Long Recklessly Poems
Long Recklessly Poems. Below are the most popular long Recklessly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recklessly poems by poem length and keyword.
Life...
I meant to pick you up
Instead I put you down
Now I'm here without much luck
Inside the Lost & Found
I dropped you on the road
Lost you along the way
I really miss you life
Is what I want to say
Life...
I treated you like a game
That I played recklessly
If I could give it a name
It would be "Only Think Of Me"
I threw you in the mix
Into the thick of things
To late now I've found out
How much life is meant for living
Life...
I think of what we could have had
A seamless harmony
Instead it all went bad
All because of me
I shoulder all the blame
The pain I put you through
If I had known it'd go down this way
I would have taken better care of you
Can't stop flashbacks
Can't stop vibrations
Vibrations like echoes
Vibrations irritating wounds
Wounds that bleed
Wounds that torment
Torment the mind
Torment emotions
Emotions of guilt
Emotions full of anger
Anger from the past
Anger from shame
Shame that's distressing
Shame that's intrusive
Intrusive images haunt
Intrusive like storms
Storms striking like lightning
Storms louder than thunder
Thunder that's frightening
Thunder causing self-destruction
Self-destruction of the heart
Self-destruction of the mind
Mind acts recklessly
Mind reacts resentful
Resentful with regret
Resentful outbursts
Outbursts misunderstood
Outbursts they generalised
Generalised anxiety
Generalised questions
Questions of sanity
Questions of ability
Ability to stand
Ability to walk
Walk in fear
Walk through a hellish reality
Reality discarded
Reality unseen
Unseen persecution
Unseen war
War with life
War with time
Time is too intense
Time to surrender
Surrender to uncontrollable stuttering
Surrender to my misleading heart
Heart palpitations
Heart is numb flatline
Flatline
Palpitations...
To My Beloved Daughters (for when I’m gone)
It happened. Please, don’t shed too many tears,
(I know, you won’t listen, fine!)
A few, all right! But followed by loud cheers
To celebrate mom’s amazing path in time,
Glorified by her and in her own rhyme!
Last letter of undying love and advice -
Live open heartedly, mindedly and wise.
Worries tuck away by dusk, sleep long and tight -
Morning vision is much sharper than at night.
Eat smart, not more, thus spare yourselves from diet,
Draw the line between enough and the last bite.
Smile more, frown less, laugh often and out loud,
Good, old chuckle scatters away the darkest cloud.
Live in a present moment, yet consider
Your heart, lungs, kidneys, cervix, guts and liver.
Recklessly indulge, and one of those will fail
Commodity of vital worth – not on sale!
When your own precious kids grow up to know,
Please tell them that their grandma loves them so!
With each kiss and hug you grant them with a glee
Add some and more tender extras just from me.
Not quite sure, from below or from above,
But no doubt I’m watching over you with Love.
I’m aware that all mothers sound trite
Not always funny, but almost always right!
Love. Mom.
November 22, 2020
Donald Trump Das Fuehrer's Braggadocio
Wrapped up in the Christmas holiday spirit,
I surmise doth allow
nationally collective obliviousness
to steer ship of state
(these United States)
to suffer retaliatory browbeat
ting activates, detonates, generates
je nais sais quois maliciousness
upon North American consciousness
from wickedly vehement uproarious tirades
the "FAKE" president doth crow,
whereby every word uttered
by the misfit mealy mouthed madman
in the Oval Office directly
impacts Lady Liberty, sans dow
wager even when the brash,
defensive, haughty...commander
in chief doth raised by alternately
by one or both colored eyebrow,
which nonverbal hostile
body language triggers
concomitant domino fallout
to devastating effect,
whereby analogous nee
palpable invisible reverberations
trigger thee threat
of global mortal Kombat flow
war moves the dial on
the Doomsday Clock to foreshadow
the stark realization of glow
bull thermonuclear conflict to hoe
var ominously over planet Earth,
which scenario haint Noah Joe
king matter, cuz
more'n juiced *****sapiens know
wingly, would be decimated,
where from Noel fierce
riding hobby horse, could
weather thee irrevocable low
down, once bombs away loosed,
and poised to strike
every fibrous marrow
with an irreversible tendon cee,
yet some hardy
species might narrow
lee escape radioactive fallout,
and blithely usurp meaning overthrow
this most menacing creature,
whose opposable thumb didst pro
pell the nasty, short tempered,
and mean minded
to upset status quo
and shred of a fatalistic,
graphic, and horrific roadshow
no Wizard of Oz (zee us born)
negating, obliterating, and pulverizing
the uninhabitable landscape
with burnt offerings
much more frightful than scarecrow,
which worst case scenario,
could explode today or tomorrow
leaving no trace of unlovely bones
merely mass cremated powder,
hence forsaked salvation
from... say Beto
O'Rourke, whose actively
democratic gumption joisted paradigm
grim fate recklessly
(hypothetically) did veto.
I'm Sitting Here on Capitol Hill
By Franklin Price
7/15/2015
I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill,
this job was heaven sent.
Have passed no laws in quite awhile,
think I'll run for president
Haven't done my job it's way too tough,
at the public's beck and call
They don't know what they're asking,
we on the hill must do it all
I can no longer stand it,
should move on, be higher still,
move my family to the White House,
can get the money think I will.
Wait, I better rethink this!
Maybe I thought too recklessly.
If I'm sitting in the White House,
they will blame this all on me.
First Steps
by Michael R. Burch
for Caitlin Shea Murphy
To her a year is like infinity,
each day—an adventure never-ending.
She has no concept of time,
but already has begun the climb—
from childhood to womanhood recklessly ascending.
I would caution her, "No! Wait!
There will be time enough another day . . .
time to learn the Truth
and to slowly shed your youth,
but for now, sweet child, go carefully on your way! . . ."
But her time is not a time for cautious words,
nor a time for measured, careful understanding.
She is just certain
that, by grabbing the curtain,
in a moment she will finally be standing!
Little does she know that her first few steps
will hurtle her on her way
through childhood to adolescence,
and then, finally, pubescence . . .
while, just as swiftly, I’ll be going gray!
Keywords/Tags: adolescence, pubescence, play, learning, growing up, first steps, first walking, running, aging, first love, child, childhood, children, kindergarten, age, leaving, graduation
They no longer resemble us exactly,
less hair, higher head-domes.
We cannot help but feel
that we are the new Neanderthals.
They are laboratory birthed, cloned.
Yet it’s easy to like them,
they have all the useful humanities,
less of the confused rage of ordinary beings.
Of course they are smarter,
quicker to find solutions to problems.
Just like us they are citizens -
none are criminals.
In many ways, they are new and improved.
The Government is pushing
for procreative union
between the Neo-Humans and us,
but frankly most of us
are reluctant – instinctively hesitant.
There is this more primitive,
yet more creative gene that differentiates us.
We paint, write poetry, dream,
hope for the impossible,
love recklessly.
Romantic love has little meaning for them,
they are more practical,
but we know that practical marriages
have no magic,
and we can, we must still -
have magic.
Clover superlative lovers, sprung via same stem
Umbrella immunity protects sprites supple
Filter purity lacy leaf shade kindly dapples them
Desiree samples pitchfork debauch, spicy morsel
Charcoal meats mesh ashes as a couple
Ambidextrous temptress directs a dirty rehearsal
Slides snakelike under bellies of cavernous crime
Noir nymph' s naughty retorts immortal
Eclipses mens' deception with suspense sublime
Renee seeps charisma, dripped dagger stalactites
Fever lucid rouge cog spins fire's scorch
Sword slung blood hungry royalty raunchily ignites
Challenges zealous volunteers alter ideal rhythm
Their arteries' iron absorbed easily by hers
Victims slump lethargic in archer's hearty system
Daisy cartwheels through clouds of chaste cherubs
Recklessly devours disappearing desserts
Meringue marries her tongue to immaculate merit
Sunrise serene promise of peace glides with dove
Subtle touch petal's glitter silken sensual
Agitates a fragile ego to dream unconditional love
Virgin indulges a glutton with wedding splendour
Impulsive maid skips in fields plentiful
Expressive poses pollinate their dramatic detour
Reunited trio resplendent, red black white card
Dervish of dizzying seductive curses
Climb dandelion conducted, an angel on guard
26th April
Tantalising Apparitions!
Written: November 02, 2025, for contest by: Robert James Liguor
**********
The frozen core of human activeness
where the temperament recklessly smiles,
sludge cascades from the blade's edge
A joyous opsimath emerges,
reminiscent of rebellion and aged books,
sturdy and infused with a grin.
His unique calling sign is the "lard of law."
He wears robes adorned with nimbus designs
and stands before a wall of questions.
He gathers information from insightful individuals
Every conundrum is a breach in the law,
And every victim wants to be obvious,
He repeats sharp retorts to the sentient
To the obstreperous, the zymotic throbbing of history.
He says that justice is not banausic.
She is a lissome Nereid,
dancing with eurythmic elegance through garbage.
Though weariness grasps the morning,
and moribund minds look for troughs, not summits.
He persists on—
a sherpa of the spirit,
bestow the noisome into view
where enlightenment flowers akin to vernal fire.
Justice is not a flaw,
It's beginning
It is Nemesis
the tiny thread that links,
the strained heart to the flimsy earth.
This year more than ever
I long to surpass myself
The clock is ticking
No longer can I recklessly
Take the gift of time for granted
I dream this year more than ever
To give wings to my muse
Release the buildup
Of pent-up energy
And let her loose
Free reins
With canvases and color
I dream of releasing
The artist in me before
She sleeps her life away
This year more than ever I dream
To dress in artist garb and
Wear purple feather in my hat
More than a wannabe renaissance groupie
Parade down the streets of Paris
Break bread with starving artists of the day
Be it as it may crossing lines of time
Hang out with the likes of Leonardo
Rembrandt Picasso and Sartre
Artists and philosophers alike
While away the hours in bistros
Pen in hand living on coffee and croissants
Hang out in bakeries while kindred spirits
Sit to chat about their latest works and passion
This year I dream of making each day count
Remembering time can seem both infinite
While being abruptly finite
Who knows what the new year will bring ~
Published in my photo/poetry book ~NEW YEAR~ 2019
AP: 2nd place 2021
POTD December 19, 2019
Submitted on December 17, 2019 for contest NEW YEAR DREAMS sponsored by CHANTELLE ANNE COOKE - RANKED 1ST