Long Playlists Poems
Long Playlists Poems. Below are the most popular long Playlists by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Playlists poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s Monday - again - every time I look around,
it seems like it’s Monday again.
Weekdays I run on snark and caffeine.
If I seem preoccupied..
I’m not ignoring you, I’m buffering
My playlists soothe and understand me
I’m not ignoring you, I’m reorganizing a playlist.
My mood is linked to Wi-Fi strength.
I’m not ignoring you, I’m doom scrolling.
On weekends, we put the ‘pro’ in procrastination
we take the celibacy out of celebration
and work on our romantic cardio
Sometimes you gotta pop-out and show your alignment
I’m not ignoring you, I just don’t want to pull a bird-finger muscle
.
.
A song for this:
The Politics of Dancing (12" Extended Mix) by Re-Flex
Without Him by Triste Janero
I had few dates (5) before leaving for college.
- thanks again covid -
so my experience was practically irrelevant.
When it came to love I knew nothing.
I was an unseasoned chicken.
In an argument, I had no social currency,
no litany of my love’s starry predecessors to hype.
In a crunch, I can’t always articulate feelings I’m struggling with -
we’re not all song writers or poets.
What I have is my own brand of cringe rawness -
but breakthrough moments require honesty - don’t they?
Ok, here it is:
You’re not a single song.
You’re a playlist, a no-skip album
that needs playing at max volume.
Your passions, talents and emotions
make the unmistakable soundtrack of you.
And I love it.
.
.
Songs for this:
Baby Steps by Olivia Dean
sunshine! by Hangsung
Genius (feat. Gush) by C2C
We’re busy all day long with studying and chapter summaries,
we’re stuck in quarantine. Luckily, I like my roommate's company.
We know that we have work to do as prep for upcoming classes,
but we know that it takes more than work to make young lasses happy.
So I talked my roomies into getting, a steak-n-cheese delivery,
instead of working fact-sheets, for our next term chemistry.
Dueling playlists cave-rave from the echos in our suites,
we’re having all the fun we can on opening quarantine week.
Some guys try for invites, like we’re throwing a private wingding,
but those texts go unanswered ‘cause we’re genuinely quarantining.
With the COVID blues proscribed - get that frown right off your face miss,
our studies are on schedule - and it’s time for some serious play !
#university #covid #quarantine #teen
Introducing... BoneTone™ Music Box!
Tired of basic playlists?
Want music with soul -- and possibly a few spirits?
Crank open your ancestral vault
with the BoneTone™ Music Box--
the only music box infused with
generational trauma and hauntingly beautiful harmony.
One gentle twist and you'll hear:
A waltz from your great-great-great aunt
(who may or may not have been a pirate).
A lullaby from a forgotten land
sung by someone whose name your bones remember.
A choir of regrets with a tambourine solo.
Whether it’s cryptic whispers, eerie hums,
or a drumbeat made from ancient sighs--
every note is personalized.
Because your lineage has a soundtrack,
and it slaps.
Warning:
May summon chills, lost relatives, or spectral dance partners.
Not responsible for accidental séances.
BoneTone™ -- For when the past needs a remix.
MysticMisfits Product Line™
Coming soon to a dimension near you...
You should see us move to the beat
with Ciara in the driving seat.
She’s on the stage ready to rock
as on us older ladies she takes stock.
To join our club you have to be
over fifty years old you see.
Our local council’s ideology
To have us interacting socially.
The music is the magic key.
It’s from that time we were
Young and care free.
Be it country and western
or rock and roll we shake a leg
and have a ball.
Ciara’s enthusiasm has us enthralled.
Her playlists and encouraging calls.
She wants us too to sing out loud.
As we kick and step and twirl around.
If there are fitness facility awards
Ciara and Fitness LK deserves applause.
Sometimes, one must say goodbye
to a true love, by and by,
and, so it seems, today's the day
I had to throw my true love away.
Perhaps you may think it strange
that the one I love is my cassette tape collection,
but consider -
she's been with me since high school,
growing with me, sharing good times and bad.
Like me, she's grown old and no longer useful.
She's just taking up space.
I must admit, I can't play her anymore.
So, one by one, I separated
the cassettes,
the plastic cases,
and the handwritten playlists.
I'll keep those playlists of carefully selected songs,
marking the milestones of my life, as keepsakes -
tenth grade, when young love consumed me,
Only Love Can Break Your Heart,
eighteen, when I went out on my own,
and pirated Al's record collection,
Hobo's Lullaby and Foreign Affairs by Tom Waits,
then to college and the dorms
old psychedelic records from San Francisco
Fresh Air, What About Me?
Dean's folk music records,
Joan Baez and the Child Ballads,
Barbara Ellen,
Johnny Cash's Christmas Album, The Christmas Spirit -
Johnny's recitation of The Ballad of the Harp Weaver
by Edna St. Vincent MiIlay.
My wife even liked some of those songs -
and then all the children's albums,
folk albums,
and children's folk albums -
Ol' Bangum,
that I'd played for my son.
Wouldn't you know, he developed his own taste in music.
Tapes copied from friends, libraries, radio shows,
too numerous to count.
I can remember all the songs, but not all the sources.
I'm amazed at how many songs
composed the soundtrack of my life.
Sometimes, one must say goodbye
to a true love, by and by,
and, so it seems, today's the day
I had to throw my true love away.
WOW! What a jam packed week ahead..
I've no time to rest or sleep.
I'm working 8 hours each day
For the bills I must pay..
And multiple adventures to seek.
I've lost 20 pounds and tried on new dresses..
Shopped for shoes at designer label stores.
A new hair do and facelift to
match..
Oh this new look I just love and adore.
Now I must attend an interview at midday..
And that's in London for heaven's sake!
And finish in time to clock back into work..
That makes for a very busy lunch break.
I have to reconcile my bank statement..
And post letters all over the globe.
Show my face as attending a meeting..
And colour coordinate my new wardrobe.
I've done my weeks grocery shopping..
And caught up with friends via chat.
And now I must search high and low..
For the perfect Melbourne Cup hat.
I won a nice lump sum on lotto..
Shopped again in Paris, London and New York.
Took cooking lessons from the best chefs..
And perfected the crackle on my roast pork.
I listened to bands from all over the world..
Created awesome playlists to attune my ears.
Sought medical advice from a psychiatrist..
About my phobia and horrible fears.
You see I've never left my home..
I have everything here I need to get.
It is all at the leisure of my fingertips..
The wonderful power of the internet.
So living in virtual reality is my life..
I've the best friend who gives constant approval.
I don't need the physical world..
If you don't believe me, then just ask Google!
Tonight I'm in my room getting high, on Nostalgia
Watching reels made to look like it's 1985, people in the comments say the sun just doesn't shine the same , I just tell 'em nah thats because this is AI
but I still watch anyway, homesick for moments that no longer exist I turn to my phone and pull up all my old favorite playlists
I listen to my youth, one hit at a time
This is serotonin
Forgotten lyrics bring back happy memories of the past
I held on to so many sights, smells, and feelings ..
A life I thought was long forgotten
Feeling whole at last
I have been unlocked and the chorus breaks me
I loved loud.
Not in volume —
in intensity.
In showing up.
In remembering the little things you forgot you ever said.
In texts at 2am because I couldn’t sleep
without making sure you were okay.
I loved in playlists.
In forehead kisses.
In “did you eat today?”
and “text me when you get home.”
I loved in the way I bent
to fit the shape of your storms.
Let them pour through me
and still called it sunshine.
And you —
You smiled,
like you liked it.
Like you wanted to be chosen that hard.
Until you didn’t.
Until my love
started feeling like pressure.
Like too much.
Like a weight
you couldn’t carry
because you never planned on holding it that long anyway.
I loved too much.
Too deeply.
Too fully.
But what the hell is “too much”
when you’re giving someone everything
and hoping they stay?
Too much should be enough.
But instead,
you got quiet.
Started backing away
like my love was a fire
and you were just close enough to feel the warmth,
but not enough to burn.
And I?
I caught fire.
I turned myself to ash
trying to make you comfortable.
I apologized
for being the girl who gave a damn.
For loving in full color
When you only wanted grayscale.
So now I sit here
With this heart that still beats too loud
In a world that wants it quiet.
And I wonder…
What do you do
with a love that was never wrong,
just too much
for someone
who never planned
on staying?
Politics is all about haves and have nots.
Who gets ahead. Who waits in line.
Privileged ones, and the rest get denied.
Politics is about relative truth.
Data be damned. Conspiracies claimed.
Favors for votes. Constituents maimed.
Politics is about what party plays.
Which party stays. What's your world view.
A main course of elephant, donkey fondue.
Politics is I’m right, or maybe you’re wrong.
Debates and train rides. Buses and airlines.
Things heard on open mics and dark dye on hairlines.
Politics is lighting, cameras, makeup aglow
It's who do you know, and if they'll debate.
It's speeches, fundraisers, babies and chicken plates.
Politics is white houses, state houses, stained blouses.
It's tourists with playlists, local, statewide or global.
Incriminating texts, on phones that are mobile.
Politics is Uncle Joe's jail time, Aunt Betty’s brew.
And a family’s deepest dark secrets,
That cause church splits in the name of Jesus.
Politics is vote counting, as valuable as blood.
It's the trust that weaves things together.
Transparent as mud, and stable as weather.
Politics makes life better and sometimes much worse.
In the end, Politics is people.
Often rotten to the core sometimes even lethal.