Long Socialising Poems
Long Socialising Poems. Below are the most popular long Socialising by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Socialising poems by poem length and keyword.
Before you read my poem below please know:
This poem is generalised and not aimed at any individual
It is solely my observation and voice!
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Why must it be analysed and dissected
To whether a poet comments or not
We all do what we choose to do
We are a mixed bunch in this poetry pot
Some poets just like to write and read poetry
They are not interested in anything more
That is entirely their right and prerogative
That is what they are here for
Others like the social interaction
Making connections and poet friends
What you give, what you get here
On you it solely depends
Who we are …our wants and needs
Is our own personal choice
There are no set of commenting rules
No do’s or don’ts….no dictating voice
What another poet chooses to do
Is nobody else’s concern
As long every poet is respectful
Respect will be returned
Comment or not, turn comments off, or even block
Just do what ‘YOU’ want to do
Never feel pressured to do anything less
“To thyself you must be true”
There are an abundance of poets here
Who thrive on interaction and chat
They comment, encourage, support ,connect
Poets aplenty rich in socialising are here in fact
No judgement, criticism, negativity ,nor pressure should any poet face
Just a kind, caring and respectful environment on the whole
We are all unique and special individuals
Writing and enjoying poetry…..our united goal!
Her luxurious penthouse
is like a cocoon with plenty of pretty distractions,
so she keeps her door firmly closed,
because she prefers fantasy
over the handicap of reality.
Afraid of light,
her malingering mind,
keeps her hidden inside.
To shield her from the sun,
she won't open the curtains,
as she thinks it's certain,
her mechanisms may melt.
Shyness is her veiled excuse
to separate her from society,
But it's the anxiety, anxiety, anxiety!
Preferring to be an option,
rather than a priority
her caution from socialising,
breeds from the alarm bells,
set from abandonment,
betrayal and manipulation.
Trust is her terrorist.
People hunt like packs of wolves,
devouring her mind like a candy snack.
Fears of her heart are like an aeroplane,
shaking from a turbulent storm,
with her hopes forever crashing.
Trying to forget in a flash of courage,
she takes one step towards the door,
but the noises in her head become louder,
and Louder and LOUDER!!!!
repeating, Repeating, REPEATING!
Violent vibrations induce vertigo,
silent screams screw with her sanity,
struggling to breathe, feeling like
air is being sucked out of her lungs,
she vomits, collapsing to the floor.
Nothing can take off the 'edge',
the therapists do not work.
There she remains in her internal prison,
away from her eternal nightmares.
Safe in her sanctuary,
from engagement with stranger's eyes.
Like a chocolate bar
in her shiny wrapper,
that looks so sweet
but feels so darkly bitter.
I’m playing Jenga, at a social group. At a social group, playing Jenga I’m. The best block to take out is the middle one — not an absolute, but two left either side sounds solid. Two left either side sounds solid — the best block to take out is the middle one, not an absolute. We are playing for a photoshoot for the social group’s new website, so I purposely remove a crucial block to knock over the tower. For the social group’s new website to knock over the tower, I remove purposely a crucial block, so we are playing for a photoshoot. The photographer wasn’t ready, though. Though, the photographer wasn’t ready. Twice, we’ve rebuilt the tower so he could get a photo of it falling. So he could get a photo of it falling, we’ve rebuilt the tower twice. He didn’t get the shot the time second. The second time, he didn’t get the shot. Third time lucky. Lucky time third.
After the Jengaful afternoon, we wish each other a nice eve. We wish each other a nice eve, after the Jengaful afternoon. Words fall as water, then Jenga into towers.
As water, words fall.
As Jenga, words tower.
Eye of the storm
By Michelle Morris
06/07/2024
In the stillness of my being
I feel like the eye of the storm
It is quiet and calm within me
Whilst I'm surrounded by noise and forms
There's music and celebrations
Talking and cheerful socialising
Traffic and birdsong and humming
Everywhere but in my field
For I am like Leo in the Matrix
I see the outside and its fake purposes
I'm reminded that I'm here to learn
Be in this world but not of its worldliness
I am connected to Source always
God and His Angels guide my life
The Universe has my back
And I'm on the path that's right
In the essence of my Soul
In my heart of hearts I feel
At one with the Divinity of it All
Beyond this space-time reality
While everything keeps changing
And the Universe grows its edges
I know that I'm part of this miracle
That we each get a chance to leverage
© Michelle Morris, 2024
She wakes up in the morning with a bright smile,
Not knowing what sleep is - just a word spoken around.
So many voices echo in her ears saying "end it all,"
Fighting battles sometimes she can't even recall.
She will always be more than enough,
Even when things get tough.
Socialising is her greatest enemy,
Leaps through storms just to find a remedy.
Everyone has a story to tell,
Calm characters but yet still go through hell.
Tortured and hurt ignoring her feelings,
Struggling each time to start new beginnings.
The tongue is a poisoned arrow to the heart,
Leaving fresh wounds that never depart.
An innocent soul broken and bruised,
With an aura so strong, one can't help but be amused.
Pain is just a word until it's inflicted,
And sadly, it strikes when least predicted.
Her strength is not something to take forgranted,
She bounces back with power that leaves hearts haunted.
I have just read a lyric penned by Jenish Somadas titled "Sit Beside My Bed" which touched me very much.
As I have mentioned before in one of my poems, my Son David died eighteen months ago. I am being treated for anxiety and depression as his passing caused much unrest.
My life and that of my family changed forever. I became aware of the ugliness in life I had not noticed before.
I lost my trust in people. Socialising had lost its appeal.
I wondered why some humans could be so cold, selfish and uncaring.
My husband John and I go to the cemetery every Saturday to take David flowers.
It's a very peaceful place in a country lane facing the sea with cows grazing in surrounding fields.
Some of the tombstones are very old. There is a brick wall for the cremations.
As we walked into the cemetery we saw an elderly man sitting in a fold-up armchair, looking very comfortable and at peace with the world, having an in-depth conversation with his deceased wife whose grave was bright with flowers. It did not seem at all odd, it looked natural as though she was sitting there beside him sharing a cup of tea, oblivious of anything or anyone else.
I found this extremely emotional, it happened a few weeks ago.
The picture and feeling I had in my heart that afternoon stayed with me.
Jenish Somadas lyric brought this to mind again.
Thank God for love
We can so often forget it's there.
RAPUNZELS' DOUBLE LIFE - ONCE UPON A TIME
Not so long ago
A housewife named Rapunzel
Lived in a modest bungalow
A white picket fence contained it
Flowers filled beautiful garden beds
A swinging seat Rapunzel would sit
Golden ringlets tied upon her head
Daily she'd greet the postman
And wave as the buses passed by
She's sit and dream of a life beyond
Questioning herself as to why?
Why is it I don't have glamour
Not even glitz or fame?
Why is it my life seems dull
With everyday just the same?
Wanting to feel some excitement
A reason to dress up real nice
Rapunzel took to the city lights
And soon was living a double life
Rapunzel became known as a socialite
Golden ringlets hung down low
Mixing with all the rich and famous
Glitz and glamour was all the go
But then on one fateful day
Rapunzels' hubby caught her out
Her photo was in the social pages
He demanded "What's this all about?"
Rapunzel she was speachless
Thinking of what to say
"Oh Arthur darling that's not me
That's my sister Madeline May"
"Madeline May is in town for a month
I'm sure I mentioned it to you
She'll be busy mixing with the wealthy
Getting to know who's who"
Arthur replied "I must of forgot"
And with that Rapunzel sighed
She'd have to be much more careful
Arthur couldn't find out she'd lied
This double life Rapunzel lived
It filled her with such delight
Life had a sense of pure excitement
Being just a housewife didn't seem right
For years Rapunzel continued
Socialising with only the best
Presuming Arthur had no clue
She had no reason to confess
After a long and eventful day
Rapunzel discovered Arthur had gone
Finding a note it simply said
'You've lived a double life too long!'
04/02/2016
Fortunate failure of fallacy and regret
Contortionist cartoonist illustrating what id like to forget
Proportions of misfortune that I have to measure then reject
Insubordinate illusions of what the deluded ones project
Brandishing bravery as a tool to confront apathy
Vanishing complacency as a fool faces his own pathology
Diminishing returns on an outstretched Hand for mediocracy
Banishing a word in fear of it infiltrating the autocracy
Wealth of a pleasurable sonnet in the afternoon light
Stealth drones hiding under the bonnet of a bomb struck down in mid-flight
Health gnomes on it to prove they won it as they instigate a fight
Shelf philosophy stacked upon it all as we look up to the blazing night
Illumination of discourse as paramount as breathing
Rumination of recourse as they segregate you for dreaming
Communication without force as non violent resistance is beaming
Aspiration for the dark horse underdog winning as its screaming
Collective remiss furrowed brows and a cocophony of injustice throughout the land
Reflective consensus, wearing dentures as the elderly reach out their hands
Introspective observations and elevations of the grand
Non-objective instigations of the weak struggling to take a stand
Voracious curiosity at the passing of a young life too soon
Loquacious luminosity at the exclamations of a full calendar moon
Tenacious furiosity of lamentations upon true doom
Mendacious propaganda that is formed from a silver spoon
A capitalist nightmare in the dark alley of dismay
A conversationalist who doesn’t care out on socialising display
The transformationalist transforming during a military parade
The educationalist performing another game of indiscernible charades
Wonder forming at the dawning of another blistering sunset
Yonder warning as this conforming crowd is whispering political unrest
Ponder the morning as the yawning wind rescinds over the subset
Sunder tawny climate warning as we disregard the youngest
Platonic solids form the basis of physical uniformity of nature
Masonic torrid storm the moment as adolescents think they are mature
Ironic Euclid geometrically far from stupid as we look for another cure
As the rarest of the chosen ones become fewer and fewer
The End
Copyright Elizabeth Moroz 2025
Last evening a few close friends gathered
Seemingly all knew each other well or did we
For when asked as to what gives us happiness
The revelations expressed did indeed surprise me
The list was travelling, socialising and hobby pursuit
Whilst one said peace without knowing the cause
A common thread being attachment to family
So what could I say in the pregnant pause
Happiness that depends upon an activity
Surely a mind game in the world of transience
If we are the subject and myriad desires, the object
Where lies bliss current pervading form in permanence
On seeing my friends perplexed faces, I did then realise
It’s futile attempting to delineate bliss throb ineffable
In this world where we continually weigh and size
Very few seem to have imbibed God’s miracle
01-January-2022