Long Regressed Poems
Long Regressed Poems. Below are the most popular long Regressed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Regressed poems by poem length and keyword.
The alarm clock sang out, my dad jumps up
rushes me into the kitchen, today my love
is indeed, a very special day for you, my eyes
wide shut, as he continued, explaining civil rights
Cramming memories, into my little head I mean
I'd remember sitting, on my Nona's lap as,
Martin Luther King was killed in Birmingham
my entire family, regressed into deep sadness
Aging over night perhaps, so did I ,our last names
were Parks and King, let me tell you, during the
60's in Chicago, if a riot broke out our names,
were instantly called, over tornado speakers
Sound off Mohammed speaks, we were rushed
into dark sedans, being slowly driven down,
Roosevelt road this was 1969 first grade
I was preparing, to visit Lincoln's home,
and tomb mom combed, through my curl's,
my grandmother ,rubbed Vaseline on my face elbows,
and knees ,this big fuss over me, I was actually named
after Martins daughter, well Miss. Yolanda king
you get to sing, on the steps of Lincoln's memorial,
Marian Anderson's hymn, sometimes I feel like a
motherless child, afterwards the Supreme Court Justice,
we were mourning ,with happy tears, these brown face's
doting on me, five generations in my mist
standing in line, to give me a big kiss
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
1/27/21
"Styrofoam"
It's not hormones, testosterone
Or Pheromones
I was at the crossroads
Moved towards what was familiar or unknown
Never did any good to postpone
I can really feel it in my bones
Nearby all these Madrones
Time has shown
In and out of all these biomes
The elements shaping the land and stones
Hung up the phone
Then came the dial tone
I've sinned, and I've atoned
I regressed, and I have grown
Sippin’ out of Styrofoam
In and out of different tidal zones
Had to get it on my own
It almost always was homicide if their was a broken Hyoid bone
It was always kept a secret or widely known
They're really focused on drones
And clones
Yet they also want to continually probe
And spy on the entire globe
Was close to the cosmos
As well as the locker of Davy Jones
From here to Nome
Always been a rogue
After the motherlode
Sometimes I was on paved streets, or often I was on dirt roads
Staying composed
Solving problems with or without the use of codes
Before the doors are closed
Meanwhile, people still having continual episodes
Got it done smoothly, or I just bulldozed
Those
That attempted to oppose
And stick their nose
Into my business, that's a no
Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Catch a tiger by the toe
Took them out with the undertow
Quickly they sunk below
Or by going blow for blow
A.K.A. Toe to toe
The same could be said for many, including so and so
The flesh and organs beginning to decompose
Food for insects, vultures and crows
It's not a hoax
Did the least or I did the most
Put it out there or was a ghost
Got it done easily or cut it close
It's gross
Far too often was comatose
Because I overdosed
Couldn't stop myself, or follow advice from my folks
I know, what a joke
Even though I've been woke
I couldn't stop my addictions, or say "Adios!"
More than just words being wrote
It'd do you some good to take note
Humans at each others throats
Quick to gloat
And to go right for the throat
Especially over your affiliation and how you vote
I either did or didn't have a rain coat
Humans quick to find a scapegoat
We either were or were not in the same boat
Stood sturdy like an oak
Behind continual clouds of smoke
And enough alcohol to make a moat
So that a boat could stay afloat
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron
When they we're sent to live with the Foster's
Realized for once in their life
Finally had someone who love them
Read them a bedtime story before bed
And bring a cup of tea and breakfast
in bed once they awoke in the morning
Give them as many kisses and hugs
as they could take
And told them they loved them every
hour of the day
" Then life as it does throws a curve ball "
Released his mother on early parole for
good behavior and sent him back to
live with her
And at that point he then regressed and
had no choice but to accept being beaten
at any hour of the day and being treated
like a slave instead
So trying telling him that life is fair when
it it gave him a glimmer of all that's good
could be had in his life what he was missing
And for not the 1st time but the
2nd time then most hurtfully stole it away
And without drawing a single breath
listen to a another say something stupid
and as trivial like that's a shame really sad
But hey
Whatever doesn't kill them will make
them stronger
Life can only get better
Or
Keep your chin up
I then find myself saying to myself
how eternally grateful and thankful
and lucky I am
Again, I Stop at A Fork in the Road
Again, I stop at a fork in the road
And trust experience will guide me.
One way looks rough; the other, not so easy,
And so I must choose which path to follow.
I weary of the weight from carrying my load
(Others have regressed for fear of consequence)
And regret past choices and where they’ve led,
That I would about-turn and not be bold.
After ascertaining my dilemma, I reach out for advice;
The thought of being wrong frightens me.
I realize I cannot face the future alone
And pray God forgives me for my cowardice
In procrastinating my time by idleness.
Without belief in Christ, there is no hope.
The curious case
Of
Christopher Flaherty
Who began and started out in life with
a perfectly normal human sized brain
Born with a wise old head on his
shoulder's old before his time
That over time and age regressed
And shrunk into the size of a tiny little
pettit-poi pitt
A fair haired good looking newborn
dribbling from the mouth
Barely able to hold a conversation or
converse precisely yet instantaneously
esthetically rememberable
Decked out and adorned in a bibb wearing
nappies
Sipping from a sippy cup fed by means
of entertaining aeroplane game's
And how he ended up with the most apt
fitting nickname
Christopher
Pee-Wee
Pea-Brain
Flaherty
Who fell victim to age old adage
If you do not exercise or use it
There is a distinct possibility
You may just loose it
And seeing your life being played out
on the silver screen
By some or other guy you may or may not
have ever heard of or come across in your
life before
Who everybody else seems to know or have
in fact heard of and goes bye the name of
and is simply called
Brad Jolie or Anniston I think
Anyhow matter's not as we all know
how this storyline goes
Curiosity ends up kill's the cat in
the end like Tom & Jerry
And besides ive just eat all
of the greens on my plate
And we all know what that spell's
and means to a baby
What follows is
P-U-D-D-I-N----G
Time
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Springtime fervent fresco
shines on the easel
of embellished topography,
embroidered filigree
enshrined
in Monet landscape,
luminous
in effervescent elegance
with sparkle of sapphire lagoon
in dreaming ebullient eyes,
entranced,
and with lustrous lotus petals
of luscious lips
ardently parted,
painted on silken canvas
of convivial countenance,
magnetic,
carved with narcissistic contours
of innate pride
with dormant Dorian Gray syndrome,
subdued.
The sands of time
roll over wrinkled canvas,
from winter twilight zone
senile spider creeps,
weaves weary
with the last strings of hope
webs of facial furrows
of creased contentment,
empty eyes gaze,
forlorn
at weathered wasteland,
regressed,
find in desiccated garden
the faded flowers
lose patina of passion,
enticing once.
Hedonist psyche refuses
to gauge the grief of loss,
trapped in transient notion,
sanguine,
for what is a face
if not a metaphor
for proclivity panorama,
sustaining snapshot
capturing mesmeric moments,
frozen
in timeless frame
of concealed charisma,
contained in cauldron
of boundless beauty,
transcendent.
SLAB IS FAB
I just found out about the town of Slab City
Well, perhaps it is not really a town as such
It sounds like a mix of Hippie and Wild West
Where a civilisation, in its way, has regressed
But in fact from far away, I cannot tell much
I have seen reviews online that it smells ty
Perhaps the next step is to go and actually see
A commune of sorts, but traditionally lawless
Maybe I’ll arrange some sort of early protection
But they’ll have many needles for any injection
There will be a few who think they are flawless
Yet is this a place to live a real life or a fantasy
Otherwise homeless, some find accommodation
Old wrecks, and homes not so mobile anymore
Drugs, yet not quite the same as the Sixties was
In it’s way, a depressed and ugly version of Oz
Perhaps they would not term themselves as poor
As after all, it’s still a Californian desert location
Once "City of Big Shoulders,"
Stockyards and industrial concerns:
A man's self-worth measured
By muscle and energy burned.
Today the stockyards are shuttered,
The Face of Livelihoods changed;
From Meat-packing and Manufacturing---
To Financial Services and Video Games.
Serving loyally with blind dedication,
Following only a high school education,
Lifetime stints at one factory or plant,
Today simply ain't where it's at:
Mere shards of memory
Of what life was before
Everyone had a college degree,
And sought work in a plush office indoors,
As opposed to lifting heavy two-by-fours.
Looking back at Chicago's history
Over the last century,
Our task is this simple question to ask:
Have we moved ahead and progressed?
Are our lives any better?
Or have we reversed and regressed---
Spending the prime of our lives studying letters?
It's easy to end a poem on such a note,
Leave the reader to cast his or her vote;
But I'll not finish off with a nod a wink,
I'll let you know what I actually think:
Chicago was rough, Chicago was tough,
Her denizens coarse and gruff;
Not much for culture or fashion,
Artists and poets she was constantly bashin.'
Workingmen reveled in their muscles,
Frequently engaging in tussles
With their bosses over hours and wages,
Oft-ending in fisticuffed rages---
And the workers sentenced to 6' x 8' cages.
Gangsters like Capone and Dillinger flourished,
By slimy politicos encouraged
To extort and shake down
Workingmen all over town,
At deserted sites with nary a copper around.
Sometimes we look back and forget how it was,
When education and the arts were slighted,
And even good neighborhoods were blighted:
Where an ugly picture emerges
Of exploitation and funeral dirges.
So let us be grateful for what we have in some precincts today,
And hope that Chicago's future points to an even brighter day.