Long Perfectionists Poems
Long Perfectionists Poems. Below are the most popular long Perfectionists by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perfectionists poems by poem length and keyword.
My writing gets wavy and I bet it would annoy some perfectionists out there.
I’m annoying but I don’t care right now.
They hate me, so I write about that too.
The tree outside is weird and funny and bouncy.
So I scribble a tree and the tree has a face.
So I look outside again, and the tree is talking to me.
I’m alone and talking to this tree.
I’m in my room and I sleep here sometimes.
But tonight, sleep seems silly and far away.
Stretching out my words.
Ohhh,
Or awww!
Or owww!
Howling in my room.
Until my mom hears my song and opens my door.
She’s angry.
I turn the light low but never off.
And write about that too!
Quyted (to depart from) your arms is an urge I have held on to
Qwerty language got me typing away with you for no clue (reason)
Quenched in your disqualifying love affair
Tired of being your nightmare twyer and your dream catcher afire
Tripping out because I puffed on my drug of desire - the cigarette of regret and its outrageous results
Trapezoids get paranoid at the sight of your circular ways...triangle angles has shaped your geometrical appearance, your symmetrical awareness
I d-don't mean t-to intrude your without-a-trace personal space
Intrigued to see you have moved on with your life's really rapid race
I don't think perfectionists are normal...nor are pacifists to battle friend grounds, going up and down a bomb-packed wall
Damaged drastically by your dismay days and its highest degrees...lowering my confidence levels inedibly
Do note this - I love your hatred and you hate my love
Dandelions grow where my lily pads float and it doesn't make any logical sense at all...so I hand you a bouquet of stars and forget-me-nots and forgive-me-pleases
Empathic emperors are crowned as clever Kings in my town of undefeated honor and elegant dignity
Empower me with the Haar's breeze for the time being and squander our time like children, chasing around each other at the park and playing following the leader...
Empty your pockets of moonjoy and let it sprinkle upon me spacious, splendid sunrises and I'll be the leader and you the follower this time forth and forevermore
And I utter risk-taking words of bipolar weather (emotions and the changing effects)
Alienated ambition strikes me on stage with brave potentials and talents alike that is the opposite of stage fright altogether
Adorn me with blissful blessings that are of the highest quality and will make all crowds tremor with respectful fear
Rouge roses you tossed at my timid tombstone (doing away with shyness)...now I'm bleeding out Crimson, a vermillion vengefulness you spat at me
Remitting relief grief upon me, the Haar's blasted breeze oh so wretched breeze once at ease...Dona Nobis Pachem please...
For all aspiring poets, creative writers, bloggers and story tellers.
When you hit a moment off of writer’s block you can step out side for a walk , observe nature, people animals plants even a rock.
Once you return and flame of creativity begins to burn. You want to start creating but the ideas don’t flow right.
From one poet to another I say “don’t think just write.”
We tend to overthink, we tend to be perfectionists because we want everything we do to be perfect but perfect does not exist.
So don’t think just write.
You can edit later, let the words fall where they fall.
Ideas can be big or small.
So don’t think just write.
You can write about anything it doesn’t have to make sense.
As long as long you tap into your senses jus writing will help you hop the fences of what’s blocking your common creative sense.
So don’t think just write.
Ain’t No Such Word
Do you love the English language?
That uses words such as ain’t
Placed in a sentence, like a sandwich
Of the word, I’ve no complaint
There be those who will not use it
No such word as ain’t, they say
But this belief, I do refuse it
And always say it anyway
They say it sounds so uncouth
Ill-educated, don’t you know
That may not be, far from the truth
But somehow, ain’t, has such a flow
If you speak with plums in gob
Then usage sure ain’t gonna happen
It ain’t for me your words to rob
And ain’t for you my words to flatten
In the garden of our language
Ain’t, be no more than a weed
Perfectionists, release your bondage
This flowers bursting to be freed.
I’ve fought the corner of this little word for years,
Been rebuked a thousand times, mind you,
999 of those were on purpose lol
We get so caught up in right and wrong, discussing it is this that will benefit us and that that will harm us, we get so caught up and tired and so very thoughtful on things that don’t even matter as much, we have to learn to deal with circumstances of our wrong or right behavior, cause fussing over it won’t end it or alter it.
And be brave enough to accept it and conceive the will to change what does not fit you perfectly, we are perfectionists in our own eyes, we distress over the smallest of imperfections and please on the even smaller of perfections
We are simple yet we yearn to complicate that simplicity and change it into something that makes us get along less, we love with our fullest and dream of the many happy days to come yet we know they will never, we are optimists to tragedy and pessimists to hope, we want and want and never stop wanting, we give our all and except our all to be given back to us, but it doesn’t, and we are left with missing pieces that were given by us so we lose ourselves and forget how hard we built them and how many and how much we’ve been through, we go through heaven and would think heaven is to always stay heaven but this world aint perfect in our eyes and something is always missing, someone is always discontent with this heaven we long for so we lose it and lose all those dreamy castles on the clouds for thoughts that demolished them .
And then comes the ache of those beautiful heavenly memories on those clouds with those hearts that were so light, and that light goes off and we are left with this darkness we try to escape, but we see no way out, we look and look for any illusion of that slight precious light and yet we fail although we glimpse it sometimes, live it for a few moments sometimes only to robbed the next morning where wed want it to shine so brightly and so it goes and so we live, blinded but alive, ceasing to look for any more light
And so it comes, engulfing us all, with impassive pitchy shadows, we are lost, we are lightless, we are indifferent to all that comes, we have reached hell.