Long Scared Poems
Long Scared Poems. Below are the most popular long Scared by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scared poems by poem length and keyword.
Scarecrow
You'll find me
in paddy fields and gardens;
even on front porches.
I'm a decoy, as lonely as can be.
I look frozen in time,
mimicking Jesus
crucified on the cross,
but I swear I mean no disrespect,
you religious zealots!
Blame farmers and gardeners!
They make me look this way!
They live to humiliate me;
dressing me up like a ragamuffin,
stuffing straw inside my coveralls,
placing a dumb-looking hat
atop my head; you name it!
Yes, I know I look ridiculous.
I wish I'd put
my perennially outstretched arms down.
Don't be scared of me, kids,
I speak no evil
I don't speak at all,
and I do not harm anything
that breathes air
Yet you humans choose to avoid me
like the plague
but come Halloween,
you all love me for just a day!
Go figure.
Yeah, I see some of you
staring at me, chuckling;
whispering amongst yourselves
about me having no brain
in the "Wizard of Oz" movie.
In my defense,
It was a misrepresentation!
I don't speak, but I'm not that dumb!
I know how to do my thankless job
and do it well.
I scare off all the birds
that peck at newly cast
seeds of growing crops, don't I?
Not so brainless now, am I?
Date written: 05/15/2020
My nephew is making me play a different version of hide and seek.
This version involves a gun, if he finds me, things will become bleak.
In this version, if a player is found, he is killed.
I'm scared out of my wits, I'm sure not thrilled.
He said if I didn't play the game, he'd kill me on the spot.
He's trying to find where I'm hid but I hope he can not.
He is a twisted and totally evil child.
His parents have never disciplined him and he's running wild.
My nephew just found and shot me, I have a bullet in my chest.
My life is flashing before my eyes and soon I'll be laid to rest.
My wife and kids will be devastated when they learn that I bought the farm.
This evil little child should be killed or locked up before he can do more harm.
mom, i think im dying
and i think i will miss you
my 8 year old self would hate me for that
but you are my flesh, my home
your rage is a tribute to all you have endured, perhaps misdirected, but i think i understand you now
a final encore
i know that scares you
it scares me too
i spent all my life despising you, for things out of our control
but perhaps i am you
i blamed you and i blamed you and i blamed you
but i never knew you
a young scared broken girl, your brain a storm of love, for hatred. your brain is my brain, your love is my love, your fear is my fear, anguish is my anguish. i feel what you felt
oh mother, hold me, brush my hair, kiss my forehead
for this is the end, and i don't hate you anymore. forgive me
i will die your daughter
and i will be rebirthed as your haunter
the skin and the bones of my home came from my parents.
the skin and the bones of my body were made by equal parts of them.
my father is a manipulator,
an abuser.
a controller.
my mother is partly broken, held together by her children like glue.
i’ve lived fear vicariously through my mother.
the blood shed of biting her tongue.
the eggshells she walked upon when my father entered the room.
he would never hit.
god forbid he lay a finger on us
but the vibrations of his words echoed through me and my sister for years, weathering us.
now we are partly broken too,
held together by our mother like glue.
i have her soul, strong but fraying.
i have my sisters courage, scared but i will never show it.
i never saw the world from my fathers point of view
i am not the girl i used to be but i am very much the girl he raised
i fear i have more than just his eyes
god please don’t let me have more than just his eyes.
The shopping centre's open, the car park it is packed
No sign of mother nature unless it’s been vacuum packed
the car park just a lay by no clue’s what lays beyond
just a dirt track and a factory fence to walk along
traffic noise fades into the background
the birds begin to sing
and an ancient woodland stands before me
an oasis in a land of commerce scared by human hand
mother natures been out painting a lovely shade on blue
a woodland dappled with painted dots
Vincent van gogh would be pleased
when the bluebells show.
Parrotts drumble is an ancient woodland in an industrial centre please click the link to understand the poem many thanks
http://www.staffs-wildlife.org.uk/reserves/parrots-drumble
click on the link you can see a massive shopping centre the wood behind it
you walk down the side of a factory to get to it, and for those who do not live in the uk stoke on trent is an heavy industrial area .
You can be a total winner;
Even if you are a beginner,
If you think you can, you will.
You can wear the gold medallion;
And you can ride your own black stallion,
If you think you can, you will.
It's not your talent or the gifted birth right,
Its not your bank book that determines your worth,
If you think you can, you will.
It isn't the colour of your skin;
It's your attitude that lets you win,
If you think you can, you will.
You can even profit through inflation;
You can redirect this nation,
If you think you can, you will.
It makes no difference what the half-time scared;
For no pain last forever just be determined,
If you think you can, you will.
It's never over till the final gun;
So keep on trying and you will find you've won,
If you think you can, you will.
Just grab your dream and then believe it;
Go out and work and you will achieve it,
If you think you can, you will.
Believe in God and you are half-way there;
Believe in yourself and you are three-quarter there,
If you think you can, you will.
All these and hard work will get you to the top;
Thinking you can is just the first step,
If you think you can, you will.
I miss it.
I miss waking up energized.
And next to my wife, everyday.
I miss my son coming home with criticisms on how bureaucratic work is.
I miss not worrying about my wife.
I miss her two boys coming home from work
Quiet, kind, and making my chest swell with pride.
I miss sleeping in my bed everyday.
I miss the dogs waking me up and not letting me oversleep
Even on Saturday.
I miss the illusion of knowing what's going to happen next.
I miss having a completed to-do list.
But, I’ll tell you what I don't miss:
I don't miss the terror of walking away
Unknowing if that was my last goodbye.
I don't miss being lonely-- not just sometimes, but always.
I don't miss moving through the days like a zombie.
I don't miss betrayal.
I don't miss being the target of existential anger
Both mine and others'.
I don't miss being hopeless.
I don't miss being unsure of myself,
Scared of what other people think of me.
I don't miss wondering if anybody will ever accept me for what I am.
I don't miss not knowing kindness and love on a daily basis.
I don't miss running out of money at the grocery store.
I don't miss being lied about.
Life's exhausting, yet
I just need survive long enough to
Joy.
Because I'm not where I was,
I miss my past
And I don't.
Today's not my worst day,
Nor my best.
And I…
I'm just tired.
I want to kiss the stones of my ancestors
And to walk on the sand where they fell
And know I will not sink
I want the teeth of arrogance to scar me
To scar me where they could not be scared
And to let those scars burn
The sun it dries
But can’t dry me
For I will drown
And I will sink
And will be the most happy
No hand of help to take my hold
No warmth of home to steal the cold
This act alone
Is now my own
I will be where I will be
With the sun beneath my swollen feet
And my grave will lie to face the sky
And leave it all behind me
A barren kiss my fate shall hold
Of a foreign face on weary stone
And ancestors shore be gone
The sand will sink and I will fall
But this time someone else stands tall.
The mirror doesn't reflect who you are
It paints a picture of what the mind sees
As men we all have goals but
With the right woman we have dreams
Time Traveling with wings
Made from the waves
of her heartbeat
Before a man finds himself
He looks in the mirror to climb the mountain
Questions for hills
The rock hard Stereotype
Has become a personality type
Masking the seed of growth
The mirror that only talks with a reflection lies
A mirror conversates with possibilities
Conversing with myself I learned
A man is strongest when sipping vulnerability
Chocolate conversations with her
Opened up capabilities
Dreams go from flight to walking
Talking about her unique affinities
Her gorgeous is the icing
Men aren’t scared of love
They’re afraid to open up
Because before a man finds himself
He finds hell then digs under it to his grave
Where he buries everything he wants to protect
With, I’ll just do it myself
Until the day he sees himself not as rejection
But a reflection of God
Meaning impossible is nothing
Aligned with God a man finds a good thing
Now the mirror is her eyes and in them he sees
Safety, with her hand on the key
He's climbed from hell to heaven
Peace pours from her presence
She cradles everything rocky
Now we're whispering about a baby
She knows she can be the last straw
So she builds with bricks
By brick she turns a home into a palace
Men aren’t scared to be soft
They're scared to give access to their clouds
Because not everyone can handle the rain
Men don’t want a cheerleader
They need a straight shooter
Imagine if Bonnie linked up with Peter
Contrary to belief men don’t want it all
The want one to have it all with
Anyone who says the other is still reflecting
Looking in her eyes I’m reflecting
I’d go to war for you
I’d lose for you
I’d grow for you
I’d knock down my walls for you
So we could refurbish a heart
That bloomed from a rose
Because roses see both sides
Then the two become one
Team over identity plants legacy
We ride together and not even death
could take that away
I’d let go of me if it meant protecting you
p.s. I love seeing you when I look in the mirror…
Kensington
Children of frustration
when dreams rose from the heap
the darkest of locations
tell white lies as they speak
open to persuasion
when abilities are weak
waves of degradation
disturbs all those asleep
awake the dispensation
to turn the other cheek
the house that they were raised in
and company they keep
a blur of segregation
when summers burn with heat
sit back for meditation
and sow all that is reaped
peer deep into what’s stationed
the lost or stolen sheep
a core that rocks a nation
only on occasion weeps
passed down from generations
too scared to take a peak
the truth is out there somewhere
you can find it in the street.