Long Tough love Poems
Long Tough love Poems. Below are the most popular long Tough love by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tough love poems by poem length and keyword.
With a pending pen, a pensive poet ponders
As he wonders when and where to wedge the next rhyme
To split the rhythm hidden from passerby eyes
Only heard then, by those willing to wander
Daydreaming bare day, with just a hint for misty skies
A hint is but a hint to the tint of a poets eyes
So many wonder why his eyes open amidst his slumbers
When the seemingly soothing rain gently knocks lullabies
Call his name once, you'd think he turned a blind eye
Call his name twice. Do forgive his ventured mind
Bear in mind, like most, he bares the best of tough love
That Mother Nature gives along with swift Father Time
Bare in mind, his mind will write his every struggle
So give him time, peace of mind, a piece of yours shall come
By the boldest boast of thunder post the tundra coast
With his oldest, mostly tattered, tightly tethered poems
Roams the pensive poet - tired - holding on Dear Hope
Such is where the pensive poet's mind would wander most
Donald was born in a tough family
It was beyond tough love, it was violent
He learned to put up his dukes before he was two
always getting struck down hard by a brother
He had six of them and they were scrappers
His parents did not interfere, it was their family’s normal
when he got to school he trusted no one
came in fighting and scrapping
his teacher was seasoned
she was used to the McCormick boys
she had been teaching them for over thirty years
they trusted no one
It would take Donald a long time to trust her too
She knew this, but trusted that it would eventually happen
It always happened about May
Sadly, the last month of kindergarten
Next year he would be in another teacher’s class
trusting no one
a new rough start
he was a McCormick boy
it was his way of life….
He’s driven forty miles of tough love,
Tempted Dead Man’s curve,
Met old Nick at the crossroads,
Felt the black tar burn.
He took two wrongs, made a right,
Circled left on the radio dial,
Ran the table by the wayside
And got lucky for a while.
He bought a peanut shell and jellyfish sandwich
From a deli called In Cod We Trust,
And a yummy gumshoe cobbler
With a crispy asphalt crust.
He poured rock candy flaming brandy
On a French vanilla traffic cone,
Passed the exit ramp for The Next Big Thing
And had lunch at the rest stop alone.
He’s loaded bucket after bucket full of castle sand
And climbed that desolate hill
To only dump them out of his attention span
And have even more buckets to fill.
Did you hear about the rose
that bloomed in Harlem-
through concrete cracks, through chaos,
through prayers gone thin in steam?
A winter rose
shouldn’t bloom in this blaze-
but you, baby girl, unfold anyway.
Concrete beneath you,
sirens above,
a million ghosts whispering tough love.
You glide past bodegas and busted swings,
past aunties hollering from painted stoops,
past brothers pacing—palms tight with truth.
I watch your curls bounce down One-One-Four,
your laugh a lavender miracle,
soft, sure,
still surviving-
thriving-
in a garden that forgets to welcome
delicate things.
Still, I worry-
that the city might carve its name
into your softness
before you know
you are sacred.
That the sidewalk might swallow you
before you burst.
But Wynter,
you are no damsel,
no flower waiting for rescue.
You are named for frost,
raised in fire,
rooted in rhythms older than this street.
You rise with sunlight,
spin storms into dance,
and grow wild-
like you’ve always known
you could.
I smoked a cigarette today and couldn't understand why.
It was a bad habit indulged long forgotten of mine
and then it suddenly struck me. I realized why.
I guess I simply want to die,
but cigarette smoking is a very slow and painful process of suicide.
So I made a decision. I'm going to ride out life's ride
with all of its twists and turns and the occasional surprise
guaranteed to strike me unexpectedly right between the eyes.
If I have to I will continue to swim against life's tide
because realistically eventually we're all going to die.
What's the big rush? Why even consider suicide?
When I'm at that lowest depressed state that one can possibly be,
here's something I do regularly that seems to help me.
I look at myself in the mirror and say out loud to me,
"Buck up and be a man you oversensitive big baby!"
That's me giving tough love to me.
Being in the mind of a savage.
All I know is how to act ferociously.
Manipulating the minds of the weak, fearful, and the victims.
Beating them into submissive.
Emasculating the strongest, just to see him break.
Dismiss him of his role, and never to see his family again.
Being in the mind of a savage.
I destroy, divide, and conquer.
tearing families apart.
Over yonder, as they scream,
begging to be saved
but nobody hears them.
Breaking the spirits of the koons, mannu, aunty, sambo,
and the uncle toms, as they all have a common factor.
They're all nostalgia.
The animal within me is untamed, uncontrollable, and inhumane.
I'm superior by nature, at least what I see.
Being in the mind of a savage.
What you call crimes are white privileges to me,
justification, rationalisation, & beliefs
set me free each time.
All I know is to kill, steal, destroy, & reverse the cycle of genetics.
I changed their culture,
to fear, tough love, attitude, punishment, violence & a career.
Sabotage the mind, break em' down, then bob the builder em'.
When you stop em' for believing in themselves,
oppression appears.
Being in the mind of a savage.
Other savages, keep em' isolated, uneducated, impoverished and oppressed. There's a few who escapes but we own them too.
We love to be entertained, as we mock, advertise, and stereotype em'. Less sensation and lacking sensitiveness
in the terminal fibers, keeps me acting viciously.
Unintelligent, laziness, frightfulness, ignorance, backwardness, violent, inarticulate, sexual frustrated, hunger, inattentive, unable to control themselves, & in care of, are all the signs of a n****.
Created a cultural matrix of positive
and negative feelings for me,
and each time, I justify my actions by logical reasoning with em'.
Ohhh, forgiving are they. Just to do it once more, and that once more became many more.
Being in the mind of a savage.
If any shall become bold, intimidating or become a threat, we shall lynch you.
Propaganda, genocide, & economics are all profits for the savages.
Paternalism plays a major role as
terrorizing and restrain are easily justified.
Keep em' from achieving social equality
as they become more bumptious on the streets.
Being in the mind of a savage.
clutching at straws
struggling without cause
falling further behind
your actions you malign
slipping into despair
considering your life unfair
borne of self-destruction
feeding your own seduction
whirling into frustration
feeling deep desperation
no extended hand
sinking in quicksand
well, so what my dear friend
believe it or not, this is not the end
suck it up, buttercup
this is the part where you get up
you didn’t die; you weren’t maimed
no one but you is to blame
fight for your dignity, your self-esteem
join the humankind mainstream.
Men and puppies are the same
Training them is just a game
Of a lot of patience and
A gentle firm living hand
Teaching them what's right and wrong
But training can be very long
If they're stubborn and wont do
What you are telling them to
Smacking puppies on the nose
With a rolled up paper shows
Something wrong they are doing
On a rug peeing and pooing
Is not where it needs to be
It's more fun on a big tree
It's the same thing with your guy
No matter how much they try
To aim inside and not out
When they pee its like a spout
Making a mess everywhere
They're punishment can be severe
Puppies like to destroy things
Enjoyment it always brings
When they find a brand new shoe
On it they will chew and chew
So you say bad dog--they cower
Knowing you have all the power
When a man makes a big mess
Your patience is put to the test
Making them clean up they will
Be in the doghouse up until
They learn to be a lot neater
Making your life so much sweeter
Puppies like to run and jump
On top of you--sometimes they hump
Your leg and those of your friends
Push them off, it has to end
Like when a guy is all excited
His fire is soon ignited
And just attacks from behind
It is not polite or kind
So you push away your lovin'
Till they learn not be be jumpin'
It might take a ling long while
To reverse this wild style
That both men and puppies share
But with just a little care
You can turn them both around
With some tricks that you have found
Treating them when they're behaving
With some yummies they are craving
Or getting a little rough
When they're bad--showing tough love
Never knowing how they'll be
Full of fun or misery
Just take it simple and slow
And improvement will soon show
Schlerotic schlemiel schleps...
Into lonely senescence -
three plus decades already elapsed
trepidation, hesitation unbearably
tugging, shouldering,
remonstrating accumulation
of "baggage" thumb
of right hand thrust out
silently raving, quaking
cursing ultimatum parents
(soffit to fascia in)
saw fit to fashion
and hammer home
red hot poker rage
their singular male offspring
middle child of two sisters,
who long since vacated premises
when both young naifs
prior to attaining age of consent
deploring bing holed up
at 324 Level Road redoubt
built as summer house
remote from fracas of urban bedlam
still fifty years since Leipers
bon voyage into netherland
father and mother
imposed swiftly tailored
harried styled tough love
translated meant absolute zero value
toward offspring they begot,
and made quite clear loathing
heaped upon sundered fountainhead
good for nothing son of a...,
he whittled away precious time
reading avast among trove of material
crowdsourcing numerous bookshelves
mostly to impress intellectual visitors,
when in truth middle aged couple
thinly veiled country bumpkins,
donned with "FAKE" literacy
stereotypical "rednecks,"
inexplicably begot wunderkind
agog with inhaling literature
in tandem with liberal
magazines and newspapers
oft times whiled away countless hours
sunup to sundown
sequestered most remote nook
within local library
few miles walk along country road
served as self taught schooling
since parochial educated regimen
habitually rapped knuckles
courtesy whiplike hickory stick
if pupil evinced slightest
distraction, whence schoolmaster
detected lack of attention
as crotchety curmudgeon
blankly droned monotonously
dull jabbering subjected
stone faced classmates
into instant soporific state
futilely struggling to keep eyelids
slamming shut tight
including yours truly,
who when suddenly awake
realized quite a vivid dream!
We are all still responsible for how we choose to act.
It comes down to the individual, this my friends, is a fact.
None of us are to blame for the actions of others.
It’s time to step up and quit blaming one another.
The answers that we seek are in each and every heart.
It’s time we show some love and start doing our part.
Our youth in the streets need guidance and some tough love.
They are still our children we must pray for guidance from above.
We cannot erase our past, we must move forward and not look back.
This violence needs to stop, God sees every single attack.
Every part of history, each tear and every scar.
Has brought us to this point and makes us who we are.
We all have seen the hate it’s now shown to us here every day.
Facebook, Twitter and the news will spin it a different way.
Common sense and patience are tools we all must use.
Always count to ten before responding to more fake news.