Long Supposes Poems
Long Supposes Poems. Below are the most popular long Supposes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Supposes poems by poem length and keyword.
Perhaps it's the reason that I can't stay?
Perhaps I'll find out what that is one day?
Social interaction and conformity
Sound like pretty stupid traits to want especially to me
I can't be tied down, I can't fit in the crowd
I can't live the life that supposes a life onto me
Be who you are, be what you want to be?
Except when that veers outside the bounds of what you got to be
I'll keep one eye on the now and one eye on the move
I'll keep looking behind so I know I won't lose
Always be prepared, always be semi-scared
Knowing life is not what it should or could be
A restless mind not trying find the path of certainty
A cold soul that extracts itself from what people want it to be
Stand in the shallows and watch as they fall into the deep
Sociopathic tendencies fester deep inside the core of me
When life is good let it flow, let your mind feel free
See the blade of fate, the sharp edge of destiny
Turn the knife to ensure what you feel is so real
Trapped mind, trapped soul, escape and be free
Runaway, runaway, run far away from this thing you should be.
I am the wife; the loving, faithful wife.
His children’s mother and, he says, his life.
He tells me he loves me, brings me roses
And I believe him, he supposes.
And yes, I do believe he loves me in his way.
Love that we’ve had can’t simply fade away.
But he’s not mine alone, I know full well.
He forgets I never wear Chanel.
I am the husband, wracked with guilt,
Trapped in the web of lies I’ve built.
I know in my heart the right thing to do.
I stood in church and vowed to be true.
But I was weak and fell for temptation
And find myself in this situation.
I have to end it, I know for sure.
But, before I do, just one week more.
I’m the scarlet woman, mistress if you will.
My part in the story, a once a week thrill.
A cameo role in a tale of deceit.
A tale that for me must end in defeat.
He says he’ll leave her; I know that’s not true.
But things might change if only she knew.
So I’ve thought of a plan to make him mine.
I’ve sprayed his shirt with Chanel Number nine.
There was once a TV show called Queen for a Day;
Its premise was really bizarre.
Contestants were chosen to prove to the world
How their pathos could lower the bar.
Their sob stories covered all manner of ills –
Like bankruptcy, jail or disease.
The audience listened and voted for one
More pathetic by several degrees.
A meter on stage measured all the applause
(For the claps equaled votes, one supposes).
Then the winner appeared and they gave her a crown
And a cape and a bouquet of roses.
There were tears, there were sighs and euphoria reigned;
Spirits certainly couldn’t get higher.
Then to top it all off, they presented the Queen
With a shiny new washer and dryer!
How that solved all her problems I never did get
But I learned that a washing machine,
If presented with roses, a cape and a crown
Could transform someone into a queen!
A Well-Dressed Mess
Sometimes she feels damaged and dark.
and that no one really sees or knows how deep it goes.
The contrast is stark.
Difference is night and day.
Her aura and love for others shines as bright as the sun.
While her heart is as heavy and clouded as the sky when the storm comes.
Every time, she thinks she finds a safe space to be herself… feel seen, heard and understood.
it dissipates right before her eyes…
like cotton candy in a bowl
of water.
She tries to grasp at it, but before she knows it,
it’s gone.
She finds comfort in her solace and solitude,
because she’s unmasked and declothed.
No white picket fence & garden full of roses,
with pleasant smiles and false supposes.
Just her. No expectations and room for
discernment from others. The ones who
never really see her, are the ones who
stay... She is still figuring it all out. “I'll just take it
day by day”, she says.
She’s a composed, poised and “well-dressed” mess.
Striving for independence and trying to be strong
But, constantly succumbs to emotional distress
As though she deserves it.
(For a contest). Word Group 3.
Oh, a plane ticket to meet my one true love,
Plus a secret box, on the lid a dove,
Inlaid a jewelled masterpiece,
Fairies in each fleur-de-lis,
Blossoms of gauzy glory,
Perennial veils of fairy stories,
Beribboned spangled treasury,
Fairies flitting so flowery,
Our queen of favourite ruby roses,
Posies for all, one supposes,
Flowerets the best cuddle,
Essence of Spring, residual,
There are fairies in the flowers in the garden,
One favourite flower, a rose---then a garland.
30/12/2015
"One Bad Apple"
Soft cool-aid breezed in
wielding her sharp peeler
skinning the first apple
Boss girl
begins.
Stewed apples
slowly eaten
swallowed, taken in
One way out.
Boss girl
begins.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm
"Raise Hell", Dorothy
https://youtu.be/cfKPobjPZSE
“She does not want the world
to tell her how to live her life.
She does not want the world
to put her into a category.
She will smile even when
not all is good with her.
She will believe
what should not be.
And she will dream wild!
She is a bird.
She just wants to fly
in the wide blue sky!”
Avijeet Das
“I am a strong girl
Someday I will win the world
Yes I will smile in the wrong time
I won't do what has to be done
Or what the world
supposes me to have done
I will just do what I want
Drop out from crowd
Pretend to fall where I don't
Smile even when not all is good
Believe what should not be
Dream wild
Look observe and not harm
Coz I just live
Let me live
Don't put me in a category
or a class
I am as light
as a glass
This world
this beautiful world
Oh how complex
has it been made by us
Just look at the bird
soaring in the blue sky
Does it even care
Does it even care?”
Suyasha Subedi
"My muse is my daughter
My strength is hers
My muse is my mother
Her strength is mine
My muse are my sisters
My strength is theirs
My muse is my soul
Our strength is eternal"
"I roared, I rampaged and I got bloody satisfaction".
Kill Bill
Excerpt, Script, Kill Bill 2
https://www.ivanachubbuck.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Kill-Bill-2-Bill-Bride.pdf
artist/artwork: Rose Freymuth-Frazier
"One Bad Apple".
https://www.freymuth-frazier.com/
A jug of wine, a book of verse and thou,
Beneath kind trees that spread their green leaves shady
My sheeps heart beats with love and I seek now
A daisy that this sheep may give his lady
I know, though full of love, I'm just a sheep
No one I think realistically supposes
That one like me can voice his love though deep
With fancy flowers like orchids or like roses
Nor does this sheep have much in pounds and pence
To make pretence for more would just be crazy
So I must make the most of sheepish sense
My Valentine shall be a single daisy
And so I trotted to the flower shop
'Excuse me, Mr Flower Man', said I
'Do you, perchance, have ready in your stock,
A daisy that this little sheep can buy?'
The Flower Man, he looked way down at me
His cold frown pierced my wool fleece cruelly deep
'I did not start in business,' muttered he
'To waste time selling common weeds to sheep.'
Again, I fail! It's my memorium
No flower, no leaf, no stem, not even root
By air I left the flower emporium
Propelled aloft by Mr Flowerman's boot
'Tis cruel, the worldly ways I must endure
Oft ridiculed and often wounded sore
But hero-like, my love forever pure
Burns fierce and earnest right through to my core
I hope one day my princess thinks on me
Perhaps she'll sigh; perhaps she'll shed a tear
For one whose woolly dreams could never be
For one she spurned, yet always held her dear.
You rightly, quite politely, criticise
my efforts at composing “pleiades”.
What’s rare about revilings such as these
is, blaming me for leaving out my “I”’s.
The reason isn’t tricky to surmise.
My arrogance supposes I, with ease,
can conjure (with unthinking expertise)
whatever I may please. Please don’t despise
my failure to peruse the contest rules,
for carelessness (the calling-card of fools)
is what possessed me. That, I can’t disguise.
Each time a fresh and feisty pair of eyes
lands on my folly, one more pride-cell dies.
Its silver magenta
is shimmering warm-white
in damson-dark center,
ink-black like summer night;
if clay turned inventor,
it might spawn this dawn-light.
If I told you, Donald, my love was true
Would you dance for me, glad to be my boo?
Or give a mean retort
Making a piggish snort
No Valentine's kisses from me to you
Melania is getting done with Trump
All he cares about is his nasty rump
The Epstein files don't lie
Knows he's guilty as pie
When his term ends, he'll be sent to the dump
If he tells me, I never wear a smile
It's because I think he's a pedophile
Ungodly as a papist
And a guilty rapist
Who knows what else is in the Epstein file
King Donald Trump thought Greenland he’d steal
Used threatening blunder in his spiel
This Valentines Day
Thought he’d have his way
Greenland said, “Up yours, Donald. No deal!”
Don Trumpty is totally impotent
He can't get it up for any event
It remains very slack
Can’t perform in the sack
On Viagra his bucks have all been spent!
Donald J. Trump held a Valentine's Ball
The world's dregs... he has invited them all
There was Kim Jong and Putin
Khamani and Rasputin
His ego boosted, he felt ten foot tall
No roses to give from the rose garden
He paved it with a black heart that's hardened
Installed gauche golden bling
and destroyed the East Wing
Criminals and crooks, he's given pardon
Melania said that they’d never part
And told him she loved him with all her heart
She held his waist tight
Squeezed with all her might
Poor Donald gasped and let out a fart
The President is standing in the buff
Posing nude and trying to strut his stuff
I guess he supposes
Wife wants sex not roses
But sadly, his old todger is too duff
Donald forgot it was Valentine's Day
Was too busy with targeting his prey
By grabby their tushy
His bare hands, so pushy
All the red roses sold out anyway
The FLOTUS put Donald in his place
In the bedroom he can’t touch first base
Cos he bedded Stormy D
Then Epstein files, oh dear me
The POTUS has got egg on his face
I'd be his Valentine if he'd hold still
Long enough for me to give him a pill
that would put him to sleep
And freeze the nasty creep
Putting him in a cryogenic chill
Cupid's arrows missed their mark, A collaboration of thoughts by
Jan Allison, Tania Kitchin, Tom Cunningham and Lin Lane
Time traveler of a different time..
Billions and billions of Universes and Galaxies..
Out of time
Out of space..
A galactic infusion
Our imaginations come alive
Our wildest dreams exposed..
Technology works as quickly as the speed of light
Way beyond our comprehension
One shall never comprehend the magnitude of that existence..
An existence of creation and creations of many universes
A magnitude of vastness..
Beyond light years away..
The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler manifests different shapes
Different forms..
Need not travel through physical objects..
Need not travel with physical machines..
The Time Traveler appears..
A time traveler disappears..
Faster then the speed of light..
A blink of an eye away
Time travel through consciousness..
Instantaneously..
Inside and outside..
Through different fascinating realities..
Of which..
There are outer dimensional..
There are inter dimensional..
The forces are all with us..
We are all the forces..
The Time Traveler appears..
Time traveler chooses which reality applies..
Within a heartbeat away..
The time traveler had already reached the destination..
We suppose the time traveler is alien..
The time traveler supposes we are the aliens..
Uniqueness and differences apply..
Intrigued and curious we all are..
As we are deeply submerged in fascination..
From one alien to another alien..
Although we are human..
We are all living breathing living entities..
On the whole..
Although time is measured..
Time as we all know it..
Really isn't time at all..
Everything is occurring NOW...
We are all consciousness..