Long Point of view Poems
Long Point of view Poems. Below are the most popular long Point of view by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Point of view poems by poem length and keyword.
Get out of my head,
Please get out of it while I rest in my bed,
I don't need anyone right now,
Your presence I can't allow,
We've already said our goodbyes,
I coated my happy one with layers of lies,
Just to let you be free,
Cause you deserve the most perfect guy out there and be happy,
I can't destroy these memories of you,
Your face I could still see clearly from my memory's point of view,
This is unfair and sad,
I think my mind's getting crazy over you again and it's getting bad,
To me you still wear that fancy white blouse,
Having that glare that emulates secrecy for which you pretend you don't need a spouse,
But with that same glare I saw someone I could love,
And I think getting over you is the hardest testament I've received from above.
By Edmund Siejka
A high school English teacher
Issues a challenge
Her class
Is to write a poem.
Reading a student’s poem
Her experienced eye
Searches for
Imagery
Metaphor
Tone
Point of view
Ultimately the student’s poem
Is graded a gentleman’s C.
Somewhat surprised
The student admits his shortcomings
Indicating that poetry is a lot like writing
Disappointed
The teacher
Doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Coming home that night on a crowded train
The teacher passes up a seat
Letting an exhausted looking woman
Sit down
Thankful
For this simple courtesy
Brief smiles are exchanged
Strangers from two different worlds.
The teacher notices the smell of disinfectant
Hovering over the woman
Thick fingers holding tightly to her purse
The woman
Begins an animated conversation
With two other women
Broken English
Graceful hand movements
Words interrupted with laughter.
From what the teacher hears
She believes the women
Are cleaning ladies
The little people who clean the bathrooms
Vacuum carpeted hallways
Empty the trash
From windowed offices
High above the New York skyline.
The words ‘poetry is a lot like writing’
Linger in the teacher’s memory
One thing she is sure of
The ladies know of life
After years of
Hard work for little pay
Hungry children
Angry husbands
Absentee landlords.
The train stops
Momentarily the ladies collect
In a small group
On the empty train platform
Suddenly there is no more talking
In the awkward silence
Each of the ladies turn
Toward the direction
Of a place they call home.
Just how small can the smallest things be?
Is there anything even smaller to see?
Down where tiny particles are giants
discovered, observed and studied by science
Does the subatomic go in as far
as the universe's most distant star?
And from even a molecule's point of view
are there things even more minute to pursue?
Does infinity truly stretch both ways
without and within, or let me rephrase
Does the microscopic go on forever
in a vast and endlessly inward endeavor?
Are protons and neutrons the equals of
the planets and galaxies up above?
Whether grandiose or inconsequential
may your regard for each be reverential
For all creation should be held in awe
with its perfect alignment of physical law
From Canis Majoris to a hydrogen bond
and everything in between and beyond
We each are a part both great and small
of the infinitesimal and cosmic all
Who is the arbiter, who will decide if " righteous" anger is ever justified
Perhaps the perpetrator of inappropriate anger will claim his excuse is true
whilst the victim of a vicious attack will maintain a different point of view
In some peoples minds there does exist as revealed on a certain media page
A goddess of righteous anger
How many disputes, be they large or small, are resolved with outbursts of undesired rage
Righteous anger, it exists in the lives of many people, be it political or religious form
No love or harmony between differing views
Anger begets anger, this entrenched behaviour, it becomes the norm
No forgiveness does exist between any warring party
examples throughout history, that's the way it's often been
Bombing in Belfast where the Orange fought the Green
Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, the Gaza strip. Japan
Russia, Ukraine and there's also Iran
So now I must conclude, it's patently clear, such a clanger
that the source of every battle or an argument is raged under the righteous anger banner
Let's discontinue unproductive lives filled with so much rage
The excuse of righteous anger fits the category of lame
let's discontinue human history, shrouded in so much inhumane shame
Let's follow the urgent words of God
our heavenly loving Father who
espouses the word of love
Fill our lives with bliss, harmony forgiveness
accept the divine message circulating from above
There was change, an odd pulse,
a new cadence and tone, in the place I grew up
where my mother had been...
Where white fences stretched out to cradle our home
but where zones, unfamiliar, were on now on the cusp
On a make-shift bed, I was lying awake
Windows cracked open,
a wind coming in, ....
Intangible nights, in the familiar old room,
alone with my thoughts, while sorting out things...
There was a strange, jaundice glow, from the porch light, left on,
and my pillow felt cold, where the moon used to go
The sound of a moth, batting wings against glass,
was begging for warmth, while seeking to ask, a place that made sense
And a place to fit in
My father was sleeping, with his newlywed bride
in the same maple bed, where my mother had died
And a new child was dreaming in the soft yellow room
where I spent all those nights, ... just me and the moon
I was happy for him, and for the child that he gained.
I was there at his side,
when the changes became.. a part of his life, ...... a part of mine too
but was lost in the amber, like a moth batting wings
Eventually, I would grow with a fresh point of view,
but the child that I was, still waits for the moon
I'm older and wiser, maybe stronger than then
but, the moth will look in, escaping the moon
ramming the screen
seeking the flame...
batting its wings,
while resisting the change, ...again, and again
11/3/14
I OPENED A DOOR
TO A PRIMITIVE WORLD,
AT THE VERY SAME TIME,
SOME KIND OF A BURROW
IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE,
SUCH A PLACE COULD EXIST.
THIS WAS THE FUTURE,
WITH A PRIMITIVE TWIST.
THEY'RE REALLY NOT PEOPLE,
BUT A LOT MORE LIKE SLAVES.
CONTROLLED AND CONDITIONED
BY FREQUENCY WAVES.
WITH NO SENSE OF LOGIC,
AND NO SENSE OF REASON.
THEY LIVE ON THE STREETS
REGARDLESS OF SEASON.
THEY MUMBLE AND GRUNT,
THEY'RE NOT UNDERSTOOD.
FROM MY POINT OF VIEW
THIS IS THEIR HOOD.
SKY SCRAPING BUILDINGS
ONE BLOCK AWAY.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN,
WAS LIKE NITE AND DAY.
WITH THE PALM OF THEIR HAND ,
THEY'RE OPENING DOORS.
THEY ENTER AN ERA,
WHERE THEY COMPETE TO DO CHORES.
IT REALLY MAKES SENSE,
WHY THEY WON'T SPEAK A WORD.
EVERY SOUND
AND THOUGHT CAN BE HEARD.
THEY SUBMIT TO THE MASTERS,
AND NEVER COMPLAIN.
DO WHAT THEY'RE TOLD
BY THE MENTALLY INSANE.
PHYSICALLY ABUSED,
MENTALLY AS WELL.
APPEARS TO ME
THEY'RE LIVING IN HELL.
WHEN LEAVING THE OFFICE
THEY TAKE THEIR PRESCRIPTION.
WHAT TAKES PLACE AT THE OFFICE
HAS RULES AND RESTRICTIONS.
THEY'LL RETURN TOMORROW,
AS IF NOTHING IS WRONG.
BETWEEN THE HOURS,
THEIR MINDS ARE GONE.
THEY'RE LIVING IN HELL
ON THE COLD STREETS.
JUST ONE BLOCK AWAY ,
THEY'RE FEELING HELLS HEAT.
TWO DIFFERENT WORLDS.
LIKE NITE AND DAY.
WHEN THE OFFICES CLOSE
THE STREET PEOPLE PLAY.
OUT OF THEIR MINDS.
OUT ON THE STREETS.
REACHING NEW HIGHS,
AND INCREDIBLE FEATS.
WHEN THE MEDS WEAR OFF
AND THEY'RE READY TO SLEEP.
THEY MAKE THEIR WAY BACK,
TO THEIR SPOT ON THE STREET.
THIS IS A WORLD
THAT YOU'LL NEVER FORGET.
A FEW PEOPLE LIVE
MOST LIVE TO REGRET.
Michael E. Harris
11192022
Here is a delightful book of Cat Poetry, written from Cat's point of view. For the people who love cats, and the cats who own them. Love, Joe and Ila.
https://app.thebookpatch.com/BookStore/im-a-cat/ba1ea2f9-0188-4bf2-bede-d9bde3b8d5a2
"I'm A Cat" by Joe DiMino
I’m a cat...
And that’s where it’s At!
If you're fond of turd
Should have
Got yourself a bird;
If needed was an alarm—
fearful of the dark – should have
Rescued yourself a ferocious
Though thoroughly
annoying bark;
But if allowing for deference,
I personally find, feline an
Amply more luxurious preference:
Though admittedly, for some I am
Far too independent—self–serving; don’t
Need anyone (yet if it makes you feel better,
You can pet me) – It's just that
My basic nature is to be totally free;
Therefore, just be grateful
For the times I allow you
With your cuddly tabby:
So no more pouting
Over my nightly outing!
So going back to the beginning
in reference to whence i started
If you are asking me which 1
i think you think i am
On the evidence i have just
provided i choose rather to
judge you on actions not
your words
Because sadly to me sorry is
nothing more than a word i
have heard and begun to
confuse as a greeting said
each and every morning
As so if to excuse or pretend
the past evening's chain of events
had somehow presumably not
actually occurred
Whereas i am still left here merely
plucking flowers whilst out on a
walk to get and take in some fresh
air
Looking and searching for answers
by means of picking petals off of
flowers
Asking do they they love
Do they dont
And what is the actual point
because
In the end i cant make you
And dont want to if you won't
As that is entirely up to you
not up to me
What is done and what will be
is clear as day for all and sundry
to see
The dye is cast the stone is set
debt and tax paid in full
Dust has settled smoke has
cleared everything and all
now is at it should be and is
palpably transparent
Though you're words quite
openly state you love me
You're actions and the last
petal i am left holding in this
game of flowers
Sadly both informs me and
lets me know in no uncertain
terms
I am not and what i choose
to think or believe in
Otherwise
Is totally and utterly irrelevant
As you dont simply seem to
apparently appear to give a
damn enough
About what i care about
Nevermind what i actually
care about
Is to my deferment
YOU
Speak the truth and the truth shall set you free
And truth beauty shall be: or hurtful words
That this heart will have to endure until be
Cured from oppressive tongue's words absurd
Will you ridicule love with this hurtful
Truth spoken never to be gathered back
Onto the lips, tongue, become mouthful
Triumphant thought gathered back as plaque
Yes, you would and you did speak truth from your
Point of view, truth as you saw it or as
Satan saw it, you know he has spoiled view
As the sun rises, I'll dismiss your sass
Speak your truth in love, guard all your thoughts
Let them be from above what has God wrought
Oh dear, woe is me
After years of having money
That I can feel and see
I knew how much was in my wallet
That held the notes
Coins jangled in the pockets
Of my outdoor coats
I did not have to worry
If I overspent
I could see what was left in my wallet
And where my money went
I will miss the coinage
And the special notes
This different kind of payment
Does not get this old girls vote
How can you give children
Some coins to put into their pockets
This will not be possible
With a plastic docket
What will happen to the Mint
Collectors of coins and such
Employees will lose their jobs
That won't impress them much
I know a lot of people
Don't share my point of view
Please respect it and
I'll respect yours too
Too much change as we grow old
Seems to dramatic and drastic
That's why I hold the view
Back with money out with plastic