Long Smarter Poems
Long Smarter Poems. Below are the most popular long Smarter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smarter poems by poem length and keyword.
I hope to redeem myself by being nicer to me
in this new year
I was not kind last year, or the year before,
angry with my body for failing me
Taking no blame
This year I am smarter, wiser, an owl really.
I will take flight at night, zooming into
the cosmos, learning what I can about
human health, so I can better take care of
myself.
I will listen to my angel guides while I dream,
and will stop belittling myself in any kind of
way. I am never going to learn math, and
do I care really? Absolutely not!
This year will be the year I give myself
permission to play. I will pick up my paints,
and I will smear colors together, creating whatever
I want, believing in myself, fully and completely.
Does it matter that no one else likes my art?
Absolutely not; it is the joy of the journey,
and the thrill of learning new processes that
will entice, intrigue, and bring bliss to this owl.
I will be more “me” than I have ever been before,
and I will be gentle, and stop hurting my feelings.
Paula Goldsmith, you will know when I say
Always encourages us in her way
She's good for a lift
Poetry is her gift
“So have a blessed day writing away!”
Tom Woody the Poet guru
Who will never, ever lie to you
Even if it hurts
He's candid and curt
We all need a friend this true
Silent One's a talented guy
His poetry worthy to buy
He has much to write
Which is ironic-a mite
Cause If truly silent we’d cry!
Susan Ashley has a golden pen
If enters a contest she'll win
But she is so humble
So no need to grumble
She gives you a chance in the end
Do you know Beatrix Macabre?
Writes in light from a candelabra
Much smarter than most
Friends with witches and ghosts
Maybe bloody cryptic, chupacabra!
Crystol Woods is a bit unsmart
Though she excels at art
A three syllable word
That she's never heard
Causes her brain to fly apart
Arlo Parker, not much to relate
Short, thoughtful poems he does create
They don't take up much room
So we must assume
He has no need to compensate!
David Crandall is the sweetest man
Salt of the earth and a good friend
Talented and kind
Thoughtful, creative mind
And he uses words I can understand!
PoetrySoup has all kinds
Artistic and logical minds
When put all together
And we all endeavor
Talent isn't hard to find
I LOITER AIMLESS
In spree I like to loiter lone aimless
making way through thorny bush and wild weeds
where creeper secretes peculiar fluids.
Feral flowers flowing fragrance peerless.
Waves thrashing on solitary sea shore
calling me to listen to music loud.
Symphony resonates in interlude.
Aqua opulence in gorgeous galore.
Hot scorching desert or non-mowed meadow
gives warm welcome to enjoy and wander.
Sand dust or glass blade both are my wonders
Glad to be followed only by shadow.
Sunny, cloudy or even rainy sky
Each disperses amazing ambient.
Spectacular marvelous firmament.
Dormant desires of mind dream to soar high.
Humans work hard doing great and greater.
I appreciate human emotion,
success, progress of civilization
but, adore Nature most: Smarter and better.
08/21/19
First Place
' STRAND SELECT' Contest by Brian Strand.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile. 1
Contest by Mark Toney
I am chasing a galloping gingerbread, and the little old man and the
Little old woman and a rake and a fork and a spoon are helping me
When another villager begins yelling at the top of his musical scale,
“Christmas is here! Christmas is here!”
My eyes pop open. I am disoriented, not knowing where I am at first.
The galloping gingerbread cookie has turned into a galloping real-live-boy!
I must have fallen asleep on the couch, after sitting down for just a minute.
Three children in the form of sixteen battalion of horses
Hit those stairs like percussion instruments.
They have discovered that Santa left half of a frosted cookie.
Two are screaming while the oldest one devours it.
My husband plods in from the kitchen and smarter than Nero,
Forks over a chocolate-milked, double sugared, coffee. My hero!
I see you got finished, He says to me, the wrapping-present-queen
I nod. I was going to just sit down a second, before I came to bed.
He smiles, knowing how fast sometimes the energizer bunny
falls down in total exhaustion mode, in the form of his honey.
Max throws himself into my arms, warm pajamas and all.
A galloping gingerbread cookie, in the form of a live doll!
Written 11-30-2018 Contest: Christmas Cheer Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
So young, too young, to project such dejection.
So young, too young, to shoulder such depression.
Confidence decays as the soul wanes.
Brightness fades from the constant drains.
Without support it is hard to grow,
Even the small child seems to know.
"Am I doing this right?" "is that okay?"
Begging for praise day after day.
When none is offered, Doctor takes note,
The child does for himself, not meaning to gloat,
What he hoped any adult he knows would,
He pats himself on the back, "I done good".
"Worthless, insolent, stupid boy"
I remember well the tools you would employ.
And while feeling the words and matching blows sting
I could already hear them in the future continue to ring.
Years have been lost to the lies you have told
Because I let them seep in and take hold.
What you did and let happen destroyed my childhood,
So for as long as I remember I have wondered, "am I any good?"
I have risen and I rise due to a skill I now possess.
I have found how to draw strength from my past distress.
Stronger, smarter, better than even I believed I could be,
I find I agree with twenty years younger me.
The sad troubled child who wanted to believe what I now should.
Despite the turmoil, heartache, and trauma, I have thrived.
"I done good."
I don’t usually talk about a club, in the club
but last night I was chattering breathlessly, at midnight,
about how right the club had gotten its atmosphere.
I’m never quite sure, design-wise, what’s ‘now’ and what’s retro nuance.
My bf Peter said the design was “Warholism,” whatever THAT is.
I gave him a puzzled look and he said. “The Factory?” Like that meant something.
Why is he so much smarter than me? It’s unjust.
Lets wax poetically..
The drinks were priced like artifacts
but we ordered them like essentials.
A club is a machine calibrated for pleasure.
Similar to real life, but with much better lighting
plus their decors are tuned to optimistic escapism.
Last night’s club, was all chrome and blue light
making us feel like we were on a spaceflight
Clubs hit escape velocity around midnight
when everyone’s having their own garish moment
- crowds roll in on the vibe, and things warm up.
When moving on the floor started to feel like work
we escaped the ordinary for the cooler mezzanine
We arrived as our drinks were being freshened up
I tip well and they’re happy to manage my money
It was a good thing. Our generation doesn’t know
how to wait without looking like we’re waiting.
BTW: Don’t you LOVE anti-spiking drink covers?! #justbrilliant
ok, now it’s Saturday morning
My head is pounding, as if someone were striking it,
every thirty seconds or so, with a timpani malot.
“That was the LAST time..” I moan, but I was being ironic.
I know it’s not true, Peter knows it’s not true, I know, he knows,
I know it’s not true - but he gets my meaning - that’s irony.
Peter never seems to have a hangover and at times it pisses me off.
“How do you feel,” I ask him in my smallest voice - lest I awake the timpanist.
“Fine,” he says, with an enjoyable sense of righteousness.
He sips his coffee as if he has not a care.
“You’re only fine because your head is empty,” I lash out in a whisper.
.
.
A song for this:
Can't Tame Her by Zara Larsson
Tears by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
.
[E] = Explicit lyrics
Some people are smarter than others,
While others are better at sports
And then there are those
Who own all the right clothes
Or whose homes look like fancy resorts.
Some people have talents like singing
Or playing an instrument well,
While others are skilled
Making crafts that have filled
Shops and sites where such items will sell.
Some people reach out to help others
And know how to listen and care,
While others explore,
Always looking for more -
Seeking answers for problems we share.
Some people choose lives very simple,
Without any goals to achieve,
For the playing field’s not
One that’s equal, so what
We become’s tied to what we receive.
The battle of wits who’s quickest to the target
The Referendum becomes our battling ground,
To silence the tongues that vanity took apart.
Saying little or nothing and have no command.
By force of nerves all generals pitted and plotted
Referendum vote drummed out the matted voices,
Tweets on either side of the house in cyber-chatted,
Europe left with misfits and the approving choices.
The referendum matter leads our nation into battle
Conquering minds gallop in haste to beat off time,
Waiting around for baited fines of further tittle-tattle,
Make allowance for doubting putting firms far behind.
Bows in the left hand; poison arrows fight in the right,
A momentum pursuing no safer place but heaven,
Parliament eyes have it, smart sorties smitten by night,
Watch the big nations squabble for refuge mitigation.
Then Europe and the people that’s in it can dream,
But every nightmare release the creepy dark shadows,
Frighten fools, using outdated tools for a referendum,
Keeping our identity to chase after the distant rainbows.
Could the appeasing bung taken worth smarter living?
Begin to outrun the distances of our silent conscience
Before looking back over on our humble beginning
With Protestants breathing the ambiance of silence.
The air was fresh even though something was wrong with my lungs.
It was very early with so much time left under the western sun.
I felt I could always catch up because I was still very young.
Yesterday, I signed up to run, but today the race has already begun,
and unfortunately, I find myself running in a race I never signed up for.
I thought I was really prepared, knowing this day would someday come.
I busied myself hanging out with my friends and enjoying the rhymes.
How could I be so irresponsible, totally forgetting the passage of time?
I loved my friends who meant so much to me, but the songs engendered sadness. I did not realize it, but the beats were not triggering sounds that generated gladness.
Now I, like millions of others, have missed the train and the plane and are fearfully on the run. We were naive, thinking the world would wait on us, and that we had so much more time for fun.
It's just not fair; our lives have just began, and so much is left undone.
No one told us to think for ourselves and speak up for what we believe.
We believed in our leaders and teachers, never bothering to question them seriously, never realizing that history has been revised by controllers and liars, and we have been deceived.
I was feeling free like a bird, as a college student, attending a school so far from home. I was pleased to be breaking free from my parents who no longer would control my phone. I thought that I was much smarter than my parents, but now I know that I was so wrong. So quickly, the world I knew had changed, and I'm alone inside feeling like I no longer belong. I am not innocent, and there's no one to blame, because I thought life was the mood of a song.
082320PSCtest, Song 1-Cold-Quiet Now, Rob Carmack
Poem triggered by the song.
So many voices.
Competing
for Real Estate
in my head.
“You’ll always be a loser”
“He’s smarter.”
“She’s better than you.”
“Why are you so stupid.”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“No one wants you.”
“Wait”
“Stop!”
“Don’t listen to them.”
“You deserve to be happy.”
“You’re lovable.”
“DUMMY!”
“Idiot!”
“Those voices are lying to you.”
“You’ve come so far.”
You’ve got this.”
“You have so much to offer.”
Sometimes,
I can push the bad voices
deep down inside.
I put a cork in it,
place glittering gold foil on top to make it pretty.
I install a wire cage around my neck
so my cork doesn’t pop.
The bubbles are kept at bay
year after year.
I’m both transparent and contained,
trying to decide if I’m ready,
Am I properly aged?
Is this my special occasion?
“They don’t want you.”
Self doubt whispers from deep within me.
Shame for what was done to me.
A gentle hand caresses my neck.
“You are ready.”
“Champagne must be shared!”
“Okay, I trust you.
Please don’t shake me,
I’ve already been shook,
shaken to my core.
Open me slowly,
pour me into crystal flutes.
Let me sparkle,
shine sunlight through me.
Smell my essence,
let me tickle your nose.
Feel my notes on your tongue.
Everything I have ever been
presented for your pleasure.
Only to be shared with a precious few.
The ones who love me.
The ones who spoke kind words into my soul.
My flavour, like me, is complicated.
Yes, I can be intoxicating.
So please drink me with care.”