Long Rearranging Poems
Long Rearranging Poems. Below are the most popular long Rearranging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rearranging poems by poem length and keyword.
Sheep are herded into masses,
Then divided into classes,
Declassified as entities,
Trained as the countries amenities,
Aiming to please those in command,
Branded by the flag they carry,
The truth is pretty scary,
Downright dirty and hairy,
Where's my fairy Godmother,
Come smother the fire I see,
What is required from me,
I've aspired to be change,
Rearranging my perspective,
Acting within the collective,
I'm becoming quite effective,
Selective of my thoughts,
I fought the hardest ones,
It wasn't very fun,
I'm done being divided,
Guided by "The Help",
I collided with myself,
An elephant with emotions,
Tired of all the commotion,
The plan is already in motion,
Another wave in the ocean,
Hoping to open the hearts,
And start seeing who they are,
Far more then they've been told,
And the old ways fade away,
Into the individuals we're here to play.
Gale force winds are expected; time to tie your knickers down
All heads bent, and everyone is pushing their way across town
Mouths are tightly shut, just in case their dentures out and fly
Ski goggles are on, just in case you get something in your eye
Skirts are all flying up with long hair that’s blowing out of place
Time you get into work your looking more than a total disgrace
Time is spent behind your desk rearranging all that went astray
Sat there hoping the wind has died by the end of the work day
Dinner; sat on the bench outside, eating someone else’s lunch
As the wind sends their pickle onion right into your own mush
The bloke sat next to you is eating your fly away in my face hair
Reinforcing that old saying, how nice it is for everyone to share
And, no worries about putting your left over rubbish into the bin
The darn bits just fly out again once you have so neatly put it in
Then it is all back to the office heads down and pushing through
As we clogged up the elevator without as much as a say, or a do
Then it is back behind the desk, rearranging all that went a stray
And hoping the wind has died down by the end of the work day
All signs are not looking good as the pigeons huddle on the ledge
Even worse when one drops off, because another in, does wedge
As 5 o’clock end of day arrives and no one is in a great rush to go
Stuck to their seats it’s almost as if the work force is on a go slow
One fresh air freak limbers up and starts heading for the exit door
Wow' one blast of hurricane winds and the guy was seen no more
The thought of settling down for the night was more than an idea
As we started to rearrange “We can do anything with bits of Ikea”
We gave the trouble of eating, to those brave delivery pizza boys
Though when we sent the orders in, the guys were a bit annoyed
It is not much fun delivering pizzas, on a light weight moped bike
One was lifted by the wind, once landed he was **** up in a dyke
The pizza boy arrived, and said that's it the wind has took my bike
We piled all the pizza boxes up, the pizza boy bedded for the night
Then the next day morning came, at last the wind had died down
Drama over we sent the pizza boy home with a tip of half a crown
Ill Wind
Ill westerly winds were blowing today
Carrying the past to my open door
And moving old dreams that got in it's way
Blowing swept ashes around on the floor
Hints of sweet aromas filling the air
Swirling boldly with a sharp biting chill
Reminding my heart that love is not fair
Teasing and testing the mind of it's will
It's proclivity for leaving messes
Rearranging the dust on old photos
Going through boxes from old addresses
A front row seat to a rerun floor show
Why can't I learn to keep the front door closed
One never knows when the west wind will blow
__________________________________
On Second Thought
Unannounced, she walked right in the front door
Cool westerly winds blowing the past in
Stirring spent ashes and heartache again
And memories of once tender rapport
Familiar aromas, the scent of yore
At first, it seemed a chill was to begin
After a few barbs we talked like old friends
Going through some boxes she'd left before
Bitterness still lives in both of our hearts
Harsh words and actions remain fresh and raw
We both concluded that kindness was best
It was obvious we had grown apart
Once gone, I sat in silence and recalled
The first time we met and how she impressed
July 2 2016 by Daniel Turner
Walking after dark
Through an abandoned park
Where lovers once walked hand in hand
Dancing to their favorite band
Passing a lonely merry-go-round
There is no childrens laughter found
Loves no longer bound
Hearts changing
Rearranging
What used to be
You can no longer see
Eyes growing older
Life grows colder
Thinking on what once was there
Someone once used to care
Brings a tear
Brings back the fear
Times changed
My times Rearranged
Here I am walking after dark
Through this abandoned park.
Trying to recapture something I lost
Lonely heart pays the cost
The day's keep passing me by
Teardrops I no longer cry
Don't know why
As the moon passes by
Days come and go
Seems to move too slow
As I step into tomorrow
I have nothing left to show
Just on I go
It is all I know
Butterfly
Passing by
It's colors catch my eye
Sitting silently watching all,
Around the corner comes fall
Looking around there is so much to see
Leaning against this tree
Watching nature play
Such a beautiful day
Leaves are changing
The colors rearranging
Birds chirping all around
Such a harmonious symphony is natures sound
This is where my peace is found
Sitting against this fallen tree
Loving all I see
Watching the setting sun
Saying the day is done
Such colors caressing my eyes
Looking up at the darkening skies
My soul cries
What a beautiful night
The moon so bright
Death Nature
Oh, how I love nature’s death;
As the season takes it rest;
Taking of its last thread of breath
Alas, climate changes jest;
It’s in death nature floral greenery fades away;
In death nature grounds struck at heart bay;
Death nature’s fallen silence leafs blown away;
In death nature tiny animals run as prey;
And what of those distances;
While also within the instances;
Things are changing,
Rearranging;
Grasses no longer growing its own kind;
Hair whispers also in the wind;
Colorful with fades of browns yellow’s orange chard;
It’s in death nature beautiful the bed death spread yards;
Orchid planted paling segments;
Dried out folding sunflowers knell bent;
Glazed now by such frosty dew;
Dying months approach us what's left;
Death so now suddenly as blue;
Dark in the ways of nature’s death;
It’s in death nature birds, seek sanctuary down the southern ties;
In death nature fathomless, are the insect creatures;
In death nature breathless is the winds that move;
In death nature Death called winter death season features,;
When everything green turns black and blue;
Dark is the ways of nature’s death this is the reason;
Green, no longer drained of color resides;
In this death nature Death calls winter death season;
2/26/20
Reasons For The Rhyme
Parting ways with yesterdays
and mountains we all climb.
Trying to make sense of it
like reasons for the rhyme.
Tears once cried for love that died
and dreams that don't come true.
Lessons learned and bridges burned
and things life puts us through.
Like memories of long ago
that seem to linger still.
I must confess it's true I guess
somehow they always will.
Still we rise with tear filled eyes
accepting of the truth.
Changing, rearranging us
accepting of our youth.
Forgotten days forgotten ways
no longer skinned up knees.
Racing up and down the street
and hiding out in trees.
We then grow in what we know
we knew not from the start.
Through it all it's still the fall
that breaks a lovers heart.
Every ending every mending
no matter time after time.
Every thing before and more
all are reasons for the rhyme.
Edwin C Hofert
You are a mystery to me
so rigid, confining
yet setting me free-
so sure of yourself
but wholly without arrogance
holding your ground
no matter the circumstance
stubbornly constant
yourself unchanging
I find my life
you're incessantly
rearranging
Yet your radiant beauty
is splendid and fine
you need no dressing up
for you are naturally sublime
and you daily achieve
what I can only aspire
guiding, inspiring
others higher and higher
Your standards are demanding
attention commanding
you're unwavering
worth savoring
and constantly expanding
my hopes, my fears
my understanding
And although, at times
you wound me deeply
and sometimes
I treat you cheaply-
I feel that perhaps
you're the only friend
who will be here 'til the end
my oldest friend
from earliest youth
my rock, my counselor
my teacher-
Truth
It’s a holiday weekend, all of the ‘fellows’ have Monday off.
At lunch Wednesday, Lisa said, “We need a throw-down.”
So, we made some invites and started spreading word around.
“You know, we all work hard enough, we need to get down!”
We asked for RSVPs, and got 43, for the effort, a decent payoff.
My sister’s apartment has a balcony and plenty of space.
We spent Saturday shopping and rearranging the place.
Early Sunday, we hid all the breakables and decorated,
As people settled in, things took off - as we had anticipated.
I was surprised when I saw Quinn come in
I quietly turned to Lisa, mouthing, “Who invited him?”
The blush on her face, gave her instantly away,
“We couldn’t NOT invite him, we see him every day.”
More people were arriving, laughing and smiling, the party was thriving.
Everyone seemed to bring something, a bottle of Canadian goose,
a bucket of KFC, another of popeyes, some glowing aurora jungle juice,
taco dip and chips, a Boston Creme pie and a cake with purple icing.
When you feel right, you let the music ignite you,
the beat seems to drive you, the vibe helps excite you,
the bass starts to thump and, well, you’re only young once,
you forget all your cares, for a delirium that’s shared.
In this ocean of joy, I saw a sad and reserved boy.
It was Quinn, in the corner, slouching on the couch.
a model of insecurity, watching the party self consciously,
I looked at Lisa, rolled my eyes, and said, “Why ME?”
I maneuvered over and took Quinn gently by the shoulders,
“Come ON, Quinn, you’re among friends, so embrace the funk,
these GIRLS wanna dance, give ‘em a chance, you’re not a monk!”
I pulled him to his feet, and dragged him over to Monique.
“Quinn, Monique - Monique, Quinn - let the dancing begin!”
By the end of the night Quinn was doing all right.
He has a quirky, awkward style, reconciled by a nice smile,
he’d danced with every girl, leaving them a little beguiled.
“Do it Quin, DO IT!” A girl, at one point, had laughed.
“Oh,” he’d said, gyrating in his herky-jerkily away, “It’s being DONE!”
Who could have known our stuffy, Harvard Quinn could be fun?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A single ant, black as charred bark,
parts the silver skin of the puddle~
its legs dimple the water,
each step a tremble of tiny ripples.
The leaf, wide as two ants side by side,
rides its back like a ship’s wrecked sail,
tipping with the weight
of a world too large to name.
Legs piston through water,
dark and wide, a sea to him,
with this leaf, his bride.
Each step is a tremor in the tiny world.
A current whispers, but the ant
does not listen.
Shadows of giants loom above~
a boot, a wheel, the indifferent sky.
The ant pauses, antennae tasting fear,
then presses on. The far shore
is a myth worth drowning for.
Halfway, it pauses again~
not to rest, but to recalibrate,
rearranging the world
one stubborn millimeter at a time.
The wind’s rough tongue licks at the load,
yet still he drags his emerald barge
to the far shore,
to dry earth.
The far shore is everything.