Long Poems About Myself
#myself
Long poems about myself. 300 words or more, most recently published poems first.
Liquor
We don’t see eye to eye when I am under the control of “I-I”.
And as much as I would like to justify my actions and provide an understanding for my actions.
I do not believe that anything that I currently have hanging on my drawing board will provide enough cover to patch the hole that I created within your heart.
Does it really matter what’s being said once I take this shot?
Maybe…maybe we’ll find a resolution and come to a place of agreement.
Maybe these words that’s leaning over within my head will lean into something more meaningful.
Or...
And as much as I would like to justify my actions and provide an understanding for my actions.
I do not believe that anything that I currently have hanging on my drawing board will provide enough cover to patch the hole that I created within your heart.
Does it really matter what’s being said once I take this shot?
Maybe…maybe we’ll find a resolution and come to a place of agreement.
Maybe these words that’s leaning over within my head will lean into something more meaningful.
Or...
#myself
#WritingPoetry
158 reads
0 Comments
When an overthinker tells you they love you, believe them…
#love
#peace
#myself
197 reads
5 Comments
zIgZaG cHaInS
I am still on my zigzag way, pursuing the diagonal between reason and
heart.”―Ruskin Bond, Rain in the Mountains: Notes from the Himalayas
can't stop the rain
from falling on my window,
but i can find out
why the sky is so distressed.
can't stop the pain
from drooling in my pillow,
but i can hide out ...
heart.”―Ruskin Bond, Rain in the Mountains: Notes from the Himalayas
can't stop the rain
from falling on my window,
but i can find out
why the sky is so distressed.
can't stop the pain
from drooling in my pillow,
but i can hide out ...
#LifeStruggles
#myself
#LifeCycle
154 reads
2 Comments
Why am i?
#family
#memories
#addiction
#myself
#choices
344 reads
2 Comments
the tunnel
like the trains stationed- most days, am i-and a good portion of humankind; numb and void of feeling are far from the same; my eyes still water like drizzle from the rain....
expectations vary-the higher the floor-the more scary; some will be understanding-some will not as to why one doesn't aim for an "acceptable" "score"....
heart still drops at the thought of "death"; that's indeed when things are perceived as nothing left; and it's scary-very scary if that be...
expectations vary-the higher the floor-the more scary; some will be understanding-some will not as to why one doesn't aim for an "acceptable" "score"....
heart still drops at the thought of "death"; that's indeed when things are perceived as nothing left; and it's scary-very scary if that be...
#myself
#LifeCycle
#SelfReflection
#escape
#philosophical
188 reads
Baseboards and Handrails
you make me nervous
in fringe.
you give me fevers
that do not heal!
I drink water looking for you,
I run rivers,
I swallow lakes,
soaked in your absence.
there are no truths
at all…
There are still moments
in time,
where sweets are enough
lies
and huge cakes.
(with sugary toppings).
And kisses that don't
shake
or feel chills.
Then chicken soup
I don't want to eat.
You say:
- "Eat, it's good for you!"
a spoon to the mouth
and spit.
And you: - "Eat it's good for...
in fringe.
you give me fevers
that do not heal!
I drink water looking for you,
I run rivers,
I swallow lakes,
soaked in your absence.
there are no truths
at all…
There are still moments
in time,
where sweets are enough
lies
and huge cakes.
(with sugary toppings).
And kisses that don't
shake
or feel chills.
Then chicken soup
I don't want to eat.
You say:
- "Eat, it's good for you!"
a spoon to the mouth
and spit.
And you: - "Eat it's good for...
#myself
#WritingPoetry
145 reads
0 Comments
chapter 31
chapter 31 likely won't hit any different than the prior; there's only less desire to aspire to be a half decent "writer";
grey is the color of the lense once rose; a soul without a quest for gold but to be/feel whole-
there's a hallway full of glass doors -one's on the outside looking in; the exit's straight ahead that's not seen through-just darkness
what rooms could be explored? could the earth shift after or before?
this feels...
grey is the color of the lense once rose; a soul without a quest for gold but to be/feel whole-
there's a hallway full of glass doors -one's on the outside looking in; the exit's straight ahead that's not seen through-just darkness
what rooms could be explored? could the earth shift after or before?
this feels...
#escape
#FeelingTrapped
#boredom
#philosophical
#myself
131 reads
Me and Myselves
I feel as if there are several people inhabiting this body.
At least one is competent and brave.
Others are quaking cowards.
The child that I was is still here too, and getting stronger, sad and a bit angry at the way her parents have abandoned her.
Life did not have to be this way! says the child, her childish expectation that things ought to be fair rings through my head and squeezes tears from my eyes.
But life isn’t fair and things could be worse says the pragmatist.
But look at all those people standing up for themselves cries the...
At least one is competent and brave.
Others are quaking cowards.
The child that I was is still here too, and getting stronger, sad and a bit angry at the way her parents have abandoned her.
Life did not have to be this way! says the child, her childish expectation that things ought to be fair rings through my head and squeezes tears from my eyes.
But life isn’t fair and things could be worse says the pragmatist.
But look at all those people standing up for themselves cries the...
#myself
225 reads
5 Comments
Ethereal
He went there,
didn't want to but he went
even he paid for the taxi.
The house was old,
walls with moldy designs
of endless years and slovenly dwellers.
He put the key in the door,
he entered, stopped in the center of the room,
there were ghosts in the attic he was sure.
He walked up the aisle, or down the aisle,
it matters little, he opened one, then another, door.
He breathed the spirits of the place,
felt penetrated, invaded,
souls and dust stuck to the nasal mucosa,
macabre sinusitis of forgotten...
didn't want to but he went
even he paid for the taxi.
The house was old,
walls with moldy designs
of endless years and slovenly dwellers.
He put the key in the door,
he entered, stopped in the center of the room,
there were ghosts in the attic he was sure.
He walked up the aisle, or down the aisle,
it matters little, he opened one, then another, door.
He breathed the spirits of the place,
felt penetrated, invaded,
souls and dust stuck to the nasal mucosa,
macabre sinusitis of forgotten...
#loneliness
#mirror
#memories #myself
#memories #myself
226 reads
10 Comments
A Quilt Of Quotes
A blanket of time, A comforter of learning echos, A bedspread that holds together your words of recite. This bed where you sleep & snore...Sweet dreams vs. nightmare screams. This bed for intimacy of two, that never exposes it's secret trust and the physical touch of love with hints of passions played. The book jacket of this bed is a warm, personal quilt of quotes. Words of a lifetime...sewn squares past history...together that enshords someone's meaning and thoughts of life. ...
#identity
#confessional
#memories
#myself
#choices
222 reads
0 Comments
Tongue-in-cheek self-critique
This is hopeless.
This so-called poem
Is making me gag.
Dead on arrival
Complete with toe tag.
See what happens when
You try to write dopeless?
The muse, as you can see,
Has not yet come,
Nor are you, with your lack of talent,
Likely to be
Or not to be clever
On your own.
Who cares, dude?
You wanna get sued?
Your raggedy-ass rhyme
Is, to be blunt, a crime.
Whatever.
You have not sacrificed enough.
You have made the bed, ...
This so-called poem
Is making me gag.
Dead on arrival
Complete with toe tag.
See what happens when
You try to write dopeless?
The muse, as you can see,
Has not yet come,
Nor are you, with your lack of talent,
Likely to be
Or not to be clever
On your own.
Who cares, dude?
You wanna get sued?
Your raggedy-ass rhyme
Is, to be blunt, a crime.
Whatever.
You have not sacrificed enough.
You have made the bed, ...
#myself
#SelfDiscovery
#SelfWorth
166 reads
4 Comments
Days Go By
Day 27.2746.107.1]
As I walked into the giant, parabolic shaped hangar, the fading stench of the old blood and uncleaned floors wreaked havoc upon my nostrils. They burned as though someone was taking a match to the inside of my nose. As I walked further into the room it smelled of old sweat and stale and rotting food. The floors were stained with the remains of those that had failed before and the walls were soaked with the screams of pain and suffering. And yet they were sturdy. Firm. Un-resilient in their fight to be nothing more than a structure.
My personification...
As I walked into the giant, parabolic shaped hangar, the fading stench of the old blood and uncleaned floors wreaked havoc upon my nostrils. They burned as though someone was taking a match to the inside of my nose. As I walked further into the room it smelled of old sweat and stale and rotting food. The floors were stained with the remains of those that had failed before and the walls were soaked with the screams of pain and suffering. And yet they were sturdy. Firm. Un-resilient in their fight to be nothing more than a structure.
My personification...
#depression
#identity
#technology #myself
#technology #myself
144 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Long Poems About Myself