Long Teenager Poems
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Inspired by the moving life experience of a teenager. You are not alone. Please don't isolate yourself.
You are Love and Light wrapped in
Starlight and Stardust and Magic
By Michelle Morris
22/07/2025
He found your beauty alluring
Your innocence captivated his predatory instincts
He'd done this again and again
Leaving broken girls in his wake
They would stay in the Abyss
That Darkness he created
So often feeling isolated
So often feeling helpless and alone
If they would only realise
That they are still Beautiful
Pure Souls in vessels harmed
Battered Hearts wrapped up in shame
No person can take away your Soul
No person can take away your true Power
For it is all part of you
The Magic that you are
Your body and mind will heal
It just takes a lot of time and patience
Forgiveness of yourself
Acceptance and facing those demons
Your Heart will recover its beat
Your Soul will once again find its music
Your Song that is forever your Song
Your Energy that is forever your Energy
So, remember these words, my love
You are Love and Light wrapped in
Starlight and Stardust and Magic
You are the Miracle - you are the Miracle
I can't save you or walk your Path
I can only be here when you need me
I can't do the work for you
But I can support your Path and Growth
I can sit with you in the Abyss
Help navigate your way through the Darkness
I can provide Comfort and Compassion
I can hold you close and give you Warmth
But at some point you have to do it
You have to rise from the ashes like a Phoenix
Spread your Wings and fly Free once more
Embrace your Power and your Passion
You are stronger than you know
And you are never alone on your Journey
We Women are connected throughout Time
We are One in our Feminine Power
No one can take away our Worth
No one can take away our Power
We are rare and infinite Creators
We are Divine Blessings to the Universe
See us all around you
The Spirit of the Women
See your Angels and your Guides
They Protect and Guide your Way
May your Heart beat with Joy and Peace
May your Soul hum its perfect Music
May your Song keep inspiring your Voice
May your Energy keep flowing with Source
And don't forget these words, my love
You are Love and Light wrapped in
Starlight and Stardust and Magic
You are the Miracle - you are the Miracle
© Michelle Morris, 2025
Genesis means the beginning
Root word gene, the blueprint of life
So...In the beginning, of the seventies
There were jeans.
Now try to follow this
Jeans cover our bodies, but,
Our bodies are made of genes
Skin covers our bodies like jeans do
But, skin is made of genes too
We all have life, so the blueprints inside of us
So...genes have the blueprint inside
Jeans are printed blue outside
From genes come the word generation
Every generation loves jeans
Unless they are blue genes
That's when they're sad
Humans we are all living breathing genes
We were made by a Creator, a Designer
So in a way we are all wearing designer genes
And sometimes we also wear designer blue genes
That's when we're sad
Babies when they are born what are they?
Brand new designer genes
A teenager what is he?
Lightly used designer genes
A tired old man what is he?
Worn out and wrinkled designer genes
I feel sorry for the stone washed,
Acid washed, hard pressed
Steam ironed, left in the freezer, blue genes
Because not only has he had a hard life
He's also kind of sad.
November 22,2015
For open contest
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
Life on the edge would certainly become a novel,
if I included all the chapters of my life’s journey
from that of an old soul, from pure consciousness
to egg and sperm colliding, to embryo, to fetus,
to that of a baby, a child, youth, a teenager,
a young adult, a middle aged man, this old man
who has walked the walk of the living and the dead
with ghostly shadows floating in night time forests
blanketed by sheets of blackness, permeated with flakes,
specks of light from distant planets, long lost stars,
forgotten lives, as the reflective moon, on high,
tries to shed light upon the nightly shadows,
brighten the edges of all the black clouds
that fill all the empty spaces above the tree tops.
Life on the edge – I have been tripping – have gotten up,
have fallen from grace, yet stands up to face adversity,
have been trapped, yet set myself free, been lost
yet have found my way back to myself.
Life on the edge – time reveals all, all the efforts,
all the accomplishments, all the failures, the defeats,
and all the losses become weightless in the light,
of an old man who sits alone, on his own locked up
in the cage of his own design, his own making
as nightmares continue to haunt - to the end of his journey.
Life on the edge – has been sharp, dull, keen without tears,
in spite of all that life, fate, karma, choice have lain upon
the experiences this old soul has suffered, endured, enjoyed
and yet the dreams of this child – before and after he became –
still linger on in the fading embers of his life’s journey
even if they are but ashes blown by cold cruel winds
putting out the raging fires that once lit up the skies
and wormed the heaven and the hearts of a few mortal women.
Life on the edge – of this plane, this dimension, this universe –
can it really be as we see it ?, is it karma ?, is it fate ?, is it design ?
Does history repeat itself ?, does it come back to haunt us ?,
in another time, in another place, in a different space.
Life on the edge – next time around – will be a prayer
to never, ever have to live on the edge again,
to know no more emotional pain, no poverty of heart, soul,
the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those in control,
those in the know, of the nature of this old man
who has shown – specks, flakes of light, light that has
burned so bright, has flickered, has long since taken flight.
B. J. “A” 2
March 10th 2004
MY AGE
My age is nothing but a number, nothing but a slumber that I can’t wake from, this is what I’ve done. I’ve looked around and found that the matter of the fact is life isn’t what it’s supposed to be for me.
The average teenager spends most of their lifetime looking at their phones and when it’s time to learn something new their minds have already grown. Absorbing every single thing that they are sold, having a twelve year old’s body and the mind of a twenty one year old.
Social media doesn’t help the situation, it only changes how the different problems are situated. It has stolen complete sentences and created abbreviations, shortcuts of a language used by my generation. You could be laughing out loud when in reality you’re crying, saying TBH to be honest when in actual fact you’re actually lying.
And to that you can’t say anything because if LIFE was abbreviated it would stand for Living In Fear of Everything.
This is what I go through, in addition the music industry has had a major breakthrough. It has managed to be more influential promoting sex, drugs and slurs that are racial. “Making money moves” is about dancing on a pole, “Smoke weed everyday” is the daily intake of dope and this is said all while mentioning the one African American slave term that we all know. My nig-...I can’t say it though. So why do you. You have no idea who that affects. Sometimes we need to learn to be more politically correct.
They say that euphoria is just around the corner, behind the school building in a midst of vape. These are the lies they create, saying everything is ok. Just inhale it once and you’ll be done. I’m sorry, you can call me a loner but don’t mistake me for a stoner. One shot, two shots, three shots, four, hard. Call me antisocial but I’ve never drank before and I’m not about to start.
Society is full of influences, temptations and choices. However people like me always end up being voiceless. They think we’re too young to have any serious issues, that’s just another excuse for not wanting to accept the truth. You choose to change the subject to something totally unrelated, “We don’t have many problems?” well isn’t that an understatement?
You say that it will change, you say it’s just a phase, you say it’s another page in my story, no, this stage, right here...
This is MY AGE!
Everything has changed in a jiffy
The sun is balmy, the grass is green
And no trace of winter can be seen.
I ventured out on my usual nature stroll
To penetrate beauty, breathe fresh air
And mingle with nature that is so dear.
I walked along a clear- cut path contemplating
the mystery of the benevolent sky,
analyzing the soul of the city
while communicating with the swirling wind.
It’s a beautiful day filled with children at play
groups of children assembled on the playing ground
and instructors and parents hanging around.
Tiny tots, elementary school age, strong headed teenager
were all apart of this enthralling game.
The tiny tots could hardly hold their bats
Fathers’ gathered around helping their boys
as they struggle to make an accurate shot.
Something spectacle caught my eyes from a distance
a laden tree decorated with beautiful flowers
pulled me along a magnificent path.
I couldn’t help but tossed myself under the tree.
I lie on the splendid grass beneath the laden tree
and stared intensely towards the heavens above me
laden branches juxtaposed against the thrilling
blue sky reminds me that life is beautiful and divine.
Passionate pinkish-hued flowers hanged cheerfully above me
while dozens of bee suck nectar from their nourishing blossom.
I lie very still focusing on the scenery above me
trying to figure out the unknown
so that I can compose a true story of my own.
It was a magical moment all wrapped up in the appealing blue sky
I watched the sun forced its way through the laden branches
and penetrated my entire face with its glaring ray of light.
Birds lands upon the crammed branches singing melodious tunes
and a gently wind passed through swiftly scattering petal over me.
Not far from the blossoming tree a naked tree with dry branches
dressed up in winter boots, encumbered with winter gown
is still feeling the winter punishment from inside out.
beaten and battered red buds lingered on the tip of dry branches
trying desperately to bloom again.
The laden blossoming tree leaning against the clear blue sky
with its pinkish-hued flowers and gleaming sunlight
paved the way for a brand new day.
©2015 Christine Phillips
“You’re not a giddy teenager
So why can’t you act you’re age?”
I looked at him heartbroken
Then my body shook in a rage
“Being passionate about life
Means I am acting like a child?
You demand that I be demure
Does that mean being meek and mild?
No, no, my dear, I want to shout
I want to be crazy and mad
To stick my head out the window
Belt out love songs that make me glad
I want to let my body move
To a belly dance drumming sound
I want to feel young and alive
Make love without hushing the sound
On days when I water the yard
I want to get wet to the core
As I point the hose to the sky
The wetness makes me crave for more
I want to see my sun catcher
Make the rainbows dance on my wall
And have multicolored sweet dreams
I want to wander through them all
When you take me for a long ride
I’ll let the wind dance with my hair
I want the music to be loud
What if people just stop and stare?
I want to laugh till my sides hurt
And the tears are just streaming down
I want people to be happy
So I play the part of the clown
They say life begins at forty
Now I know that it does for me
Don’t you dare try to bring me down
You know this 'girl' needs to feel free
Peter Pan’s not the only one
Who will stay forever this young
He’s got me for good company
You know, we have songs yet unsung
So…please, if I am eccentric
And acting a little insane
Remember that I’m passionate
So please, I beg you, don’t complain
And when I want to be ravished
Or to play a naughty love game
Don’t say that was for way back then
Don’t you dare try to make me tame
I desire to ingest life
At a mad and frenetic pace
I am desperate to feel the rain
Splashing down on my upturned face
You know that I must be sun kissed
And to spray on coconut spray
To do handstands in seawater
And to bask in this sun drenched day
I want to cry when things move me
I want to feel, to taste, to touch
I want to giggle like a girl
When something does please me so much
I’m sorry I disappoint you
Sorry I don’t act forty five
But before this life is over
I want to feel vibrant…alive!
Yet, I will try not to shame you
Try to tone it down just a bit
But my dear, this fact you must know
In your box, I surely don’t fit
Yes, you may think I’m 'immature'
And I may act much like a teen
But I’d rather be wild and free
Than captive to rules like a queen."
Eileen Manassian Ghali
As a teenager, I was so lean and lanky.
My mother worried over my physical stature.
She believed that all the nutrients in my diet,
were rapaciously devoured by my hair.
From childhood onwards, I had long, thick hair
that cascaded down my back like a jumping cataract.
Each time I got ready for school in my uniform,
my mom had trouble plaiting it into two pigtails.
After school, it took much of my time to tease apart the strands,
release and unbind, what my mom had so neatly done.
She wanted to cut my hair short, I too agreed
as it took so long for me to have my hair dried after every bath.
(It was a time when we had not even heard of hair dryers!)
When I conveyed my mom’s decision to my friends,
they said in unison- “Your long hair is your sole attraction,
we are all jealous of you for it. If you cut it
you’ll be like a sheep after its fleece is sheared,
Oh, so ugly”
My hair was straight like stick, black and glossy without even a curve.
I was so upset about it as curly hair was what everyone preferred,
in a village without the ‘refinement’ and sophistications of urban life.
After every long journey, I had to spend hours clearing the tangles of my hair.
When I entered college, my hair became my distinguishing mark.
All referred to me as ‘the girl with long hair’ and it became my identity.
Girls from cities had begun frequenting parlours for straightening their hair
I was happy I had natural straight hair without recourse to artificial means
Thus, for the first time, I began feeling proud of my hair.
I spent hours before the mirror, admiring my hair and tying it in styles, varied.
Also started wearing it with my chin up and flaunting it unabashedly.
When I joined college as a lecturer, I could hear exclamations of ‘wow’
from my students, whenever I turned to the black board to write something,
and my silly feminine heart fluttered in vanity like a peacock.
Before long, silver threads began to peek here and there.
When they came in one and two, I plucked them away.
But Time, like a mischievous imp began to play nasty games.
In a couple of years, I was all grey and now I thrive on hair dye.
Indeed, a messy job! To make things easy I have cut my hair short.
Sad, my mother is not there to see me in short hair!
on a sultry day when there was nothing else to accomplish,
roaming around listlessly in my parents' house, stumbled at a little diary from my teenage years!
with a pretty picture of a rose bouquet on the cover!
my best friend, I thought I couldn't live without, but disappeared later in my life, got the diary for me -
located it among her father's office-materials,
and determined - it was a nice present for a book-worm girl whose only passion was papers!
although she was so thoughtful, it was a really tiny diary, I thought - not enough space to cover all my gripping thoughts!
my head was bursting with ideas - from appeasing my over-scrupulous math teacher’s tantrums, to secret plans of rendezvous with friends,
and mostly about the boys around us, some of whom were a bit silly,
but paid a lot of attention to me!
question was - who did I like? they seemed unpretentious, were they really?
was not sure myself. one day decided on one,
and he biked away at an accelerated speed at my sight!
was I not pretty? was I not charming?
was I bossy to frighten them? was my voice not alluring?
at last I did decide not to bother about them too much!
but get on with my literary life!
the diary was my precious friend, as close as a friend could be,
I confided, poured my soul, everything in her - from my deep-down secrets, little happinesses, my innocent pleasures,
to the intense sadnesses I felt sometimes.
it was not the passionate diary of a brave young girl hiding in the secret basement of a building,
hiding from the cruelest regime in the world,
it was candid expressions of a sensitive, shy, demure, emotional teenager,
the only outlet of her true feelings about the intriguing world.
how much I admired the pretty dresses my friends wore, and wished I had a few!
how much I admired spending time in our patio at the magnificent dawn when nobody was up, to see what I was up to,
how much I wished I were an author, and wrote novels like Jane Austen.
how much I wished I lived in Shakespeare's time, and be one of his maidens -
Miranda, and Opehelia, and Juliet, and Rosalind -
who emerged in my wildest dreams when I was in a dreamland!
the dreams which I wished, would never end,
but for sure they ended eventually!
A Diary - a few pages bound together - was me!
Sorry, I don't know what the heck you're talking about.
Sorry, I don't understand a word of whatever you may have been trying to say.
Sorry, I don't know that man, or woman, or children, or anybody else around here.
Sorry, I'm a stranger around here...
uh, no, not only in this neighborhood,
but everywhere on the earth.
You asking me since when?
Uh, let's see, for about ten, no, twenty years?
Uh, no, not that either....
Since forever, I guess.
I've always been feeling like a complete stranger on the earth ever since I was born, I guess.
Asking me why?
Because, uh, I don't know what I am.
I have absolutely no idea what humans are.
When I'm with people, even with my parents or siblings,
even when they seem to like me and even love me, I, uh, I don't feel at all the friendship or love that they claim to have for me.
Do I love them?
Uh, I don't think so.
Do I love my parents and siblings, you say?
Uh, not any more.
Yeah, I thought I loved my family and other people
when I was a kid or until I was a teenager or something.
But after that, I ceased to feel that way.
Ever since I was twenty or so,
I've never felt any love coming from others
or any love coming from inside my own heart.
I don't feel I'm real.
I don't feel I'm human.
I don't think I belong to people.
I don't feel I'm a citizen of the world.
I don't feel the people around me are humans.
But I do feel as if I'm in a huge zoo together with apes and pigs.
I feel as though I'd always been trying desperately to speak their pig and ape languages.
Their languages have always been horribly difficult to master.
Whenever I try to communicate with them,
they've always complained to me,
saying that I speak weird Japanese.
They've said they don't understand my language well.
They even get angry at me sometimes,
saying that I'm deliberately saying things
confusing to them, to make a fool of them.
I can't speak their languages well enough.
Nor can they understand my language well enough.
There's always been a huge, vast gulf
gaping wide between them and me,
which has always terrified me all my life.
I'm not human.
If I do belong to any place or any world,
I probably belong to the other end of the universe.
Definitely not here.