Long Trait Poems
Long Trait Poems. Below are the most popular long Trait by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trait poems by poem length and keyword.
Humanity is comprised of people of varying skin shades,
white, black, red, brown, olive, and yellow, to name a few.
And amongst every skin color, there are intelligent, stupid,
honest, deceitful, friendly, hateful, hopeful, and depressed people.
And yet, they all share one thing: they are human!
Strangely, we can't relate to one another, though we're all related.
Thus, we form tribes, not families,
but an exclusive circle of like-minded people!
Tribalism is a primal force, segregating people into groups,
like our people, their people, and those other people!
What is a country? It's merely a group of similarly-minded people;
who arm themselves and claim a piece of the Earth as theirs,
erecting invisible borders to keep others away.
People will always distrust people, because people can't be trusted!
Influential, powerful, wealthy, and shadowy people
call the shots; for they're unequivocally corrupt people!
People get ostracized for being different,
poor, lazy, discontented, and homeless:
the kind of people society considers disposable.
These distinctions include the old, young, frightened,
challenged, hungry, and oppressed people.
Political, deranged, delusional, religious, and unscrupulous people
all share one trait: they're loyal only to the tribe they identify with.
These conflicting tribes huddled behind their barbed-wire walls
will one day kill all the people, and thus, there will be no more people!
As a regular unleaded gaseous,
(i.e. papa's seminal afterthought)
begat male genetically wrought,
I valued myself as naught
with abilities pegged
at being average,
yours truly sought
to camouflage himself
ducked as if a scared mandrake,
and/or, who oft times
didst cower, and shrink wrought
mine puny body
into an homunculus, methought
to imagine myself
as an invisible boy, when cornered
and nearly caught
as dead meat, (especially
when threatened by bullies,
brandishing their taut
fists, this then wimpy
kid never fought
peers that seemed big
as a dreadnaught),
essentially, I wished tubby
totally tubular nonexistent,
and as a poor substitute wrought
natural inclination took root
re: blend with background,
sans wallflower, nee weekly fought
the irresistible urge
to begone, what meth
hood would make
Matthew Scott Harris
permanently vamoose, hmm...
how to stop breath,
thus hit on what seemed
timely novel idea,
without asking Seth
Thomas, viz lit up, asper
starving body to death
hence final solution,
would put to rest,
and terminate subsequent cruel
shocking one after another
electric kool aid acid test
solely predicated on feeling
insignificant at best
basically a sense of resignation
lacking any outstanding trait, lest
you count picking nose,
where underneath desk collected nest
of buggars, thru deep digging,
but never finding gold,
via nasal passage quest,
hence reiterating existential theme,
aye felt no good
even as a nobody,
but more akin
to an unwanted guest
secretly embarking on a
deadly mission fed in part
by lacking athletic skills,
particularly addressed
when sporting rough
necked bruisers oppressed
to destroy any vestige
of self worth, this former
pint size lad,
who lastly mentioned hapt tubby,
the but of every jest.
Clinking, clinking
I heard the clinking in
repetition
what could
cause
whatever object this is to
make this clinking sound.
Clink!
The loudest sound
yet.
peaking my interest
one's honest admission
dredged from it's
translucence
clear in obvious
objective
gaining my attention
I relaxed towards
it's conclusion
blanketing myself
to warm my now
needing desire
Commercial Trait
"the new Boattailed Designed"
Excelesor
------------------
by Eccentric Motors
Excalesor Sports Luxury and
Styling Personified!
Buy Now! You Know!
Voted Car of The Year by
Bezel and Binnacle Magazine
and Select Best Overall
by Carrosserie and Standards
Power Pro Club and Trophy
Naming this Vehicle best
overall according to the standards
of Performance and safety
The best Value award is said to
be the best endorsement in The Industry
The Inspiring Designer Magazine
Named it
"it's Vehicle of the Year
Awarded The Design Team
The Crystal Palace Trophy
Some people frankly write about their quirks.
If I had any, I would tell you so.
Though no outlandish trait within me lurks,
some folks think I’m a nut. What do they know?
Why do they criticize when I engage
in conversations with myself. What’s wrong
with them? Also, they frequently enrage
me, looking shocked when I burst into song
while jogging through the neighborhood at night
clad in my red muu-muu and army boots.
I overhear them saying, “What a sight!”
I live around mean-spirited old coots!
My grandkids, too, think my behavior strange.
because I check the stove repeatedly
(I must be SURE it’s off!) and rearrange
my papers fifteen times. They’re irked at me
when I repeat myself five times a day.
I do this for THEIR benefit! They just
do not appreciate wise things I say.
One learns by repetition; it’s a MUST.
I surely hope I’ve made this crystal clear:
I have no oddball quirks; I’m truly blessed
with wholesome traits that, I feel, should endear
me to all those who criticize and jest!
FICTIONAL (well--some of it))
Date written and posted: February 6, 2018
Contest Title: Quirks Placed 5th (of ten)
Sponsor: Madison Demetros
April 10, 2019, entered in Richard Lamoureau's Poem of the Day Contest
When I received this honor--POTD February 8, 2018--I was over the MOON!
Some say when one is dreaming, they are in a dreamlike setting. Many of our crazy dreams seem unreal, sometimes they even seem hazy and real. How about that blue dinosaur dream of mine, is he my new imaginary friend or just a sign. Does his blue skin enhance his shadowy tales, how about his orange pointy scales. In my trancelike state, my big blue dinosaur has a very ethereal trait. He is so loveable and surreal to me, in my dreams my very best friend he will always be.
Date Written:5/24/2021 Rhyme Zone Writing Prompt - Dreamlike - Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
fatty deposit usurped
my washboard physique
I can no longer lay claim
as pencil necked geek
mute tinny utterances futile
to write and/or speak
as recourse to cope with
displeasing body morphology
tis good n plenti humor I seek
to offset feeling morose, and
regular exercise regime to tweak
objectionable physiognomy,
would offend classic Greek
aesthetically lean body mass index
even lions, tigers, or bears,
would consider yours truly a freak
actually never in mein kampf,
as lovely bones creak
acceptance of physical,
(nor mental) self e'en as pipsqueak
wrought intimations just short
re: abominable mortal kombat total hate
me snow kidding man plus
loathing mine anatomical trait
invariably pitched mental
health in dire strait
I haint shy stating greater part
of life (mine) where fate
found me beset with feeling morose
inner dialogue tête-à-tête
attributed to more'n
one countless reason
sunk teeth into anorexia
as pit iff full adolescent date
even now chief among
reasons with rhyme, aye lowly rate
being adipose fatty deposit usurped
washboard physique long ancient history
no surprise competency not great
passive withdrawn demeanor set precedent
concomitantly plagued with
submucous cleft palate being risk averse,
in tandem being diminutive height meant
easy scapegoat target leant
convenience and regularly meant
chased, mocked, taunted...
by bullies helped rent
psyche asunder during impressionable years
nonetheless acutely cogent
whatever that might be worth, this gent
laments good n plenti
centsless opportunities got misspent
finding empowerment thru writing only recent
endeavor to cope with
empty nest syndrome event.
I had a friend who was full of snideness
said I nicked his bike but I was in Cyprus
told people for years with total slyness
bitterness is always a trait with surprises
What’s more is he made up this story,
tells it causing an air which deplores me,
also tells all I make up stories
and they treat me bad or ignore me,
savage stains on my reputation
and no one knows I was out of the nation,
I did nothing on this occasion
still they don’t get my frustration
If I confront why should I feel bad
he did something he shouldn’t have
that’s the reason I now shout out mad
because he did something he shouldn’t have
Dom says I stole his bike but he’s talking grit
I wonder what else he says like a git,
I could have found him give him a hit
but I’d rather tell you I didn’t do it
I imagine if we listed the most beautiful sound in the world…
Lup-dup would be at the top of the chart…
Lup-dup is the sound of the rhythm of the constant beating of our heart.
Lup-dup, Lup-dup, Lup-dup is the most basic trait we all have in common…
for every human who has ever lived…will live…every human whom we meet
was, is and will be created with that same rhythm…that same beat.
It’s the one feature our creators wanted us to understand we have in common…
despite our different backgrounds…different names.
The one unbroken link that ties us all together… how our rhythms are the same.
They endowed us with this basic rhythm…this beautiful synchronicity…
allowing us to create our own music…to write our own melodies.
Melodies that will harmonize with the other melodies we meet..
as long as we remember we all share the same rhythm…the same beat.
And when our melodies come together…like they do with friends and family…
Created every time…is an original movement in an ongoing symphony.
It is a beautifully gracefully elegant symphony…which friends and family understand…
Imagine what that symphony would sound like…
if we allowed our melodies to blend with all people across all lands?
I imagine once the melodies of the world are blended…
the music would forever sound mellow…smooth…heavenly and sweet…
as long as we remember…
we all begin with the same beat.
Tensing, and about to move,
Clouds hover twisting with hoof,
Lingo parapentes this flush body:
Hurling shavings’ stop the prove.
A whale, psycho or streetlight:
Moss convenes the hefty truss,
Armoured spears fling to the bat,
Frozen in time to lure the buzz.
Naked! Bereft of pen and paper -
Paparazzi’s might slithers in dipole:
Collision kills this vapour, tribe, vibe;
The soul fraps, flapping a gold taper.
Whence is thy labour parapet -
Where are your stations and grain?
Why are solid requests paraphernalia?
When adjustments are fisture gain.
How you loath me - the self, soul:
Incanting verse and troth to fight;
Whilst proxy, spread, call, sound,
Legitimise oozing, sore canons - tight.
Butterflies come from caterpillars,
The human comes from trait, said dead,
Poesy loves grammatical technology,
And diversity clothes in personal thread.
O self, worldwide! How do you drift?
The miniature scoops cleaving the spirit:
Fine detail creates the abstract flint beside,
And structure charts float the pixel’s sift.
Dominique Webb
UNCANNY
A poem arises firmly from my thoughts.
I can see it reflected in my adversary's mind as well.
Mine is undeniably poetic, but theirs had an unsettling quality,
Mindful individuals with unusual liabilities!
Those two or three long lines on the forehead are simply lines of expression. (not)
I do remember their names: Errol, Wayne, and Manny
Those suiters were born deceivers implementing a series of strange plots.
It took women like me years to correct their mistakes.
Where are they now, lost men without the love of a woman?
I had made it my mission to look into their eyes.
The lines on their foreheads have aged with their bodies.
An embrace or a touch from them disgusts me.
They can see the hate as I slowly reject their touch.
I have rewritten those names through the years.
As Errol transformed into Mr. Uncanny,
Wayne became the manipulator,
while Manny took on the role of Pied Piper.
Today, I observed a slight trait with Gen Z.
They seem overly enthusiastic about catering to the desires of their suitors.
Leaving so many of them with suicidal thoughts,
Words to the youth of today,
Protect your emotions carefully.
Getting a real love reaction is tricky.
The offspring of those vipers carry their father's DNA.