Long Smart Poems
Long Smart Poems. Below are the most popular long Smart by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smart poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember the days
before technology
before computers
before cell phones
before smart tvs
In particular
I remember one summer day
when I heard on the radio
that the microwave oven
had been invented !
I really thought this was it ~
they had finally invented
every possible thing
but then…
they put a man on the moon
and it was only the beginning !
How our world has since
spun out of our grasp
illusions of grandeur
never nearly big enough
exploration beyond our universe
trying to connect with aliens
when we can't get along
within our human race
Priorities askew ~
Who cares about
this endless technology
What if our geniuses focused on ~
feeding the starving nations
sending all children to school
caring for mistreated animals
fixing the environment that’s
damaged beyond repair ~
They could try solving greed
and cruelty
and selfishness
for starters
The countertop microwave oven affordable for residential use was introduced in the late 1970s.
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on September 18, 2020 for contest A HISTORIC EVENT sponsored by WILLIAM KEKAULA - RANKED 3RD
From the Ohio River to the Great Lake Erie.
If they come from Cleveland, or south in Cincinnati,
these talented persons’ works are the ones we should see.
They have written some of this site’s greatest poetry.
They may live in the cities of Canton or Akron;
or perhaps in Columbus, Youngstown, or in Dayton.
They also come from many smaller towns in between.
They’ve written some of the best poetry I have seen.
Many of these folks have graduated from college.
Those that have not still possess incredible knowledge.
To them, poetry is both a science and an art.
Our Ohio members are all naturally smart.
From crispy candied apples, sticky sweets,
Derive the base by which my lines accrue;
For when pure-love reduced by coal depletes,
Then train of thought does simmer heavy rue.
As though embittered soup deducted cream:
Increasing one but makes another lack -
My fossil engine still beholden steam;
Thereby, poetic stew remains on track.
But, if I’m chef then who’s the engineer?
Smart poets pluck the vine whose fruit is loose;
As such, sweet compliments, ex-wife austere,
For all my wounds and her divine caboose -
Because, while pain and sadness garnish me,
Her tracks through me conduct my recipe.
1/31/2017
sugar mummy
honey old rich mistress
so lonely yet so wealthy
her desire so close
yet so far
as she is so eager for love
men in her age don't needs her
any more
and now despite
she is rich and wealthy
she is now a hunter
for love
sugar mummy
a business
honey old rich mistress
yet you can never call her old
or else hell will rain on earth
she always feel young than
the youngest girl on the street
as she catwalk every time as
a model
she keeps her eyes open
cos she is a hunter
she knows the most young boys
in her area
she knows their needs
she knows most of the boys
are jobless some homeless
she knows most of them are from
poor families
she knows is easy to catch them
young with her
showers of wealth
sugar mummy
a matured young smart chaser
oh you are a sweet sixteen
the young lover swear
as he lays his head on
her warm big flat breast
in his heart he found a god saint
cos now he could
dress well
eat well
drive flashy cars
provide for his poor family
as his sugar mummy
showers him with her
material wealth
oh sweet sixteen
you are sweeter than
sugar another
bla bla bla
as the young fellow
lost after her wealth
sugar mummy
her charm is so strong
it killing alot young men
out there
she possesses alot power
yet
she possesses alot grives
as she glitters
with her cosmetic beauty
bewarn you young desperate boys
out there
what ever she gave away? is never for free
what ever benefit you gain
from her got a price
as long as you are under her
control
you are okay
once you say No
is better you were not born
so you see all that glitters
are not gold
not even with your
sugar mummy
The deliberate hurt is
a wound never healing,
forgiveness may be granted
to that soul expiring;
and as the trembling lips
close, serenity descends.
To have loved such a person
would have been wrong, not smart;
nothing honorable and pleasant
came out of that foul mouth.
Some realize the demonic force
that was behind it to cause animosity
towards the kindest of hearts;
then is anger the curse of the unforgiven,
not to fully and sincerely apologize?
It's wiser to bear offense than to offend,
so that the guilt is not concealed inside,
but open to unfair criticism
rather than visual humanism;
and would one cope with implausibility?
Along our path, we may see roses...
smell their aroma and cherish their loveliness,
but beneath them there are many thorns
ready to poke those who rush judgment;
and they will bleed for not having been cautious,
or at least avoided the useless torment!
I have bled in my utter blindness,
putting everything at risk, sparing no mercy
for a quest to uphold my integrity
by being too complacent, and not showing kindness.
And ignoring that anger is the curse of the unforgiven,
I beat hard on my chest to feel the acute pain...
remembering the hostile voice putting me down;
embarrassing me of such a vulgar mannerism,
making me despise and hate any exhibited egotism!
The longest time has passed to shorten the brevity of compassion,
to make me aware that to have none is a denial of self!
Weep and mourn for shutting all doors on fairness, cruel soul;
sleep not, for remorse is a plague inflicted upon the unmerciful
who see themselves less useful than those discerning death!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I was a stoner in a coma mercifully sweet
up for good humour and friendly greet
changed into someone more likely to beat
thump kick and stomp fighting the weak
I had stoner friends with paranoid brains
and jealous mates who were partial to blame
letting ideas spawn from sophism claims
delivered by a stranger playing a game
that stranger my boss telling my friend
things false and fallacious intent to offend
slander me to colleagues was her daily trend
reaching beyond work to see bonds end
isolating me at work and my social life too
my boss and my best mate missing a screw
daily discrimination the mate said aint true
dwelling on rumours whilst treating me rude
he shared with his brother stories she told
a brother already living bitterly cold
accepting the worst and easily sold
behaving beheaded with hatred his gold
all of this mistreatment morphing my mind
reaching for help nowhere to find
blinded by focus on my bosses crime
finding it hopeless as losses inclined
personality vanished and I'm unemployed
my life fully shattered completely destroyed
yet when telling mates they'd get annoyed
still seeking out truths in her stories deployed
My boss won the Battle Of Malicious Mouths
and whilst she's forgotten friends still doubt
watching me drown in a kindness drought
until i was confused as to what friendship's about
and life for that matter with my brain in a cloud
lost hopes and helplessness no sense of proud
yet still treated rough as I crawled with the crowd
took 8 sodding people 6 years to bring me down
Seven long years of suffering isolated
seeing these memories fit missing places
the hazy mist clears and I'm not suffocated
I know what my boss caused I know what my mates did
Up until recently
When I was growing up
All I ever wanted to be was considered funny
And recently I discovered that is in fact
What people thought of me
And how they would describe me
All along
Who knew
And the reason maybe why I thought this
Was because I was lead to believe
That what woman find to most attracted
About men is if they are funny
And can make them laugh
And I thought I was the one
Who was supposed to be funny
And make jokes
Well that was an absolute ripper
Funny
Ha ha ha
I am still laughing at that 1 till today
Boy did I make girls laugh
Some nearly went as far as to wet themselves
Literally when all I had to do was ask them out
But it never once managed to get me a date
Now all I want to be is to considered smart
Not that that will get me anymore dates
Or make me any more appealing
Or attractive to women
The my main reason is
So I am not stupid enough
To be taken in and believe
In things that are quite clearly obviously
Practical jokes in theory
Or my version anyway
Intended to make funny people such as I
Who make the ladies laugh all day
So much so they want to pee
Not want to go out with the likes of me
Because although I may well be funny
Come to think of it
Buying into and believing that
Is actually very funny indeed
Unfortunately what it also points out as well
It doesn't appear to make me seem very smart
Now does it
In actual fact it makes me come across
As more like a clown
My child came home from kindergarten and said
“My teacher Mrs. Ballywack is so NICE!”
I was amazed; I had not heard anything good about the woman.
“She said, Tracy Krutsinger, if you think you are so smart,
You can come up here and teach the class!”
I love it that sarcasm did not hurt her.
She is too upbeat and positive to recognize it.
She has been a joy to us her entire life.
Now she brings us her children, who are also joys for us.
They have dogs, cats, and gerbils.
They are open minded, and love everyone.
And none of them would recognize sarcasm.
How marvelous is that? They have such a great mom!
Michael was a simple lad, not clever, bright or smart, yet Michael had what many lack, a
pure and trusting heart,
His world was filled with fairy-tales, of magic and make believe, he had not an ounce of
bad in him, his pleasure was to please,
He wandered down by the canal, a sail boat in his hand, to dreams of pirates and treasure
troves, of shipwrecks on golden sands,
Underneath the arches , a gang was getting high, their temperament was highly strung, and
somewhat volatile,
They saw Michael talking to himself, and watched him as he dreamed, they began to form an
evil plot, a viscous kind of scheme,
A knife was pulled from beneath a coat, and cries of lets go get him, as this gang
approached Micheal unawares, with innocent fake greetings,
"Hey there fool what's that you have, a boat upon the water?" Michael gave a fearless
smile, unaware of the on-coming slaughter,
No-one's sure what happened next, they found his body some days after, cut and stabbed by
a sharpened blade, and in his pocket, his little tractor,
I guess you think this tragic that a child should meet this end, well Michael was an
adult, he was 33 my friend,
What purpose served to harm him, a child not a man, they never caught the killers,
apparently they ran,
In memory of Michael use your voice to stop this hate, and save the other Michaels from
this devastating fate.
Let's talk with the words
for them to express themselves
always sweet...
words are works
of grace!
Let's ask the words
May they always be friends...
Enmities between us and them,
cause unmistakable damage...
Let's ask the words
that they always drink in
good sources, to be born
always crystal clear.
After being attended to
our honors, may we help
the words so that
keep Them all life
towering and,
SMART..!