Long Unimportance Poems
Long Unimportance Poems. Below are the most popular long Unimportance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unimportance poems by poem length and keyword.
I still hear the loud noise
of your quiet footsteps,
marked across unpolished,
weathered wooden floors.
Childhood suppressed expectations,
starved for genuine praise,
dwarfed by the presence
of a silence never broken.
My inner struggles suffocate,
captivated by the hidden door
latched forever
by decaying, hardened paint.
Scars of turmoil refuse to yield,
mercilessly triggered by this prison,
locked by the one key
still held by you.
A stitched fabric of fortitude—
resembling a carved brand of honor—
is the silent hero I grasp for
in moments of aching defiance.
When the weight of unimportance,
and callous neglect,
rears its ugly head,
demanding more
than my essence can endure.
Still, here I am.
Not asking for forgiveness.
Not asking for explanations.
I am letting go,
just like you did.
Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that’s coming out is out.
To tonight’s town meeting I will go unaware and foolish.
It’s delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war was small.
Europe had one last a century.
Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species’ insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe’s birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his hoary head.
They say one must let go and will let go,
God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out a truelove knot.
While the ancient Romans wrote of love
The ancient Britons wrote of war.
The Romans should have been perfecting their republic.
No god could do that work for them.
The November moth's the fall cankerworm
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known inchworm.
In our war more children may have died than would have had
the tyrant lived in fear and awe.
We'll never know because we can't help being here.
I hug the words from my life
like kites hug the wind
and use their strength and power
to guide my direction
never to drift on the air of dreams
without being tethered to reality
by the long string of wisdom
held by the strong grip of her words
that echo still to this day
"the only thing you need to worry about is your next breath"
"do not waste a minute on the gossip of unimportance"
"never get pulled into the garbage of people,
you will create enough of it on your own"
I hug these lessons from my mother
whose heart was full of goodness
Looking back I wish I had hugged her more
5/31/20
Hug poetry contest
Bricka
I go to the china cabinet and look inside.
Stuff is waiting for me there.
Nothing of any serious value.
Things collected over a lifetime.
When I am gone, these items of importance,
will change… and be worth even less to others.
I will do the same, in many ways.
That is okay. I am small.
That is how it should be.
He has a place for me.
Not just any home mind you.
A perfect freedom… that has no end.
It is forever! Bought for, paid for, in blood.
How can I not see the importance of stuff today?
It is worth…nothing, but what we obtain from it.
Then it is just plastic, wood, stone, or? all the same.
In heaven there are no “items of unimportance”.
It is a uniquely special place, where all have “use”
and “needs” are met.
Some day…,
However, I will not concern my self today.
Instead, I will look at the items,
and know they are memories.
The blessing…
the pieces of my life, in sweet reminders,
of instances I wish I could repeat.
Thank you Lord.
They make me smile.
The rest…, the things that do not?
I can leave behind.
It is an unimportant matter.
Only You…
I will keep my eyes, on You.
She tries to raise her right, hoping to win the good fight
Praying that her daughter is safe and trying to feel right
Never seems considered with the unimportance of everything
If love were items, get a bigger table for what she brings
Her heart and mind are full but inside seeming to disagree
She never asks for anything more than days being pain free
Life was not ever given and she does not expect it will be
But everyone knows life is not meant to be lived in misery
One day she will get to the bottom of what is plaguing her
School and work are diversions in between times to recover
She is open-heartedly candid and singular in a lot of ways
Living her life under the sun looking for any sort of rays