Long Stuck Poems
Long Stuck Poems. Below are the most popular long Stuck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stuck poems by poem length and keyword.
The one stuck in the tunnel dug in desert of deprivation,
doesn’t know what in notion the rationale of the thing
people of perception define as the art of living,
perceived under free sunshine in the haven of oasis.
Survival struggle kicks the languished life into dark abyss,
breaking the fragile frame of the fleeting future,
the shards are thrown in the debris of abject rejection,
unable to rise from the chasm, even if arduously tried.
Failing to invent the mirage of escape, can’t kindle hope
to light up the receding unseen end of the dark tunnel,
but self-preservation instinct lingering in the bleak confine
motivates to crawl desperately to the illusion of future.
The sordid present suffocates in the nightmare of agony,
turning life into a consumed candle in the dark night.
As the defiled existence is denied the rays of the rising sun,
dented conscience murders the soul in the tunnel of time.
January 31, 2021
Judged (N-A) : February 12, 2021
April 25, 2021
Contest : Your 2021 N-A Choice
Sponsor : William Kekaula
If you’re a certain age, I’ll bet
That stuck inside your brain
The numbers of your telephone
From youth must still remain.
For way back when you memorized
That sequence, it did stick,
Like Velcro, to your brain cells;
You can summon it real quick.
There once was lots of room in there
For things we learned by heart –
Addresses, passwords, ID codes
And credit cards, to start.
But over time, the Velcro wears
And things will not adhere
Yet strangely, numbers from the past
Still stand out, loud and clear.
For all who may have dialed
UL 6 – 2955,
That number’s out of service
But in me it did survive.
I’ve just invented something that I think you will applaud
I cannot tell you what it does or even what it’s called
I made it out of bits and pieces found up in my loft
I stuck a switch on one end and some sponge to make it soft
It has no moving parts so there’s no need for messy grease
I’ve hammered in some screws and nails so there’s no missing piece
It doesn't buzz or rumble… if it did you wouldn’t feel it
And as its purpose is unclear nobody’s gonna steal it
I painted one half red because the other half is green
My grandma said that colour combo simply can’t be seen
I didn’t have a plug so I won’t ever plug it in
And so you can be sure that it won’t make an awful din
It won’t wake up at five a.m. and get you out of bed
And if you wear it like a hat it won’t mess with your head
It’s wood and plastic, bits of tin, assorted nuts and bolts
It’s also very safe because it uses zero volts
If I could ever switch it on would it spring into life
Would it be an aide for me or useful to my wife
And could it be the best invention nobody has seen
I’m so proud of my red and green, invisible machine
Gonna pull you off that pedestal
the one I built of
tough oak and ten penny nails
still standing,
deep in my heart.
Never asked for this broken consolation prize
all angels in heaven,
and my sisters, chastise.
Always hoped you'd be okay, important to say,
you've done well,
you chose so well..
in him.
Still smarts, a memory that saw me red-faced,
your lost suitor, lovelorn less or more,
yet you never made fun,
I've always wondered
why.
Still review life like a film, hope ya don't mind..
stuck in rewind,
all these years on..
why'd you ever let me get
so close?
Happy for second place, or maybe third,
this piece of my life, and yours
just to be in a heart's running,
gold, silver, or bronze
was once,
such a lovely race.
There are things that you will hear only once or twice, and if you are wise, you will treasure them for a lifetime. And again, there are things you will hear time and time again, and if you are wise, you will value and never take them lightly. In my case, both things attached themselves and stuck to me like glue.
For example, at our church, I filled in for our head usher one Sunday. Standing at the main entry, greeting and handing out bulletins to attendees as they walked in, one gentleman said to me, "You are no Al Berry". I smiled in agreement with him and must have said to myself, "You sure got that right". I had learned long ago that Al was so well-loved, because Al always loved so well. Hearing a statement like that is rare, because knowing a person like Al is also rare.
On one occasion that I will never forget, I greeted Al at the entry and said, "It's good to see you, Al". His reply to me was so real and genuine and spoke volumes to my heart. I don't know if I had ever heard it the way Al said it. You see, Al has fought many battles with illness, and sometimes he was very near 'death's door'. Moreover, like the morning dew, Al has always been faithful, always bouncing back. Like apples of gold in pictures of silver*, Al spoke fitting words in reply when he said, "It's good to be seen".
745am070320PS*Proverbs 25:11
Update 92020: Al passed away a few days ago. Though I will not see Al again
in person, he shall ever be within my mind.
But they look at me with pride
To have carried the silence
To have carried you this far
They hear the humming of the car
As your hand caresses my burning window
Your mood ring turns brown
Driving me faster towards the graveyard
Where the dead will listen
Where the lies will glisten
Listen. . .LISTEN
Don’t ignore the little voices!
JUST LISTEN!
They want everything they are not
Even as they rot, the voices rise
As your cares die
As the baffled pride rides through the night
I carry more and more wretches
Away from the lies. . .away from the cries
Their existence forgotten and aching
What a tough decision I am stuck to making!
Preparing the dough in this cursed hearse
My backdoor opening, BURNING
Letting the souls slide inside me
Get in everyone. . .
One by one
As they grin. . .they know only what appears
WHY ME!?
CAN’T YOU HEAR!?
Can’t you LISTEN. . .LISTEN!
Close your eyes
The hearse is nothing—hear the cries!
And they are NOT mine
NEVER MINE
Swallowing lies. . .saying goodbyes
I parallel park for the night
On the silent, red curb
The sanctuary of the ignored
They touch me but dare not look inside
Groups of laughing noise surrounding us
As I try to uncover them—to strengthen their wilted throats
But they are deaf and blinded
And all is for naught
There is a small soul within every crowd
A soft voice against the senile bickering of the strong
And the small souls wish they would listen
OCEAN OF TEARS
Things were good just yesterday
Till death took you away today
Now, we are feeling like we lost everything
Oh yes, we lost everything when we lost you
If only our eyes could pour out all the tears our heart holds
Your casket will be over floating on them
These tears hold no salt; our heart is laden with bitterness
We still wonder if the stars still shine out for us
When we look up; the very star we look up to has faded
Can you wake now? We are drunk in sorrow.
Worst things in life come free to us
Death sold us what we didn’t order to buy
It delivered itself to us when we didn’t give out any address
What kind of offline shopping is this?
If only we can return this ugly unwanted purchase
We may forever be stuck in this daydream
What a black Saturday; it was supposed to be a happy day for all of us
45th convocation ceremony! So many invites; yet, you didn’t turn up
It’s not alright to die; though, it’s the only thing you never tried
Prof. If only you waited billion days; trillion tears could have been saved.
Who? Where? When? Why? ...
Unending questions; heart-breaking answers
If we were to write about your death in an answer script
We will submit empty script because we don’t know what to write
How can we write what doesn’t have course outline?
Many will demand for extra script; to use and clean up their tears
Prof. you have left a big vacuum in our heart and in our department
Who will tend to your courses and your supervisees now that you are gone?
If these are my last words about you; I didn’t say them only in bitterness
You scholarly legacies are enough to restore us to default hope.
Requiscant in pace Proffesor Ken. Ifesinachi…
you died, and i didn’t.
and that’s the part i don’t know what to do with.
i still open my mouth
to tell you things and forget there’s no one listening.
sometimes i whisper anyway
because silence is too loud without you.
your voice isn’t gone.
it’s just stuck
somewhere between my ears and my ribs,
playing on loop when the world goes quiet.
i don't want closure. i want you.
i want the arguments.
your bad advice.
your dumb laugh during car rides.
your stupid way of loving.
i want to scream that you're missing
this ugly beautiful life you were supposed to be part of.
i want to wake you up from
whatever nothing you're lying in
and drag you back here because
i don't know who i am without
you watching me become it.
they say grief softens. but all i feel is sharp.
glass where your hands should be.
fire in my chest every time someone says your name
like it’s just a word
and not my entire insides falling apart.
i still talk to you.
because stopping feels like betrayal.
because forgetting feels like murder.
because if i don’t,
who else will keep you alive?
~~~
That girl with a Nicki Minaj look really annoys me,
She boasts a lot thing that truly makes me dizzy.
Whenever I talk something about myself,
She overreacts and makes as well fond of herself.
She said it well but I’m not impressed,
We secretly mocked because she is so much suppressed.
She invisibly doesn’t know what others feel.
That girl who talks so hard doesn’t even know how to deal.
I frequently ask how she is being raised by her dad,
I can’t imagine how she was, when she was little cad.
Is she someone who I have to be with every single day?
Hella don’t know if I’m stuck in a not so filtered bay.
Is she trying to be frank? Loquacious? Or something?
That tactless mouth from hell is so never ending.
When will I ever say that I so much hate the way she speaks?
She ought to talk so guff that truly creakily leaks.
Oh Ms. Know It All is what I call her!
She’s doing many things like a royal blooded heir.
I can’t stand watching her in an over baroque style,
Can I just like eat, drink and love a little while?
Form:
To have, or not to have
Many people are from the outside, beautifully formed
with a mind that can absorb empathy and warm sympathy
but life itself makes us harder around the edges, as it is
It's not possible to live fully, shall we say, without knocking oneself free of cultural norms
Can friendship exist between the classes?
Yes, but it can be a strain
The wealthy can be sentimental watching a movie on TV
about poverty, but they will be hardheaded when making political changes that make classes more equal
Of our three classes, I have been through them all in my time
born into poverty, rising above its self-loathing tendencies
despite its richness of local wisdom, funny memes, and
often jubilant humor
Finding myself among the middle class who are stuck between two cultures, don't manage well, show contempt for workers, and loathsome dripping respect for the better off.
With this, I mean the royal household. I can't think of a more
An abject group of people, who, when paraded in public.
I have a very wealthy friend who suffers from being unsure if
people like him or not, I tell him to give me his money, it will
set him free, I shall bear the burden, whether people like it or not, alas, I have not been able to convince him