Short Perfectionism Poems
Short Perfectionism Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Perfectionism by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Perfectionism by length and keyword.
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perfection
is no cathedral~
only the ghost
that haunts its stones
The more I let go of
these tiresome soul struggles,
the should haves,
the should bes,
the more it is possible,
to be messy and
alive.
I skipped my knitting group two weeks ago
alas, I had zero progress to show.............
But I explained (it did fascinate her)
knowing I'm a big procrastinator ;-)
The traitor
seized fond dreams
and rent my soul
on a hurdle of nails
hauling innocence
toward sour odours;
the steel nemesis
christened cosmetic
under searing light
and coerced oblivion.
Expect the sudden
Pray for preparedness of heart
For time has power
When you’re spending
Pay out exact expenses
Do it first in your home
Perfectionism
Is daunting to execute
Excellence requires not
Your beautifully bright like a summers day
the joy you bring makes me float away
into the clouds which bring the rain
in your violence and rage
you cause chaos and pain
the day becomes grey and i patiently await
the validation of your soothing rays.
Form:
SPIRITUALISM
I am planting my spirit to challenge the Spiritualism
Let's face our tougest questions to find Harmonism
Life is a long journey to the the next Perfectionism
How should we communicate to each other of Professionalism
Tr?n Minh Hi?n Hien Tran Orlando December 9, 2016
I wish I wouldn't try to be perfect
When I know it can never come to fruition
Perhaps I do it for the self respect
Maybe I do it for the recognition
Always I try to keep it all correct
Always I fail, and let it fall away
I wish I wouldn't try to be perfect
I wish I wouldn't try to be perfect
exciting
remarkable
the
immaculate
insightful
assessment
interpretations
elevate
criteria
objectively
originality
contemporary
&colourful
within
a
discipline
of
virtuosity
made
manifest
perfectionism
engineered
claims
attention
Down with pessimism
Drown not in negativism
Beware of escapism
Steer clear of cynicism
Keep far from fanaticism
It only invites antagonism
Too lonely is monasticism
Too stifling, collectivism
Failure dogs perfectionism
Emptiness mars materialism
Insularity deadens catechism
Stoicism breeds fatalism...
True, this poem is full of criticism
~ But it ends on a note of optimism
Listen to poem:
Please pander to my
Perfectionism by
Pottering your purlesent
Peepers purposely past my
Permanently printed
Phrases of poetic poise
Pulling precious people
Past particular poison
Pleases.
Pushing perfection points
Purposefully protects from
Painful perception.
Perhaps a pedantic persuasion?
Perhaps a pen peaking in
Peppery passion or with
Personal poignancy or
Painted pastiche pictures of
Platitude?
Perhaps
"You are perfect the way you are!" - they said.
Weird, isn't it?
Was I ever perfect,
Or did I simply fit in?
I watched the gardener,
Softly edge the Bonsai into a rounded "masterpiece."
Beautiful, yes -
Sad, too.
It never truly grew.
Is that what perfection means?
Once in a while,
I felt proud - "The woman I am."
But then,
I looked at the girl
I once wanted to be.
Oh -
What a perfect stranger I have become to myself.
For is it my fault?
I slumber deeply, confused thoughts and mismatched words
Perfectionism aches to play,
But dread and hate, oh they keep me at bay
What time shall I awake, a world filled with malice and foul play awaits
They slay my kind with lies and false hope
And celebrate with jubilee and harvest, at least their pockets are filled with gold
My time has come, back to that cruel world I return
Oh someone save me! Make my heart beat no more.
Why is thy doth of perfectionism?
Melancholic's bore her not
Emeralds, sapphires, diamonds in a row
In April prime, lives her through
Her amulet sparkled like Indian's birthstone
To the glory of her, her alone
She's demure sometimes arduous
You cannnot fetter her like chain of Troy's barbaric men
By Helen's cry and things subside
One, two, three, and deep she carrying the stone
And twa's doomed
She asked, How do I live and die?
For my God, I live in thine.
pips
pine
poses
perfect
perfectly
perfected
perfecting
perfectionism
perfectionistly so
he played his harp
only heard in the dark
shadows shattered rest
broken by silences test
waves wane on sound
vibrations are bound
touching chaotic'ing realms
brushing neurotic'ing whelms
blushing arts streaming scars
prancing like gleaming shards
glancing with seeming stars
romancing loves branded
regaurds
only heard
in
the
dark
he played his harp
?
I love a blank canvas
how it focuses the eyes.
It’s black and white without
the usual vestige of messy
attention-grabbing details.
We’ll color those in later,
spending our creative time
whitewashing it with the precision
of our own nervous perfectionism.
We’ll strip away minimalism for cultural
resonance and focus the razor attention
of ‘couture’ obsession and wider comment.
.
.
Songs for this:
Just Exist by Eliza & The Delusionals
Groceries by Mallrat