Long Pressure Poems
Long Pressure Poems. Below are the most popular long Pressure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pressure poems by poem length and keyword.
sudden changes
I use to be my self
am not sure if it always
cos life can't let it be possible
still I try
sudden change
I try to maintain my purpose
in life
yet circumstances of life
keeps playing with my
humor while I struggle
through challenges of life
my grieves are silent yet loud
so when I can't with stand
the pressure then comes the
sudden change
sudden change
I know I can never be perfect
no wonder my sleep gets shorter
cos reality bear my elbow
too many responsibilities
unseen yet must be done
friends don't see this
but only a real brother feel it
so I realized life is each on for
his cross no wonder I bear this
sudden change
Mightn’t get any sleep
Nose pressed to the screen
so…colorful
so…dreamy
mesmerised
No one’s turned the faucet off
landfall imminent
head like a pressure cooker
build up
drip drip drip
commercial break drums
melody strums
calculating where my loved ones are
a hurricane inland!
the light’s turned off
outside
flashlight relied
upon
filling the tub
not for ducks
morbid message
for those who stayed
permanent i.d. yourself
so your loved ones
don’t need to guess
upon recovery
Mightn’t get any sleep
Nose pressed to the screen
so…colorful
so…dreamy
Cat 4
floored
I'm drowning under your ridicule
Sick and tired of listening to your rules
Fed up of being beaten black and blue
It's gone too far and now I'm leaving you
You got no right
to beat me up
This relationship's over
Now face the dust
No more a puppet
Dancing to your tunes
No more words hurting
Or cutting me through
You've crushed who I was
Took the soul out of me
I'm a phoenix in the ashes
And I'm setting me free
I'll spread my wings
And fly on the breeze
One day a Mr Wonderful
Will capture me
I can build me back up
Whilst you're on the ground
Learn to smile once again
With less pressure around
Form:
I lock myself in my mind
And the troubles begin to unwind.
The numbness swoops over me and in the darkness I go
To find the answers to that of which I already know
The irony of falling is the knowing and unknowing of thy soul
Parts of you missing those others stole
I just want to close my eyes as I feel
Trying to figure out if this **** is really real
This pressure inside my chest that throbs so deep
The tears that swell my eyes and start to weep
Feeling both the inner and outer of my being at the same time
Hydroplaning life with no sign
The spiral down is the scariest because it seems without end
You start to feel your foundation crack and bend
Swaying in exhaustion from just trying to understand
Reaching out to myself with my own hand
An ocean with the darkest depths
Is where my mind is pulled in by tide and swept
Breathing is a struggle because the pain is sharp
I get turned inside out through my heart
All I want to do is rest the hurt away
Forget about that bad day
Feel normal again
Forget it happened.
But the inside cries keep me awake
And like shattered glass I begin to break
I fill with rage and anger for what I have endured
And loath the deception in which I was leered
Shaken by the rush of thinking too much
Searching for answers and finding no such
Desperate for freedom from this flesh of hell
It has burned me alive each time I fell.
Peace I seek, glory in light
So I keep on through this dark and lonely night
With my body emotions grow
And when I am ready, I breathe and
Let them go.
Then I feel fine
And safe once again in my own mind.
If that's what she did,
than trust me,
you're not under a lid,
she flipped it-
added pressure to admit ...
Characterization of the limitless,
shindig-less,
hard nosed,
pencil printed,
breaking of embarrassment,
getting others to care less,
but you never got to see the cherry list-
it got burned before the internet,
you should have had a little fit-
...before a big one,
and then another,
or just got a gun,
one that works hard to make you jump and run.
She's not in love with your hugs!
She's not entangled with you at all!
She's estranged to leave with mud and guck and-
maybe one nut-
but who's counting,
you're just as dumb...
Written: June 26, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the realm of creation, where forces collide,
There is a phenomenon that cannot hide.
Shrinkage, a word that holds power untold,
Affects all things, both young and old.
In the dance of shrinkage, cracks appear.
Random patterns, spreading fear.
As materials contract, their strength is tested.
And in their wake, a trail of cracks is manifested.
Skipping lading, a delicate art,
To prevent shrinkage from tearing things apart.
With careful precision, we peen the weld.
Melting the metal and ensuring it's held.
But alas, shrinkage cannot be tamed.
Even in old age, memory is maimed.
Brain Shrinkage, a tragic tale,
Where memories fade and thoughts derail.
As I grow older, I fear the loss.
The shrinking of my mind at such a cost
But in this dance, there may be hope.
To slow the shrinkage, and avail me to cope.
Warpage, a consequence of shrinkage might,
Bends and distorts a worrisome sight.
But with knowledge and skill, we can prevail.
Strengthening our creations and making them avail.
Weight is a factor. In the dance of shrinkage, it plays a role.
Adding pressure, taking its toll.
But with careful consideration, we can find
A balance where strength and weight align.
Shrinkage, a force that cannot be denied,
But with knowledge and skill, we can confide.
In the realm of creation, we must embrace
The dance of shrinkage with grace
So let us not fear the cracks that appear.
In their wake, fresh paths may be clear.
And with each intervene the dance of shrinkage, we learn:
To adapt and grow, to find recent ways to yearn.
My friends think I'm crazy
My mom knows that sometimes I'm lazy
And I know that I am dizzy, I can't stand the pressure of being expected to be perfect
I am perfectly imperfect
I am burning escaping man made hell
I am a Messiah that no one believes
Not even after making my way through their storms
Not even after building an empire out of their stones
I am a concrete strong enough to stand for myself
My body is a temple
I hear their boots' crunch violently running towards me
I can't stop running , I am running
Running from a world that defines me weak
I am running from my body, I'm running from the curves of my hips
I am running from the valleys on my chest
I wish I could rest, being a woman is not curse
It is a race to Victory
The truth is, I can't deny being me
Dear Mom, culture is a way of life
I'm afraid some practices have kept me silent for a while
You and I are victims of stigma
But mama, help me walk through this desert
Help me recycle the garbage made out of your star
Help me shine my light
"I'm too much of a giver and a lover"
-------------------------------------
It's not about defining the perfectness of me
For there is not more to what I can be
in which you expect of me
But to learn to accept this is all there is to me
and where I am in life is perfectly enough for me
I am no less nor more than what is need be
It's about defining how joyful my heart is
For it is filled with love in which I have for you
and hope to be satisfying to your fantasy of perfectionist
Your imagination of perfection is an illusion
You slay me and pressure me for something
I could never be
I am upon my max limit in endurance of your selfishness
But within my heart I love you too much to give you up
Because baby
I'm too much of a giver and a lover
That's defining perfection of love and sharing
For love is what makes us happiest of all
Nothing more... Smile!
Written by, Akkina R Downing
11-5-16
So, sure, the sun shines brightly every morn,
And birds will share, with all their brilliant tunes;
Amazing colored flowers will adorn
What once were gray and blah and lifeless dunes.
Admittedly it’s warmer in the day,
And cloudless skies can cheer the weary heart,
And gentle breezes whisk the blues away
As life, once more, begins its own restart.
But, as the sun stays longer in the skies
The pressure builds to try to get things done.
And wives and mothers have their battle-cries
To get to cleaning, there’s no time for fun.
It’s hard to laze when Spring is on the loose,
But Winter will provide its own excuse.
2/17/2023
Written for Spring is Not All poetry contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
London growls under the tread
of diesel driven dreams.
A stork visits,
an attic full of discarded toys.
White mice sleep in pajamas,
made of childish nightmares.
Barges reek still, just as when,
sweat was as common as dirt.
A window in Baker Street,
opens to let pipe smoke out,
it uncoils in the air
like a left-handed genie.
Meat mongers return to their,
gore-soaked cradles
before the dawns leery light.
The city is a fable,
there is fuel oil seeping,
through tunnels and runnels,
where entrenched gutter snipes
lie low and wait.
Denizens' crabwalk
along Regents Street
barking Chinese commands
at oppressed corgis.
Stately towers are pressure washed,
until they shed a dark sunlight
that fractures ferrous raindrops.
Tenements sink under the weight,
of red carpets
until the blood flows
out of them.
London by night,
is a veneer,
a crust
of low expectations.