Long Reassess Poems
Long Reassess Poems. Below are the most popular long Reassess by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reassess poems by poem length and keyword.
How I tried on Valentine's
all over the many years.
I've lost all of my Valentine's
and most of them in tears.
How I tried on Valentine's
to find my merry mate.
Working through the ugly
and possible first-rate.
How I tried on Valentine's
Forgetting all my failures.
Moving to the next one
oblivious of the bailers.
How I tried on Valentine's
to settle for much less.
Hoping that the next one
Would change and reassess.
How I tried on Valentine's
to go the other way.
Hoping that they'd chase me
finding me as clay.
How I tried on Valentine's
to say what's on my mind.
Shouting out my arrogants
and baiting the wrong kind.
How I tried on Valentine's
to make a friend at first.
Only to be shunned again
by girls who want you worst.
How I tried on Valentine's
to wait for the right time.
Left to find my girl
on another's dime.
How I tried on Valentine's
to spin a small milk bottle.
Landing on a stranger
foreign without throttle.
How I tried on Valentine's
to meet up with a bore.
When all she kept on talking 'bout
was nothing and no more.
How I tried on Valentine's
coveting one man's wife.
Only to release her
sharing in man's strife.
How I tried on Valentine's
Loving her full body.
Finding that she had no mind
and wished she had a hobby.
How I tried on Valentine's
Waiting to make love.
Ending up with others
When push came into shove.
How I tried on Valentine's
Seeking out a hottie.
Making me a sickly boy
who's doctor now called naughty.
How I tried on Valentine's
Expecting an easy date.
Getting just the opposite
but figuring it too late.
How I tried on Valentine's
Jailbait in short skirts.
Quick to kiss what doesn't last
and limits to their flirts.
How I tried on Valentine's
making the first move.
Only to find I'm ignored
for others in her grove.
How I tried on Valentine's
forcing my own way.
Told by a cold shoulder
How I could not stay.
How I tried on Valentine's
two instead of one
Only to be shot down
and told that I am done.
How I tried on Valentine's
Perfect to a tee.
Wanting only to be seen
in a bar as fee.
How I tried on Valentine's
Cautious and carefree.
Never knew what she was thinking
or who was bird or bee.
How I tried on Valentine's
remembering what I've learned.
Speaking words of wisdom
and loves that have been spurned.
My day starts with a cup of tea hot
Its steam ‘n steamy headlines in papers help boil the day’s plot
Nine to five make all efforts to achieve my day’s aims
Mind and body both it usually strains
Motto is to stick as far to the present
weaving past and future into its crescent.
Romance in evening is aided by the moon crescent
Red wine shots make it more hot
After dinner it is time to reassess the present
Tomorrow somehow sneaks into the plot
A warm shower helps to drain the day’s strains
Helping me renew my energy and aims.
I retire to my study to fulfill my imagery aims
To indulge in poems while admiring the moon’s crescent
which plays hide and seek with the clouds, and my eye strains
The scene in which the cupid’s arrows start hitting her hot
I get charged and run to find my own love’s plot
find her at terrace as she viewed the moon crescent at present.
Dreams of love and happiness we give each as present
But how does that help in the achievement of aims?
I try to scratch my head but do not get the plot
For the things of heart have invisible connection with moon crescent
The resulting low and high tides blow us cold and hot
In equal measure, causing us happiness and strains.
I try to sleep counting my happiness but wishing away the strains
I also pray to god that I stay rooted in the present
Over so many days I learnt not to worry unless iron is hot
this can happen if we get clear cut ability to decipher those damn aims
but things start to get hazy when out comes the moon crescent
and my attention gets tuned to the music that bush crickets yonder plot.
Falling off to sleep I am forced to loosen the strings of my plot
Off I meander on slopes which sprout flowers of different strains
From the slopes I can jump and closer feel the glow of the crescent
Becoming the king and receiving the queens in present
Having achieved everything I am left with no more aims
That is when I wake up to see next day’s sun turning hot.
Plotting the day’s programme again requires mind to be present
strains and stresses apart keeping a focus on the charted aims
Crescent moon providing the romantic touch later, with these expectations hot.
12.6.2014
Contest The Sestina Challenge
Sponsor: Jared Pickett
(But as Mike was rambling with considerable fortitude about the inner workings of a car and the various ways that Florida threw their last football game or whatever trite nonsense men discuss over their mountains of beer bottles and clouds of ugly breath, Mary was pondering the physical and emotion ramifications of leaving him—for as a man he lacked in areas that were severely important in the maintaining of mutual happiness within a relationship, and further more she noticed him becoming increasingly distant and aloof; between her faked moans and twitches during her nightly duties that she so foolishly agreed to take part of on that fateful wedding day with the idyllic candle wax dripping on the carpet and the purple carnations like candy lining the hall seated by apparitions of smiling faces with faux ephemeral blessings bestowed upon the sanctity of marriage and he said I take thee Mary as my lovely wedded wife [Ha! Such words that were once coated in some saccharine candy-like veil and promises suited in armor are now rotted away], that his touches were no longer supple, soft, and passionate. His hands that used to be so longing and sensual as they rubbed up her back and over her luscious pink hills and through her sullen green valleys so raucously that reality was blurred and she had to reassess the differences between her faking her moans and her moans being true were now careless and limp, much like that useless tool that trudged along the inside of her like a challenged snake or perhaps a worm, and his breath that was tinged pink by lust was now stale and bored. Mary nowadays could not tell who was faking the best: he or she. Or maybe that derivative form of hope that lined the ulterior edges of their long lost love for each other, that last saving grace sent from heaven, has now faded away, like the smoldering flames of the fallen Tartarus. And smoke lined the corridors of Mt. Olympus.)
In Jesus's day they got thrills from fire,
todays world we put wheels on flyers,
they didn't use drills to find supplies
and they hadn't the skills to fly the skies.
The Bible is wise and full of wisdom,
it gives ideas of the Holy Kingdom,
and teaches ways of Gods Holy system,
these ideas are often used to write a poem.
But those religious poems lack creativity,
and being creative is key to poetry,
now don't see this as negativity,
but a chance to reassess humanity.
If you reorder the words that were written before
the all-time best seller just gets shuffled some more.
It won't impress God when you knock on his door,
because God made all so that poem is not yours.
O' the lordeth rewardeth those so loyal,
and that loyal few repeateth the sequence,
while non-believers see their soul get spoiled
and are damned to Hell for all existence.
To sin within a life of thirty odd years
receives a punishment O so harsh,
but God made all including q***rs
to punish his own creation what a farce.
The Bible is wholly a man-made creation,
used for power and Holy war devastation,
different religions control in different nations,
but none have had God or Holy interventions.
The Church wouldn't Christen me as a baby,
denied the chance for the good lord to save me.
They told my parents you MUST attend church each Sunday,
but that Church ultimatum seems somewhat unholy.
The Church says it represents an immortal,
and its duty to guide souls to a heavenly portal,
but to do it Gods way and refuse a baby is unlawful,
so how can I ever overlook this behaviour so awful.
I won't argue a God there might be,
but when I read poems praising God almighty,
he is separate to religion, at its core is a gang,
with a status and wealth from the coins you brang.
A baby they refused,
an action I cannot excuse,
and this has formed a view,
that it's a system of persons being used.
When you have an image of yourself inside your head
that image shouldn’t be an image that you have to protect
because if it needs protecting it’s an image to forget
probably protecting an aspect perfected
It’s inaccurate and untrue in this image just for you
which is not about you placing all those strengths of yours in view
as it’s equally important you’re aware of what you’re crap at too
live your whole life comparing yourself with last years you
The most relevant comparison is you comparing you
there’s no other way more accurate with an answer that’s more true
when you compare yourself with people you forget how you’ve improved
immaturity gets you moody when jealousy forms from what other people can do
And never ever rate other people on a weakness you can see
you shouldn’t be creating their weakness based on your belief
as what you seek is a desperate need to judge with negativity
make them look bad so you feel better but that is not a victory
You know you’re sad when you think you have control over your peers
people who become like that avoid facing common fears
terrified of finding out they’re not the image they hold dear
asserting presence helps them believe the false image they think they appear!
There’s nothing more impressive (than personality)
There’s nothing more attractive (than personality)
The truth is honest not pathetic (takes personality)
Ask a question don’t pretend to get it (development you’ll see)
Wrong believes it’s always right (tragic little people)
strength will reconsider sights (attractive little people)
wrong thinks changing isn’t bright (tragic little people)
Weakness is stubborn knowing best
because the personality protects the nest
your image of you adapts it never ever sets
you’re right when you’re wrong if it makes you reassess
I cannot help but notice that,
since Wuhan virus was released,
we have seen a real absence of
those who proclaim themselves elite.
The lawyer and the professors,
the politicians and the like,
have all become somewhat useless,
and some have just vanished from sight.
They’re not counted as essential,
don’t help all the people survive,
it kind of makes you reassess
who is important in our lives.
The academics who claim that
they are above simple ‘truth,’
who push sinful socialism,
and corrupt the minds of the youth.
They do love acting important,
but now, when they’re trapped in their homes,
society had not sputtered,
by their absence no loss in known.
Our children have a chance to learn
since their professors cannot work,
were they ever more important than
all those grocery store stocking clerks?
The actors who look good naked
when they’re up on the silver screen,
those closet perverts in LA
who belittle the heartland scene,
now they prattle on from their homes,
and without writers it is clear
that by themselves they can’t entertain,
they come off as brain-dead and weird.
These were the folks we idolized,
no more than pretty lunatics?
Are they really more important
than nurses who care for the sick?
Then there’s lawyers and politicians,
but I guess I repeat myself,
always blathering on TV,
they speak, but nothing do they tell.
When it comes to giving relief
they play powers games with the vote,
no problem with watching us die
to increase their government bloat.
Even in an emergency
our ‘betters’ act like foolish churls,
just forget these useless people,
the truck drivers will save the world.
So many thoughts. so much stress, tryna peel around corners of suggestion, dodging fear bullets tryna answer your questions.
Feeling so distant from thought, thought I could run, but i'm caught up again, words just aren't good enough to describe the pain i'm in.
I'm losing, losing my war with self, losing sanity, & losing it all, backed up fetaled in a corner,
slowly losing vanity, vision blurred, curved, &skewed. Like condemn your thoughts. Believe words and blame views. Definite deficit difference, acknowledged by many, feared by some, &ignored by few.
young minds grab a pad and let the pen speak scriptures and leak truths, like the bible was known to the face of the unchanging, &pissed on by the blasphemy you hear in the news.
Thanks swizz, we cruise on to the next one, limiting all within all I've seen young-in slung, hung by nuice louder than ears drum, ears drumming out catastrophe. Comparing natural disasters to the lord's only begotten son.
Son of a bastard father, son of a *****, son of none, A motherless child. They treat me like i was a new religion, judged by appearance, Looking into my equivalent of a bible and treating it like it's Saul Williams' diary, Opening a telegram of coded language & screaming Sha Clack Clack at the misleading analogies,
of me,
to things like hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis, naw mean, naw, me, not me, wrong clip, take another picture, &reassess the image in your menstrual mirror, get to know me a lil and maybe you can judge me. Because until then, you'd never know my fear of what you think of me..
I don't need very much to stay alive,
a little urban rain from time to time.
It's not luxurious, here in the ground,
but I'm content with it, this life of mine.
There's not a lot for me to view from here;
the iron forest always sees to that.
It must be nice to venture past those trees;
but trapped am I, within this concrete crack.
At times, my mistress seems unfair; although,
I'm quite accustomed to this static fate;
her morning eye and moistful firmament
ensure my needs are met, despite my state.
I'm well aware her sight does take a while
to reach my herbal arms from where I stand,
but being patient is a noble trait,
and one that's helped me flourish in this land.
Oh there's no need to worry over me;
I'm quite resilient for a city weed.
I know I can't get up and rule my life;
but as I said, there's not much that I need.
But what of you, my busy human friend?
How goes the life your maker granted you?
Forgive my prying, but I'm most concerned
with all the stress that you've been going through.
You have the freedom to decide your home,
the priv'lege to decide what you will eat,
the sov'reignty to change your day's routine,
and you were gifted with nomadic feet.
I cannot say decisions aggravate,
for they are favors I have never had.
But how can one despise such dowery?
I can't imagine how that'd be so bad.
So listen to this humble seedling's word:
before you think your life is but a curse,
take out the time to reassess your gifts;
your life could surely be a great deal worse.
Surfeit of stalagmites barring, hampering my way
Clouds descending from heavenly heights
Obscuring my outlook in the rarified air
Mount Certes challenged all my senses
Aching muscles, pounding heart, gasping intakes of breath
But for all that I felt elated, ecstatically elated
My soul craved for such a challenge an achievement made
I hesitated pondering whether to rest for sustenance
Or carry on unreservedly whilst still light enough to see
There were mountain caves inhabited by Franciscan monks
Many mystics through the ages marvelled at Certes enlightenment
Mount Certes was inaccessible by the seaward side
Sheer chalk cliffs had disintegrated battered by stormy seas
Atop the mountain was the Pinnacle chapel
Once offerings had been made on the site to the Greek Gods
Recent excavations had uncovered many artifacts
Venerable was whispered by town folk below
Whenever the mystics descended for the yearly penitents offerings
Was I strong enough to reach the Pinnacle?
My unswerving faith would ensure
Though my unfit body would be a daunting problem
Recently I had decided to reassess my whole lifestyle
I wanted to be reborn in my values and jaundiced outlook on life
Washed clean, inviolate new goals and to be strengthened spiritually
God would surely forgive my introspective selfish ways
Confess and your sins shall be forgive you
Professed to have been spoken about by the disciple Peter
coming directly from the lips of Jesus himself
I was a sinner, still am, until I reach the Pinnacle of perfection.
Why did I get in the damn boat?
Now I’m in the middle of nowhere
Struggling to stay afloat.
Waves wash over me, and I gasp for air.
I see glimpses of the dark ominous sky
Bursting with lightning and thunder.
No matter how hard I struggle, or try
I keep getting pulled under.
Why did I get in the damn boat?
Wish I never took that path.
Poisonous water washes down my throat.
I splutter and choke, as I face the oceans wrath.
I feel myself getting weak.
Help me somebody, I desperately plead.
I see no hope, my outlook seems bleak.
You are a failure, life has decreed.
Why did I get in the damn boat?
Chances of being saved now, too remote.
If I could turn back time, undo this road I made.
This far I would not have strayed.
Waves hammer at me, I get thrown about.
Why am I struggling, I should bow out.
My life is a play thing now, I have no control.
I should let the ocean take me, into the abyss.
I relax and go under, a place so serene.
Let myself go willingly, into the great unseen.
My mind reminisces of those that I will miss.
And who will miss me in return.
I can’t do this to them, I have to persist.
The once dead eyes, for life, again they burn.
I swim out of the depths, and reassess my plight.
I look around, my boat being carried away
Directly opposite, I see a faint distant light.
I reject the boat finally, I head towards the glow
Rescue myself, this time maybe I just might
I swim, clash and rage against the flow…