Long Unsorted Poems
Long Unsorted Poems. Below are the most popular long Unsorted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unsorted poems by poem length and keyword.
The mishmash mayhem of jumbled clutter
at first seems to be confusion's cause.
But after tidying up, nothing can be found.
Nothing is where you left it lying, easy to find again.
Last in, first out is the principle of your piles and stacks
of assorted unsorted stuff you left lying all around you.
As you contemplate clearing up the mess to see your desk,
the gathered hodgepodge medley of mess
hums a melody, a ditty in warning:
"Messiness is the sign of creativity"
"If a cluttered desk begets a cluttered mind,
what does a cleared empty desk beget?"
Enough already! I want to be more creative!
It’s not a mess, it's inspired creativity on active duty!
You can't tell a conservationist by the colour of their skin,
You can't tell a conservationist by the hat they wear,
You can't tell a conservationist by what comes out of their mouth,
You can't tell a conservationist by their age,
And you certainly can't tell a conservationist by their sex,
The fact that they belong to a conservation group,
How much money they earn?
Or how much land they own.
No, you can't tell a conservationist by any of these things,
There are however a few things that can give them away,
Like the number of trees on any property they own,
Like the number of birds nesting in those trees,
Like the amount of plastic, they leave unsorted,
Like how much food they waste,
Like how many trips they make to the supermarket,
Like the toys they make for their children,
Like how much wood was used to make their home,
Like how much they go without or use what nature provides,
Like what they tell the pollsters is important to them,
Or how they find novel uses for things that others send to the tip.
Even then the ultimate test may well be how much they share around,
So, others can pollute less.
Somber is the color of the day
Prisms of lamplight reflected, on darkened window glass
A rainbow of color seeping through a pewter lamp of old
While quietly, I sit, and ponder, my pen in hand
Upon cold shoulders, an old sweater pulled close
As varied in color, as my thoughts so far away.
My mind is lost in wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind
And leaves are dead beneath the snowy mounds
A fire glows, the storm that keeps me bound
One shard of light from neighbor's home
Across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness as a room from winter sighs
While I write the words of heartfelt lullabies
The day is sadder than the words I've found
So somber is the day that keeps me bound
I steal away this moment as I dream
A cup of tea...a gloomy day
A peek beyond the window pane may bring the sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep,
Or a simple glimpse of one who sleeps..
A quiet chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but but deeply felt
Departure from the ordinary things..
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, look at my world
Or often, simply find a memory to unfold
I gather unsorted beginnings, middles and ends...
Taking new directions, exploring unknown places
Stumbling through my mind are puzzle pieces
Watching the words tumble into something unintended,
Unfolding, exploding and falling into orderly chaos
Yet , my feelings, cleansing, pleasing, soul releasing...
The end result perhaps not as beneficial to the reader
But a satisfying journey traveled
By myself..... and for myself, as one creating
On this somber colored day that keeps me bound...
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Here I sit surrounded by party people bizz, buzzing gleefully.
But I'm in the pits down in my zone, So I can only see me.
Thus, death to the chit chatty tones and slurred speech.
For their voices become catty echoes far from ears reach.
Got up to walk down beaming streets stepping hip to side
unable to speak.
Gulping squawk sounds, of steaming weeps ebbing, drip and slide
down unstable cheeks.
Can't hold back forsaking eye contact my prides' destroyed
as I try to avoid the grandstand of gaudy faces, gaudy
clothes; of hand to body collision. For lonely teardrops
cloud my vision.
~~{I wish it would rain, I wish it would rain,.....
I would sing it if I could sang}~~~
Head butting and unsorted collides. Zombie strutting in
morbid strides. In search of a safe haven. A wide
divide's what I'm craven, of needed segregation to hide
in heeded dissociation.
Joyful laughter, gleeful merriment and happiness all
about. While my lungs fill with hot winds pressed
against my chest in demand to be let out.
The voice of silence, the quiet stillness of the night.
The pains of yearning for thee with all my might.
Curse the agony of my plight.
~~~{Can I please, can I please put my mind at ease}~~~
Where art thou, Oh shelter... Ye place of refuge? Do
not leave my spirit to wilt and welter. Grant my soul
your peace and grace. Nae of down pouring tears deluge.
In my sorrowful demotion to bear the toil of these
boisterous turmoil secures the coiled and shrouded
aloofness of my crowded loneliness.
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Supreme balance is a hand toss.
Today it is I who bear the cross.
It's sad to say but we're pathetic today; cuz we're
childishly crying at the crib
We're screaming, and shouting and drooling at the mouth.
I swear we all need bibs.
Tear stained faces contorted and grimly unsorted; that
mindfully should be hid.
Aren't shunned in rooms to rid, but in plain sight and
"unrightfully" out in the mid
Where ration should be; with raw emotions stand we __
boldly in its stead.
To act with restraint would've actually been noble, but
a tantrum is what we did.
"But Takers are forsakers, and giving to those fakers
can be more than givers can take"!
We are not amusement for you to play with___ but of those
you should not toy or kid.
Good riddance to you and an unhappy farewell is the one
true thing we could bid.
Hit the door; for you're neither friend nor foe, but
merely unfinished poorly formed dough.
We had good notion to be in high motion; and completely
out of rears.
What happened today was uncalled for, and the absurdity
of all my years.
I never thought that something of this sort could bring
on such bouts of tears.
Yet gracious enough it's limit draws near, as warm
thoughts do appear.
Out from the wonderful voice of cheer; and all its
other peers.
To beckon us__ bring on those smiles and lift those tight
wrinkled chins.
As this day closes and comes to an end, we can't let
gloom and sorrows win.
But be inclined to bide our time with better things
__in mind.
So Let us calm our nerves and think of all thats'
preserved __as the crackers and red wine is served.
Alas! we settled us down and had a second go round
til we uttered not a sound.
What gotten into us; must have gone stir crazy,
or completely out of our heads.
To be hooping, hollering, and galloping like horses
up here; crying at the crib.
Be there the bight of a November drain
turned off tattered ruffles blotted feign
a ledged I removed and tender earlobes
waif yonder spectral possession probes
cracked nut overture eighteenth twelve
emptied shells retiring indicative delve
drain feign earlobes probes twelve delve
the hour,
Penchant dragged scrape innard depth
souring blindly binds ruse lids breadth
spar sun astir, causation its wandering
scar bites of frost attend a clouded ring
constant errs my inner chambers abide
pivotal piques tricked darkening inside
depth breadth spar scar abide inside
the hour,
A vast plague of vulture flights accrues
a lowly sill contempt its stay construes
awake dreamt feverishly reposed body
quake aloof save I some valued nobody
unsorted escort disembodied but feats
wonder maroon beheld tethering beats
accrues construes awake quake feats beats
the hour,
Therefore I'd wallowed jousting to free
of peals of laughter trifle trailing spree
feeble villagers thoughtless each share
of riddled backside amidst tabled stare
and counters gossip whispers consume
be their claim graphic God they assume
free spree share stare consume assume
the hour,
Remains of a last supper disrobed hang
amidst bunker migrating seasons pang
yond trained reflect stories trail facials
a negging crowded calls milds a rituals
saved I a memoir cloistered singularity
paved upon silken weaves a familiarity
hang pang facials rituals saved paved
the hour,
Bewitched canons riddled yon the altar
stacking of hymnals liberates Gibraltar
of liquefied gift cascading gratification
love stain pigments of my imagination
hues meld a silencing orchestrate suite
enhance the loyal thunder ne'er retreat
altar Gibraltar of love suite retreat
the hour.