Long Reattach Poems
Long Reattach Poems. Below are the most popular long Reattach by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reattach poems by poem length and keyword.
When morning came: the phone rang.
She anwsered.
Honey he said come get me
someone took the altenator off
my truck, I need
a ride to the store. She acted cool and anwsered well
I will be their in an hour I have a fella here
looking at the dishwasher.
We don't have a dishwasher honey, what are
you talking about!
She told him I bought one
four days ago, I called
you buit you didn't anwser.
He hung up the phone
and walked to the house. She was there in the kitchen
when he walked in.
Why are you lying to me?
Cause you aint been here
and all you care about is
those damn mucktrucks.
You better not had nothing to do with that altenator.
Her evasivness gave her away.
Where is it.
He grunted and went outside
to talk to her
through
the window. Where is my altenato?
It on the bench by the wrenches:
Swain said you can reattach the altenator in less
then 10 minutes
with a socket set.
Who is Swain: aint he an underwear
model. Yeah he likes mine and all.
What are we breaking up or something?
She told him don't leave me, I don't know what to do
being here alone
here with out you
If you don't want me I don't know who will.
I am lying Honey aint know one else,
I need sum time wiff ya!
i think I needz to be pregant.
Why did you take
off the altenator!
Cause Just cause, she said.
Kiss me: I'm his lover
you need to be jeoluos of him
he wishes to be with me.
Who he asked, you I hope.
Aint no body else, I'm lying!
If you here
some say I kissed my lover through
the kitchen window
Tell them it precursed our wedding.
I'll marry you if you'll have me!
He looked at her and said.
What do you want me to write?
I think I will write about faith
What is faith?
Is it something you can see
can grab, can hang onto?
Yes, yes, and yes
You can see in someone though not visually, with your spirit eyes
You can feel in someone though not spoken
You can attach and reattach
You can detach and be attacked
Either way it works for you and not against you
It lifts you out of the bound and sets you on a firmer ground
It heals your senses, body, and anything it touches
It removes doubt, fear, oppression, and things not called for
It calls into being what is not spoken
It determines our fate through words that are spoken
It affirms our senses, values, ownership through its grandeur
It moves mountains, blockage, obstruction
It brings one to one's knees in a moment of desperation, brokenness
It catapults one to one's spiritual height
It remains with one through one's deepest sorrows
What can it do?
It can do a lot
Whatever one wants it to do, it will do
Because He will do
Because faith is God
And God is faith
Can't separate one from another
God meant for us to have faith
And have faith plenty
Have faith in everything
Because "faith is the assurance of things hoped for
the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11-1)
"And without faith, it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6)
"For we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7)
Because we need to "fight the good fight of faith" (1 Timothy 6:12)
Because faith is a gift
Poem Defining Moment
Up on a pedestal fallen from disgrace wounded words physical emotionally
Drained shouts echoing walls closing in to tired to defend self storage full of
Long over due un resolved issues tightly locked away fits pounding frustration
Clouding the mind angered filled the room to fast to assume the worst has accrued
Words not taken back can’t come back from were you never left no more silence
Tiredly constantly attacked for different agendas not seeing the full picture
Tired of the same roll play played over and over not one to do over moving on
Might stay but not fully once broken no super glue can reattach the years of hidden
Damaged always having to put a front as all is well when deep down what suppose
To make you strong is wrongly misconstrued tired of being tired it hurts the most
When you know your not about the pity nonsense fired up always having to defend
Self integrity to old tired of the same past tension having the glass always half empty
Done with none other than my self respect for me my self and I fully giving what was
Never fully returned I am always owed one way or another something I most come
To terms with at a much later time must focus on the emotional fiscal responsibility
That plague me not easily said then done but Achievable
By Mirian Parrilla
Trying to remember
How it all goes
Ask, and no one knows
Pointing in every direction
East and west
just more reflection
Inward retreat
from these
external beatings
a slave in a land
of dreams
filled with too
many misdeeds
They say we've
lost our way,
I say the compass
we were given
was pointed
towards metals.
They say we are
animals with bad reputation.
I say reattach our
roots and let us
franchise our fruit.
They say drugs
run rampant
in our communities
but the stamp
upon delivery
commemorated Elvis
when MLK was an
after mention.
The government
has always meddled
in our endeavors
Welfare, warfare of the mind
It used to mess with ones
pride to be given something
without work
Now it's just what "We" do
but whites suffer too
It ain't about erasing
our color but
eradicating our power
they knew that would
keep us down
long after the finger
pointing would end
If we are too educate
ourselves, our
education should
begin with our
own turmoil
No where in our
school system
will they teach this,
instead,
they separate
docile from misfits
I asked for a hall pass
once, instead of
cutting up I found
my way to the library
and in the dustiest
book section
I learned the most
valuable lesson,
knowledge hidden away
holds invaluable truth.
As time flies by
My eyes hurt from
staring at the light.
Where can I go?
What do I do?
I can't escape,
I'm trapped in this
small little box.
No way out.
No doors, No holes.
Nothing.
No one trying to
help me out.
No one trying to
break down these
walls.
Except for one
person.
That person being
her.
She tries to rip down
the walls.
She tries to pull me
out.
But the walls reattach
themselves.
She's the only one
trying.
No one else.
Now for you my hidden
crush.
You will never try as
much as she does.
So stop trying to
succeed.
Cause you will never
get me.
Now all I hear is the
irking noises from
my brothers.
The bickering from my
mother.
All these noises.
Its driving me crazy.
My father,
no longer my father.
More of a sperm donor.
Though I wish I came out
with his eyes.
I wish I came out with
his long, tight, curly hair.
When he was supposed to
be in my life,
he went off and married
a wife.
But his wife is more of a
father.
My father and my
connection,
there is no connection.
My stepmother and my
connection,
is beautiful.
So why can't my father
be the father he is
supposed to be?
My tight little box is
collapsing on top of me.
I can no longer gasp for
air.
Cause there is no air for me
to gasp from.
I can't breathe no more.
So just going to lay here
and die.
In my small little box.
After her ordeal and rescue she was offered too much prettiness
Too fast, too much empathy, too much concern, too much kindness.
She ran back to her abuser, trying to reattach her depressed self to him,
Trying to rectify what she had begun to think was normal, promising love.
When in fact, she was giving him less than that, accepting his terms.
Because she did not deserve pretty, she did not deserve kindness.
Immobilized, she knew she was a bad girl, she said and did the wrong things.
She would be lucky if he took her back. He pretended he was not going to.
She cried and screamed and begged, accepting any terms he set down.
She ran inside, and they locked the door, locking the do-gooders out.
Locking out her family and friends, who had finally gotten her to safe ground.
She never again remembered that she had once been outgoing, and fun.
She forgot about parties, and playfulness. She forgot how to laugh and smile.
She was back in the devil’s arms, where she felt she belonged,
Trying forever to resuscitate the forever-after she had expected long ago.
The one she believed in for the rest of her life, the one that kept her prisoner.
I'll apply fact to the matter as a matter of fact - Fact doesn't matter.
I'm a time traveler, through mind travel, possibilities unfathomable.
Rather call a truce instead of battling dudes, 'cause I lack the unbattleable
lyrics that other rappers produce - In other words, I'm not too good yet...
I'll only spit what my mindset happens to induce, from past, to the future, and the present.
and I'll only spit with the intention of resonating a malleable essence.
Trouble? Forget it - S***, a vibe like this is nothing to mope around with.
Sober for weeks - with love for my music and girl like this - no need to take another hit...
Success is in tact but there's still scattered parts of an emotional disaster to gather.
A staggering semi-mastery of blasphemous metempsychosic abuse through psychological
self-battery;
actually self-betterment, for the sake of adversity. Almost gradually, rapture comes back
to me
to reattach my physical being to my mind happily - that's the first time in a while...
Just an incomplete Hip-Hop verse that I figured I would post here... The Stranger.
Form:
There is one constant in this world, it’s all around for us to see.
It can show you each one of your failures, or a future that will never be.
Every aspect will be affected, sometimes good and sometimes bad.
This constant will always remind us of a life that we once had.
How long can any of us suffer, how many tears can we cry?
Will heartstrings reattach, should we even really try?
Can one moment full of passion ever fix the price of light?
Is true love worth the exit, or will it just fade into the night?
To have love unbridled with loss, is like a cloud absent of rain.
You can’t have one without the other, and the cost is always pain.
Is it better to have loved and lost if it rips your world apart?
If your quest is for the truth, then just ask a broken heart.
Inner Conflict Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
8/19/22
Large fuzzy pajamas with a hood
Used to be for toddlers.
Now I have them.
They are getting rather worn.
My zebra go-to-pajamas.
My husband ordered me another pair.
They are big enough to fit around me, thus
they are about eighteen inches too long.
If you do not know inches they are
The bottom of a man’s shoe plus
The bottom of a toddler’s shoe too long.
I am debating how to fix this.
I love the idea of having feet in them.
My zebra zip up suit does not actually have
The footie part. It is cut off at my ankles.
I think I will pretend I am a knee surgeon,
Cut them off, shorten them, and then
Reattach.
Which makes me wonder.
If I get my knees replaced,
Can we use a 3-D printer and make
me longer leg bones so I can be
Six foot tall instead of five foot two
and a fourth? If I was I would not have to add the fourth.
I've got these deviant flip flops
Cheaply made, I will admit
But they're masters of torture
Though you may not give a sh_t
The right's thong attachment
Comes loose with every step
I've tripped so far 8 times
I've even had times I wept!
I reattach this toe stud
Every minute, or less, I'm sure
And that's if I'm not too lazy
I should do it far, far more
I,ve pondered pragmatic solution
So far evasive ,it seems, to me
Duct tape (one of God's great wonders!!), glue, nails try horseshoes?
Drivin' me crazy as you can see
So I hung them on the wall
To be my dartboard's new bullseye
And squeal with great delight
Every time that I should hit them
I guess I'm quite a sight!
So is this what my life has come to?
My footwear my arch-enemy?
I suppose, just now, I'm ready once more,
For a psychiatrist's intense therapy.