Long Regrettable Poems
Long Regrettable Poems. Below are the most popular long Regrettable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Regrettable poems by poem length and keyword.
Like dreams ~ as conscience echoes through the dark,
and life's mirage laps upon my shores
where dunes of sand are blown like drifts of snow.
I'm lost ~ alone ~ not knowing where to go,
except between where beach roses grow and...
where love is/was still unforgettable ~ regrettable?
too perfect to ever last?
Like clouds that swept by the August moon and
off 'til morning ...
Was it a mistake to leave you there - to run,
when morning twilight exposed our skin - our sin - our honor?
Now, life leaves us dwelling in one night and a summer
that should never have been, and a tomorrow that
never was......but remains
in my twilight of yesterdays, but not in my twilight
of regrets.........except to never
have seen you again...
It no longer matters
Nothing needs be, nothing does
Let nothing bothers
Life is ever simple, simply ask
And indeed I ask... for the impossible
Somehow promising a no how
An askance never yet regrettable
Simply to laugh at what was found
As exposed to the many out there
The difference in cultures no sooner to relate
And life... well, simply ain’t fair
Between God and the Devil, this game of life is well played
Rules meant control, controlled meant ruled
Have you a life as a non-follower?
Yet... no matter the creator, we are forever screwed
Simply... I chose to be my very own ruler
Is there things I bother?
Life never is simple, try to ask
Yet never to matter
I rather have life living to laugh
Lately you've got me twisted --- all mystified
Of what things could have happened --- had I been by your side
The paths that we could have taken --- the crossroads where we met
Have dug up these long lost emotions and feelings in my firefly net
The memories we could have created --- the times we would have had
Keep dancing and spinning in riddles and shapes in my head
The questions un-answered and how I know in my soul it should have been
Sitting and regretting why your heart I never tried to defend
The stories we would have made --- and the love we would have made
Fifteen or so years --- I let you slip through my fingertips and fade
Regrettable decisions --- Father Time fell asleep
As silently my heart settled in shattered pieces --- lonely and lost weeps
The steady breathing of you by my side
Feels like most of my life without you --- Fate lied
Two paths connect --- not by accident --- I know
So many places inside my heart --- I'll guide you through and show
If those two weeks are a web of long lost dreams come true ---
And I make the righteous decision to be with you ---
The valuables I'd sacrifice to grant me these wishes
To spend eternity with you --- for those years missed of kisses
Ronald Rump reasonably roasted
Remarkable – recourse retaining rickety
rambling reverence regarding “r.”
Ronald Rump
repugnant racist republican reviled -
rickettsia re:itch ruler.
Rapaciously ravaged
revered reverential rubric.
Radical ruthless renegade
rapidly riotously ripped rigged ramparts.
Refrained retaining remnant
redolent regal, resplendent rafters.
Riches rudely ruptured rooted rectified rights.
Ruckus ricocheted revenant reign.
Ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
Rambunctious rapscallions rollicked;
rendered ruinous ramifications.
Rusty razor razing revenge rented reprisal.
Rabid rectal rictus rotten
rebranded re-calibrated redoubt.
Rambunctious revolutionaries rejoiced.
Ruffians rode roughshod
routing reigning royalty.
Reiterated revetting robust recidivist rationality.
Rode Rolls Royce relentlessly
rendering rock ribbing.
Riffraff raconteur raised reactionary response.
Revisited rancorous restrictive
redlined realigned rightward rivets.
Robocop ridiculously
rubber-stamped reorganization.
Recalcitrant reactors released rapture.
Rash Russian roulette
reconnaissance raconteurs racked rubles.
Red room reflected Republican RNA.
Rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats
revoked righteous refulgent repertory.
Rapier robed robbers ransacked
reliquary resounding retaliation.
Retaliatory redcoat regnum
reformation remembered.
Rudy robotically recoiled rapprochement
raison d'être rosily revered
rifled relics raffled.
Rookie raves ripe rackful
rubenesque reliably ranked.
Refulgent rotundity requisite
requirement re: reappointment.
Road-tested, roadworthy
redeem reapportion routed role.
Reprehensible reassignment
rapidly recognizes response.
Rife rampage removed respectability – respect.
Responsible roused restitution refuted.
Risky resultant reconnoitering
runaway railroad reverberated rivalry.
Reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirmed
redoubling ridding revitalization.
Reconfiguration realpolitik reinstated repudiation
rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.
Requisition required resilient reseeding republic.
Regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing.
Rare recount restoring recondite
renown reprobate Rapunzel.
Republican representatives
rejoice reclaiming reins.
so now I've reached my forties, I think I'm finally getting old
the pace of life has slowed now, my exploits not so bold
but little did I realise, I'd feel my life had just begun
we bought ourselves another house, and we had holidays in the sun.
the next house that we purchased, brought us closer to our friends
which gave us a chance to party with each other on weekends
those times were filled with laughter, lots of banter, wine and beer
come again next week they said, same time, same place, right here.
my first time flying on a plane, was to visit the USA
had a holiday in Las Vegas, that just blew my mind away
and the three weeks that we spent there, were so truly unforgettable
but the fact we never made a return trip, was very much regrettable.
the next break that we booked, was to the island of Corfu
to me that was pure heaven, a real fantastic dream come true
we spent the mornings at the poolside, and afternoons down on the beach
where we sat there people watching, with cold drinks in easy reach.
but time goes by and thing do change, life keeps rolling on
and before you even know it, the years have all but gone
we moved into a bungalow, that was meant to last for life
we'd been together for twenty years as a husband and a wife.
Strikingly Naked
By Odin Roark
Voicing the reflection one sees insures
the facade really is,
was,
must have been.
Time passes…
How smoky the reflection,
this aging identity of accumulated distortion,
where once perception played innocently,
found disguises to hide behind,
who now past the age of innocence,
sees the exposed abyss of shadowed deceptions.
Such awareness knows well the mirror,
where cognizance of the make-believe
beckons the right light,
the flattering shade,
the required eye-sparkle of denial,
no matter the reality.
At some point…
Behind the rehearsed and performed persona,
we raise the inner window
revealing the self-of-fact,
that place where we gulp
what air is left,
sucking up any reserved willingness
blowing in from subterranean shores
to help beat back our self-imposed exile.
One surges forward…
Pulls open the only door
the entrance we feared opening,
an opening your inner monologue
always whispered was there
but you chose to remain imprisoned
by the mirror.
Revelation…
The door now open,
leads to other doors,
so small they seem
as you bend, crawl,
find other rooms,
windowless cubbyholes,
where night sweats
and endless reprieves
once kept you breathing,
albeit your own recycled dead air.
How rewarding…
To see for the first time,
your own recidivist delusions
reverberating like shattered emulations,
blinding your eyes with its refractive light,
burning through regrettable behavior imprisoned,
where no steel bars were ever necessary,
where a place of truth awaited,
a wilderness you are finally ready to explore.
Such is the manifest moment…
When you couldn't be so strikingly naked,
had you not kept yourself so carefully dressed
all those years.
Lord knows i'm not strong on titles.' But this man did something most vital.'
By founding the ( free speach union! )
That is a needed buffer midst current
Con-fusion; a light in the darkness that
attempts to destroy, any vestige of sanity
That encouraged a Britain great, it seeded
Egalitys and fostered a spirit, the whole
World turned to, and brought much joy.'
So much that Respect replaced an empire
As the title, the free west was born' there
Was at least the hope, of human
amity amidst regrettable war clashes,
one bright example not least.' was the re-unifiying
of the German Nation
As old protaganists shrugged off
the dead ashes.' Yet despite the peoples efforts and the wish to live im peace. There
Were tratiors in the upper chambers who
Willed to build again the beast.' It would happen in 2020..Many would have to mourn' lhe loss of
friendships first, then familiy members in 2026 it is still being borne, there is the attack on sustainable
Living.' Upon climate; on good food'
every aspect of everyday life, yet also we see awakening ( which the F S U ) embodies rude, in all this tangled
strife ' if any wish to make
A difference in the life of the world as a whole
, do not guess.' Give your support to
This free speach union i say in this
extreme pass; the record of
Great British history; could truly expect
nothing
Less.!
APC (AXE, PROPAGANDA & CONSENT)
The forest didn’t shrink from fire or storms rolling in from afar;
It dwindled under the swing of steel, met with the rustling applause of leaves.
An axe wandered through the trees, proclaiming:
“My handle is made of wood, carved from your very essence.
How could I possibly be your foe?”
And the green, white, green trees nodded in agreement.6
The iroko admired the handle’s craftsmanship. The mahogany marveled at its rich grain.
The cedar called it kin, singing, “On your mandate, we shall stand.”
And the old, corny axe beamed with pride.
A tortoise shared a thought with the river:
“The crocodile starts with sweet talk,
Long before it reveals its sharp teeth.”
But the rivere river just chuckled.¹4
A goat chose the butcher, lured by promises of lush greener grass.
The knife showed up, wrapped in the fabric of 2027 campaign.¹6
A drum INECtically cautioned the dancers:
“The hand that strikes me doesn’t sway to my rhythm.”
Yet, the dancers dismissed it as mere pessimism.
Branches turned into stumps, and those stumps defended the axe:
“The cutting Congress is a form of invisible reform.
The All Progressive...pain is a necessary sacrifice.
The whipping out or emptiness? That’s progress.”²³
Then, an ancient stump spoke up:
“Every blade needs a handle.
Every throne requires believers.”
But the forest continued to admire the handle,
Waiting for shade from the very hand that cut it.
I hope they know it will be a regrettable wait
When fate is sealed for another four years.³°
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Narrative Poem
Copyright ©?7th June 2026.
“Dead folks can't hurt you none. It's the ones that are alive,
you have to watch out for.” Grace Metalious, Peyton Place
THE FOURTH FLOOR OF NOWHERE
The back room on the 4th floor of nowhere,
nowhere but our love, hidden from the lips
of those hustlers and backbiting peasants.
Spring to Winter, we’d get our kicks and kips.
We’d stash water bottles, cash and her
stare, where no one would bother to look.
Her blackmail ended our tryst and her life.
We played her game but not by her book.
We knew one day they’d go room to room,
key in hand, a skeleton to find, no remorse.
We’d have goosebumps near each other
but be careful to keep our eyes off course.
Forever is a long time of regret and forget.
A tongue that dared to cross our path, so
unimportant, forgotten, a regrettable life.
A backroom hush but a ghostly shadow.
We don’t dare recollect our lust of youth.
The handholding, the kiss, rose petals in bed.
We are unhappily married to our secrets.
Life in Peyton Place is to keep promises dead.
9/8/2020
Craig Cornish’s The Fourth Floor of Nowhere Poetry Contest
Silver and gold are the deceiver.
The Material World is maya, is illusion.
(Succor and destruction, the glittering
night turns outside the poor, beleaguered poet's basement window.)
He carefully sets his life's work --- a steamer trunk
filled with his own original poetry --- in a cubby hole under his staircase in the
basement, for safe-keeping for the time being, for both his own sake and for
posterity's sake. He gives the trunk a last, loving pat.
And should the worst come to the worst, should his poetry be destined for
utter obscurity, should he only fail, he knows that, as surely regrettable as
that must be, it's only failure, nothing more.
******************
"Art is the proper task of life." ;
"The great end of life is to strike the imagination with the power of a soul that
refuses to admit defeat even in the midst of a collapsing world.";
"Creation --- that is the great salvation from suffering, and life's alleviation.
But for the creator to appear, suffering itself is needed, and much
transformation.";
"To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity.";
"No artist can tolerate reality.";
"We have art in order not to die of the truth.";
"What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think, and feel without
inner necessity, without deep personal desire, without pleasure --- as a mere
automaton of duty?";
"Few are made for independence, it is the privilege of the strong.";
"The bad gains respect through imitation, the good loses it especially in art.";
"The man who does not wish to be one of the mass only needs to cease to be
easy on himself.";
"To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.";
"One who has found a why can surely find a how.";
"Error has made man so deep, sensitive, and inventive that he puts forth such
blossoms as religion and arts. Pure knowledge could not have been capable
of it.";
"The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.";
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."
--- Friedrich Nietzsche
"There's no money in poetry, but there's no poetry in money, either."
--- Robert Graves