Long Up to par Poems
Long Up to par Poems. Below are the most popular long Up to par by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Up to par poems by poem length and keyword.
One may say that a day filled with magic,
Might stir up something described as taboo,
And if that be the case, then we must lose,
The subject matter, ergo, must change soon,
So that we may progress and show redress,
That starts off a plain good sort of a shift.
We can start anew with all the redress,
And anticipate that will happen soon,
So that we have no more talk of taboo,
Nor of the folly of what we may lose,
Though we be at fault, show of contrition,
May suffice, and we come out like magic.
Yet, in the long run, I fear things may shift,
And we may be hanging on a thread soon,
We must make every effort not to lose,
And restore our composure like magic,
So I restate, a show of contrition,
Is paramount, and a show of redress.
We will have no more talk about taboo,
Nor we have no more talk that we may lose,
We will fight with optimistic magic,
So that we can all change back just as soon,
With a full on spirit of contrition,
And all go back towards a normal shift.
So now we must be up to par real soon,
We must remain collective and not lose,
Lest we fail and haunts us like a taboo,
And then we start to lose all that magic,
Then we have no more talk of this and shift,
Positively, a show of contrition.
Before I conclude, talk of contrition,
Remains a priority, and a shift,
In a positive direction and soon,
Will lay to rest the spirits of taboo,
And bring about an air full of magic,
Then restore our confidence not to lose.
Contrition soon bring about the magic,
and for us not to lose sight of our shift,
towards a redress with the taboo gone.
Date: 06/06/2019
**Syllable Counter checked
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10-10-10.
Everything is nothing.
…
That’s a stupid way to begin a poem.
What does that even mean?
Everything is actually a whole lot.
My academics are not up to par.
My talking stage is a disaster.
My friendships are under maintained.
And my self worth has never been worse.
Is that everything?
No.
Yes.
Maybe
This feels wrong.
Writing this I mean.
There's no flowery metaphors.
Or complex language you have to google.
I’m watching this alabaster monolith succumb to attrition.
My agastopia has atrophied into revulsion.
I hew and hew and hew ad infinitum.
Until the simulacrum in the glass of car doors is unrecognizable.
Does this fit your standards?
No.
Yes.
Maybe
Helpful.
Tell me what you want.
And it’s yours.
To be captured, defined, and accepted.
To obtain perfection in a messy broken sense.
For my being to extend right up against the walls set around me.
No further than that.
To be viewed top down and admired.
To be better than I am.
You’re losing yourself.
I see it.
Stop romanticising your pain.
It’s ugly.
I know.
You will soar.
You will fall again.
You will break.
You will rebuild.
You will move.
You will station yourself.
Someday.
You will have everything.
Everything is nothing.
Exactly.
something here feels so right
even though we differ like day and night
when our hearts take over, we are shown the way
our natural love shines through sincerely with no delay
i never thought God would lead me to you
for much too long i had not a clue
opposite personality and all i love you just as you are
so hard yet so simple everything about you is precisely up to par
despite all the changes, you still make me stop and stare
about you, i will never change a thing, for every fiber of you is well beyond compare
the unconditional love that you give to me....no one can outrank you
this is why i end this lil ditty by saying a lovingly heartfelt THANK YOU....
A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a date with the courts.
Locals aid their tally, most from afar,
It is nature's clock, all good things must end,
fly north to breed, and brood, and up to par,
A month's here, till next year, that's how the trend.
Awnings grey, triumphant stirs, the tension,
inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension.
The stars look beautiful tonight
Little flecks of diamonds shining bright
Usually, Pollution in cities dulls their might
And makes us not see the beautiful tiny pieces of white.
Glittering flecks that fade in the sunlight
And God flicking silver in the sky when day turns to night
Those beautiful stars, little sources of light
That shines so brightly in the absence of sunlight.
The sun is also a big beautiful star
Shining its wonderful glorious light from afar
Giving us warmth when things seem not up to par
As long as there is light in the sky, you can still go far.
hanging out amongst those who are like minded
new to the group naive to the lies and deceptions
groomed with gifts fun spotlight low expectations
time goes by everything great money had you blinded
you had the lovers fame reputation all felt so right
competitiveness between group members alike
tension becomes intolerable to the point of dislike
truth be told about how to settle with a fist fight
threats were always spewed but no action taken
group members siding causing small divisions
most tired of the tension making hasty collisions
all about money fashion lovers has caused a shaken
this one particular night you decided not to indulge
feeling not up to par your soul making you elusive
hung out as usual thinking how things can be decisive
something felt off your intuition gave you a nudge
not feeling the vibe decided to step out side for air
unbeknownst to you the tension was thickening
come back in moments later you were witnessing
an argument turned deadly body sit dead in a chair
blood that carries secrets slowly coagulate
thick dark stickiness that drew in flies
smells whilst being puddling burying lies
sitting in panic with beads of sweat from distress
wondering what to do where to go who is who
paranoid with being inexperienced about crime
this was not part of a plan to hang out this time
nobody to trust running scared sleepless night too
would they let you just walk away knowing what you seen
following you haunting you in dreams to scare you quiet
this secret causing the heart and mind to have an inner riot
telling was out of the question not even mentioning the scene
seeing members from time to times looking with evil eyes
made you reevaluate the meaning of like minded people
following popularity status spotlight really reels in sheeple
darker than you will ever admit magic deceit and lies
realizing having your own individuality avoids like mindedness
you don't have to say you endure and was scare most of the time
this experience help heal suppress parts traded for being a slime
learning things about yourself now has you with sharp sightedness
Body, Mind, And Spirit Triage Co-Opted
Viral microbes didst relish
meaty morsel feast
hyperbole (included greased
for dramatic effect) ceased
not, but linkedin
constituent facets increased
with right wing conspiracy
of mine physical health least
up to par today found me writhing,
asper like a wounded beast.
I feel as if giant size
(yes...with closed eyes try to see)
nasty bugaboos did invade me,
and shrunk down yours truly prithee,
(this from gorging on one not so heavy
corporeal doddering entity) si,
whose light humors opposite of glee,
thus envision this bard, granting himself
woolworth truevalue as a flea
to continue poetic tale
(agonizing sham “FAKE” rocked Leprechaun)
on microscopic scale
essentially, a myopic seek reacher
relative of Spongebob, the latter hale
ling from Bikini Bottom,
whose absence aye still bewail,
especially his misfortune sail
ling from toilet bowl
into water treatment plant
leaving sopping wet trail
of eyes rubbed red,
which sadness happens to this male,
when he experiences
invisible nine inch nail
piercing vital organs
with no energy to wail.
Mind boggling to this scribe
how itty bitty organisms can imbibe
every last drop of vitality, describe
epidemic, which if blithely ignored
more virulent parasites could
affect the entire human tribe
fallout nearly as complete
approximately bajillion years ago,
an unimaginable feat
asteroids crashed Earth
generating temperatures
greater than Miami heat
surface with scarring and beat
meteoric plowed shares into swords
whereby predominant species
huge lumbering beasts uttered holy sheet
or a similar facsimile thereof
similar to poet reduced to (of course)
NON GMO gluten free shredded wheat
resembling chopped liver
after trampled by Little Feet!
Spelling, syllable count, vanity, too simple, Simon! Be prolific, cruel, smart, up to par, above the bar, fit for the stage. Tap, tap, tap…
—by poet
The Prismatic Self
See the wooden stage, markers for my feet, bright lights, great expectations, critical analysis. Curtains will open any minute as my words make an entrance. Will my opening lyrics draw a crowd? Who will be in attendance? The theater’s not likely sold out.
Backstage, the sponsors, who are they? ATTENTION! As if a teacher wields a pointer, tapping at my feet. Will the audience throw erasers?
On the palm of my hand, the rules - perhaps strict, but I’m not in fear of a stickler. Trained by the nuns in love and hate knuckles.*
Lots of rules, I might have to practice the act for quite a bit longer. I practice in my dressing room, trying on outfit after outfit - those flouncy forms or something simple and succinct.
Am I a people pleaser? Do I perform at the pleasure of the King or Queen? Or am I my own worst critic?
Yes! Yes! Yes! No!
I desire to be seen but I will yield. There is something more important than being the lead. Still, I must confess, I must run back to my little box, mime my tears, dread my limitations, take a breath and when I am ready - take a bow.
At the onset, I must build my own backdrop, backstory, be vague and understood. I run my lines quickly, slowly, go over them again and again, even as I recite them freely, as a monoku or Shakespearian sonnet; or get even more elaborate.
I labor over each word, its placement, its meaning. I don’t care! I do care! I must feel it practically perfect; though I will let it go. Eventually, it will be a comedy of errors, erroneously erupting past the stage, in the rubber hands of cause and effect. The sponsor’s Marlboro ashes fall on it, without understanding my heartfelt meaning; my wings clipped as I await the list…the dreaded and dreadful list. Most surprised when I am the cream, alone - floating at the top.
**Fastbreast, blushing, aghast, euphoric. That sponsor is exact. I do not grow prideful. I do glow. The tip of the iceberg shows, all other words sunken, below. In leotards, the ships pass by, having a look - one clips itself.
*conceit
**Fastbreast - heart beating rapidly (Neologism)
It must be hard
To carry it around
That load of hate
Weighing on your heart
A powder keg
Waiting to explode
Hurting others but
Killing your own soul
You pretend it isn’t there
But now and again it shows
In what you say
In what you write
The sarcasm hidden under the sweet
The hate clothed in happy
And yet….
It’s there
For the discerning to see
It must be hard
To have it eat away at you
And not be able to voice
All those words
That are begging to be heard
Dying to hit the mark
A bull's eye victory
That brings relief
It must be hard
To keep them locked away
For fear of criticism
Of “losing face”
And yet….
They gnaw away at your being
Those sugar coated morsels of hate
For those inferior
Made of fluff
Not substantial
Not up to par
Medicore
Weak
Sniveling
Sappy
Sorry
Excuses of human beings
It must be hard
To be civil
To pretend to be kind
Thinking others are blind
To the real motives behind
Your words…..
Ah…if only you’d realize
The only one hurting
The only one who is weak
Is you
To love takes strength
To forgive takes power
To rejoice with others takes integrity
The finer qualities
To hate is easy
To love near impossible
Hate would dissipate
If you took some time to realize
The person who irks you
Who just rubs you the wrong way
Maybe has been rubbed the wrong way
As a child...
Sexually abused
Struck down by violence
Suffering from...
Emotional abuse
Sexual abuse
Verbal abuse
Physical abuse
Insecurity
Feelings of inferiority
He has hidden baggage too
Behind his false bravado
A heart that is in pain
Much like you
His brokenness plain
His tears in the rain
So no one can see
I know it must be hard
To try to change
To put away hate
But it’s not too late
To look inside
The one you despise
You just might be surprised
To see deep within
And there in his eyes
A reflection of all that comprises
the beauty of YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Urgent care is where you go
When you’re a little scared
That what you feel might be a thing
For which you’re unprepared.
You’d rather not spend hours in
A hospital’s E.R.,
But staying home is stressful
When you’re not quite up to par.
So urgent care is something
That is somehow in-between,
For hopefully, by someone trained
You’ll actually be seen.
They’ll check you out and send you home
With meds and some advice
To see your doc (or not –
It’s up to you to roll the dice).
Before these places did exist,
The hospital was where
Most people went when they believed
They needed urgent care.
But nowadays it makes more sense,
Unless you cannot breathe,
To stay out of a hospital,
Where waits may make you seethe.