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abortion absence
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Long Senses Poems | Long Senses Poetry

Long Senses Poems. Below are the most popular long Senses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Senses poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Beverly Pippin | Details |

Ramen Noodles

:) now this is what Im talking bout .... nothin iz 2 uncommon when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade
 Dominate prominiscent pre made 
cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe 4rum ur Fake-Aid 
you D grade 
ain't tasty Kool-aid 
sweet sugar serenade
 Your gunna need more than just a band-aid 
to fix whats tha matter with brain sprayed splatter
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Not wanting to leave wish I culd have stayed
 Don't we all....
 facade to fall..
 winter spring shoreline stahl 
nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences 
crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade..
 Dominate prominscent cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe frum your Fake-aid take to fade
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Gotta get paid 

         Warmth blanketing the bitter cold 
cUm•BU•lOnImBUs clouds 
forecast percipatation pretold
 Warning massive ThunderStorm for the following Counties prepare to unfold 
Dis pissed off cloud is about to take off a load 
head off road 
And all you'll hear is rain falling in ode
 Kroak of a toad
 strikeof lighting bright N bold 
then counting the miles in mississippis gold 
till thunder explode
 Under protection of this roof 
behind these shudders
 Stricken sight candle lit light 
rain drainsN2all gutters
 Impaled beneath the moons clutters of the night

 :) now this is what Im talking bout ......
    nothin iz 2 uncommon
 when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses 
far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade.....
 ruby emerald sapphire diamond jade 
none of which fade
 Frum your fake aid 
fake lime to make lemonade
 Over time meat marinade
 For a stroll in the park serenade 
don't wanna leave wish I culd of stayed
 
Sonic is constantly tailed by a flying fox 
Speedyblue Hedgehog
 with a sack of magicalblue rox 
lookin to take down dat evil Dr Robotnox
 Impressing Goldie-locks 
Millionmile per hour hydraulics 
Off to replace the aftermath shocks
 Magneticly control the hands on all clocks
 To turn twist and rewind back waisted time
 Carry out foward to take what iz mine
 Insanity is 2 insane as Criminal is 2 crime
 Witherin to the weather then wetter 
is 2 whether 5150 if not 4 the better
 It is 4 the cheddar 

:) now this is what Im talking bout ....
 nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen 
noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade
 Dominate prominiscent pre made 
cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe 4rum ur Fake-Aid 
you D grade 
ain't tasty Kool-aid 
sweet sugar serenade
 Your gunna need more than just a band-aid 
to fix whats tha matter with brain sprayed splatter
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Not wanting to leave wish I culd have stayed
 Don't we all....
 facade to fall..
 winter spring shoreline stahl 
nothin iz 2 uncommon
 when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade..
 Dominate prominscent cascade undelayed
 Just played it safe frum your
 Fake-aid take to fade
 Greater than or equal to straight trade
 Gotta get paid 

:) now this is what Im talking bout ......
    nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles
 seahorse sonar struggle with senses
 far beyond the realm 
of more than just whats common coinsidences
 crusade 2 overwhelm 
overcomin the fear2 pursuade.....
 ruby emerald sapphire diamond jade 
none of which fade
 Frum your fake aid fake lime to make lemonade
 Over time meat marinade
 For a stroll in the park serenade 
don't wanna leave wish I culd of stayed
 
:) now this is what Im talking bout ....
 nothin iz 2 uncommon 
when all you got 2 eat iz Ramen
 noodles 4 all y'all poodles

Copyright © Beverly Pippin | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

The Doctor Is A Dead Man Walking

Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.

When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say, 
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.

Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.

He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.

And, of course,  sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.

So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”

“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”

“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc!  What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.

But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.

“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.

A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw 
Reminded him of his sacrifice.

He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.

As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.

As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello.  I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”

“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift.  I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.” 

Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes." 

Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.

“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!”  Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?

Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”

Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”

Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss?  I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.

“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls, 
You’ll get migraine headaches.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - Day 10

“Clap your terrible wings, vivacious serpent of old!
Imagine my plight as dangerous as your spite,
Stomp your clawed feet on these prison floors,
Peace shall always follow the sink of your fangs…”

Silenced were the wailing demons round,
Crouched low alongside such a soaring and broad master
His wings widening, the blood electric veins chaotically pulsing
Warring dementedly and desperately to frantic flight
He thrust such cruel chords masterfully,
Loud and empty as shrills from precipitous caverns
Cracking the walls against such terrible music
My hair rose as if full body deep in water
His mouth muttered obscenities faster than one could follow,
His big, slanted coal eyes burning into my readied soul, 
Always searching for the weaker spot in which to flood his reign
Nostrils flaring, taking in the scent of fears within and about
Bottomless and portentous, his voice slowed into dreadful clarity:

“Unknown beknowest now, my imagination thickens,
Blood boiling, waking all senses into terror
Darkest valor enshrouds, eyes deadened by countless carnage
Lividly I say to you, walk amongst my brethren,
Marvel at the depth of demeaning in these eyes
Let us prophesy, oh Daughter of Light, 
I demand you to prophesy! 
Prefigure the longing in which this terrible King dreams
How my sovereign splendor circulates the tears,
The agonizing pain—a maelstrom of my impending delight
Naughty nymphs dragging their victims cheerfully into the fray 
The pull of its power grows as the victims of my stew concentrate
The steams of their trapped screams ascending into the air,
Your loving eyes cannot take such despair
The might and mangle of their entanglement,
Hypnotic in their ailing end!”

Drums, distant, though fatally deafening,
Thrummed with the vociferous laughter of our Prince
Humanoid insects released from the black shafts,
His pupils spewing their buzzing and screaming
The streams of human-like insects swarming about me,
Their teeth sharp as dogs’ chops after freshly grinding bones
Salivating and searching,
Chomping and chattering in a wild whir,
Mixing into the massive maelstrom 


Thicker and darker as it grew,
As his wings shaped its engulfing mouth upon me,
My voice rang through the shrieks and moans,
Surrounding the chanting demons,
Passing through the susceptible ears of the Devil, 
And into the humongous mass of black
The light beamed bright, searing through the gush of agonies
And his eyes widened with excitement at the merge of our song

Parting the maelstrom into two separate halves,
My voice materialized in blue-green rays into the center of his storm
Shadows of ghouls and angels battling in dances and determined movement
Silhouettes of great leviathan creatures revealed hidden mouths of wonder
Roaring in rage and seduced in the gravity of melody
As our duet submerged in the strangest of harmonies
Together:

“I see you, 
Lights and shadows enamored by our strengths,
I know you,
As far as these hot winds do blow in this pit,
Stinging and singing us to blissful bits
Effigies entwine the surviving divine,
Blackening, savaging the light so tight
I feel you,
Eschewing the hearts into our vengeful amalgamation 
So that they dance and fight as one, by one…”

My arms rising to sustain the light,
His lips curled into confused, strained delight

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by richard nnoli | Details |

The mask behind the smiles

the Mask behind the smiles
Why am I so sensitive 
Could it be blamed on my mother 
Could it be blamed on my father 
Or 
Could it be blamed on nature 
Oh please tell me why too many smiles shared 
Yet too many smiles 
never comes real 

The Mack's behind the smiles
I wonder how the victims of wars
Smiles with the pains on their shoulders
I wonder how the women raped
Smiles in pain after torture 
I wonder who see those Mask
Behind the smiles 
Behind the smiles of the father morning his lost son to an evil war
Behind the smiles of the young girl 
Sold to sex slavery 
I don't know what smiles 
They could better give 
If not that from the evil scars
Behind that faces of smiles
lies an unknown motive from it heart 
Only the brave smiles beyond the 
Pain he bears 
For a lot I see as I ask 

Why am I sensitive 
Could it be blamed on my mother 
Could it be blamed on my father 
Or 
Could it be blamed on nature 
Oh please tell me why too many smiles shared 
Yet too many smiles 
Never comes real 

The Mack's behind the smiles
Basic free life now a debt 
Paid with a lost 
Lost of the mind now invoke 
So now  fear reigns on too many faces
As The skeleton in the cupboard 
Behind our Smiles is so avoided to let known
Now I wonder why I see too many smiles 
Now I wonder why I sense to see those Mask
Behind this too many smiles
As well I ask 

Why am I so sensitive
Could it be blamed on my mother 
Could it be blamed on my father 
Or 
Could it be blamed on nature 
Oh please tell me why too many smiles shared 
Yet too many smiles 
Never comes real 

The Mask  behind the smiles 
Smiles are every where 
On too many faces 
On the face that wears the smiles 
The heart Knows betters it worth 
Only from a free heart 
Come a true smile
I tell you no lie 
So how can this free heart be 
With this scars of ignorance 
And circumstances like a wall in between 
Is Like we got no other option 
So I wonder how many hearts 
Are free with these smiles everywhere 
As I ask 

Why am I so sensitive 
Could be blamed on my mother 
Could be blamed on my father 
Or 
Could be blamed on nature 
Oh please tell me why too many 
Smiles shared 
Yet too many smiles 
Never comes real 

The Mask behind the smiles 
The good the bad smiles 
Worst of it all the greedy 
Smiles a lot too
So I got confuse with smiles 
The killer the victor
Smiles 
Even the victims smiles too
So you see all smiles with it Mask
Every where 
If only you could see beyond 
Beyond that face 
If only you could see beyond 
Beyond those eyes 
Am sure you ask with me 
As I ask 

Why am I so sensitive 
Could it be blamed on my mother 
Could it be blamed on my father 
Or 
Could it be blamed on nature 
Oh please tell me why too many smiles shared 
Yet too many smiles 
Never comes real .

Copyright © richard nnoli | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Dennis East | Details |

My Amazing Scense Of Smell

Considering the size of it, you'd never think it thus;
It's a rather small and turned-up job - a nose without much fuss.
Now a sense of smell is something that we all just take as read,
But mine has ancient extras up these holes stuck in my head.
Seems my beak is ultra-sensitive; I smell things very quickly,
And I first became aware of this through pongs that I found sickly.

The inherent problems with this gift, I uncovered as a lad,
Is I felt inclined to ‘early warn’ when I smelt something bad.
It made me proud, on outset, of a skill that I could claim,
But instead of worthy accolade, got invariably the blame.
Then the adage, ‘smelt it dealt it’ was immediately applied
To this poor innocent 'non-farting' boy that hardly ever lied.

Well, I quickly learned to deal with this, and kept things to myself;
Except for smoke, and nasty things, that might affect my health.
Then, as an interesting refinement, I detected one thing more;
That my sense could be selective; it could choose who to ignore.
After thinking hard for many years, I’ve declared the skill a throwback
To the days when we all lived in caves and our toilet was the outback.
You see, the ability to differentiate detects a visit from a stranger,
So filtration of one's family meant, you literally ‘smelt danger’.

Another trait this strange sense brought near nailed me to the floor;
It was as I learned the facts of life, and confused me even more.
I was strangely drawn to older girls, whose smell appealed at once,
But with them came a second scent I detected once a month.
Seemed that every time I settled down with one girl in my life,
My selective nose would mask her out, but the rest would all run rife.

And while we speak of odours, here's a fact that I must tell,
That not all perfumes you can buy are to me the sweetest smell.
As some bright sparks thought pheromones the answer to girls’ prayers,
But for me it has adverse effects and keeps my thoughts ‘downstairs’.
It's supposed to trap men through their nose, by animal sex appeal,
And it may well work for certain chaps more easily brought to heel.
But for those of us, I know be few, in tune with nature’s guide,
We’d likely choose to steer away and find a place to hide.

Now, I’m pleased to say the gene has passed on to my eldest child
And just like me she smells it all, from sweetness to defiled,
But unlike me she lets all know that nasty smells are banned,
As she’ll soon ID the culprit of a fragrance if unplanned.
Her siblings have got used to her and pay her great respect,
As they know it’s not just bad stuff that their sister can detect.
She’s known to sniff out chocolate cake and hand it out with glee.
I’m so pleased she’s got this special gift - that could only come from me.

Copyright © Dennis East | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Terrance Upham | Details |

Physique of unique

Slicing & dicing the 
fabric of time.
Contorting & distorting 
functionality to reality.

My unique physique poetic 
swagger broadcasting
Elegance in resilience
Relevant to intelligence. 

Rewinding the two hands of time 
with a wicked new rhyme 
elements from the middle of 
my mind's brilliance.

 Forming an alliance my cancer 
like rhymes eating pathetic tales. 

Transversing syllables relevant 
today's reality relativity 
transparent in tomorrow's rhymes.

Elegance of futuristic conceptual 
designs foretelling of a 
mythic spilling inks prisms 
of brilliance.

Custom made rewinding the second 
hand in future's time complex designs. 
Figerning the reality custom of 
my relevance.

Broadcasting inks elements of 
intelligence substance of
 my brilliance.

Achieve power while I scour & devour 
Axis of power with easy 
access to relax & tax. 

Rhymes in prisms of colorful brilliance. 
Futuristic line's concepts staggering time's
crooked pace. 

The elegance of life's
wicked scripts double flipping through
sands of every grain in time. 

Squaring an comparing impaired 
line's in rhythm of elegant to relevant 
My ink spills powerful images
Stalking provocative mind's
broadcasting abstract crimes 
      sleek designs
Of my custom line's .

Unique of poetic swagger
staggering the crooked
pace in life's elegant
race. 

Spilling prisms of colorful
brilliance element of resilience
relevance to intelligence. 

Father of abstract line's future's
era in time of complex designs
in diversity of a university's
Unique physique of my poetic 
swagger.

Brilliant line's concepts furthering 
time with a wicked rhyme 
sleek elegant designs. 

Eccentric line's elegance of 
european designs premier
           twin in line's 
               luxury. 

Unique complexities a diversity 
of simplicity in dynamic ranges. 

Relevance to intelligence sleek
elegance of times relevant to 
broadcasting worldwide premier.

Elegance of my line's custom 
prisms spilling brilliance
 not revealing
Intellectual beauty's. 

Unique facet of every design
foretelling future's greater time's. 
Dynamic elements in unique.

The physique of poetic swagger
sharp double edged dagger.
Staggering a poetic pace
the elegance of life's wicked race.

 Stalking provocative mind's 
with the father of abstract crimes.
My cancer like rhymes eating
pathetic fairy tales.
My word's wale
an impale compared to 
    Harvard & Yale
 tasting stale as I prevail.

?U N I V € R S € ?
 {INT€R CONN€T€D}
    °O ? N S € £ F°
Pen's Broadcasting Premier
     21st century's Poet
#intellectualproperty
    #reserved#
        £?V €
?#poet #poetry 
#WickedRomancer

Copyright © Terrance Upham | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Trisha Sugarek | Details |

Fragrance of Life

Fragrance of Life  ©

Cool rain drums on blistering 
asphalt, the scent streams into 
the nostrils--hot, grassy smell of 
summer, freshly cut-smoky 
cedar lingers on the air 

Fresh popcorn drenched in 
butter, I sit in the dark, musty 
movie house. Childhood 
memories of Tom Mix dashing 
across the screen 

A breath, deep of rain-damp wool, 
heady peat of whiskey 
neat. Old butt-imprinted leather 
and the dusty, pulpy smell of a 
well thumbed book as the page 
is turned 

 
The mule drawn plow turns the 
rich, boggy earth beneath an 
autumn sky. With luck and some 
rain the larder is full at harvest 
time 

Wrapped in strong arms, nose 
pressed to warm skin smelling of 
soap and outdoors. Drinking the 
heat in with the smell of the 
man, your man 

Sweet puppy breath. Pure 
doggy conviction that you will 
love him as much as he loves 
you 

 
Candles and incense in the 
great cathedral… the heart fills 
with faith, hope, and 
expectation 

Soft curls, sweet skin, the babe 
squirms closer… powdery 
newness, innocence, and trust

Briny, sharp tang of the northern 
sea. Balmy, yielding, essence 
under the Southern Cross 

Green aftertaste, fishy decay 
and salty fresh scent of the 
clean-swept beach 
 
Sultry air twines itself through the 
Quarter, crushed sugar, wet 
pavement, yeasty bouquet of 
hot beignet. Warm beer, 
praline sweet, heady grape 

Old river water slugs along 

Stifling, coppery smell of blood 
be it the battle field, hospital, 
crime scene, butcher shop, or 

birthing room… 
Cloys In the nostrils sticks in the 
back of the throat like old 
mucus 

 
Icy sweetness of winter air, 
frigid sting of snow to come… 
sharp pine tantalizes the senses, 
as harsh breath smokes the air 


Steaming manure in fresh straw, 
roasted peanuts, pink spun 
sugary sweet… 
the pungent animals stalk the 
cage. Sawdust under old 
canvas glows like old gold in a 
shaft of sun light. 
The Big Top! 
Childhood rushes back 


The smell of her on your 
mustache… you don’t want to 
wash your face… lose the 
heady scent of her love 

 
New trees struggle to rise above 
a sea of old petroleum. 
Pine sol lies still on the cold tiles, 
stale baloney on old bread. 
Rancid tired clothes reek of 
cheap cologne
The truck belches halitosis 

Move on down the highway 


Sharp fall gusts through the 
quaking aspen, 
pitchy sap barks in the 
crackling fire, 
snowy air assaults the senses 

The loon sings, warming the 
heart. 

Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets

Copyright © Trisha Sugarek | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Jeremy Westcott | Details |

Tales From the Mental Ward

Tales From the Mental Ward

Reality Rearranger 

It is under my power.
I can feel it every hour.
I turn something to nothing,
Make nothing from everything.

I control what you think,
Everything you speak,
Whatever you do,
It is I and you never had a clue.

Nothing is what it seems,
I break you and rebuild your dreams.
To you I am an oddity,
An unexplainable eccentricity,

You know nothing.
Let me fill you in on something,
I am what is known as exoticity,
The greatest rarity.

Revealing new perceptions on reality,
An embodiment of unpredictability.
I thought I was done,
But, time for some more fun.


The Community for Communicable Psychosis 

Knock, Knock, Who really cares?
No ones there to cure your fears.
Before you end you got to begin,
Now you have so many friends.

Your feet are not on solid ground,
Reason is nowhere to be found.
You fall down, And you pop up here,
Nothing has ever seemed less clear.

Lookie, Lookie, you can fly,
Watch out for that purple sky!
Oops, too late, you hit your head,
Perhaps you should have stayed in bed.

We're all freaks now in this place,
No where near a state of grace,
Better watch out, it is contagious,
We will make you one of us.


Psychobabble 

Something that brews inside,
Yeah sure, you never lied,
Now I want you to kiss the sky,
Now look at the happiness but you cry.

Why so happy?
Why so sappy?
I've run so fast,
Caught up at last,

Oh no, I'm still behind?
Can I see, or am I blind?
I see a 20 year-old boy,
And I'm surprised he still plays with toys.

My brain is gone, anything left?
Can I hear, or am I deaf?
I listen to patient read from a book,
And I wonder just how much drugs he took.

My mind is wondering, am I dumb?
Can I feel, or am I numb?
I feel a wall and a floor that feel so bouncy,
But there is no light for me.

My brain is alone, maybe in a coma?
Am I without the ability to sense aroma?
I smell of something I think forbidden.
Darn it, I think the earth's been hidden.

My mind is on, but no ones home?
Am I tasteless to the bone?
I taste of something that needs cleansed,
I entertain the visitors to no end.

People love to come and stare
Into the saneless lair.
They say they want us to get better,
Our family, our friends, our doctors.

Screams in the night,
Barely visible light,
Tranquilizers for her and him
And upper pills for them.

Here comes the nurse with a tray
That holds my meds for today.
This would be the last time I ever got to fly,
And I flew higher than ever, beyond the sky.

Copyright © Jeremy Westcott | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Dawn Drickman | Details |

The Pirate and the Princess

Alas morning has come, 
the treacherous storm has passed
Anticipation heightens my senses as the wind swirls past, 
The essence of musk engulfs me;
Replacing the aroma of sea salt that once filled the misty air
I am assured that my beloved pirate is homeward bound

Perched upon my lighted tower
I gaze out across the horizon, waiting, hoping 
For that first glimpse of the storm tattered sails 
That adorn the vessel that had denied me that which makes me whole

Although the competition that vies for the heart of the Pirate may be grandiose,
There can be only one victor!

I cachinnate at your feeble attempt
To match wits with my poetic prose
Step aside Oh witch of the sea
And wipe the gull crap from your nose

Tis my beauty and grace that will prevail
I am the picture in his mind
You are just a barnacle
Hideous and unrefined

I pity you and your reckless dreams
Of captivating the Pirates heart
For no wretched wench of the sea
Could ever keep us apart

A Pirate does not long for
Raunchy harlots dressed in rags
Courtesans with damaged goods
Or withered old sea hags

Nor is it a rotund woman 
Paunchy and robust
That titillates his senses 
Filling his loin with lust

It is I dressed in fine linen
Pink orchids in my hair
The scent of passion I emanate
Will be more than he can bear

So step aside young peasant girls
Watch and whimper in despair
As he chooses the lovely Princess
Both voluptuous and fair

Your songs are inchoate and crude
Like the Sirens fatal call
I sing my celestial serenade
Your harm it will forestall

(Song of the Princess)

For I am your ardent Mariner
Manning the beacon that lights your way
Pacing the gallery day and night
From my post I will not stray

Time has yet to diminish
The taste you left behind
That gentle kiss that bid farewell
Remains within my mind

The vacuity induced by your absence
Has been replaced with a burning desire
To settle myself upon your manly hood
And extinguish the sensual fire 

I touch my fingers to my lips
Then place them at my heart
A tear descends down my cheek
Creating the waters that keep us apart

In desperation I call to Poseidon
Great God of the sea
Hear my prayers, feel my pain
Bring my pirate back to me 

Please hurry home sweet Captain 
Oh pirate of the sea
Hurry home to the one you love
Well all know that ‘s me!

To all the strumpets that compete
It's time that we retrench
Save your hearts and walk away
He’ll chose the Princess not the wench

Copyright © Dawn Drickman | Year Posted 2007


Long poem by Dave Collins | Details |

Interalphabetnet sex stew



Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed 
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
 mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling 
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in 
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk? 
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang 
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your 
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new 
generation which skewer post present parental postulates 
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate 
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions. 
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it, 
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit 
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize, 
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil, 
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder, 
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx, 
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we 
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket 
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued 
prominantly with no recall references to problematic 
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.


Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013


Long Poems