Long Wording Poems
Long Wording Poems. Below are the most popular long Wording by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wording poems by poem length and keyword.
When she meets you for the first time she should hand you a card,
Laminated, that tells you her name and what she does...
Not a business card you understand, but a warning and an apology
Kind of like an I’m Sorry Hallmark card, but with darker undertones
And a tragically funny kind of sub-text
This card would tell you all you needed to know,
And hopefully you would take one glance, look at her,
Swallow a lump of nerves and hurriedly back track
I don’t know what the exact wording on that card would be,
But somewhere on it there should be a concise and detailed list
A rundown of all her mental illnesses, all the neuroses
And psychoses and general deformities of character she possesses
Oh and of course they should include the inherent alcoholism too
And the fact that she may in fact, at some point,
Need an exorcism
She seems to have Satan squatting inside her skull you see
Anyway...after you’ve read the card, if you don’t run away,
But instead find yourself glancing nervously into her haunting eyes –
The colour of the sea on a sunny day – and if you find yourself off-balance
And falling head-first into those cerulean pits,
Find the word Love bobbing around in your misguided heart like a cork,
And if you decide you want her despite what the little card said –
Despite the translucent triple six on her forehead,
Then at least when it all comes crashing down, and she turns monstrous
And devours you for breakfast like a petite but ravening harpy,
Then don’t burst into petulant tears and say “It’s so unfair...”
Because you were warned right from the start,
With that amusing little card and it’s damning words in bold black ink
It was your own stupid fault if you ignored that foreboding label –
Certified Psychopath - just because she had a pair of pretty eyes
And she was willing to spend all afternoon kissing you into a stupor
And smoking opiate dreams from a psychedelic pipe
After all, you were only too ready to rush into her ravishment
And you can’t blame the black widow for devouring the fly
That wriggling fool that blundered right into her silken threads
Especially not when she gave you that card...
Laminated and all, with its intriguing list...
A neat little warning; what a shame it ended up in the bin...
When the 21st century stepped into its third decade, the major tone of the world sharply switched. Internecine confrontation, cartelism and calumniation snaffled the high pitch, while comprehension, cooperation and cosmopolitanism, like ill-adapting burdens and nuisances, are inexorably pitched out of the era's finickier and finickier register.
The last 4 years, principally accountable for the bend toward such trend, has a clear pattern.
Since the moment that pussy-grabber grabbed the oval office through foreign fix, everything seemed to have been predetermined.
Needless to argue: just as a train steering along its normal route suddenly swerved into an appalling aberration under multiple symptoms of systematic failure, poped up a chain of bizzare behaviors: a row of willful withdrawals from multiple international organizations and treaties, barefaced dunning over allies for protection fees, capricious veer of trade vanes highlighting haphasard jitters of tariff rates toward countries of utterly different natures and qualities, pussyfooting pace toward putin and patronizing pose before pals as well as other unpredictable hitches and glitches in the making and implementation of policies or even nondescript whimsical whistles that had perplexed many politicians, publicists and observers who believe U.S to have relapsed into isolationism, that is, paying more attentions to or becoming exclusively occupied in its own business with less or without interventions or concerns upon external matters. Many uttered criticism over this phlegmatic position, pointing out it was the isolationism that had connived at the fascist aggrandizement and caused the inadequacy of vigilance in the pearl harbor incident before it finally gave way to requisite engagement. But I have to say the wording of isolationism is simply unfitting nowadays. One can prove this by drawing a comparison between the degree of globalization of recent times and that before world war 2. As we take a glimpse back to the period around 1940, we can find that oversea entities and links were relatively meagre and the corresponding influence and leverage upon other countries relatively negligible. At that time, pursuing isolationism was more or less of a certain venial aspect.
I'm stupid.
I've fallen for the same pitfalls
that I sighted in
the distance
and said that
I was too smart
I was too ambitious
my potential was too great
to fall for them
and yet
I've fallen.
I hurt everyone with whom I come in contact.
I use people up until
I'm bored
and then I discard them
and move on,
and then I cry
because
I'm alone.
I'm stupid
for writing this as a poem
because it's a really bad poem.
It's just proof
that I'm self-indulgent -
extrapolate that
and you've got the proof
that whatever I said in here
is true!
And on top of that
this is a first draft,
and I'm too lazy to re-read it
or re-format it
yet I expect you all to read it
and comment
or whatever?
So self-indulgent
as to press "enter"
every so often
and change this into some sort of semblance of verse. Maybe I only write this to prove to
myself, argue to myself, how awful I am, so that I can continue to act stupidly, in my own
interest, and use people up, less as an unfortunate event and more as "business as usual."
Wow, there's a lot of clichés in this poem! Oh well. I'm not going to fix them. Hey, aren't you
bored by this yet? Aren't you upset that you read this far? It's like I've sent out some sort of
sentry to do my dirty work of being an obnoxious, stupid individual when I'm not around to
do it myself. And see how I re-formatted this to not be in verse but to be prose after I
acknowledged how arbitrary the parsing the wording into verse was? Did I fool you, however
briefly, into thinking that maybe it was an interesting choice? Well, it's not! It's really an
uninteresting choice. See, I did put a little bit of effort into the spacing it into verses back
when I was doing it. Am I trying to bore you away from reading this? Why am I so self-
deprecating? Can I truly be so self-centered if subconsciously I'm trying to get you to not
pay attention to me? Is it self-conscious if I've acknowledged it? Wow, this has really fallen
apart. Oh well. Anyway, I'm stupid, blah blah blah, I'm the worst, but really, I do feel this
way, and am constantly lamenting (ooh, poetic-sounding word!) this fact. Otherwise, or
maybe notwithstanding that, this has been a waste of time for all of us!
My life cant be helped but still strike a pose
punch you in the face call for a second dose
i got so much ice hell just frooze
light a fire up under all your noses
im the satanic moses
i dont mean to bost
i dont mean to breag
but im no one to upstage
taste the bullets tang
flowing out your brain
i just blew your mind
you couldn't acomplish bye sneezing 20 times
more lyrical content than 10 of your rhymes
i love to drink hienikens
but what i need is some wights and vitamins
staggering in the door styfiling
piss on anyone who starts tryfalling
hyperventilating levitating
inceneration in creation
Perspective regeneration
do drugs spinal fluid draining
consequences for my consuisness
is like pistil wippin and infant
im rhaspodys presentment
this is my forge
were i can rhyme words like orange
can hold it to them
with my stick of plutonium
your full of bolognium
you are the phoney one
truth is im not trying
my mind is so vulpine
my thoughts are full of crime
i love sending you jerks on trips
im just so Omphaloskepsis
you jerk im the mad scientist
i handle my own buisness
screw all the risk
im not afaid to pop off with a lisp
i bet you jsut wish
yhou were in my position
dammit im a calamity
so damage it even affecded me
wreckognize me i got the spotlight fee
tidiuos incension with a surgons persicion
wording it perfectly is my mission
murdering the masses singlehandedly
sick enough get you fathoming
my phantom wieght ravaging
the pedestrians cranium content
hell is were i was sent
screw satan im a tyrant
never call it quits
to hell with the roof the house ill lift
i got 100 sleeves and more tricks
i have no hook i have syllables
silly cannibles and hannible
im no man im a machine
Astraly beamed to be
a enginering mcee
wizard of oz with my words
docs cut me up im a lost cuaze
were doing science pass the guaze
arjay is half machine analizing
my prognosis is im ever rising
diagnostic check weapons to wreck
i have no guns i got my tounge
slaying beasts and feeling numb
my heart is gone to puns
luaghing at people grappiling
my concept i went timetraviling
my life story were its unraveling
Form:
Through my eyes
there comes a light
but it's too bright
its blocking my sight
Just then something grabs me tight
I've felt this feeling hundreds of times
I try to break free from it's grip
But it holds on to me with all it's might
something's crawling inside
sending chills down my spine
something's on my neckline
crawling slowly, I can't define
I take a deap breath, tell myself it's fine
It's just a feeling, it'll go away in some time
But is it all inside my head?
I ask myself as I get up from bed
I can still feel it around
But I can't see, my vision's blocked out
I blink and blink but there's only darkness
I try to escape from north and south
I see a light in a distance, not too far
I chase it hoping I'd make it out
But something grabs me from behind
Drags me into the darkness as i shout
And when my screams fade away
I wake up in a sea as deep as an abyss
There's waves forming, one by one
that slowly flow out of my eyes
those waves are tears trickling down my cheeks
Rolling on my face until they fall on my knees
It's an unexplainable feeling like a fever dream
But it feels so real, I want to scream
My heart is storing up all these feelings
Until, eventually they'll bleed out through the cracks
Like ink bleeding on a paper through pen
Still, to convey this feeling, my wording lacks
I don't know the cause, don't know the reason
All I know is that I feel like I'm stuck in a prison
Trying to break free and fly away somewhere far
But my feet are chained to a metal bar
I'll appreciate a little help
but there's none around me
to help me destroy the chains
To the darkness,that are binding me
The darkness's my past calling my name
But there's None to lend me their hand
So I'm struggling on my own, in pain
trying to keep myself sane
Just like how it has always been
I'm alone, it's such a frightening scene
It's so dark that nothing can be seen
don't even know where i lean
but filled with hope or perhaps desperation
I rub my eyes in search of light
But inside my heart, feels like something has died
inside my heart, it feels like something has died
you're proud of your book learning and often boast about
but stand helpless and perplexed when friends shed tears or shout
your diction is so witty, your wording eloquent
but when you talked about affection no one knew what you meant
you would never fly a kite or dance in summer rain
for you an idle hour is just waste and all in vain
you've never read a fairy story about a cordial elf
you'll never be capable of laughing at yourself
come to your senses as long as for you I yearn
watch out, my friend, don't you notice how you spurn
our precious chance of happiness
you seem always broody and never lose your poise
a children's playground in your view just means annoying noise
you're always self - possessed, remarkably controlled
hence in your younger days you already looked somewhat old
you think adults must always stand with both feet on the ground
you hate broad laughter and you would never fool around
tender feelings, sentiments you determinedly reject
you rely upon sagacity and keen intellect
your aloofness gives cause for serious concern
watch out, my friend, don't you notice how you spurn
our precious chance of happiness
to all appearances you are always on the ball
behind your back you got the nickname "Mr. Know-it-all"
programming languages to you strongly do appeal
but with overwhelming emotions you never learned to deal
extraordinary is your knowledge of the overseas trade
you are able to edit cases which are high in the grade
in the minimum of time you completed your degree
but don't come up with the idea of sending flowers to me
if you mess things up now I will never return
watch out, my friend, don't you notice how you spurn
our precious chance of happiness
you say these sunshiny days are just too good to last
you never let go, no, you are addicted to your past
you keep your distance and insist on the view from above
you look for safe and stable shelter from your passion and my love
I´m not a native speaker, so I cordially invite other members to send me suggestions for improvement. Thank you very much!
Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed.
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it,
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?
Once long ago in the fifth grade I had a small vocabulary.
Maybe from the hill folk family where I grew up On Caytons' Hill. We were not hillbillys. There is a big difference. They now teach this stuff, in college courses, our Appalachian way.
My Dad had a sixth grade education, my Mom an eighth but they wanted more from me.
We didn't leave the farm, except for school, and Mom finally left a few years back, when my brother went bankrupt and lost it.
We didn't much socialize outside of our family.
Me and my brother would walk to the general store if, after our chores were done we were hired by another farmer, we got two dollars for a couple hours work.
We had all we needed. We had food and clothes and shelter and love though no one ever said the word.
We were taught to survive, but who could survive that boy in the 5th grade?
He mocked me, he made fun of my vocabulary, and laughed.
Then, the second stair from the top, he tripped me. He tripped me on those metal, asphalt stairs built in the 1800's and I rolled with it,
but it hurt me,
a joke.
Perhaps maybe I am the biggest joke around. Boy, I sure proved him wrong with all my eloquent wording and such
But when does it stop?
I'm "just me".. of all the things I could ever do and do with my best, is to show you what matters the most of course. It is proper manner.
Beautiful is beautiful.
There are beautiful cars, and limousines. There are beautiful skies and dreams, but I am not a beautiful lady. I wasn't meant to be, but actor Johnny D in Kentucky said that I was pretty. It kind of made me feel like the first time a boy called me that, and I didn't think so but I smiled anyway, because he was serious.
I got called gorgeous and enchanting, then I was drugged for sex at eighteen, and I guess I've always allowed those things at times.
I guess the best way how to relate to you now is to simply be myself.
Truthfully, you probably think this is crazy writing, but it's not. Crazy is as crazy does and I feel pretty fluff, like a cloud or something furry, ya know?
A testament to Prince
Prince, I saw your vision in the purple rain
And in that moment, I knew you were in no more pain
You graced us with your presence and filled our hearts with love
With your unbounded talent
That came from straight above
You left us sad and broken
And now we have no peace
But together we will strengthen
And our grief will cease
Oh thank you Prince for everything you’ve shared with the human race
We’ll treasure your gift of music
We’ll miss your handsome face
The heavens are rejoicing
And there you’ve found a home
And in that place you joined there
You never are alone
We never will forget you
Your voice will never die
And we will look forever
Into that purple sky
And so we will remember
How richer our earth is
Because Prince Rogers Nelson
Indeed he did exist
Rest well our purple angel
We love you with all our hearts
And we will meet in heaven
And then, we’ll never part
Hi there, Thanks for creating this contest!
I have been with "Poetry Soup" for a couple of years now. I really love "Poetry Soup" because the comments from other poets are genuine and provide wonderful feedback. I am so glad I found Poetry Soup.
The poem, "A Testament to Prince" started it all for me. I have been profoundly moved and devastated by the loss of Prince Rogers Nelson. After he passed away, I began writing poems which were dedicated to him and then eventually evolved into other subjects. I was so inspired that I wrote a poetry book, entitled, "The Microcosm of Poetry". I am in the process of completing my second book. I think my poetry has grown significantly. I have been reading works of other poets. I have also been studying poetry by reading books about it. I think my new poems have better wording and are tighter. I mainly write in lyric or free verse form, but I am always learning! I sincerely hope that you enjoy my first poem on this website.
Thank you for reading my poem and entry. Sincerely, Alona Perlin.
12/13/23
Secrets still buried
Stories in the wind got carried
Historical accounts occasionally varied
The truth can be sad and scary
We've barely
Discovered much so spare me
The same can be said for things happening fairly
Since the dawn of time it occurred rarely
Causes with a dark past humans still worshipping
The cauldron folks continue stirring
Waters people are murking
So much unknown, instead of starting to worry
I try to find answers but it can't be done in a hurry
Somewhat disturbing
And blood curdling
Could it be water that caused such a shape and curving?
This planet twirling at 1000 mph constantly whirling
Every night tossing and turning
I was hurting
My vision sometimes blurring
Minimal ground I've been traversing
This weed I'm endlessly burning
Toward a fast death I'm hurling
It's difficult to find the right wording
The cycle still circling
The truth is emerging
And surfacing
Energy dispersing
Or combining and converting
Then it starts surging
To some it's unnerving
During my time on Earth I'm searching
No matter if others are deterring
I'm still unearthing
Sometimes smirking
Nearby curbing
I'm determining
It can never be found by purchasing
It's concerning
For so long people have been serving
Evil always lurking
Showing no mercy
I'm constantly learning
During this journey
No adjourning
The hands of time turning
There's endless controversy
That's occurring
It's not always working
Such concepts use to irk me
(Birds sing above Earthlings) or (birdies chirping above earthlings)
It briefly takes the mind off the worst things
Yet I still feel like cursing
Toward no destination I've been surfing
Mind all over the place still swerving
For more I'm yearning
Something inside churning
A fool splurging
Yet again swirling down the drain go my earnings
I still can't get it right even after rehearsing
What a joke feeling like a ghost the recipient of shirking
How am I already not on a gurney?