Long Pretend Poems
Long Pretend Poems. Below are the most popular long Pretend by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pretend poems by poem length and keyword.
"Memory is a treasure, once lost may never again be found" by poet
As I clean my closet for the last time,
each dress, each coat, I handle tenderly
they remind of a life that once was mine
when choosing tomatoes came easily
and, taking a walk, I did leisurely
At the back of the closet, there's a box
I had forgotten, marked: "Save, used seldom"
It's a box of laughter and silly socks,
a half-full bottle of Satin Skin Balm,
a crayoned heart saying, "I love you mom"
Brushing away tears, I look more instead
Midst the pom-poms, I find a dolly's shoe
"My dollys don't talk to me now," she said
Just like that, childhood disappeared, I knew
I am saddened by how quickly time flew
I will begin my new life tomorrow
On this box of memories, I'll depend
It has my heart and I'll often borrow
my children's left-over moments and spend
days with their sweet faces, as I pretend
I smell something insanely sweet at work.
It’s a delightful smell, so I make exaggerated sniffing noises,
And pretend to smell the desk, the flowers, the papers, etc.
I stop in my tracks at the secretary, and say, “I smell something wonderful. Is it you?”
She laughs and points to a good-smelling burner of some type.
I take my nose over to get a better whiff. Not this. Not at all.
“Is it you?” I ask a teacher who is sitting there grading 1,145 papers.
She holds out her wrist for me to smell.
I get close and smell her almost violently.
We both laugh.
“Yes, it is!” I declare. “Can I please take your wrist home with me?”
We both laugh.
What I am, what you are not,
what you need and what I want, that you do not have.
The stars above do not pretend,
Their light is truth that will not bend.
But hearts, like mirrors clouded fast,
Reflect a world that cannot last.
I am the quiet, the silken dusk,
You are the fire, the sunlit husk.
Your need is hunger, a ceaseless tide,
While I am the stillness you cannot abide.
Wisdom waits in ancient streams,
Yet innocence burns in fragile dreams.
I sought the peace your waves destroy,
And you chased storms for fleeting joy.
Lost in you, I became the sea,
A tempest wild, no anchor free.
You skimmed my surface, blind to all,
The depths where wisdom's voices call.
Skin to sky and sky to skin,
We met as strangers meet the wind.
The waves betrayed, the skies forgot,
What I am, what you are not.
What I want is neither yours to hold
Nor mine to shed like tarnished gold.
For truth, like water, slips away,
Yet leaves its salt to mark the day.
And so, we drift, both bound and free,
A sky, a wave, eternity.
On this desecrating Earth
Nature's BusinessAsUsual
is industriously
and perversely
secluded from Spirit--
naturality from spirituality,
climate health/pathology from internal weather events,
humane hope for health from divine faith in eternal wealth,
In our profane wealth-hoarding EgoGame,
short-term fatuous Win/Lose natural strategies
are loss-postponing futile dispiriting armaments,
empty entertainments,
pretend preoccupations designed to magically protect
against longer-term biological rotting death
Each Sacred Organic Dignity's
inevitably stalking Loss of identifiable Life--
Loss of active hope for sacred Truths
Hidden within secular Beauty
or even experiential health-optimizing WinWin Ways
to everyday continue multi-regenerationally wealth
creative curiously courageous camouflage cooperative
Thriving.
In a secular-languaged
LeftBrain dominant culture,
sapien and RightBrain WiseElder,
Natural experience reminds us
to become profoundly grateful
Ego death's natural outcomes
are predicated on input
experienced within spiritual EcoLife
EcoLogical Truth
Green Environmental hidden byways
matriarchally cooperative
Natural/Spiritual CoOwnership
of WinWin global through Ego aspirations,
attractions,
interests,
curiosities
timelesssly regenerating healthy/wealthy
nurturing and nutritional and nuanced Life
hiding Ego/EcoLogical Truths in plain relational loving light,
Left/Right bilateral short-
through long-term
timeless omnipresent Ways.
LeftBrain deductive secular Ego maps
of DNA Right BrainStemmed Rooted Healthy Wealth
sacred historically resilient
EcoTerritory--
hiding and dividing
inviting and revolutioning
LeftBrain's
hidden undomesticated SpiritVoices
heard happiest from OutDoor Natural ReSources--
DNA resilient
health/wealth bilaterally resonant RealTime--
notnot ZeroSum Prime DiPolar Rooted
in CommonGround Light
CoOperative AnimaMundi Truths, MultiCultural.
On my farm, my daughter Zoe grew strong
She became a beauty, like a happy country song.
She didn't smoke or drink, had lots of fresh air
But an exorcist once took a look, told me to beware
Down a dusty road in the evening glow,
She'd walk in her gown where the wildflowers grow.
Deceptive beauty could melt iron men
Zoe earned the nickname of "The Siren."
Legends speak of shipwrecks in the past
Homer has the captain tie himself to the mast
So he can safely see the beauty of the sirens by the sea
But nobody could survive my girl from Tennessee.
She's a distraction on the high road side,
My advice to you, give her a berth wide
Cars jump the curb as they pass her by,
Luxury cars wrecked; I've seen grown men cry.
She says it's not her problem, it's their self-control
She's not going to hide just to save each lonely soul.
She left Tennessee for Scotland, to find her family tree
I begged her, "wear a Burka," but she would not heed my plea
In Glasgow there were warnings on the radio wave,
"There's a girl ahead with the soul of a knave."
But eyes would betray, and hands let go,
Into the heather, the cars would go.
So if you drive that highland trail,
Keep your eyes ahead, pretend you're tied to the sail.
There's plenty to look at - the lochs, the sheep
The scenery in the highlands makes your heart leap
Just don't look at my Zoe, and don't get sore
It's not her fault if you don't reach your door.
The SNP in Scotland has filed a complaint by diplomat
But I tell them - when it rains, get a hat.
She just looks pretty, the open minded must agree
Not to blame the USA for the disaster from Tennessee.
I'm okay, you're okay is a mask in the land of pretend.
Being cool as a cucumber is okay for cowards.
Pollens cannot always hide themselves within soft flowers.
Breaking from established norms is sometimes necessary.
Why should minds be wrapped by a pacification airy?
Compromises and negotiations do not last long.
How long shall we, like logs on river water, shift along?
Shouldn't we, first and foremost, to our very selves, belong?
Why should our voice always sound like a challenge-less birdsong?
Humility, though a virtue, demands questioning too.
Within smiles of appeasement, feelings of grudge must not brew.
I need not feel I am okay, but you are not okay.
I needn't, yet, forget that each one has his or her say...
I must adjust when needed; I need not be a doormat.
Why should tigers feel as though they're negotiable cats?
Confrontations and encounters enable us to bloom.
Mere mollification will finally bring one's self-doom...
You made your bed, now lie in it
devoid of warmth and care
between the crumpled, dirty sheets
Pretend that I am there
You made your bed, in crazed haste
and hoped to cover all
the memories that you had of me
but now you hope I'll call
You made your bed now feel regret
For love like mine's unknown
You shiver as you toss and turn
her lust is all she's shown
You made your bed for her instead
and yet you burn for me
you thought a better beauty queen
gave heightened ecstacy
You made your bed, in thorns blood red
she sleeps and lets you burn
You dream of me, my constancy
Once sated, now you yearn
You made your bed, let it be said
I made my own bed, too
the man who loves the all of me
sleeps soundly, not like you.
The bed I've made, with roses laid
Is where he longs to be
its sheets on fire with his desire
he loves and feasts on me
Sleep in your bed, where love is dead
Weep for the love you miss
and see me in your lucid dreams
bathed in my lover's kiss
Eileen Manassian
Please...read poetry for the sake of poetry and refrain from making inferences that are not called for. I enjoyed writing this piece as I thought of that saying....You made your bed, now you must lie in it. I've written on proverbs and poetical themes. I enjoy the challenge.
Tell me - Telling God
Mysterious indeed are His ways,
He creates all life to run smooth and then sways,
We, the puppets keep dancing at His will,
Though pretend having gained an immense skill,
Shaping the whole world in full grace,
Of the Unseen, who can create His face ?
Try finding Him in every life,
By our side He's in each joy and strife,
Else why do the busy day's end,
Nights to quieten in peace He sends,
In no religion and places is He found,
Lives inside every kind heart that beats around,
Faith is God, belief is God, love is God,
Cheating yet preaching are all fraud,
Apart from all colours, cast and creed,
He is the one to be consciously perceived !
Inspired by poem "Tell me" by Richard Lamaoureux
Written March 31st, 2015
For contest "Tell me" by Richard
Awarded 3rd place win
For our twin birthday, Dad thought it would be cool
To pay for a lesson at a flight school
My brother and I in a Cessna would go,
Soaring over the suburbs below.
There were two sets of controls, my brother sat ahead,
The teacher spoke, I didn't hear what he said
I sat in the back, and the engine was loud
Hopefully not important, as we entered a cloud.
I didn't want to be a pest, or ask him to repeat,
But then my brother and me had to swap our seat.
the pilot started a descent slow
The ground came up, a Westchester show..
The teacher shouted a sharp command,
But because I hadn't heard, I failed to understand
He shouted: "Pull up the throttle!" or was it the yoke?
I froze—was this some kind of bad joke?
He desperately yanked at a control of his own
This was not a situation where my insight had shone.
He looked like he was fighting a deadly hound
But the plane leveled out; and wheels touched the ground,
Evolution may be a struggle to survive,
At least he had evolved: we were still alive.
He walked away with a look on his face,
like I was a throwback from the human race
A sardonic expression but also appalled
That we had such a near miss and death had called.
I realized then I had almost killed us three
When the rubber hits the road, could you trust me?
it's not polite to pretend to communicate
You have to admit what you don't know, to avoid a fiery fate.
There's a lesson there, it pays to be rude
There's more respect in a not wasting-time attitude.
Since then, I've learned from mistakes
You have to stop, think, apply mental brakes
Always ask what can go wrong in a bind
Or you leave a trail of destruction behind.
For one hundred and twenty-nine years McVities’ digestives have been eaten.
They are touted as good for digestion, and their chocolate version cannot be beaten.
Tesco, Doves Farm and Mark and Spencer have all jumped into the biscuit game.
Attempting to overthrow McVities as the number one, but their biscuits re not the same.
A mere eighty-four calories, if you only have one or two or three it will be okay.
But sometimes I am worn out and irritated and eat a package at the end of the day.
I reach for chocolate ones, which are tastier than the American’s Graham Cracker.
Or water biscuit to you, if you are English, and am not sure of their terms whacker.
The digestive originated in Scotland, but do we want to give all the credit to them?
After all we have perfected our eating of it with your pinkie held up as a little stem.
With double cream or gammon, and possibly a bit of golden syrup too,
We like our tasty bites in secret, or with choice guests, whose blood is blue.
It says on McVites website that an employee Alexander Grant formulated secret recipe.
They use whole wheat flour and baking soda, so an antacid, they pretend it can be.
In actuality, it is a sweet meal biscuit, and it is good for eating with your Earl Gray.
I am going to have to leave you now, for my salivating mouth is getting in my way.