Long Useless Poems
Long Useless Poems. Below are the most popular long Useless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Useless poems by poem length and keyword.
When us dogs lie there and stare up at you
What do you think we're thinking
Are we thinking whatever you say I agree with
Because you feed us every day without fail
We don't have hands, these paws are useless
For opening bags or cans
Tried biting the lid off early last month
Needed stitches, trouble eating for quite a while
What! Are you surprised we know what a month is
I'm not just your average pet you know
I'M A GOLDEN RETRIEVER
We're a special breed, just want all humans to know that
Us guys should be treated like royalty
We love everybody and don't mean to knock people down
We get a little over excited at times
Mean no harm, hoped your stay in the hospital
Would be short and you'd come out as good as new
Us dogs... sorry, us Goldens are a special breed
We don't associate with other less sophisticated breeds
Well, now that I've completely blown your mind
Perhaps next time we talk you'll have recovered
One thing before I go mute again
It'll be enough when wifey finds out I can talk
So I won't tell her about what I saw in the hospital
About the way you were ogling dear nursey-poo
For an extra bone and a sufficient amount of doggie treats
I'll keep this OUR little ole secret
WOOF! WOOF!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Homeless...
Useless...
Shameless...
Nameless...
These are few names by which I'm known,
Though I would rather like to be called as Lazarus...
Regardless, let me tell you the truth --
I care less and fear less,
Far less than you, who make those nasty faces at me,
As if I would eat you...
Yet, I ain't heartless,
Sure homeless, but harmless.
Life has been harsh to me, but I ain't hopeless,
I fear God, who has not left me comfortless.
This faithful dog is by my side, all the time,
As are my fellow brothers,
who share with me my roof, the sky,
And my bed that keeps changing,
Nonetheless, I'm satisfied with what I have --
Nothing to lose and nothing to gain.
When I see you all walking about so worried,
I can't but smile,
And my fearless smile is sure to render you...
speechless...
My cycling shoes of two and one year are on their last legs.
Stretched, discoloured, looking the worse for wear, with
sole departing from the body; their days are numbered.
The time is nigh for a parting of our ways.
They have served me well
Locked together , secured to pedal.
Turn after turn, countless revolutions,
Never ending kilometres, oe're hill and dale
Through winter splashed puddles
And sweaty socked summer days.
Sometimes cruising at leisure,
Or often pushing at pace
Never missing a beat, reliable as a trusted friend.
But, despite all of this they will be dumped.
Consigned to the waste bin, labelled as , useless,
No longer fit for purpose.
Dangerous, and an accident waiting to happen.
Your time is up.
There will be no breaking news announcing their demise,
Flags lowered to half mast, or, days of mourning
Decreed by a solemn address to the nation.
Schools will not be closed, or major events postponed
As a mark of respect.
They will be gone and quickly forgotten.
But, wait, its never to late to have a change of heart.
Clear a space on a shelf where other bits and bobs of
tools and parts that are seldom if ever used happily reside.
And there they can rest in peace , maybe only to be discovered,
In a future time long after I've departed this wonderful world.
When someone will say,
'They belonged to him, he who loved to ride his bike.
We cannot throw them out , those old cycling shoes.'
November 5, 2022
A good friend told me about the UK festivities.
To explain it, in detail, it’s not my proclivity.
But so awesome to know, at least, Fawkes was a fighter.
As submission to bogus mandates here, and in the UK grows ever tighter!
King James, in the 1600’s was taking away more rights of Catholics.
Fawkes wanted to blow up Parliament, kill King James….
Alas, the gunpowder, stored too long….as useless as a used match stick!
Our elected nincompoops use our freedom to forward, astronomical agendas.
Aligned with the idea to merrily change our children’s, God-given genders.
So celebrate with grand bonfires and grand fireworks this night!
Fawkes and his crew were executed, but at least, they tried to make wrong,
right!
11/5/2022
8pm PST
USA
Freedom, like truth, is far from being
a virgin; abused, raped, polluted and left
to whither, die and decay. But these two sisters
ape the wind, water, and soil of Mother Earth:
Eternals.
The wind may die down
but rises up stirringly.
Water evaporates only to become
more of what it was
to rain back down to the earth.
Soil manifested as sand, dirt, mud, or clods,
remains the fertile nourishing womb
and breasts of Mother Earth.
They may abuse, rape, and pollute wind, water,
and the soil; but they can’t destroy them.
They may abuse, rape, and pollute freedom
and truth; but they can’t destroy them.
Wind, water, soil, freedom and truth are eternal;
eternally on the move—pursuing redemptive being.
We are the children of the abused, raped,
and polluted people whom the children of injustice
have sought to destroy our truth and freedom
with the mendacious lies of their phallic story (history)
plundering our story (ourstory): their children
seeking to maintain the old manifest destiny.
Today, time longer than rope seeks to lynch the mind;
but truth and freedom dangle in the wind;
flow in the water and are rooted in the germinating soil
redemptive revelation: free your mind and you are.
Remember, we are also children of the wind, water,
and soil; the truth is the light and freedom is the fight!
If our ancestors, with so little, could survive plundering
rape of the Motherland, let us with so much, put a stop
to the same in the Fatherland—lest we are deemed virgins
in the struggle: useless drones in the village beehive.
White and empty this page.
Useless this full inked pen
when it wont write and change
the stage.
Silly heart full of deep love
nothing can fall from thought
to words even when eagerly
push comes to shove.
Empty phone talk when
no one ever answers
Useless phone lines
they can't make you see
it is me, please answer.
I am sorry for everything
I have or have not done
It doesn't seem to matter
to you, me being gone.
I have forgotten how much
mattered before the world
fell at our feet. Silence now
is my heart's retreat.
I seem to be on the outside
of all that seems to be wrong
I have loved only you for so,
so long.
White and empty this page.
Useless this full inked pen
when it won't write and change
the stage.
In the pitch black darkness of the night,
Not one idea, no, not even one in sight.
And who am I then, out to impress?
Such cold, needless and useless stress..
Lost in pages of an unfeeling thesaurus?
At midnight, is but a dank lonely forest.
No, I am not here, the world to impress,
Then, why hot tears on my nightdress?
Why pen poetry about birds and spring?
Because, the glory of mankind is my thing!
2/12/2023
Note.: Blues Poems are one of the most popular forms of American
poetry,with African-American roots.
It takes on darker themes such as loss, struggle, sex or despair..
While seeminingly negative, blues talks about overcoming struggles
with a strong mind and spirit!
A Letter You Won’t Send, Pt. 2
I thought the first letter would be the last.
But pain doesn’t end with words;
It leaks through the cracks,
forcing my hand to write again.
I said goodbye already,
Yet here I am,
Bleeding the same goodbye twice.
We broke no contact two days ago.
I poured my whole heart out to you.
It didn’t change much.
You said you came back because losing me as a lover was enough
But any more would destroy you.
And I agreed, because though I will never stop loving you,
Who am I to deny my own greed?
You said you found a new girl at another school.
That’s nice, I guess.
Funny, though
I hurt you first
But you made sure to hurt me the worst.
I’ve concluded that love only works
when it’s between me and God.
No man could ever take His place.
But I put you so high
I forgot how to let you go.
I tell my friends you’re the worst,
Then cry when you’re hurting.
Ignore you in a crowded room,
Then, I dream of you in the clouds.
Ashamed of how easy I am,
How quickly I fall for every trick.
Hurt people hurt people.
That’s true.
But worse is how much it breaks me
to fall for your random “I love you,
Your desperate cries to make me stay.
All of it was useless.
Because you never really cared.
You never really loved me.
You only loved the idea of me.
And I
I tried to save you.
But the idea of me
It is the worst thing I can offer.
Still, it sucks how I still love you.
Some sick, endless game.
How does one love another
Yet let go so quickly?
I could do it to cope.
Maybe I don’t know why.
It’s just another way to survive.
Be the beauty that dwell to spread,
For all to share colorful moments.
Be the cheers that spring to yield,
Good laughter to birth inner peace.
Let crudeness not teach beauty's value,
Like darkness preaches light's worth.
Let melancholy not bury cheers' birth,
Like sunlight helps seeds germinate anew.
May all you crave for not be like shadow,
Unto your table as the daily bread.
May the blessings that will be bestow
On you, be the ones you really need.
This day of the year; many happy return,
Shall accompany you in His presence.
Through days and nights commitments,
Which shall make you enjoy great upturn.
Congratulations on this day, dear brother
Your wish is not meant to make you bother
Best wishes on this day. Oh grace!
Define redress power to foster pace
You're the best with kindest regards.
Make the best out logistically
And like Bayern, play your cards,
Projecting unique docket optimistically.
Up Chelsea with trophy parade in town
Lolz! Down Arsenal with a useless crown
Timileyin, that's for every diehard blue fan
Who ends up with excuse of the ban.
Winks!
she always used to set the walls 'round her on fire
and cover them with barbwire
while he's killing ladybugs on the ceiling of his world
they are summer snowmen
with rust in their hair, with yesterday plans
they are the opposite shores of vast grey of today
he lives on the insect graveyard and smoke
so many cigarettes that he can barely breathe
and she's scared of her haunted metronome
and sounds of submarines in the harbour
the ways of nuclear lovers
cross in useless memory storehouse
exist for nothing because of the fickleness
twice as peerless, half as blissful
out there along the railway tracks
under the checquered sky and wet woodpoles
they always hurl into dark tunnels
unaware of the unknown void
into desolation, the mind and it's creation
unable to understand
surrender to destruction