Long Relatable Poems
Long Relatable Poems. Below are the most popular long Relatable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Relatable poems by poem length and keyword.
In case I never write another poem again,
here's what I've been thinking
I've had a rough time wrestling
with the rigid grooves inside
my red hard, head -
heading nowhere really,
getting no place clearly,
drearily coming to a head -
where spine meets brain
and runs its creviced terrain
it spent too many hours of my life
building.
Beautiful though, isn't it?
All of it keeping life running -
lungs breathing,
heart beating,
cells feeding
on the energy it never wastes.
Wasteful to waste such a masterful design
isn't it?
A little tasteless.
Wouldn't it be
tragic
to leave this life behind -
an existence no mind can hide,
but mine cannot imagine,
stuck in the sulci canyons
I created nine years ago.
We don't talk about nine years ago,
me and my sulking sulci posse,
not about the days
when he-who-shall-not-be-named
sent the grim reaper out to play with my heart.
Yeah, let that sit in for a second.
Every heart knows what that feels like.
Guess mine couldn't take the strike,
the jab,
the stab in the back
to a heart ripe with frozen spite,
full of incredible credible lies
despite all the wisdom
rightful guided advice could bring
my psyche took a dive,
right into the fragmented canyons
where this all started.
Pardon my honesty.
I suppose all this confused pain
inside of me needs somewhere to go -
a home if you will -
somewhere to belong.
Isn't that what we all want,
after all?
Art of Maria Prymachenko was heralded by Picasso.
The colorful and bizarre world of life, gone insane.
Her fantastic beasts encapsulate the suffering
of the past and future Ukraine. Starvation prevails.
Horrors depicted from a harmless peasant. God
gifted her with brushes, paints, a surreal imagination
to depict the horrors of deprivation and cannibalism.
A colorful bird with her young in her mouth, appears
to be nurturing, but when the history of the Ukraine
is known, under Stalin’s reign, it is altogether
a macabre depiction of hunger in its morbid form.
Primal myths painted amidst blue-yellow sunflowers.
Maria’s experience as a young peasant girl in her twenties.
God took her away last century. Her paintings in Kyiv
are in jeopardy. She would be appalled at this latest
upheaval of the land she knew. Monsters once more!
Upheaval of breath, to starve, to lose your freedom…
but for fate, we’d be likewise reduced to our base selves.
Would we just lie down and sleep with a quaking belly
or tear flesh from the bones of the dead to quash our hunger.
Poets remain vigilant with imagery as artists stir paint.
Emotions in yellow and blue, hopefully not in red and white
too. We must cherish, be careful, be cognizant and wise,
lest we lick the boots of dictators that slither from the rocks.
O Lord quicken your compassionate heart and warm breath.
Let the nations pray for places on the map, relatable and
otherwise. All creeds and colors give peace, food, intact
family. Let the demons flee to their abysmal home in hell.
3/24/2022
https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2022/mar/18/ukraine-best-loved-artist-peasant-maria-prymachenko-terrifying-fooled-stalin-dictator?fbclid=IwAR15mTkFFcXesz5n1yxaPLyKoXFR773Tvf6EMdzi7NXdaFpp6XeGuaICYPc
A centric couple
Exchanging different coloured roses
Holding hands with vice like grip
Earth betwix their curling toes
Beneath a moonlight torn astray
With such so birthed exploding hearts
It even stirs the deaf neighbours
And labours love
Valentine poison arrow breech
Still hidden in the shadowy hall's
Of old school gym lockers
Now used as passwords
That scar to this day
Because
They are a cold reminder
Of what it was like growing up
Deemed to be never worthy
Of 1 a single solitary flower bought
Nor
Valentine's card written
Hopefully better late than never
Something's are wasted on the young
And are worth waiting for
And mean so much more
When the right time
And the right person comes along
Said someone far wiser under the
guise of I
With a sheave full of blunt arrows
And teary eyes
As if to say
1 day in the future you will eventually
understand
And come that day look back and
finally be able to smile without
Regret
And nothing else will matter
But love itself relatable in this here
moment present tense actuality now
Come the Reunion and everything is
back to the future
I love chess
This is my favorite game
Whenever I play it, I am bless
Make friends on the game is my aim.
I learn chess
When I was fourteen
Since then I play it and never cease
To play my entire life in between.
I play chess
Whenever I'm sad
It's my therapy for stress
I play also when I'm glad.
I treat chess
As strategy to cope everyday strife
There are roles of every piece
On board that is relatable to life.
I believe chess
Originated in India I was told
As a way of life, the game is played for peace
Propagated in Persia and the rest of the world.
I want chess
In every sports news column
I want to see it played in plaza, in mall or any place
I want it included in program for educational curriculum.
I find chess
Fascinating, intellectual and fun game
It give me peace and happiness
And a little claim of fame.
Should 21st Century poetry
For the new minds of a culturally bombarded generation
Be limited from 3 to 7 lines?
Before you answer
To me personally, even though to answer, makes my Heart aches
I like reading poetry built around subtlety
Concealed layers or secretive depths
Relatable interchangeable meanings
Powerful raw stuff that sometimes leaves your eyes wet
Unearthed within deciphering their carefully crafted imagery or subtext
3 to 7 lines of reading, might sound like heaven, but I'm old school
Give me Lord Byron
Shelley or Keats
But I guess
Like an Ode to a Nightingale
Maybe that's the beauty of poetry as She walks in Beauty
And like To a Skylark
It must sing
So I can only hope new generations enjoy poetry, so it continues to thrive and still live
Within whichever form, and exciting tales that will continue to make their own hearts beat
With all it can give
But for me
Reading deep poetry
Feels like sitting briefly, metaphorically, underneath a Cherry Blossom Tree
Enjoying a delicious drop of spiritual tranquility
Are you too, old school and what emotional fluctuations resonate with you?
Are you a three to seven or more like:
Eleven or more is heaven
Reader or writer
Who enjoys late all-nighters
(C) Copyright John Duffy
What you're holding in your hands
Is a poem within a poem
Both far enough apart
But close enough to get along
Set within each other
So as not to be alone
This poem that you're now holding
This poem within a poem
One poem rhymes it all in love
From beginning to the end
Talks of those new beginnings
And the giving within the giving
How love holds a lasting truth
And spreads it faithfully
This poem that rhymes it all in love
Then holds it out for all to read
While the other poem talks of the past
The what has and hasn't been
The artful way of looking back
And how it is now seen
What you gave up that you once had
That you wish you had again
This poem that brings up the past
A scent that's on the wind
Both poems similar in degree
But very different all the same
Both bring love into the notion
That you can have it once again
While they are relatable
In the way these poems both bleed
They both are very different
In their basics needs
So what you now hold in your hands
This poem within a poem
Is far enough apart from one another
But close enough to get along
Placed here both together
So as to not go it alone
This poem of the past and of the love
This poem within a poem
"Fly"
Enigma
Out of nowhere
his voices arrived
He thought he’d
write a poem
Senryu
get the In to the Outside
Simple magic
3 lines
Mind erect
his smalls itched
freeze
dried
His mind CPTSD
crying lied
Laughing outside
he watched his inside
Hanging unwanted questions
out on the literary clothes line
snapped tight then closed
by all the wooden clothes pegs
crying
no colour in their lines
bingo
POTD delivered
applied
He’s dressed in
Gold Lamé
Sacrificial
bright
But they spit him out
he’s too Blue dyed
Easy
release
he came for a while
he cried
They nodded knowingly
they smiled
He was an Anomaly
Not part of their mouse-clicking pride
They all wanted
a pretty reliable Relatable
just like them
Tie-Dyed
He was an annoying
buzzing fly
Less than equal
they ignored his
Soul
Sigh
He was a treasure box of pearls
spilling before swine
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Joker"
https://youtu.be/uzWv8m-it3Q
"Vision & Fury", humanising the Villain
https://youtu.be/cKpjCJlZViQ
International Suicide Hotlines:
http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html
Priceless
Correct
If you are down and find yourself in
desperate need of cheering up
Then laughter must surely be the
best medicine
To not only rectify but turn both
your frown and mood upside down
Because if in fact we are then to believe
what we are and have been told
Then may I suggest such a show that
may fulfill this remit and leave you with
a most sincere heart felt warm glow
inside
So why not try watch Granada our
regional local news program
Tackling the big issues of the day
Like the guy they just interviewed and
had on discussing how to conserve energy
and pay for your heating bill's
Who on the 1 hand was struggling to pay his
bill's and heat his home
But and whereas on the other hand
Was now not only quite willing and
prepared to exchange his old gas boiler insulation and seemingly outdated means
of conserving energy
So to recap no money struggling barely
able to make ends meet and currently
afford his bill's
Yet has absolutely no problems at all
and is now both able to afford
Being able to completely renovate
and upgrade his entire house as it
obviously must be as cheap as
And I thought wow exactly just how
stupid must I be , why can't I be more
like this guy
And maybe that's because or the actual
reason is
Because either I don't have a face for
tv or relatable sense of humor or couldn't
possibly pull that particular farce or charade
off in my wildest dreams
Especially if it is supposed to be said
with a straight face and be seriously
meant and to be believed as actual
real news
I have been so blind…
Oh hey, nevermind…
I want strength again…
Let's look into it…
Our silly little wit…
Gets us glad I admit…
Scared…scarred…left with tears…
Couldn’t face my childlike fears…
I’m indecisive…forgive me with cheers…
Righteousness comes from discernment…
Wickedness is original from discouragement...
See, there's proof I learned from the Holy Bible of encouragement…
You’re glimmering like grand-find, mined gold…
Your soul is still young and bold, never once old…
You are always a warmth with a twinge of cold…
Too blue to be true…
Too true to be you…
I am these three dots that you can’t undo…
…I need an extreme upgrade…
…Many mistakes I’ve made…
…I’m fine, all guiltiness paid…
Feeling these three dots and its lows…
With relatable shade of shadows…
That, in itself, raises many eyebrows…
But, after the lows, come the highs – it shows –
As the wicked wind blows and gracious sun glows
Counted my toes countless times; inner-child smile grows…
Form:
Religion existed before education
it was the one source of information
the one guiding light of inspiration
providing the only answers to question
Through evolution our knowledge has grown
yet it still provides wisdom, beneficial when known,
but it also holds a primitive ideology of old
impressed in the present because the past took a hold,
inevitably it's legacy gifts a legitimacy
that without wouldn't exist if it began this century
there are aspects relatable to middle aged brutality
from an alien world nothing like our present day reality
with inequality and control which protects insecurity
also exclusion that in todays world is wrong morally
holding humanity to beliefs of a former age and majority
long before our present day liberal freedoms and prosperity
it was a present in the past but now lacks intellectual property
we shouldn't base beliefs on a past when we knew less
a once uniting knowledge now way passed its best
that may become relevant when we finally rest
a belief system stuck while its believers progress