Long To a fault Poems
Long To a fault Poems. Below are the most popular long To a fault by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long To a fault poems by poem length and keyword.
TEMPER
My love,
I am pained by my pain which leaves me in pains
Oh!.
Have you not drank your fill
Of my will's will?
The tug ever drains me
Temper!
Temper my love!
Are you listening?
My mind is a mine
Mined In fields
Of my faces
Oh!
By whom you ask?
Oh! Please you know better of my foes than I can number my woes
I seek a treaty of decorum
For I hide and seek,
which glances to give at every waking morn
It tires me
Temper heed!
It tires me.
I am stuck in a bowl..
No a bowling alley
Sorry, I went bowling..
Temper dearie.,
See as my sanity flees from me
With every whistling intake
You are priceless to a fault
Sorry.. A point
I have drunk dry of my purchasing power of you
My minds bank seems bankrupt
Please!
Do not loan them in.
Whom you ask?
Your offspring
You play my sanity as they delay my insanity
Imagine the pain of injecting you in
Yet I commit a felony if I let you shine
Besides giving me an audience,
You get me an audience
They differ in purpose
One to hear, one to leer
Nip you in the bud they say
But I really love,
The psychopathy you give
The satisfaction of deride
The aloofness of my prey
As they are caught In my web
Listen!, do you hear
The drums of their quaking despair
The loss of steering which is lost
But is still in their hands
But my deride is far from the labeled cups
Of despair
My weakness unnerves my being
Their weakness display calms me
Why?
Cannot let it show
They toy with the truth
Seen alot of their cinemas of toy
Bottom line
Their pain for my pain
Loss of steer for my steering
Insanity is a constant in all
But!
It's levels varies for all
So I seem mad
Am I?
Maybe mad indeed I am
It's all your fault
I can't withdraw, the symptoms
Are too pathetic
I need this job
You can't throw me a cliff hanger
Of your depature
The adrenaline pumps to my mind
Blemishes me with deadly wits of control
What you define as manipulation
The edge It gives
Similar to an addiction
Is the key to my survival
... So we die here, right?
I am hooked to you with a line and fingerlings
I hope a good shark snaps me
I really want to quit you
My sweet addiction
But you are just too sweet.
CUB.J.PRINTS
SHE DRIVES ME UP THE WALL
She drives me up the wall like a slave-driver
O yes, she does ! but even though she may wield
the rod in her hand ever so threateningly at me
At the slightest suspicion of insubordination,
Leaving me cowering with fear, I love her just the same,
Perhaps much more than I ‘ve ever loved anybody else before!
I may ‘ve become certifiable as a result, who knows,
But whatever the case may be,
pray don’t judge me harshly until you ‘ve heard me out.
I love her for the same farcical reason that Socrates
Ostensibly loved that cantankerous woman Xantippe.
By temperament and upbringing, I find a woman who
Stands up to a man much more appealing than one
Who’s obsequious and complaisant!
What happened to me, therefore, was no accident but a
quantum leap; I had no control what so ever over the turn of events
That got us this far in our fledgling relationship.
Ever since I met her, my life, which had hitherto been
Fairly peaceful and uneventful, has, all of a sudden,
Taken a dramatic turn.
And like a minx, she has so turned my head around
I can’t tell for certain whether I am coming or I am going!
Suffice to say I’ve been acting up silly and rather foolishly
For a grown up person (I don’t know whether or not I still
Have any semblance of an ego left, what with this
Attractive je ne sais quoi I find so irresistible about her!)
Oh no, don’t tell me I’ve been doing this all for the
Wrong reasons ! or that I am laying it on thick.
It’s only me who knows exactly what I am feeling.
Besides, I am not talking morals here, I am talking
About what it feels like to love somebody to a fault.
If she did walk out on me now I can guarantee you
That would certainly be the death of me!
I am sure that’s not what you would all like
To see happen to me just yet unless of course
You’ve been spoiling for my death while pretending to be my friends.
When all else is said and done, I’d rather be
Henpecked than let go of this maverick specimen of womankind
Who has lodged herself in my life uninvited,
Making it her home, and has since then never failed
To drive me up the wall like a slave-driver with her rod.
Not only is she good sport, but like a morning
Star she’s such fun to be with, I promise you!
OLIVER MUKEMU
You're about to see there's no difference between a tortured artist or a Wounded animal
Picking up a pen was the only way to make my depression manageable
At times it seemed that beating depression wasn't Fathomable
The hurt poet sometimes has to let loose with his pen and that should be Understandable
The nice guy with a pen turns into a cross between Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Hannibal
When the smoke clears from my rhymes, they're still flammable
My whole life I was told I couldn't but now it's Laughable
What they told me I didn't have, I didn't lack at all
When I found my strengths, it's like when Lionel Messi has the ball
No one can get near, and the world is about to see something magical
The great ones always learn from their mistakes, and aren't scared to retake steps
I learned to live with it, before I learned how to escape stress
I used to miss my old girl, but now I focus on the girls I haven't had a chance to date yet
Because as I got older I realised a relationship needs more than just great sex
I wish I realised it while I was younger, so I'd have felt heartbreak less
I'm honest to a fault, so I'll willingly admit some of my feelings for her haven't been erased yet
But I'm getting there and doing it in my own time
I don't care for people telling me what I should feel inside my own mind
If I fall short it won't be by much
Check my track record, anytime I got knocked down, I always got back up
I've been knocked down many times, but you won't find anyone who reacts quicker
I just saw that Ariana Grande has split up with Mac Miller
And I'll probably lose the plot
If I don't take this chance to shoot my shot
Ariana I'm trying to win your heart for good and play no games with your head
Let's settle down and start a family together, the only downside is I'll probably last 30 seconds in bed
"Oh god why did he say that?, did he really need to go there"
Go where?, the belt?, he's always saying things that go below there
I forgot this world is sensitive and doesn't know how to take a joke
You can't break what's broke
I was stuck in the dark, but I escaped with hope
I'm hard to kill
My art is real
And the tortured artist is like a Wounded animal because you should try to keep away from both
A man of few words, my father taught by example.
The best thing he showed me
was to set my standards high
and to be my own judge -
always modest never defiant or arrogant.
If something needed doing
I should do it without expecting praise -
self-satisfaction being the ultimate goal.
He taught me to set my sights high
and to be my own boss
no matter the circumstances –
to be fiercely independent
not count on anyone.
I learned to go about my business and be self-sufficient.
I did not do well in teams – like a bull in a china shop
I had my objectives and went at them as a loner.
I never saw it exactly that way
but I did get good at it to a fault.
One day, it was a rude awakening when
it dawned on me how I was doing things for people
and they were consistently ungrateful.
I knew the problem couldn’t completely be with them
My so-called modesty had become self-fulfilling servitude.
It finally registered that if people didn’t have to ask,
they didn’t have to say ‘thanks’.
And that never mattered to me until
I realized that they were in fact not thankful
And THAT was a whole different ball game.
I literally spent days if not weeks
stubbornly trying to unlearn and reprogram myself.
Tried to get it through my skull that
if people ASK for something,
or at least ADMIT they would appreciate something,
that’s when they might actually appreciate it
How cheap can people be -
what a warped world we live in.
For me, it was a hard lesson in human nature -
I was actually an enabler encouraging people
to take me for granted.
People really do like games
even the ones who say they hate them.
Admittedly it was late in life I learned this lesson
And I admit I often still choose to do things
without getting people to actually ask.
But at least I’m cognizant of my ways.
And admittedly when I do pause
and play the ‘asking’ game, it does pay off.
But I’m so unbelievably stubborn I don’t always
want to pay the price for their gratitude
so to this day, if I feel something needs to be done
I’ll just get it done.
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on April 25, 2018
That's her name,
a small silhouette of her shame.
The simple games she plays; a smile worth nothing
certainly she isn't worth anything.
Trim and clean, no, not what she seems.
The straight edge of her hair,
oh, ever so fair.
Each cut tells a tale. She beckons in her unclear haze,
Really.
She,
Is home, but it seems not so.
That's her walk; simple, well dressed.
The tip of her tongue, stayed from guilt causing speech..
Her teeth pale the calmness of her person,
Oh a smile worth nothing.
Every move she makes has some form of purpose;
she knows where she's ending up.
Anger-less, with searing shoal of blue waters.
Sensitive, what is an ocean of blue without rain followed by a smile?
Happy to say the least, loving to a fault,
tempered to the point of understanding.
Evil like the good that comes from some clean fun.
Awful at her best,
yet the worst compares so much better.
She walks in withered past and crumpled future.
If she falls no-one will pick her up,
yet her smile is worth nothing.
If she could talk she would tell her story.
Yet she can't speak,
her voice is gone.
Her love is shattered.
The lightning strikes the shore,
the sand wells up into glass, only to shatter,
shatter like her heart.
She thought she could swim,
the water how it cared now about her plight,
simply to toss her back to the glassy sands that cut her heart.
Here it would be,
she would cry without her voice,
her only defense, where,
as it was,
her pale smile.
Couldn't she see him and how much he cared;
He wouldn't know the knife had slipped,
or that sirens buzzed with retribution.
How long does a dark day last?
How long does a dark night last when even the day is dark?
Both could only last much to long for her,
yet, here came he with flowers to meet her at home.
She wasn't there, with which he carried heavy heart-
seeing the tape and the crying man.
When would daylight break?
Would the night ever set on her calm reprise?
Now they've sent her away; he's hung his head,
she's died inside, her apathy grown, how could she cry?
Mid morning, the light in the room was still the same.
I think I'm happy...
Introvert at heart I was exhausted but enjoying myself like a good day at the gym
I had been participating in some verbal jogging when the jargon interrupted the depth of my thoughts
I wanted to go deeper, but the question brought me back to the surface
You know, that over used, over played, over copied, get out of jail free question
So, how did you feel?
A mental sigh fogs my mind, as I wait for the dust to settle, I try to paint what can't be replicated in any art
My response a cliche of my own just to joust back
In case we're keeping score
I'm deadly competitive to a fault, laughing to myself touché
Oh, my reply, I almost forgot
The cliche runs from my mouth: the words to describe it are lost but if found it would be something like watching the American Day Dream on the big screen except you're the main character
When your mood matches the brightness within the sunrise of your eyes and you’re by no means even a little bit of an early bird
You hear the sound of vinyl recorded melodies on repeat as you brush your teeth
The dust slowly undresses as I then get dressed
Looking for the perfect outfit is comparable to searching for these words
And don't even get me started on shoes
The right pair will have everyone on their heels and can capture the eyes to the soul
That day my soul sang solo after the shower rained down cleansing compliments
Chanting for an encore
The volume of the claps is turned down
The dust has finally kissed the ground
And for the reveal my reflection sees a familiar memory
As my mouth curves like a rose into a shape it hasn't felt in awhile
I've been chasing this flowery feeling like the butterfly tasting the flight of bliss
I grab as fast as I can, gripping the steering wheel headed to the destination
Shouting I'm never letting go
As my opposite palm holds her hand
I want to stop to picture frame this memory
I have to stop and picture frame this memory
We stop at the red light, and she asks: can I borrow a forehead kiss
I respond: as long as you come back again
p.s. this is happiness, it was something like that...
Being on the team that got
Trump elected.
People treat me as if
I were seriously infected.
For being part of a team,
That shares Trump's
American dream!
Of an America strong and
free of government coercion,
And unwilling to be brainwashed into
Socialistic promises of freebie
diversions.
Trump believes in the Constitution
While others cry, " Restitution"
For what?
President Trump honest
to a fault, add humanity, too.
The Democrats won't give
him a chance are you kidding?
They play him the fool~
Like a drunk at a wedding.
The media burns the midnight
oil,
To broadcast truth?
A joke from which they all recoil.
Their goal of course, to cause national turmoil and poison discourse.
It's like a poisonous snake has
settled on the press.
Acosta, accosting a
presidential aide fighting
over a mike.
Acosta, a bonehead who
lightning should strike.
There should be a book
Published by CNN with
a poison pen...
" How we Destroyed the
USA."
It's not a matter of how, but when.
Worse, Trump and family believe
in God, an unforgivable sin.
Why don't his detractors just drink
a pint of cheap gin.
They can't get over the fact that
Hillary lost, much to their chagrin.
Democrats and Fake News create
new lies,
"Impeachment" always~their battle cry!
Oligarchs, Russia and Wiki-leaks,
Well, my fellow Americans,
Their false fairy tales just plain stink.
So now Nadler and Schiff, two
Sterling men sharpen their knives
Let's go over all the President's taxes
Surely there is something he's hiding.
They can't stand success, these Swamp
Creatures, they!
And Elijah Cummings, their new CPA.
The entire Trump family has been
under attack, children included.
How compassionate, the Democrats are.
Infanticide, included.
These wolves on The Hill!
Whose sole purpose in life is to
Decry all the President's triumphs
And wish him~nothing but ill!
The press stretches truth like a
rubber band,
Shameful despicable lies.
America will survive all of this,
We will remain a Republic.
Will remain free, prosperous and
always stand.
Form:
A COMPLICATED FATE D' COMPLI
Your bedroom closet is larger than this room
Where fears father plays the part of Lady Sorrow's groom
Your master bath is three times larger than the one I enter using a key of regret
The one I share with the masses
you commanded me here
where the heat of loneliness comes to swell
in this tiny hole in a hotel near Hell
This is where my wretched heart hears the echo of wrath
no, unlike you, I have no spacious bath
A kitchen? Nay, I have none
no stove like yours beside which you'd stand
grand as the room within which you stood
I have no place to keep cool my pantry's pride
nor cupboards stuffed with non-essential purchases
this room bears itself bereft of benefits
where only sleep is claimed within
that is to say if I should one day be blessed with rest
for respite is requisite, yet for me, remains denied
as I share isolation with a myriad of ghosts
and hatred plays host to a hurtful hush
in this room where the fingertips of my outstretched arms touch two walls
while the eyes of gloom glare at the heart of doom
and fettered fruit is harvested from a grievous grove
no, unlike you, I own no stove
nor backyard have I to enjoy while sipping tea
like the one you share with doves who dine on your greenery
where torches glow at night with halos of hopefulness and heat
and where we once sat in the same sanctified space
devouring hours with delight
no, my backyard is a bar with a backdoor to debauchery
and the tar on its driveway that sears the souls of my feet
when the sun threatens to bake the brick with its breath
as I stride across the asphalt and drink to a fault
until I'm dreadfully drunk and scathingly scarred
no, unlike you, I have no back yard
your house,
no,
rather a palace persuaded by prominence
dwarfs this den of deprivation I find myself situated within
a paltry place, where not a pittance of pity might dwell
within this tiny hole in a hotel near hell
with only a tortured tale of which to tell
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
My eyes begin to
water at the edges
of this thought, you
taught me many
things I mean I
crawled, I stood, I
walked,
and though you
have been gone so
long your memory's
still with me, I'm
talking bout you
Grandma, Ms.
Victoria McKie.
You left when I was
9 which shows alot
of years have
passed, the thought
as bright as day the
time when I was
near you last,
and if I knew that
time would be the
final of my life, I
would've held you
tighter like the stars
embrace the night.
I hope you're proud
of me, I try my best
and Heaven knows,
I live a life which
shows I'll be in
Heaven when I go,
I realize that I
haven't done it
perfect to the T, I
know that you'd still
love me, that is one
true certainty.
The day of August
29th in 1926, is
when your life
began without you, I
would not exist,
and this is my
attempt to let you
know that you are
missed, I'd give my
final cent to feel
your lips give me a
kiss.
We used to sit and
read, a lifelong love
I'd learn and keep,
and stroke creative
fires that now wildly
burn in me,
can't help getting
emotional, the
tears, it burns to
see, your presence,
so influencing the
man I learned to be.
I shared you with all
others but I'm
selfish to a fault, I
knew I was your
favorite deep within
my heart of hearts,
you showed me
with your love and
patience each and
every day, it's safe
to say you proved
yourself in each and
every way.
In sitting here and
writing this my
teardrops start to
fall, the weight of
these emotions,
there's no way to
stop them all,
it's hard to keep
composure when
you feel that love
was stole, away so
very early and in
turn it steals your
soul.
I hope that where
you are you're very
happy; Pearly
Gates, I know God
had good reasoning
for taking you away,
and on the day we
meet again you'll
surely know it's me,
I love and miss you
Grandma, Ms.
Victoria McKie.
Folks think I'm a
nice guy, to a fault I
guess I am, if those
folks only knew
deep down I'm tellin
them to scram,
I'm tryin to keep my
language clean like
crispy Franklin
notes, I am The
Cunning Linguist
spittin nifty
antidotes,
that cross you up
the Hardaway and
leave ya ankles
broke, hot feces
exits out my mouth,
I got a stanky throat,
that exhales dragon
fire but believe this
aint a roast, there's
too much jumpin off
and I'm afraid it aint
a joke.
Like women
nowadays, I often
wonder if it's me,
that sees how
some are free to
divvy up the wizard
sleeve,
then they don't
know just how they
came to get the
HIVV disease, deny
and keep it sweet
to give it up to Pete
and Steve.
I get up on my
soapbox when I
have to drop a
jewel, the niceness
gets mistaken like I
still won't drop a
fool,
for comin outta
pocket, I aint talkin
poppin tools, I let
go of the knowledge
cause this dude
can drop it smooth.
I'm Harry Belafonte
but don't call me
Mr. Tibbs, this
poetry just flows in
me and what a gift
it is,
you may not think
my skill's correct
but I insist it is, I'm
so unlike the
others, verbis not
ipissimis.
Confused on what
that means? Well I
advise you look it
up, vernacular's like
stir-fry in a wok; I
cook it up,
and dish out
healthy servings, I
won't let your brain
cells starve, in
executing verbal
warfare, yes I am
well armed.
My aim will blow ya
head off like Bin
Laden, picture that,
the YouTube vids
and image will
confirm this vicious
fact,
don't need Marines
and choppers flying
into distant lands,
I'll do you like Waist
Deep but they won't
find the missing
hand.
My adjectives are
ravenous but that's
just certain ones,
my scarface
resonates of how I
kill these words for
fun,
to crush the
competition and I
do it big like Pun,
then ride off in a
Matrix, Cunning
Linguist, I'm The
One.