Long Suspecting Poems
Long Suspecting Poems. Below are the most popular long Suspecting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suspecting poems by poem length and keyword.
After reading opinions of many PS poets, I'm sick of hearing phrases like,
"it's causing big problems," "making me heartbroken," "it sickens me," and many other negative thoughts that are detrimental to the site. I've given up trying to comprehend why some use it and claim it as their own. It's the same with plagiarizing, so I'll save myself the angst of using similar phrases because this is how I see it...
They come in all sizes, shapes, and each gender
posting poetic words that to them do not belong
and then deny it. To the truth they'll not surrender
AI users and plagiarizers will never admit the wrong
I've grown weary reading about it and I'm disconnecting
from caring if they keep getting away with it on the soup
I've stopped using detectors for those I've been suspecting...
ones who continue to debase themselves; it's low to stoop
Sadly, I've seen "Gotcha" written too often in the last year
Proof's been sent to those who should uphold their claim
Written words in PS established rules are not upheld here
leaving AI users and plagiarists getting away with their game
What drives you to steal poetry of others and call AI your own?
Is it because there's no harsh penalty from the administration?
People, you who call yourselves 'poet,' I cannot condone
those who cheat again and again and face no degradation
My eyes will be blind to those users and their schemes
I'll write what I choose as long as I'm pleased with my lines
Attention to mentioned issues has gone far beyond extremes
It's a legitimate gripe but I'm done with complaints and whines
I took a stroll through City Market
Kansas City's cultural queen, with vegetables and flowers
Concrete words leaning against their water buckets.
Old women's hair unnatural colors shining from restaurants
Enough of that, inertia at work here, Kansas City's pride
Cracks on sidewalk, ugly giant tracks for new street car novelty
Yelling from hooded youth, anger or attention?
Street car on track for once. Making noise, people lying in windows.
Woman with dog hurries it past me, suspecting me of something
I clutch my purse harder, suspecting her too
Freezing cold was two days ago.. Today is forty-one,
Sixty-three degree shift if you count the windchill and who does not?
The midwest USA, of course, south of Canada a few thousand miles.
A little boy gives me a hopeful glance.
If I say "hi" first will I be the pervert?
I see he wants to also, but dares not.
He has been warned against me at three. So sad really.
My friends are late. Thank God. Ensuring writing time,
And time to watch people's silliness and haughtiness.
I am a voyeur, taking tiny gulps and glimpses
So they will think I am not dangerous.
What if I run and snatch up that boy
To show him that all strangers are not horrible?
To teach him that strangers are friends you do not know yet?
To teach him that the world is not all cynical?
What then?
Never know when we converse
Whose path we’ll happen to traverse
Can anyone really be that perverse
To willy nilly cast out a nasty curse
To chant for effects brutally adverse
With implications bitterly diverse
An evil voodoo spell I must reverse
Boils hives and warts somehow inverse
I throw on a coat and grab my purse
Head off to see a doctor or a nurse
In ointments and remedies I’m willing to immerse
Medical bills disburse then reimburse
I hope to feel better but I feel worse
Suspecting I may soon be leaving in a hearse
But first I’ll sing my song or write a verse
To leave my mark on this awesome universe
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Haven't got time for those cynical people
They're never gonna drag me down
Life's too short for whining and complaining
In their own negativity they drown
For twenty-four seven it's non-stop paranoia
Can't imagine living that way
On the sunniest day their sun doesn't shine
I rather spend time making hay
Suspecting the government's watching us
Taping us each time we pee
Had no idea things had gotten that serious
Why such interest in little old me
Well I'm just gonna go on my merry old way
More important things on my mind
Like feeding Dufus and my persian cat Lily
A good way to stay sane I find
Haven't got time for those cynical people
There's exciting stuff to explore
This friendly old planet is beckoning me
So I'm off to open more doors
© Jack Ellison 2013
The mice are out, it is a wonderful night
The waxing moon is in a laid back mood
Mice pass through the grass out of sight
About “em there's a mysterious attitude
The mice are out tonight
There’s no dilly dallying, they have plans
Skipping up, and over the dry stone wall
Down the alley, and jumping empty cans
Being sure, as to miss the tomcats brawl
The mice are out tonight
The cobble stones glisten as they spring
Into someone’s, un-suspecting backyard
Up the drain pipe, and at last they are in
The cat’s away tonight there is no guard
The mice are out tonight
Now a feast of a lifetime is for the taking
All settle in a circle, they have their prize
Mrs. Crumble, has been doing her baking
So much pie that befits their hungry eyes
The mice are out tonight
With bellies full, they a take a timely nap
Backpacks ready, for their journey home
With one eye open, watching for that cat
It would not do to have their cover blown
The mice are out tonight
Once awake, no time wasted, home to go
With more caution shown when bellies full
As down the drain pipe, to the yard below
Onwards, there’s no time to stop and mull
The mice are out tonight
In the shadows of the night they kept low
Where the waxing moon sees, and smiles
The mice feel safe under his fatherly glow
As the mice, now have their food supplies
The mice are out tonight . . .
Reaching for sanctuary in this unlit hotel, without electricity
Due to a storm, stuck here, in this bizarre circumstance
I precariously felt my way in the dark with a trembling hand
I recognized the old smell and feel of flocked wall paper.
"Sorry I cannot go with you," the front desk clerk said. "Busy night."
No one else had arrived to work; the storm was so terrible.
I was too frightened to say anything; I acutely felt I was not alone.
I slung my backpack on my back so I could feel in front of me.
Suspecting the assault would come from the front, like the movies.
My hair was standing on end. My heart never beat any faster.
I sensed an angry soul, watching me, hating me, wanting to hurt me.
Something with an evil heart, certainly no eudaemon.
A brief whiff of shaving cream, led me believe it was a male
When it was alive, if it had ever been of this flesh or earth
I reached the sixth door and fumbled with the key for minutes
The cell towers were out, so even my phone did not light up.
I did not take off my shoes or get undressed. I flopped on the bed.
Ready to take off at a second's warning. It took me awhile to sleep.
In the morning I awoke to a flicker of a glimpse of someone else.
I sat up. It was a shadowy vampire-like creature. He growled.
I died of fright; Room number 187. Ironic I was the 187th one.
If I had alternative choices with a D
I would take my druthers all over the world,
making a difference
choosing other ways of seeing.
I will need a million trail-cams,
and a million gateposts, trees
or lampposts
to attach them to.
I want to see what's going on
when we are not looking.
I want to choose
between the strange, the ill-defined,
the inexplicable and
whatever other world
we are interacting with.
That would be my mission -
my druthers.
A million trail-cameras
snapping the world
while we all sleep or wake,
none of us
suspecting that our pictures
are being taken.
It comes to us naturally,
Passing easily through
All walls of resistance,
Dripping with beauty,
Clothing itself modestly
In the simplest of ways,
Never suspecting it is the sun,
The Mother of all,
The birth of everything,
Hiding its ferocity
With the control
Of a purring lion,
While its irresistible
Force of abandonment
Lurks beneath
The idle of a great engine.
There, it waits
For the measure of
Its next massive moment.
When it will release
An unfathomable power.
The one possession
Every soul
So longingly awaits:
The Truth
Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
As we were playing soldier.
Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop.
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.
To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.
My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend goodnight.
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.
They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace.
I'm sure the neighbors heard his scream,
You should have seen her face.
The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him,"ATTACK!"
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.
The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll prob'ly have a scar!"
The young boy swore that he was bit,
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said,"But not the cat,
The teeth he felt were mine."
Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.
She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.
So cute and sweet, she had it all.
You'd think she had it made,
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.
Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
While we were playing soldier.
Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop,
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.
To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that one lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.
My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend goodnight.
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.
They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace.
I'm sure the neighbor's heard his scream.
You should have seen his face.
The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him, ATTACK!!
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.
The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll probably have a scar!"
The young boy swore that he was bit.
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said, "But not the cat.
The teeth he felt were mine."
Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.
She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.
So cute and sweet, she had it all,
You'd think she had it made;
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.