As a hurting song is being sung,
At a white polo shirt is flung
What can have been a cow’s dung
And on same it foully clung
And on a nearby face hung;
All a hurried indiscreet challenge
By one refusing to change,
As though it is beyond his range,
The idea pointblank strange
Or one’s denial of a sweet orange!
At last, the fastest arrangement for a detergent,
Lest victim should arrange his brother sergeant…
“Once again, the quick-to-burst temper
Proving it can with a lot tamper.
She ain’t the belle of the ball anymore
She’s not the picture
hanging on the wall
behind every dorm door
Miss Best Beauty
is no longer
the fave social media queen
That short-temper smile
don’t enamel contrite
gleam supreme
The autumn reign was semester short
as a mid-summer moonbeam
She’s not the hookah heartthrob
of every palpitating Y eye
testosterone dream
On the cute campus dance floor,
she curvy ain’t
the belle of the homecoming ball anymore
Hash tag splash
some ugly meme paint
This picture ain’t pretty
lipstick quaint
Give a kiss of death
to the hip flirtatious pledge darling
Professed Valkyrie
of TA many e-z Y conquest
Peer voted Super Hottie Best,
this belle had a novocaine, nosedive ring
Got a bosom pain degree,
false vows in the pleasure chest
Silver tongue hourglass-shape laid:
Tainted palette promises on a circular chime
Her pulse fade
is a wrinkled tick-tock portrait
To no acne avail,
pouty pigment
don’t age pageant well
Pretty poor fall from grace
was her
diva dropout farewell
11-01-21
She’s a short-spoken woman he told all.
She’s short-legged? I asked, not at all tall?
Short-sighted? Another yelled from a wall.
She’s a shortstop? My uncle yelled from a stall.
She wears shortie nightgowns was the next call.
About to see a short temper on the man with the doll.
I wonder who am I?
do I be this one person then the next?
do I need to be fix?
while my mind is in the sky.
Do I snap just to be snapping?
or am I just frustrated with the truth?
that I'm unable to act normal instead I act like a fool?
that I'm unable to be around people or not relax?
Do I hurt people to get the edges off?
or is violence an short temper is all I have left?
will I ever be my true self?
I'm suffering, but don't know that I'm suffering,
I know what normal is, but instead I act weird,
will this other person ever disappear?
I know who I am,
I know what I want,
I know what I feel,
I'm just a two faced mirror.
You are a poetess (a fancy feast of interjections and alliterations): blue eyes, thing lips, long legs, straight bangs, small breasts and a short temper. Our relations are not a dialogue between two sides - my side is silent. Contrary to common perception, poetry divides lovebirds. Alas, I am a poet too.
I simulate excitement when you read your verses out load; I pretend it isn't just about love; I bleed over your drafts at night; I understand I’m done for poetry: it’s not enough for both of us... I switch to prose, my love.
Love Poems For Her (That Special Romantic Interest) Poetry Contest Poetry
Sponsored by: Team PoetrySoup
08.07.2019
The Other Side of Crazy visited me today
She stood at the door
Didn't even knock
I don't know how long she was there
Waiting for me to leave my house
So i opened the door and saw her
"Not today" I said to her
"What about lunch?" She asked
"No!...Hi and bye" I responded
"I miss you" She said
"I know you do" and I smiled
"Pleeaaase" she begged smiling back at me
You know the kind of smile that tells you, I got you
Or maybe if I exaggerate a little, it may also mean, I own you
The Other Side of Crazy was my familiar story
My backyard pet, my "sad" dragon
My short temper, my quick anger
My crazy genetics, my unpredictable fire
But the Other Side of Crazy was also my
Stop all your doing
And think before you act
Nobody really knows
who I am
inside
Everybody sees only
what I portray
to them
A very dull girl
who scowls
and never puts up
with idiots of any kind
But sings like a dream
with rare but precious smiles
And who loves to read and write
but is often alone
Doesn't care about being lonely
is student body president
the teacher's daughter
loves the spotlight
Acts, sings, dances
Buried in books
every waking moment
Short temper
dislikes everybody
always guarded
People say I'm solitary
and boring
sarcastic and moody
Sometimes they call me
"freakishly smart"
I know that's
what I show
the rest of the world
But I've been that girl
on the outside
for too long
I've forgotten...
who I really am.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.