Long Teenage angst Poems
Long Teenage angst Poems. Below are the most popular long Teenage angst by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Teenage angst poems by poem length and keyword.
I've reached beyond the age of RPM records
youthful addiction
My forty-fives tilt in a corner of the basement,
leaning tower of teenage angst,
Wrapped now in decades of neglect.
Why can't I dispose of you?
Clutter crime of nostalgia's pull
This craving for rock 'n roll renegades,
singers of weed-garden life
punishers of social rules
Ageless idols of grainy texture
in fraying fabrics, tie dyed
So many odes to love, longing, anger
Snippets of R n' R once bleeding from open windows,
like wanderers dancing in darkness
Charged rhythm once labelled
force of evil,
Musical clout like tattered boxing gloves
Limitless bliss to unstuck youth
Something to stagger to,
life's nimble recollection,
a secret world
of cherished entry
Implacable lyrics
that preserve themselves
in all that spins
(Poem revised July 2020 with 2 new stanzas added, along with a title change.)
Notes app poetry
Easy to write at 3 AM in bed
With a bowl of Cheetos balancing on my stomach
Notes app poetry
Harder to convey
And say
Your juvenile heartbreak
In a way that lets others respect
Your words and your rhymes
Notes app poetry
Fun to write
But never fun to publish
Do you want people to mock you?
The verses you worked so hard to handcraft
Read like teenage angst
With arbitrary line breaks
Instead of a serious confession to the person who sits behind you in 2nd period
I write with a pen
Because ink is permanent
Instead of the fleeting emotions we have
During the night
With her very shapely thighs
And her nice firm bum
I can’t keep my eyes
Off my best mate’s mum
We could have fallen out
But we’re getting on fine
I’ve got my eyes on his mum
And he’s got his on mine
Ben’s sat in the corner
As our teacher called him bad
He’d pinched the teacher’s bottom
Which had made the teacher mad
The teacher should be flattered
And should not make Ben feel sad
But I’m a little worried
’Cause the teacher is my dad
Well, I stood up for Ben
It’s just his teenage angst
A trip to the head’s office
Was my only thanks
I stood outside the door
The sign just said ‘Headmaster’
Inside I heard my mother screaming
Faster baby, faster!
It's the midnight dance, last call before the lights go out and the harvest moon glows brightly in the darkness. The room is full with partners sweeping close, hand in hand, floating liltly across the floor, snug and tightly wrapped in each others arms, lips upon their necks. Eyes drift up slow gorged yet wanting then frantic, eyeing every masked face searching for another partner.
Witches grin,
envied green flowing into the arms of passion burned red devils.
Pumpkins glow,
with eerie lanterns waltzing with the Headless Horseman's horse.
Pale ghostly sheeted ethereal spectres,
gently clasp skeletal fingers with dainty delicacy.
Superman tingles the webbing of Spiderman,
with Wonder Woman caught between them.
Batman scowls
at Robin's teenage angst closeted tights.
Scary menacing clowns
throw punches at pocked faced zombies.
A frail wall flower pretty in soft and elegant pink
into the arms of the muscular strong Huntsman.
A piano player plucks the keys in black and white
as the debutante swoons, falling graceful into his arms
and the dance comes to an end.
Collecting 45's, I could not wait
for albums of groups' greatest hits to be
released; one band I thought was pretty great
put out the album most well-liked by me.
Its psychedelic cover art was cool.
And Golden Bisquits was the album’s name.
I listened very often after school
to those songs that enjoyed radio fame.
“One,” (the Loneliest Number), fed into
my teenage angst; there was another song
called “Easy to be Hard.” When I was blue
those were the songs with which I’d sing along.
A song of novelty I loved to hear
entitled “Mama Told Me Not to Come.”
The singer, in a silly voice, feigned fear
of a party that he should escape from!
Twelve songs in all, romantic mostly, and
the album had that seventies rock beat.
It was the best deal I would ever get
of all my high school records. It was grand!
My 45’s and albums to this day
are in a closet. I don’t feel it’s right
to trash my youth. How could I throw away
good memories in songs by Three Dog Night?
Written 9/4/16 for Phillip Garcia's Rock 'n Roll Rhyme Fest poetry contest
(See above for links to songs off the album
I hear once more the lyrics of this song I'm listening to-
a gentle blast from my very youthful past,
and I am back in middle school,
an attractive skinny girl
despite the horn rimmed glasses
which have gotten me the nickname of “Four eyes”
and the large beehive hairdo
I have to rat with my comb painstakingly each morning.
I am in the music room of my eighth grade
practicing with Swing Choir,
the group that I’ve auditioned for
and am thrilled to be a part of.
A cute boy stands tall among all the others
in the back row of the male section.
We are all singing -
“This Guy’s in Love.
This guy’s in love with You.”
My heart is pounding with the melody
as I watch my current crush so longingly,
imagining he sings the words to me alone.
Could my life yet to be lived
ever compare to my happiest vivid daydreams?
“When you smile, I can tell we know each other very well.”
I think he sees me watching him. I look away.
This scene will be replayed again and again
in other classrooms
where I’ll be watching other boys
that I'll be crushing on
and hoping they are watching me as well.
But now, just for now -
I sing the words with my group -
“Don’t let my heart keep breaking. . .”
My soul fills with teenage angst.
Oh to be young again
with such sweet aching
not yet knowing I’ll soon be getting walked home from school
by that cute tall boy
named Chico.
Written Feb. 7, 2016 for the Solitary Moments Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose
The song is "This Guy's in Love" written by Burt Bacharach
and performed byHerb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass. (please hear it in the link above)
Even as a child of God -
when it came right down to it
she stood firmly on her child’s side -
not God’s
.. and damn
how I envied that..
my friend
much to my dismay
chose a parent
as a closest confidant
breaking all laws of teenage angst
and going against
all preconceived
conceptions, norms and nature
I watched as they walked
a harrowed path together
mom being there for child —
smugly snuggly hammocked
in her emotional safety net
.. and damn
how I envied that..
I walked my path alone
because my mother
would have chosen
God’s side...
.. and damn
how I now envy that..
Susan Ashley
September 9, 2018
~ Ninth Place ~
Contest: Truth Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin
Lame lyrics of lost love penned by sweatered sirens
deep as divots, shallow as puddles
Doesn’t teenage angst get old by the time you’re thirty?
I’d think so, yet the lackeys lap it up like maple syrup
I derive my dirges from a deeper well
dredging the depths
the abyss of my essence
bringing it to the surface in buckets
thick as black molasses
ponderous to pour, painful to process
Reopening every wound
Exposing each scabrous scar
My lifeblood spread in red puddles on the floor
until I’m drained dry and there’s no more
not a drop remaining to be wrung out of me
Bruised, broken, and sore I struggle to strike the match
setting it all afire
throwing myself on the pyre