Long Up a wall Poems
Long Up a wall Poems. Below are the most popular long Up a wall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Up a wall poems by poem length and keyword.
a pen to a page with stories to tell
if words could paint a picture what object would that picture sell
a scribble a scratch a cross a stright line
a story a word written in rhymes
a search a solution a problem of kinds
never in the grasp of hands to find
if pages were re-written turning back time
would it cause the flow to cease in the mind
or would it constrict and tighten the bind
if the path to resistance would break down design
could you look at the path before you, to see the sign
or would you turn away and leave it behind
pretending you did'nt see because youre blind
it walks through the shadows of the cracks at your feet
escaping the sunlight sprawled out on the street
it claims sweet victory then asks for defeat
devouring the fruits then pursuiing the meat
enveloped in coldness exuding heat
while the world must stand forcing you to take a seat
man makes history and history makes a man
when the soul reaches out for the body to stand
to live each breath as if it were your last
looking to the future but taking note of the past
when thoughts seem to stop you must make them resume
before the present turns to the past to consume
thoughts are important but not a place to dwell
to build up a wall to surround you in hell
building an ego that soars past towers
giving others the key to use your powers
to build restraint placed upon your soul
for you to understand its yours to control
Breathe you in to me.
Words belong to us all; my feelings are yours to take.
I no longer have the strength to put up a wall,
So you are free to ruin me in your own special way.
Put me down with the whispers; I am embarrassed to take the applause.
I accept no apologies from people who close doors.
Embrace me or lose me; who am I to say?
I will still be stood here singing in the rain, at the end of days.
This soul is mine; this day is yours to make an agonizing choice.
Do you dare to love? Will you risk the fall?
All I need to hear is the truth which you hide beneath your voice.
If I am your decision, then let us be each other’s joy.
Love is androgynous; you are stupendous!
So close to stupidity; so far from being willing to destroy.
You have left a mark upon my mind that I will never forget.
Beautifully scarred, you have left your egg inside my fragile nest
And with every wasted breath that I must breathe in without you near,
I contemplate the waste; I dream about death.
I feel my spiritual entity disappear.
But then we reappear, after what seems like years,
To the sounds of our hearts cheers, as we remember the love we have
And the bond we will always share.
I hope you can see that I still care.
Time is too short in your presence, but every second is a gift.
As you turn away, I await your return;
Though inside I know that your love will never truly leave.
I feel such happiness whenever I am an integral piece of your kiss;
I can never get enough of your love,
Because only in your arms can I truly be at peace.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
I've got a tropical obsession
I think I'm losing my mind
I want to see my work day done
Go out and have some fun
And leave the city life behind.
I love the roar of the ocean
The smell of tanning lotion
A secluded beach somewhere
There are coconuts in the trees
With a warm and gentle breeze
And a flower in your hair.
I've got a tropical obsession
It's driving me up a wall
I want the palm trees and the shore
Blue skies and so much more
Oh God! I want it all
There's an island in the sea
I can hear it calling me
Saying come on home today
I'll bring my old beach chair
Plant it in the sand somewhere
And that's where I'm going to stay
I've got a tropical obsession
And I just can't set it free
On an island remote
In a little fishing boat
Is where I want to be.
Land sakes alive what you been into child.
The sun is hot but the wind is mild.
My nose itches,
Someone’s coming with a hole in their britches.
Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.
A hooting and hollering like an injun’s raid.
I’m fair ta middlin’can’t complain too much.
Barely getting along. Maybe just a touch.
Cooped up like chickens. Driving me up a wall.
Just living hand to mouth. Ain’t he got some gall.
How y’all fairin’ my tail is a dragging.
It’s hotter’n Hades my tongue is a wagging.
Ain’t that just the way. Well bless your heart.
Your pea picking soul. Worse than a popcorn fart.
Let the chips fall. Where there’s a will there’s a way.
Keep your chin up. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Like a dog in heat always sniffing around.
Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.
Looking all fat and sassy with a turd eating smile.
Keep on crying, I’ll give you something to cry about.
Close your barn door before the horse gets out.
Uncle Sam is sure enough bleeding us dry.
Because I said so…that’s why!
Dear Stranger, it's odd to call you that but to be fair that is what you are.
I only have three years of memory of you. The rest are just stories I've heard through the years.
That's all you are now, old stories told that are retold like folk tales of some kind. I have one story about you.
Which I keep in my mind a lot of the time. I'm not going to tell you all you have missed out on. I'm not going to tell you because it's not fair at all.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gotten sick like you did. Would we all still be a family stranger? I have a feeling that we wouldn't be after all the stuff like the fighting. I remember the biggest fight you and mom had on Well's Luke Road.
If you could see what your family has become, I am betting you would have some words for them all. You probably know that you have two grandkids which both drive mom and my sister up a wall. I pretty much tune them out to a point. You probably know that mom has had two other men in her life since you. They treated her right.
I hope you don't mind but I used what I could remember of you for a character of you Stranger. I even made him a Crimson Tide fan. I'm sure you would like that a lot and probably even made you smile just then. Your mother once told me she thinks my writing talent was a way of you saying goodbye to me. If so then thank you. If not, then maybe she was just being nice.
Now I've caught you up on stuff just clips of it. Stranger when I decided to write this to you, I didn't know what to say. I guess you will forever be just stories to me. Maybe like the scar on my hand, those stories will fade.
Until we get to officially meet stranger, I will just keep looking at that photo taken so many life times ago.
By,
the little girl you used to know
Winners do not quit; and quitters do not win.
I once read a story of a middle ages warrior
who was being held prisoner. While in prison,
he observed an ant seeking to carry a grain
of corn up a wall. The warrior counted 69
continuous times that the ant failed in his attempt,
but on the 70th attempt to scale the wall with
the corn, he succeed. THE ANT NEVER QUIT.
When an 8th grader, I was on the basketball
team at my school. As a member of the team,
I learned valuable life lessons about winning
and losing. We lost most of our games that year,
but WE NEVER QUIT. 50 plus years later, I very vividly
remember two games, one of which we lost and the
other one that we won.
Winners may change direction or shift their gears, but
THEY DO NOT QUIT. I remember 5 numbers. 52 to 12
was the score of the game we lost.; but WE NEVER QUIT.
4 represents the points I scored in the game we won.
4 might sound like mediocre points, but I NEVER QUIT.
051221PSCtest, Quitters Never Win, Margarita Lillico
She ponders how this anxiety will manifest
As she watches him ignore her every request
She feels unseen and unheard by his deflection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
He needs more time to process this feeling
The message she sent leaves him reeling
He’s overwhelmed by her incessant reflection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
She opens her reels and there she sees
He gives out adoration to others with ease
This hurts her core wound of rejection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
He won’t give her his time or intent
His independence is sacred to the highest extent
He’s a stubborn bachelor who refuses inflection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
She’s open and honest and has strong emotion
Her desires and fantasies perceived such a notion
That relations with him could be perfection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
His vulnerability shrinks into tiny vague pieces
As his unruly fear of closeness with her increases
He puts up a wall of resistance for protection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
She’s aware of his changes and patterns
So she earnestly studies his actions and learns
She sees him clearly through his disconnection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
He’s mastered the art of compartmentalization
This he learned as a child of emotional desertion
Leaving a core wound of shame, lacking affection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
She’s hot for him and seeks his attention
But her moves are met by his calm apprehension
When he touches her curves, there is no objection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
He’s terrified to advance the romance
He’s better suited to practice avoidance
She’s too real and he feels the connection
Triggers are thrown in every direction
Dear Heart,
I’d like to file a formal complaint
It seems that your an obsessive overachiever
That you take your job a little to seriously
Dear Heart,
Please stop breaking yourself into a million little pieces-
Because you fall in love with ideas and hypotheticals
Because you color people before they can show you their true aura
Dear Heart,
Why
Why do you find every crumbling transparent excuse for the world
But somehow you make yourself bleed
Why can’t you put up a wall against the hailing obscenities
Why can’t you knock down that wall for a genuine whisper
Dear Heart,
You were supposed to be a road map to happiness
But it seems I’m lost somewhere between I love you and I miss you
You are supposed to find contentment in success and lessons in failures
But you grasp for the next and the regret
Dear Heart,
I know your tired and broken
But Brain is telling me to tell you to stop crying
Dear Heart,
I’m sorry I yelled at you
I’m sorry I thought a bandaid was enough to fix you
Dear Heart,
I know your Shattered-
But I promise I won’t lose the pieces
We are all aware of the season
Politicians give us good reason
To be happy we still have choices
And bark in our hunting dog voices
This year is like the rest
All from different nests
Somewhat similar attacks
Groupie pundits pushin' the pack
Donning my helpful glasses
Suddenly nothing but asses
In their eyes they see perfection
"I'm stoked about this election!"
"The Donald,"what can you say
A billionaire's ass on display
He eats with a golden spoon
While immigrants clean his room
"Let's put up a wall"
Charge admittance to my shopping mall
Take a part of the gate
And be richer when I skate
On the trail of old Ted Cruz
A poet's first thought is lose
But things from Texas grow bigger
Including the size of their chiggers
I digress, I'll drop the sarcasm
Before my bowels have a spasm
Ol poemdog says this trails cold
He's under 30% in the polls
A synonym of donkey is ass
Below Hillary's I see brass
Most likely a federal criminal
Wearing pant suits is so seminal
But ol Bill is her advisor
Which makes her none the wiser
Ol poemdog just won't tell
Exactly what he smells
Now ol Bernie he smells fresh
But honestly he won't mesh
If I follow the trail of this scent
I can live off of the government
If I wanted to live socialistic
I'd give the realm another statistic
I guess fresh would be the right word
Ol Bernie smells like a turd
Well Ol poemdog loves a chase
And I'm at the tail of this race
The smells affecting my vision
Another crappy decision
an original poem by the "Poemdog"
Against the side fence,
four long planks of wood
ascended like steps supported
on pillars of old red bricks
serving as a stand
for my Grandmother's collection
of potted plants.
Cuttings from exotic species gifted
by friends, passed down family heirlooms
harboring memories of past lives,
feathery ferns and plump bellied cacti
battled South Australian
frosty winters and the baking heat
of a summer sun.
All throughout my childhood
they were sustained by love,
flowering on the cue of seasons
and erupting into green
in a yearly miracle of renewal.
I had this odd notion
that each plant found root and drew
from a medium beyond mere soil,
that a strange symbiosis existed
between plant and a human soul.
Not one succumbed to heat
or cold or fell victim to disease.
They grew as a constant, helping
to hold up a wall that gave
a safe and solid perimeter
to our lives.
When my Grandmother died,
they died too - at first
escaping notice in the shadow
of her passing. It was later
when bare spaces drew attention
to their absence and added
to the list of what was missed.
Time heals grief but memory
excavates the loss.