Long Placating Poems

Long Placating Poems. Below are the most popular long Placating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Placating poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Leverage

It's easy to set the goal, and even put the process in motion, but continuing to push forward through struggles and frustration can require a shove to help draw out that emotional leverage.   ~ Leigh Wilson

Emotional happiness is a goal everyone would like to reach
but attaining that destination is not something anyone can teach.
The use of leverage is a viable solution to ignite the flames of fire,
ones to use as sparks to light the way to have the life we desire
There are several emotional concepts that I label after reflection
that can motivate us and others to live life without objection

Pride is usually thought of as a trait for which we shouldn't strive
but it can also prove to be a useful tool that can keep hope alive
for it can take a look at goals that were achieved or things done right.
A point worth making; it opens a window giving slivers of foresight

Joy is an emotion everyone feels when a goal is accomplished
Any lever can be used to amplify an advantage that can be wished
Something as simple as talking with others can make joy a reality
It's a resource to change a behavior or attitude; not a hyperbole

Hope allows us to have expectations of a life that we find fulfilling
But life often pushes back with frustrations that could use distilling
That's when we pivot, as a lever to make struggles less intimidating
By facing problems head on, seeking solutions, instead of placating

The fear factor dwells inside everyone when feeling uncertainty
or an immediate threat, but it can be levered with a bit of diversity,
a change in some areas of our lives where we experience less stress
The more advantages we can obtain, we'll feel threats much less

Anger is perhaps the biggest obstacle to having emotional well-being
but used as a leverage, it can be used as a key that allows the freeing
from threats that we experience, disrupting our sense of independency,
enabling us to feel self-compassion and toward others with clemency

Then there is the prospect of shame, used to encourage and persuade
ourselves and others to avoid an action or a decision, wrongly made
when we, or others might find out about a socially undesirable action. 
Leveraging devices give gentle shoves that lead to emotional satisfaction.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Defining Truth Defies Das Democratic Thinker In the Age of Trump

"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,

embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,

who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.

First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink

king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering

along Mar a Lago, 
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.

Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate

as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,

regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and

compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization

particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence

industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive

hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction

despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed

in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering

permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.

Premium Member The Hardest Thing I'Ve Ever Had To Do

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

Well, of course, 
It was pretty hard when you refused to go to the funeral after my Father died,
And I’d hate for this relationship to end in a lie, so…

The second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

But, to come to think of it, 
It was probably harder when I had to give Skippy away.
You know, when you made us move to Florida because you hated the cold,
I’ll never forget that day.

The third hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

Well, not quite as hard as it was when I had that little operation,
And you decided still to take your vacation,
And left me alone in the hospital with no visitation.
That was hard.

The fourth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

You know, I did take it pretty hard when I proposed to you
And you said if I couldn’t buy you a bigger ring we’d be through
And I had to sell my car and hock my guitar
To get you a ring as big as a star.
That was pretty hard.

The fifth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

Well darn it, no!
It was hard going to school at nights and working all day
Because you didn’t want to get a job and wanted me to earn more pay.
What exactly did you do with yourself all day!?

The sixth hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

No, its time to admit it,
I saw you with Tom that night,
And Bob the time before that,
And Tim and George, Harry and Frank.
That was hard on me and I’ve got you to thank.

The seventh hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you.

Now just wait a minute!
This is not hard.
In fact this is rather easy.
The hard part was living with you,
Placating you,
Pretending to love you,
Pretending that you loved me,
Heck, this is easy!

The easiest thing I’ve ever had to do,
Was to say I’m through with you!

Boy that was easy!
Now I feel much better.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.

Monopolising Youth and Sorrow

Monopolising Youth And Sorrow



Elevations of my soul soar toward the remnants of a dream 

Revelations on growing old pour out from behind a stifled scream 

Contemplations on what is sold when they are looking to demean 

Vaccinations for a cold that conjures up something else that we need to clean 



Hybrid inflections of my own vocal intonations spoken loud 

Cybrid reflections of the local community standing proud 

I hid my good intentions in humility so it went unnoticed like a cloud 

Then rid my inane inventions of the need to be read aloud 



Placating a crying child at the latest social sense of some injustice felt 

Berating a sighing wild woman for some recompense for what she’s dealt 

Negating a dying portion of my defense that can’t be helped 

Aggregating a lying fortune teller for the notches upon her animal pelt 



Cascading waterfalls that know it all as each droplet begins to fall 

Crusading commissioners that show their hand and try to remain standing tall 

Parading provisioners that refuse to give an inch of kindness or at all

Degrading derisioners that choose to refuse to relent and constantly show their gall



Light to bear an obvious burden that will not go away 

Sight to tear a ludicrous sermon to pieces on a sacred Sunday 

Delight to wear the luminous speakers thoughts who has something to say 

Insight to hear the subtle sounds of discernment and decay 



A subtle refine of elegance blazed across the sky 

The trouble in the recompense of someone always asking why 

A bubble of sorrowful defence as I’m so inclined to cry 

As the rubble of their pretence makes me report another wide eyed sigh 



Wisdom and the benevolence that Rumi writes of constantly 

Children get through a broken fence as I stand there observing solemnly 

Give them a solid defense as they don’t stand a chance without it properly 

As the system relents and continues to dance around the next monopoly 

The End Copyright
Form: Rhyme

United State of Denial

El Presidente don’t Tennessee 
nothing bad coming,
tho’ the global orbitals
saw viral things very differently

Happy talk tongue taters
do eerily 
Idaho ear mash liquor please

Delaware drunk on denial,
so Iowa unaware
that the body litmus test
is gonna crimson cost higher

The Ivory home
(with the igloo dome)
in un-Wash D.C.
got the Nevada neon soundbytes
Alaska gaslighting
Montana malaria nonsense

New Jersey devil-speak
is a spit-splash of 
Flo-rida jingo-jingle noise:
Colorado pulp fiction vig juice 
of New York grifter con-fidence

West Virginia coal pipes rattling
delusional hiss tales untruth
Murmuring Utah pseudo-soothsayer hoax salt
message mixed in 
utter Louisiana swamp cackle placating broth

Kentucky bourbon breath
be mirage-aged facts 
in a California Death Valley cask

Pennsylvania Ave. perps pledging a pathogen allegiance
to Indiana vaping jones —  
Ill moan shills of Illinois cremating bones

South of North Dakota
are so many fear reservations
of minimal test quotas    

North of South Carolina
are very few swine swill flu taste hesitation
But *CDC’s beaker manic motion
botched the pestilent cure potion

Now, from the Oval top 
to the Pentagon bottom,
there’s a United State of denial 

Flooding the closed border with
Rio Grande pandemonium,
Texas-sized tears
break down the New Mexico wall
of pandemic jeers

As Georgia’s scientific swells 
placebo smile 
at the syringe sound
of the Maine coast death knells

While El Presidente 
only coin care to
Mississippi make-believe see
Missouri monetary glad tidings

Toot the little horn of confusion, please ...
‘cause Toto knows
we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy


*CDC is an acronym for Center for Disease Control.
A federal agency whose headquarter 
is located in Atlanta, Georgia.
— Romantic Warrior
Form: Elegy


Pesky Poppycock Payback Please Prepare

Prevarication permits pretend perception, presenting
piquantly piqued, pimply pimping playboy, plucky
pulchritudinous previously pusillanimous, prevalently
puckish, psychic packman, pokemon playing proletarian

puppeteer pygmy, peevishly punky, plummy, plumy,
pompously pushy, pampered, prefabricated pinchbeck,
pokily plying plowshear, plodding peregrination, pied
piper pitifully peppy pornographic potato pealing,

parsimonious paradoxical protagonist, proposing
preposterous panicky pacification plots, prioritization
pertinent penultimate peroration, perhaps perceiving
perjuring, perplexing, perverting puzzling pronouncements

projecting pulsating pixelated pulpy pinball pinging
packets prompting pacific, poetic, phlegmatic purplish
psoriasis plagued, plumbum pallor pallid, Paleolithic
protuberance pronounced, psychosomatic prohibitionist,

polarizing perfunctory peculiarly progressive, patriotic
postmodern pathologically proud paternal panache,
peripatetic panaceas portraying prescient perfidious
puerile president, predominantly proposing parochial

principles, plenty public parking, purposefully
promoting pharisee phalanxes, pilates practicing
paragons, perennially peaceably proficient protesters,
profitable polygamy, pugnacious pitbull powerball

players, pandering polyandry, propagating professional
palindrome pensive peeping people, peddling,
proselytizing predicating prostitution, proliferating
phenomenally, populist persona promulgated peyote

phased physicians pioneering prescription promoting
paradisiacal pricey photographic pictures, placating
phrenetic physical perturbation partaking place
purchased (paid paltry pennies) por palatial piazza.

Spring Season Serves As Natural Antidote

Sunshine undulates across verdant plain
casting dark shadows ushering twilight zone
ringing athwart tree trunks
invigorating, joyously kickstarting, 
and plenti revitalizing
bountiful nature buzzfeeding 

vim, vinegar  and *****
caressing, massaging, and palpating with
soundlessness inducing bub bully giddy,
and sudsy spongy schmaltzy
harmonic livingsocial kerplunk
also intoxicating this perk o' late

ting teetotaler, no longer ginger
who doth oft times ale
with melancholic funk,
whereat imbibing nectar
of the Gods with fulfillment
temporarily quicken ends euphoric,
albeit 'pon firm meant soberly drunk.

Ah...nothing more uplifting
than (Anita Bryant raisin eyebrows) 
plugging sunkist orange treat,
this sensate being privy,
sans front row seat
agog at orchestral, festival, viz

choral paean courtesy sweet
flora and fauna feat
bequeathed to Mother Earth,
a requiem pulsating with heartbeat
pitch perfect exultation
glorifying spring days soon obsolete

ethereal, ideal, and
sensational tonic to gin
prestidigitation, qua
natural psychological helpmeet
pleasant distraction with intent to read
temporarily placating, needling craving

for Pete sakes daily 
fix this news junkie,
trembling when complete
awareness he doth accrete,

where quite glum, how
civilization didst mistreat
planet, hence feeling downbeat,
especially haunting ghosts of
Native Americans drumbeat
signal harbinger debacle

i.e. environmental doomsday
soon fated extinction
sealed and complete
inexorably inching closer to reality

necessitating superman to defeat
global warming rendering vast swaths
uninhabitable as Gaia global
temperature packs tremendous heat!
Form: Pastoral

Television As Glorified Citizen Kane

Upon making
     the treacherous
     undertaking optimal
     poetic theme to write
dangerous, and
     arduous foray into
     spooky catacomb, I in vite,
     where fear doth 

     dill liver worst
     trek to our mailbox tonight
risking life and limb 
     at very right
angled turn
     summoning em mon ent
     mettle pluck quite
for quotidian plight,

asper hiding unseen creatures
     sealed in dark shadows
     along the edge of night
way after deep
     into nighttime hours,
     I cautiously slink
     with steely might
thru barely adequate light

even for this healthy
     as an ox good knight
relying on a Jack o'lantern
     designed jacklight
with superb vision,
     and supreme insight
steadily held above
     mine five feet and

     ten inches average height
espy spilling thru underneath
     securely eye 
     booked deal lee shut tight
locked heavy metal doors,
     a faint glimmer
    sans gaslight
possibly from blaring,

     flashing, and placating
     television screen se
essentially keeping curmudgeonly
     aged residents company,
     while reminiscent nostalgic
     "FAKE" memories take flight
as such wistful 
     foregone reflections

     upon the gift of
     a watermelon pickle excite,
viz the cobwebbed 
     whirled wide
     give "tearful", though
     pained years gone by
     blinkered back teary delight
a hermetically sealed story,

     one will never
     get ghost written, nor
     affixed with a copyright
depressingly clamped 
     down inescapable
     emotionally stagnating
     autobiographical blight.

Blood Ink Infused Writing Heart Wishing Well

What I the things

I choose to write about

Come through my pen unto me 

Out of seemingly nowhere apparently 

So even I myself seldom do not know 

The places where my imagination goes 

In order to fetch and find them from 

Is often darker than the deepest

Color scarlet congealed and cellular 

Blood vein viscus red ink

That flows throughout and from my sanctity

Mind body soul heart head to toe

Best described as like a donation or transfusion

Alluding to reading again to this conclusion

Is the ink my thoughts and words

Merely simply just an illusion a trick 

I play unto myself but prefer to share with an audience

For the sole benefit of placating me

Rather than supposed to being

Of hopefully some use and help

To someone else suffering in need out there

Who unfortunately feels can relate and sees the world

As I do both them as well 

Poetry is an art form of blood letting

But although words are a rallying cry

A way or means to an end

Words not backed up with meaningful actions

Then becomes inconsequential and superfluous

Both worthless and demeaning no descript

And a sure fire sign that the undersigned author

Writes for no other reason than

To do so for the sole benefit of pleasing themselves

And my heart bleeds for them also as well

As they are the unfortunate kind and likes of people

Who will gladly and willing steal others

Pennies out cast into a wishing well

And yet still somehow be able to 

Sleep soundly well at night

No More This and That

...no more this and that as
the sweltering pain distills empty chit-chat

in the clarity of the dawn
while blinded lovers fawn

the words that are spoken are mostly broken

meant not in truth but merely as a consolation token

of placating shredded hearts with lie upon lie

while weaving tales high up in the unreachable sky

torn and twisted truths clung onto so tight-fisted

but as the smoke clears the truth sears

through the gurgling blood flowing down the years

and after hour upon hour of salt-drenched tears

while long suppressed fears springs forth and reappears

as feelings shift gears and as it all in a flash disappears

and though yesterday was gentle and the passions elemental

today its all just slipped away

beyond reach of even tomorrow as emotions faltered and began to sway

and so wrath wraps itself in doleful cloth

silently despising all movement yet resenting all weary sloth

wheezing past the denizens of the glorious ivory towers

seated on fences that expose all defences

stripping away the layers of dismembered senses

and in the end the one that breaks is the one that refuses to bend

to yield and lower the mock shield

stamping its bitter verdict inside an emptiness that is within a vacuum sealed

so awaken to the realisation that all that was has been forsaken

while idle moments seem ripe to be taken

through thick and thin and the bluster and the din

of feeling the agony of being kicked in the shin

and cast aside, off from the always treacherous ride

with nowhere left to go

and no place safe to hide...
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