Long Testy Poems
Long Testy Poems. Below are the most popular long Testy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Testy poems by poem length and keyword.
I am feeling more marginalized.
Everyday I’m told to not comment or talk
While the men in my life are talking.
I so many ways they manipulate me
I doubt they realize what they are doing.
At least I hope their intention is pure.
What they must discuss is important, I guess.
More important than what I do or say.
“Stop being so oversensitive,” they complain.
Can you not see we are talking father and son?”
As if “overly sensitive” is even a word?
The dictionary defines sensitive as
1. endowed with sensation;
2. having perception through the senses.
3. readily or excessively affected by external agencies or influences.
4. having acute mental or emotional sensibility.
5. aware of and responsive to the feelings of others.
6. easily pained, annoyed, etc.
These are bad?
and when adding “over” to the adjective is defined as
1. excessively or unduly “sensitive”
Circulating back to the positive meanings that the root word tries to convey.
But I cannot stop there in my exegesis of this term
The men in my life throw at me.
WORDS RELATED TO OVERSENSITIVE
annoyed, contentious, exasperated, fractious, petulant, prickly, resentful, surly, testy, conscious, delicate, emotional, hypersensitive, keen, nervous, perceptive, precise,
receptive, responsive, susceptible
WTF do they intend to express?
While denying my participation anyway?
I know too much, being too accurate, or right?
Whom exactly are they talking about?
When this “oversensitive” word they decry
Is it meant for me to close my mouth?
go away?
Alas I know not
and careless and less to participate
In their ignorant misogynistic display.
Roman à clef tragicomedy...
overlaid with façade of fiction = Mein Kampf
No need for yours truly to dig deep,
(albeit bonafide figuratively)
by Dickens thru mine Uriah Heep,
a gnarled mass creep
ping, comprising, encompassing, glomming
abysmal existence strewn with hard times,
such that I wanna leap
out this metaphorical bleak house,
a black hole in the wall swallowing
i.e. disallowing any peep
ordinarily yawping, proliferating, flirting...
now fumfering lamely issued by keep
ping low profile super tramping cheap
trickster, our mutual
friend Matthew Scott Harris,
where lack of functioning heating unit
(think male organ if ye will)
upended, rendered, discombobulated...
scrappy body electric hominid
to experience quality sleep.
Principal reason I write
to balance and aright
unexpected largesse
(thank you dad), where
eyes suddenly got bright
and bushy tail incessantly
wagged day and night,
a sensible palliative temporarily
eased penury plight,
which cash equivalent,
viz four Benjamins alleviated quite
helpful thwarting necessity to fight
off bill collectors brandishing
armstrong lance's compelling me
to summon black knight
in shining armor lodged within white
castle amidst prickly bishop
obviously one prone easily to excite
amusing little lord Fauntleroy
groomed as heir to throne,
enthusiasm since his birth did ignite
(Aesop pose) storybook life,
where fanciful elation did take flight
buzzfeeding, droning, feasting
on par with Mister
Bumble bee in flight
sweet nectar amidst lilies of the field
analogous to stripling Adam - fine lad
eve vent chilly seeking delight.
Ah to gather rose while ye may
tis futile wishful thinking,
now at mine three
score orbitz round sun,
which libido far out at bay
prurient predilections once
spawn time wracked to lay
waste vestal virgin such as... Little Dorrit,
now... raging hormones stagnant clay
hardened, atrophied, eutrophied,
jackknifed limp bizkit
long bereft testy tickle
yar seaman quizzical,
slack jawed, and sullen at
deserted abandoned cobwebbed quay
ignored do not enter, keep out,
private property signals desiccated,
no place for Peter to take holiday
barring ingress to ply skin flute
amidst hollerin hootenanny,
perhaps convincingly explaining
welcoming Voldemort without delay.
("Multiculturalism Merit Badge", 2010, original oil)
It is the nature of man to seek unity,
Unity in a family, clan and tribe
Unity with Nature and God.
A unified field of consilience
Between the disciplines of knowledge
Fuels everything it is to be human and alive.
On every level we seek and crave unity,
Because it feels so good to connect
And so bad to be isolated.
Maybe it’s merely a projection of our social roots
But it forms and flavors our cosmologies
And our developed ideals in ideologies.
So it is only natural we not only want to get along
But to be equals and share equally, even when
As individuals we really want it our way.
The tension of cooperation and competition
Deep within our divided nature
Guarantees it will never be what everyone wants.
And so life goes on, stumbling forward
In fits and starts, by tooth and nail,
And testy truces of compromise.
Again and again the dreamers dream
Can’t we all just get along in love and peace
And if you won’t, then well, we have the guillotine….
The trouble is, as much as we may wish,
And dream of being equal, we aren’t and haven’t,
Since evolving past the stage of amoeba.
And still we dream, if only we could find a way
To breed and train for conformity,
Knowing in our hearts we can’t and still survive.
So life goes on, leaving the dreaming to youth
Secure in their ivory towers
Hoping one day they raise a family of their own.
And in the learning of self reliance
Realize equality is not an ideal of the living
But one for the dead, tallied as just more bodies.
Life is worth living after all
Even more so when we do it on Life’s terms
And not merely our own.
The nature of man is to seek unity
In how we live and think and dream
Because that is our true nature.
(5/10/26)
I was a red-violet, sunny morning person, usually up at the crack of dawn,
When orange light poured from the east, upon revival, dewy green lawns.
With a cup of aromal coffee, I'd watch yellow sunrise creep in the window,
Enjoying the zestful song of red robin, while night and day were in limbo.
I would take walks at the golden hour, flooded in light, just after a sunrise,
In the serenity of wanton, floral summer, slowly unveiling a destiny prized.
Visits of friends were features of morning, for sunup fondness is infective,
As flowers soak up colors of white sunlight, telling of the new perspective.
Family and I fascinated flaming sunsets, fancy dancing like we had forever,
At evening fetes, long fated; like feathery, dark green ferns-wind treasure.
I lived in the house of taupe sunrise, always trending towards golden noon,
As fitful stars, flickering like fireflies, stay on course, in presence of moon.
Sunhats, sandals and pretty sunflowers, were summer sights on my street,
In tranquil days of wild seas, giving the selfsame roar, as it cooled hot feet.
Nearby stars gleamed like natural pearls, on nebulous nights of neighbors;
And the natural conversation flowed nonstop, like the whistling wind labors.
Bat orchids awaited watchful moon, yearning for caves among field flowers;
When ballerina orchids danced, entranced, by plum shadows' magic powers!
Crimson corpse flower was blooming, in a torrid wake, held in lazy summer,
And snapdragon seed pods imitated skulls, where future flowers slumbered.
One day dawned exceptionally beautiful, a sight bringing rapture to my eyes;
As plum and orange, merged with pink, gold and red-fleeing night disguised!
I went about my productive work, but I noticed the day did not seem to age,
Like a glorious history book caught open, when distraction didn't turn a page.
Although I was very puzzled, I relished a pause for precious, pretty mystery;
Like the lovely, floral pause of gemmed hummingbirds, in times of blissfully.
After several long and rapturous hours, testy time gradually began to move,
For a beginning ever looks towards the end, as if it had everything to prove!
It was approved by the Session and duly recorded by the Clerk
That the youth would perform the Nativity Play at the Presbyterian Kirk.
'Twas further resolved that Sister Smythe, who had a proclivity
For curious creativity, would again manage this annual activity!
Venerable Sister Smythe had staged the event since time immemorial,
But, alas, could be quite testy and at times rather dictatorial!
Generations of kids had acted in this solemn yearly affair.
Now their kids suffered beneath her stern, withering glare!
Stage-struck moms maneuvered above and around each other,
Boosting their little darling for the role of The Holy Mother!
Sister Smythe made her selection after a grilling examination.
Alas, the little lass forgot her lines to Sister Smythe's consternation!
The lad playing Joseph was found asleep and missed his cue.
Two of the Wise Men tripped and sprawled, spoiling their debut!
Kids dressed as sheep sounded like braying mules from sounds they did emit.
This caused the harried Sister Smythe another thundering snit!
Poor Sister Smythe lay abed a couple of weeks to recover,
As solicitous Session members around her did pray and hover.
Despite the vexations, she'll rule again next year - she'll survive,
To shepherd other kids to make the Christmas Story come alive!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
CURSE OF THE EMPTY NEST
No way imagine empty nest,
imagine, giving birth at thirty-five.
Plus fact I’d never even changed a diaper,
so mother-hood … just prayed survive.
Then son became testy teen,
days couldn’t wait
till time came son would leave.
Next day prayed he never would,
and then … He Did!
Shocking … imagine, finding myself alone
with this man called, my spouse?
Crazy fools gotten hold of VIAGRA,
keeps chasing me ... all over the house.
Empty nest … don’t think so!
Cause this man won’t let me relax,
can't even unwind alone with glass of wine.
Sex crazed fool … has one track mind!
Ladies, listen,” Lets proclaim Empty Nest …
has brand new meaning ...
VACATION TIME”
Lets leave our sex crazed fools
and Viagra, Home Alone,
in their …
Empty Nest.
May 13, 2023
Contest :Empty Nest
Sponsor: Cooper Etheridge
What Gets My Goat - By Noah Kidding
Though I shy away from drink,
an unexpected case
of DT's finds this ace
of spades (also known as the spadille)
bleating heart liberal,
airing how disgrace
full the Tommyknocker of zee prez
doth aspire with
Desperation toward efface
sing outspoken, knowledgeable,
intelligent, et cetera grace
full Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, sans
The Shining eyes of dragon light,
and self deluded Dreamcatcher
importance bulwark brace
sing, bullying, and spewing
pot shot vitriol toward
said neophyte lace
sing his blather with
spongy bobbing parrot head
of his papa, who hoop fully gets
ousted by Democratic
candidate from place
de resistance on pedestal,
he haughtily perches touting
himself as superior race,
aye pray to dog his trace
as human wrecking ball
expunged and reprehensible
brewed den mean ways vanishes
upon election day
November 3rd, 2020,
and his ilk (henchmen
one and all) in vase
sieve like Kudzu, or
other aggressive choke
king courtesy intolerable, inhospitable,
and ineradicable testy,
pesky, and grumpy folk
especially one bearded
Dudley Doright dressed dude
with gray flecks poke
king the brown grizzle
blindingly shimmering from
"FAKE" filal smoke
and mirrors Junior Firestarter
slicked back hair doo evokes a joke
lame Kujo, albeit
cheap tricks up pa's city
faux Taj Mahal sleeve!
Feint faint "Fake" no nor'easter
If putsch comes to shove,
aye ain't no doggone fraidy cat
nor chicken little
fearing coup d'état,
yours truly simply
risk averse, and more exact,
he stays sequestered
within these four walls,
cuz tis safest inside this flat
always... mein kampf,
I remember when fertilization begat
after nine months in utero...
ah dat womb dar full habitat
i.e. uterus cradled humanity, whereat
teeming bajillions primates
peopling planet Earth
couples made lovey dovey after spat
(which species among
other flotsam and jetsam),
got shot out (think) analogous
muzzle loaded gat
excellent marksman aimed
then squirted packed heat hot
as summer temperature
gets within Gujarat
recorded courtesy, thee
oldest functioning thermostat,
albeit microcosmic primordial vat
testy sea men don
(May comb hairy
gah great again) conical hat.
I surmise proto humans
especially storied hall
(conjured in Peer Gynt
by Edvard Grieg
of mountain king)
trumpeted, tooted thwacked,
and announced presence
courtesy posterior primal mating call,
which vibrant cheekiness heard all
around the mulberry bush to Gaul
hmm... maybe e'en hot air
inspired Marc Chagall,
while sitting atop porcelain throne,
nonetheless scandalous
rectal blasts methinks help explain fall
of Rome, whereby noxious
generated silent but deadly nauseating
noisome pall mall
felled friend and foe alike
analogous on minuscule
scale to Chernobyl
level 7 nuclear accident
also linkedin, when
Polar Vortex doth stall
across avast swath planet Earth
forcing quick thinkers to marshall,
what (mathers) matters
such as... antique pinball
machines worth a mint,
a to install.
I am a thinker of sorts;
One that is rather selective.
I tend to bore unusually easily;
Perhaps I am mildly restless.
I am okay with challenges,
But even blatant testy rules can be
Presented with greater simplicity.
I am not bad at word search puzzles;
But it seems that my vocabulary
Vanishes with crossword puzzles.
I really do not stress about poetry
Contests that are above my pay grade.
I simply move along, giving others who
Are Much more skillful than me, an opportunity
to swim in waters too deep for me.
I am not a writer, but I write.
I am not a poet, but I write.
I like music but cannot sing.
I am not given to much talking,
But I have a passion for walking.
It is far less painful to stay in my lane.
I like rhyme and a little bit of rhythm.
And believe it or not, I can even dance,
But only behind closed doors.
I must say that I feel extremely
Blessed to be a part of such a talented
Community of poets encouraging each
Other and releasing the healing power
of words to thousands around the world.
The volcano leveled
then a great wind blew the rest away.
Early humans came late.
They had callused soles and rough hands
they knew how to dig,
run and hide.
When the flood came
they were at ease feasting on stringy meat and bones
in the makeshift camps of their tribes.
The locust eating priests
declared it was everyone's fault
but theirs.
Contrite, and greatly diminished in number
they began to scratch the history of the world
on random stones.
Volcanos grew testy again
smoke and fiery fumes scorched the sky.
They packed up their meager possessions
and trekked. The tribes did not stop walking
until they found a lost scripture in the dust.
Some called the find a bible
written by soothsayers
yet unborn,
but in truth
it was yet another mystical footprint
to follow -
a sign to track
out of this inexplicable land
that kept blowing away
on the shifting sands
of bad times.