, that treasure - peevish, proud and idle whose natural enemy is man.
What I find now haunting my sleep are the nights, the years of lost and unused benefits - knowing that fault was mine.
Like a vulture eating an animal before completely dead
Is the person who picks a person's emotions, psychic til bled
A person filled with inner rage that comes out as passive/agrresive
Corrosion from the inside eating through to surface__ like a crab
Slowly eating its noonday meal
Tormented inwardly tormentor of those close and personal
A harassor of those helpless, sensitive, powerless, dependent
This vulture like person grows fat at other's expense
Using their nettling ways
The vulture goads__teases__just like a cat who plays with its prey
Their vexation is internal they have to have control
They cannot just let life flow
Control gone they become irritable, peevish, queralous, waspish don't come near
For you could be next in line so you better stand in fear
I was 21 when I met you,
You painted my heart of pale grayish blue,
I remember the night how you entirely kissed me,
Our love was the best but full of uncertainty.
Ruthless crazy things were done in a cold sinful night,
Love in our first night was never really ought to be right.
We held each other’s hand out of that darkest wood,
Shameless kisses were given though our love was one doubly brood.
I did not know how those wrongful things seem to be righteous?
Our love was confused and treacherously so vicious.
I knew you were trouble when you came in to my life,
Those mistakable glasses are so wrong and rife.
I loved you so bad and that’s an endless fact,
Your hugs of unknown are immensely not tact.
I remember that date when we had everything,
We gazed up to stars and wish of everlasting.
I loved you so true when you utter mock words,
Your verses of sweetness aren’t ever but those gory swords.
We talked about us and agreed about list of musts,
I was childishly scared to do those things up until last.
You hated me, swore me and told me that I’m immature grown up,
You texted me, cussed me and finally decided to break it up.
Next days of my life were fearfully fragile,
Love was hopeless and obviously unreal.
I knew that you never ever loved me,
I was totally stupid and was so out of the sea.
So casually cruel in the name of being in love,
Every day was a joke and secretly cried it at a silent cove.
You left me in nowhere and never showed up,
I remember how love was so vague when we broke up.
You were a trouble in me for the last 2 years,
Discovering new me was trapped in small spheres.
I really wanted to blame this to God Almighty Himself,
Have no right to be peevish because it’s one test of self.
If I only knew that things would never turn out so right,
Guess I did not give myself up in that love at first night.
Form:
Dust rises thick with grim, sweat drips from rims
of drug-store eyes he wears to spy.
A parting of the slats, which dangle by twin hooks
This Moses at the sea
will look, and count, to see who's home, who's come, who's gone
Behind a brick façade, what makes one hide
in a beehive's nest of shopworn lives?
Where sorrow turns to peevish glue
in a Hitchcock room that feeds his fear?
Where wind says, "Come outside"!
Should he pull the string, raise the blind
maimed of grime and years? Then what? Then what?
Slacken the cord to scan the scene?
What if the wind asks, "Come outside" ?
They come and go, come and go
Who knows when or why they go
Where do they go, where do they go, where do they go go go
His breath escapes, from thin lips, pursed,
against the glass. as if rehearsed
His youth entombed by flocks of loss…
Thoughts tossed, will rise, then bounce and drift,
within the rift of fear and dread
Webbed with soot, popcorn, and tunes of
long-lost schemes, long lost dreams
He watches those who never cross
an empty hallway, disturb his peace with knocks,
or bells, or locks or smiles
Who never cross discord's threshold,
hold a dish, lend a hand or take the chance to know such cold
Wind whips the trees and claims his mind
and yells again to come outside
Sun's shaded by those leafless chances, slats that sever
all the dreams of ever after…
……and the wind screams stay inside
_____________________________________________________________________
For the contest: "Poe In Plath Style"
Sponsored By July Morning
2/11/18
A facsimile of the earth stands proudly
On the savannahs of the ancient and modern.
Edifice of rustic finesse, rugged and pointed
With the glory of a pinnacle of a paradise on earth.
In your crawling presence, Termite, stand I,
Barefoot, on elevated earth for the first time —
A platform erected by the hands of gifted time,
All red-brown and royal, and under the tutelage of
Sun and Rain —two keen-eyed foremen descended from heaven.
You have reached the skies before man.
I hail you!
I have removed my open-toe footwear,
Like Moses did his in the burning bush.
Babel forbids the union of this construction,
Aiming Nimrodly upwards and towards arrowed clouds
Dispersed in blubbering tongue-lashes.
But you do not seek God’s wrath upon these grasslands
With these anthills,
Wild castles —testaments to the will of fecund grounds.
Termite, break the jinx of your muteness.
Testify, crawling soul, testify harmoniously,
Borrowing the singing heritage of the Common Cuckoo.
Testify now.
Attest
To the ruggedness and puissance of this imposing structure,
And blame it on the staccato rhythm of peevish languages.
The globe doth spin, as we walk perpendicular.
I find, this fact, indeed this most peculiar.
Stammering, stuttering we yammer about fixing the earth!
Yet read the poetry, full of how, "it does not work".
Perhaps we should all look in the mirror and wonder why,
The universe outshines our peevish, constant complaints and cries.
How ungrateful many nations be, wanting to control our freedoms and chosen, individual destinies.
The genuine individual is insulted, scoffed at, or not recognized at all.
Just the sheep, who follow lead shepherds, get acknowledgement
at all.
12-28-2020
11:30am PST
It feels muted.
Like a bubbling ache, miming the mince of my patronising murk.
The peevish petulance of my prejudice prompts an abandoned frugality so thinned to a destined demise.
Unlaced.
Untied.
Undone.
A portal so honed to the residual refine of my extinction.
The sterling silver glints off the ashen sheds of my abandoned flesh; she looks like a platter.
Each serving an amortisation to the segments of my pestilent seethe.
Every atom of her making nurtures a barbaric famine to the fester of her feud.
Each larceny a sacrificial suckle for the prosperity of her condemn.
I feel my ruins spewing in a sovereign decay of a cataclysm so heinous in its destruction.
So sinister in its devaluation.
So predatory in its death.
It feels muted; all my days blending one.
All my days blending into the countdown to my censure.
My day of reckoning.
Some children growing up in towns,
Wear sallow faces, sullen frowns.
Streetwise urchins, Jack the lads,
Reminiscent of their dads.
Guttersnipes roam nine to five,
Scrounging food banks to survive.
Toerags daily flout the rules,
Playing truant from rundown schools.
Destitutions plain to see,
With children trapped in poverty.
Urban dwellings, tumbldown,
In the poorest parts of town.
Suburban children lives are fine,
Where peevish youngsters often whine.
For pocket money, mobile phones,
Sadly lacking strong backbones.
Little lords and lady muck,
Born with silver spoons to suck.
Dolly daydreams, demand, designer dresses,
Constantly combing cioffured tresses.
Horrid Hooray Henries, haughty asses,
Pretend to be from upper classes.
Riding lessons, will, in due course,
See little madams gain their own horse.
Suburban life is plain to see,
Where children live in luxury.
Upmarket homes maintained with care,
The sweet smell of success, everywhere.
But the beating heart of any town,
Are children neither up nor down.
These children work hard to succeed,
While helping those who are in need.
Down to earth, no airs or graces,
Pleasant smiles upon their faces.
They live in solid stone abodes,
Down narrow streets and cobbled roads.
No leafy lanes for these progenies,
That are the blossoms on their family trees.
10/ 8/ 2019.
,
Although yours truly modest,
the only personal issue
I will lightly boast about
constitutes lingering
self worthlessness bred
if not prior to first grade,
than most definitely incipient,
academic deadlines
loomed large with dread
and exacerbated by procrastination
quickly adopted as linchpin
damned obsessive compulsive
currents (i.e. thoughts) fed
modus operandi, which intricate
schema writ over lifetime invisible
within this talking head
who ironically enough
never uttered a beep
engendered from lack
of confidence, esteem,
somehow worthlessness,
insignificance,
emasculation, et cetera
took root, and didst leap
(axon to neuron)
and said mindset did seep
percolating into every nook,
and cranny comprising
aging shades, transformed
gray matter, sans this
beatle browed bummer, a deep
purple, though easily mistaken
for minuscule Uriah Heap,
or perhaps, ewe might notice,
(albeit while in a sheep
push disposition) similarities
between mine fist
sized thinker, and another creep
pee totally tubular Charles Dickens
character, or maybe
even a commercial
for nano bot sized jeep
grand Cherokee keep
up a moderate clip despite,
and/or because I
oft times feel a light
buzz sensation within me quite
average gummed up noggin
jammed numb skull,
(essentially barren aged
teenage wasteland recently
undergoing gentrification),
(yeah how really) excite
ting, a no brainer fright
fully glommed with peevish
gobbledygook plus worthless,
obsolete, and crammed academic right
hand busily twiddling, scribbling,
and sloppily drafting
error riddled assignments
deliberately failing heavily
marked with bright
colors adding oomph
to mental blight
punctuated by
attaining puny height
(...oh, about seventy inches),
nonetheless, my slight
physique and mute quiet
as a mouse, I might
as well hove been a stand in
for Charlie Brown right
down to the tree eating kite
good grief - never an ending fight
with Lucy, hence now this knight
in rusty armor forever
disparaged his might
and attests to
20/20 hind sight!
Strange sedition stealthy sets
cloaked in artificial greening phiz
some by prejudice inquiring,
“Where are you from”?
others in feigning frame avoiding,
finding paths away from you,
Though harmless your looks.
There be those secluding,
choosing space dodging.
deliberate speed the drama,
of Conceited Bias unspoken,
The loss of childhood innocence,
Deprivation infinite,
miscarriages of Justice,
preferential treatments innumerable,
spites and Obvious denigration,
strange glare on nature's kiln,
The sun made me shine little mind,
I don't envy You in this cold.
The spite, multitudinous,
The Jeers, unprovoked contumely,
At work,
The Bus,
the Malls,
The elevator,
the peevish looks,
uncertain repudiations,
Even in Church secluded,
The brief suspense at the “sacred” ground
Exclusivity,
We see it, watching in silence.
Some time too Obvious,
Unspoken Nepotism,
“We first”, You Last or voided.
The denigrating use of “Minority or Others”
As though the described are less human,
I am African, NOT "minority" or "others"
we know these sieving schemes.
In civility we ignore,
A better knowledge Leads
This dying carcass a mere container,
We are not inferior,
we are not a threat,
We are beautiful ,
We observe,
We lough at these ,
And when the manacles of Justice is snapped by the creator of colors
then shall you know,
We are all sojourners here.