Long Subscribed Poems
Long Subscribed Poems. Below are the most popular long Subscribed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Subscribed poems by poem length and keyword.
The Accoutrements of Knowledge
The accoutrements of knowledge
had crept into his life, overtaking it.
No more did he sit and think,
idly allowing nuance to shade gray
the black and white of learning’s
playful inconsistencies. Old books,
manuals, manuscripts, texts,
subscribed to journals, cluttered
his encroaching space. Old thoughts,
ideas, dreams, brainstorms and brain-farts,
waited – holding numbers – lost in
the labyrinth of slumbering genius.
The need to learn, the drive to succeed,
had seduced him, lured him into the
netherworld of concrete minds,
set in their ways, confident of
their credos. This hell of blindly
accepted dictates emanating from
a “think” tank, this babbling of banal
benediction, this forced worship
of the mindless by the thoughtless
had dimmed the beauty of the sunrise,
muted the music of the spheres,
closed the eyes of the seekers,
pulling the wool of doubt over them.
So he left the trappings of the pedagogues,
fled the archways of academia,
sought a clear and simple thought -
An endeavor not unlike the search
for an honest man. His goal was not
to think but to experience thought,
not to memorize the dance steps
but to experience dancing.
They said that he had “burnt out”,
lost his focus, succumbed to the stress.
Now free of the encumbrance of the
accoutrements of knowledge, he was
free again to seek, to follow, to be
conscious of the sound of his heartbeat,
the rhythmic surge of his pulse,
the shimmering glow of a dappled sunrise.
He would learn from all about him,
study the art of the mud daubers,
the construction of the beavers,
listen to the songs of the lark and sparrow,
answer the call of the coyotes,
taste the bliss of the bee hive honey.
He learned – no books can teach you
the scent of dew damp grass at dawn,
nor recreate the harrumphing solo
of the lead bullfrog. Nor could they
explain how the dragonflies dance
varies from the butterflies ballet.
And so he thought. How and why
had he constructed a barrier of
knowledge that frustrated his
search for anything else?
1/24/2015
submitted to – Any Poem Written in the Year 2015
sponsor – Laura Loo
I hope it’s not a premonition
Of my immanent demise, but thinking today
About how far the arc of my life has come,
Makes me glad to be alive.
Nothing special or unique in that
Just odd to feel, like a cat
I’ve had more than a few lives
Packed into this one, so far,
And the range of change
Surprises me when I look at it.
Forty five years ago in college I briefly
Subscribed to the Socialist Worker’s Party paper.
Not sure why, but I think it had something to do
With expressing solidarity with a cute blond.
Now here I am on the cusp of applying for membership
In the John Birch Society, about as far
From the reality of that college hippie
As I can now imagine.
In between a mostly smooth arc stretched
Across decades of very slow maturing.
Maybe I’m just proud and stubborn
And so resistant to change
But I think it’s more a reflection of just how
Indoctrinated I was in my formative years.
It takes a lot to undo real indoctrination you know,
And I think in my case
It involved a couple of millennia instead of decades.
But anyway, I don’t think I’m quite done diving
But I can see the ocean shimmering
A great warm smile
As it comes up to meet me.
(10/16/25)
I hate that I can write this
Because it means on one level or another
One of us failed the other
Or perhaps we failed ourselves
Did I ever know I'd be your tragic hero?
It's hard to predict when digging oneself out of mud takes precedence
Exhuming myself from my then-current title
And plot points that led me to be buried
It's astounding how a porcupine can truly live
Where the two stand at quill's length
Cautious yet enamored
Wincing as small wounds get deeper
It's further astounding that I parade myself as God
And that I've convinced myself so thoroughly of the lie
That even when hiding the simplest thought as deep as possible
You still managed to cling to the belief
Follow the god that failed you
Or is it you who has failed God?
Has any slight actually been committed
Or are we both so hopelessly tangled in our own stories?
Did I ever know you'd be my tragic hero?
Equal parts pity, equal parts fear
And I let my sun shine bright
With the basic facts of what you are
To fetishize the basic tenants of human courtesy
Did I unintentionally put you on a pedestal?
But I know you've always subscribed to the same flavor of fear
With its ever more generous delivery dates
Perhaps I'm the one being infantilized
How strong are your convictions that you're so convinced you could kill me?
Through daring to show emotion when I beg you to be flamboyant with it
Exactly how hard are you worried you'll hit me?
Thus in the end, we are tragic heroes
You mistake silence for a child's crib
A permanent safe spot for me
To sleep when you're afraid to open up
So here I am, again a tragic hero
Is my mistake thinking that love is for me?
When simply existing is enough
To turn the brightest dawn into dusk.
Life is not a game.
Our choices define who we are.
Our mistakes are not failures, but lessons to be learned.
I chose to live in truth, without lamenting.
I suffer like all human beings.
I am imperfect, but I make the effort to be fair with my fellow human beings.
Love has never made me irrational.
I demand from you unwavering loyalty.
When I met you, you were completely overwhelmed by your problems.
You sometimes humiliated me because I refused to watch you sink into depression.
I believe that, up to now, I have been patient enough.
I have no time to waste.
I was clear with you from the very beginning.
I have always expressed my feelings, my emotions, without ambiguity.
We do not live in the same city today.
I believe that desiring you is not an absurdity.
I was deeply wounded by your reaction yesterday.
I have the clear impression that you take me for a stopgap.
I cannot accept being reduced to your psychological trash bin.
Nothing is built on uncertainty.
When you love someone, you devote your intelligence, your time, and your energy to them.
So far, I see no reciprocity from you toward me.
I do not have to pay for the failures of your emotional past.
My integrity must be respected.
I have always responded favorably to all your requests.
I will not accept that you objectify my dignity.
I hope you realize the chance you have had in meeting me.
I speak directly to all human beings.
Do not feel targeted by the bluntness of my words.
I wear no mask.
I am neither a seducer nor a romantic.
I have never subscribed to these deceitful postures.
I still believe in love, in truth, in equality, in loyalty, and in justice, even though I know that the human heart venerates lies, greed, deceit, cruelty, perfidy, arrogance, selfishness, pettiness, hatred, jealousy, covetousness, contempt, and humiliation.
I am not afraid of solitude; that is why I tell you what I think without filters, while remaining respectful of your humanity.
I know where I come from.
I know what I want.
I know what I have to do, if God allows it.
So either we are truly together, or we are not.
I serve my body day and night,
Breathing in and breathing out.
My skin’s pale and paper-thin,
People can see right through me.
I fill my lungs with nicotine
So I don’t have to stress ‘bout it.
If I had money and no sense
I'd use hard drugs and yellow pills.
Proteins, fats, and some carbs;
Four meals a day, and nothing helps.
My mom said when I was 16
That death looks better in coffins.
I've tried so hard to find something attractive in the mirrors,
All I see in my reflection’s lots of flaws and imperfections. Baby,
Turn off the lights and draw the blinds,
Touch my body, get me high.
I’ve been hiding from the eyes,
Now just hide it all inside.
I need someone to f*** me just
So I can prove i’m good enough.
In fact, it works, but who is up
For wasting that much of their time?
But when perverts online clicked "like”,
Shared, texted me and subscribed,
My ego reached new heights, and fell
When I stepped on the bathroom scale.
Influencers, pretty faces,
healthy food, and six-pack abs
On every screen, in p***, in ads,
the World Wide Web and dating apps
I've tried so hard to find something attractive in the mirrors,
All I see in my reflection’s lots of flaws and imperfections. Baby,
Turn off the lights and draw the blinds,
Touch my body, get me high.
I’ve been hiding from the eyes,
Now just hide it all inside.
Since I have no one to call mine,
I spend nights on my phone, so I
Get compliments and dirty “wows”
From strangers when they see my a***.
Since he said I don't turn him on,
I've really wondered what is wrong.
My skin cannot hide my bones,
And I can't get rid of these thoughts.
Pictures of mind
Ache thoughts,
When not on point-
In accordance
With the sea of hints,
Swimming clues...
Looks sway differently
Reluctant legs charm bluntly
Posing patently
Future on hourglass,
Ache plans
When structured off chaos,
Not considered cum change-
Of unexpected losses,
Strengthening heart.
Problems gallantly
Do shift focus instantly
Tempt goals frequently
Happiness on tongue
Ache reasons:
Its being surrounded.
Only naturalists enjoy...
Unattached felicity;
Abounding nature.
Acceptance is cool
Consents seeking minds to fool
Endorsed advance tool
Women of purpose,
Ache men waiting on turn...
To be expressive...
Young but barely handy:
Waning fate's opportunity,
Leaning cum excuses.
Men are not jewels
Never be of ridicules
Heads pressure to rule
Community on impression,
Ache effects.
How stamp seekers,
Go extra miles...
Cum pretense to imprint,
Such value to eyes.
What worth did you show?
Belongs to please judging foe?
Or for house to grow?
Men of reckon,
Ache sleazy women:
Of flamboyant lifestyles-
Ignoring calls to duty,
They heartily subscribed,
Promoting humility.
Sincerity owe
Humility not a hoe
Duty's land not sow
When I was little, I enjoyed further more
soccer than today ... I liked it so much
every day I went to my uncle's house who
subscribed to a magazine.
There I tried to read Times magazine ... to find out
of the football teams ... but to my misfortune it was written
in English and at that time there was nothing like that
tongue ... i read, read and nothing...
i did not understand a thing...
but left with
the impression that football was a very
really important ... an entire magazine talking
of "teams" .... of football ... "
Ps. Time in Portuguese we pronounce team,
so time (team) means football team,
I didn't know it was about time (tempo))
Sitting in his car
Judd Monte was counting stars
Enjoying his sedative place
Displaying a happy face
Then a disgruntle spinster appeared
Lunatic possessed dear
Judd Monte knew her from grade one
Elementary fun
Recess under a soothing sun
They say,
On her birthday
Moonlight shining bright
Instigated her to fight
Until this evening
Judd Monte committed not leaving
Armed with wine
Glasses to dine
Fully subscribed
Judd Monte tried
Presenting ways to win
Against the angry sin
“You see that planet out there
The moon, it is not supposed to scare”
Judd Monte’s Spinster debated her mission
And listened
Showing an immersive trance
Choreographed by those who dance
Judd Monte made the peaceful advance
Turning the uneventful sight
Romantic not a fright
Entertained by the moon
Playing a jazzy tune
Next time you cannot see
Just believe
And turn on the moonlight
It will guide you through the night
My life has been fairly stable. Rarely does an event “change my life” in any significant way. Marriage, children, one’s job. Of course, these alter one’s life course, but when I think of a life-changing moment uniquely mine ,only one comes readily to my mind, and it has greatly affected these past 13 years of my life.
Since my early school days, I’d enjoyed the magic of words, devouring books and feeling pride in some stories written for my creative writing class. After marriage, I occasionally wrote Christmas song parodies, but it was not until the new millennium that my life took a dramatic turn. I came out of the writing “closet” and showed my few poems online!
If I had to name the one most pivotal moment in this new era for me, it would be the day I commented to a fellow poetess how I wished I were as prolific as she. I’d see her every day posting poems while I had barely a handful to show for myself. To paraphrase, this is what she told me: My friend, you must make yourself write. If you run out of ideas, just find a contest or some kind of inspiration in a phrase, topic, or picture. Sit yourself down and start writing! You can do it!
Well, I did just that! I joined clubs and workshops, subscribed to magazines and acquainted myself with people who motivated me to create. Thirteen years later, here I am, writing at least two to three times a week. My life has been enriched by friendships formed through poetry and by a feeling of satisfaction that I am growing as a writer so that today I can confidently proclaim: Like those poets once my mentors, I too can be prolific!
299 words/ For Heather Ober's Moment of Truth (PROSE or NARRATIVE)Contest
They poisoned almost everything
their grocery store could hold.
Where all they knew as additives
and modified was sold.
Then paid for politicians
to put labels on for mind.
That expedite designer death
through purchases in kind.
Then set their sites on living
as subscribed by heinous crime.
As they offered up to Health Care
their own sake on practiced dime.
That they all sublulved forsaken
for their faith in borrowed time.
As is all who gait by doctors
show their wait on serpent clime.
That the ones who rush on surgeants
only show their passion more.
As at heart to would stop halfway
af for sake and someone more.