Long Sporadically Poems

Long Sporadically Poems. Below are the most popular long Sporadically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sporadically poems by poem length and keyword.


Blank Page

Too long have I been staring at this cruel blank page before me,
My crazed, hysteric mind screaming and imploring
I know there is a message that's dying to come out—
I need to fill this confounded page without the slightest doubt!
It's a simple predicament to manipulate,
Into a mass of thought
A futile attempt to insinuate,
Weak hints are left with naught
I sit here in silent desperation,
What can fill this page?
I slap myself in indignation,
My eagerness becoming rage!
Like roaches sporadically running from light
My thoughts are but a haze
The words I write just don't seem right,
On this cruel blank page!
Form: Rhyme


Confession of self harmer

The cuts are clean 
They will heal nicely 
The wounds are bound up tightly 
Cannot see nothing unsightly 

Silver strands lay across the skin when seen 
Sporadically laid across the legs
Can be passed off as rough play 
True knew either way
 
If others knew 
They never said 
Probably too afraid to find us dead 
With razor blades in hand or blood already shed

We didn't do it for the fear of dying 
We did it because we were tired of lying 
To ourselves about how we feel 
Never properly taught how to deal

For the pain we felt inside 
We were told to always hide
Made it seem like it was our fault 
For never wanting to talk 

When we were ready and mentally steady 
We would come to find we would be dismissed 
Stating it was part of the teenage bliss 
Never truly knowing if we gained death kiss
Form: Rhyme

Things That Should Grow on Trees

Things That Should Grow on Trees

Things that should grow on trees include:
big sea birds with 
extremely long wings, old-fashioned shoe 
horns, tape recorders who 
play sporadically cries of 
grief, blank
photographs, stamps with 
printed eyeballs, people with 
colourless or 
very nearly colourless hair and 
skin and 
pinkish eyes, the word 
unfortunately, the word 
regrettably, the word 
even though, miniature 
pianos, vampire 
teeth, leaf 
blowers, False 
IDs, illuminated loyalty 
cards, the watchful and 
attentive, damp 
clothes, pom 
poms, glass 
shards, pack of 
cards, rope knot 
balls, plastic 
trinket boxes, ashtrays (glass only), lips (too
animal lips), spines (too
animal spines), toast, headache 
tablets, running 
shoes, and
whores.

Premium Member Adventures In Motoring

The younger crowd will not believe this bit of lore I fear,
But operating vehicles was more complicated in yesteryear!
For example, to signal turns you hung your arm out the door,
And to dim the lights there was a dimmer switch mounted on the floor!

If, alas, you punctured a tire, you repaired it with an inner tube.
You parked your car over a pit at the garage for an oil change and lube.
The gearshift lever was on the floor and it was always in the way,
'Specially when with your sweetie you tried to make a little hay!

To start the engine on some cars you used a knuckle bustin' crank!
To open a convertible top, you had to give it a humongous yank!
Heaters operated sporadically and in the winter you froze your tush!
Air conditioning was the passing breeze sans cooler buttons to push!

Dogs and chickens were shooed away with an oogah-oogah horn.
Shock absorbers were rare - jouncing, squeaky springs kept cars airborne
Lots of chrome and rumble seats were available for the more audacious.
Folks huddled close together since seating wasn't all that spacious!

There was a clutch to fool with and you depended on mechanical brakes.
A long trip over two-lane roads was certain to give you pains and aches!
About the only good thing about cars back then is when you filled the tank.
You needn't seek a usurious loan (as you do today) from the local bank!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Tender Heart

With tender heart we live alone
Void of noise and stress
Two miles each day we walk for health
My doctor seems impressed
Sporadically we change our view 
And travel to the park
To watch the timid critters play
Stirring my listless heart
When one day, along the way
We startled a feeding hare
The frightened bunny jumped to run
Which caught us unprepared
My tender heart began to bark
Excited and alert
He caught that bunny awkwardly
To steal a dance in the dirt
The accosted bunny kicked and screamed
Sounding like a child
My tender heart let it go
Wagged his tail and smiled


    Daniel Turner
Form: Rhyme


Sweet and Sour Kind of Love

The wine taste on his lips
 effects my brain fibers,
  transmitting unclear to messages
      my heart.

My body captivated without resisting
I surrender like a rolling locomotive
switching to a safer track
My soul drifted slowly.

Beautify this solace feeling
sometimes a kiss is not just a kiss
my heart beat so fast, enticing the moment
I knew would not last forever,

A testimonial of confession,
my sporadically heart endures,
Merely a test, it fades
leaving the soul confused
with extremed rage.

To give, however never to keep
only  and sweet and sour 
was his gift of love,


The wine taste still linger

Premium Member What is Autumn

This year autumn is the bugs busying the undergrowth hiding under sodden leaves. It is children playing with and collecting acorns that have scattered the ground sporadically as squirrel’s nourishment for the day. It is the rain that drenches the plants once dried up and wilting in the summer sun. It is the showers that leave the glimpse of a rainbow as if in a distant land. It is the rotting of apples unchosen for apple-pie that blustery night where the log-fire is once again alive.
I’m reminded that now it is autumn as I step into that muddy woodland. It is though someone has shaken the trees of their leaves, the earth an array of colours, nut brown, oranges and golden yellows. Yet, soon the season will pass just as a storm leaves just a breeze and we are left nostalgic for the time we spent in these nature-nurturing months.

Leave This Dark City Behind Once Upon Retired To the Countryside So Pretty

I think one day

I will eventually retire

And take up new residence 

In the countryside somewhere

Hopefully without a care

In order to surround myself

With it's intrinsic aesthetic pretty 

To awaken me afresh cometh each

Freshly new dawning of day

And return only to visit the city

And it's quickening pace

And droves of pale despondent soulless faces

And darker seedier side

Once sporadically in a while

From time to time

In order to get the balance right

And what is the difference 

Between what is in fact pretty

And on the other hand

That which is pretty grim
age

Premium Member The Armorous Blues

Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
reckless and just a bit larger than life;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;

So much of the Universe left to learn
cutting through time with a celestial knife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;

Locked in a galactic waltz at each turn 
she’d gladly stay with all that joy so rife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;

Solar winds can sporadically downturn,
among a supernova there’s no strife;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn;

The need for absolute freedom is stern,
led by the sweet rebellion of a fife;
For desire and a little fire we yearn;

Venus armed with a path of no return 
amorous blues always chase the good life;
Blessed by Jupiter adorned by Saturn,
for desire and a little fire we yearn.

Premium Member The Class of 1956

Some promptly left and didn't return,
Some chose to stay with concern showing.
For a finer life perhaps the first did yearn,
All building lives as families were growing.

While additional left and later moved back,
Renewing friendships, letting memories churn.
Having tasted life the other side of the track,
Sporadically, for School Reunions, others return.

We've now grown older and some have passed,
We now have fewer possessive things to crave.
Our hair is graying and our eyes are glassed,
As our steps grow slower this side of the grave.

But we've lived life by no means just half way,
Wherever we've been we remained in God's sight.
For without His grace what would we be today,
Just old Haskell Haymakers but still in the fight.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

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