Long Adoringly Poems
Long Adoringly Poems. Below are the most popular long Adoringly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adoringly poems by poem length and keyword.
Warning, this poem is dark. It is inspired by the Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.
Gather around and hear of the strange day,
When three total strangers met on that plane.
Three unlikely females eager to tell,
Of their journey through the clutches of hell.
My hands are weak but I'll try with my might,
To give you facts and get this story right.
Come along on their unexpected quest,
Learn the reasons why these females lack rest.
The first is grey-eyed, skinny, and a blonde,
And due to her boredom, she slowly yawns.
Fair of skin, but vain and vapid of heart,
She makes her profit acting in the arts.
Lacking in brains, but her beauty stands out.
She looks perfect from her stance to her pout.
Successful and severely ambitious,
Cross her, she turns rigorously viscous.
“Holly Star” people adoringly shout,
Their praises erase all her feeble doubts.
Remaining awake for days at a time,
Easing pressure with the help of a line.
She loves her job more than anything else,
But Holly feels like a doll on a shelf.
The second is plain but kind as can be,
Lacking a husband, a mother of three.
Prominent red hair, blue eyes that are lost,
Freckles dot her face, her temper a wasp.
Three screaming children are taking their toll,
Their father's absence turned their hearts to coal.
Months of a mom struggling to make ends meet,
Make her closer to admitting defeat.
Her choice of work is not quite ideal
Pleasuring men for a family meal.
Disgust, self-loathing, and hatred are there,
Under the surface, with no love to spare.
Her life is foggy and covered in rain,
She wants to put a bullet in her brain.
The last woman is always on her guard,
From an accident that left her scarred.
Twelve unbearable years have all but passed,
Since the scars on her body were then cast.
Long charcoal black hair and brilliant green eyes,
Her profession centers solely on lies.
Her absence extends weeks at a time,
To find those willing to spend on a dime.
She hides all that dope in crevices not seen,
Storing it in baggies to keep it clean.
Deceitful, perceptive, a broken saint.
Her hobby makes the whole idea quaint.
Who has she fooled? Can I even name one?
Not her daughter, but possibly her son.
I set comfortably on my front porch on my antique wooden swing that has held
so many traveling souls throughout the years.
I ponder the lives that the swing has held in the palm of its hand.
I idolize the florescent sun as it shines unconditional loving rays of light to a
troubled world. I hear the chirping love-birds as they dance through the air
and the melodic wind chimes singing on neighborhood porches. I realize the
beauty and the love in their tones. It seems as if it can only be God's artwork.
I feel my niece tugging at my worn purple sweater to come play with her and pull
her in her little red wagon down to the old apple tree by the creek. I love her more
than anything, smile adoringly at her, and take her. As we pass houses, I glance
at the elderly couple, in their straw hats and overalls, planting cherry tomatoes
across the road,ice tea crackling on their front porch that holds wisdom filled
friends, skins soaked with sun block, canes at their sides, happy as can be.
When the day turns to night, I am in awe of a sky filled with sparkling stars and I
feel so puzzled to think of all that the universe holds: the purple and red and
blue and yellow galaxies that seem to only be displayed for us in books of beauty
but too far for us to ever reach or be a part of.
Then, when I travel the Earth, my favorite thing I can do, I pass the snow-capped
mountains with daffodils at their bases, the turquoise oceans that seem to never
end, the fields of colored fruit trees, and all the many wonders of our gigantic
world, and I feel that this could all only be the artwork of God, and although I am
puzzled, I am so thankful. Yet, why, I wonder, do I feel so all alone when their is
this canvas full of miracles for me to explore, for all of us to explore? I feel
endlessly restricted, a speck in this book of beauty. I think I am envious, that if
there is a God, that this God gets to experience it all, at the same time. I just feel
so small.
Form:
In the mirrors of Moirai
kismet and karma kiss adoringly,
unaware of this betrayal they label as life.
In the hallucination we call birth,
words whisper like bitter winds,
composing a metaphorical manuscript,
weaving a quilt of invisible inflictions.
Silent screams serenade in childhood bloodshed,
where no messiah arrived to rectify sins of saints -
so some languish among abandoned souls.
Modern monsters no longer hide beneath the bed,
they feast amongst our freshly prepared banquets.
In a fathomless pit, I'm slaying prosaic demons,
before indigo hues turn ebony -
who are they to destroy my dreams?
I never heard the birds sing
in a playground of lucid lullabies.
I still recall the ghosts of featherless angels,
swaying upon swings adorned in garlands of grief.
Their eternal spirits flickering in silver embers,
evolving into perpetual vessels of reflection.
Confused in a realm of revolving doors,
tarnished paths only withhold wrath,
leaving behind trails of trauma,
where twisted trials lead to disfigured destinies.
Glass hearts only break in battles with burdens,
so our spirits become victim to Medusa eyes.
When each sigh flows like a slow poison,
we search for virgin daffodil dawns,
as distractions to numb the pain.
Fatigued from the battles from
those who rebel against our hearts -
we seek solace from sojourners of invigoration.
Blessed are those who connect with universal harp strings.
Who merge with the sacred aura of music.
Who notice the stars before twilight,
comprehending the glory of sunrise,
as an analogy against adversity.
I was not designed to be a flower,
contained in a snow globe,
covered in ivory flakes when shaken.
I have forgiven the blameworthy,
who are guilty for chaining an inner child,
but I'm still waiting to break free.
Before I waste away and my thorns decay,
ordain upon me the fortune to cradle love -
let me flourish in the field where Rumi's roses bloom.
Oh, such captivating concupiscence ...
I am lost to your thrall, your virtue's vassal
You are the perfect impish angel - raw sensuality, incarnate
You are hunger, insatiable and wry, and I your food
I watch you speak, breathe, speak ... phrases matter not
Chili pepper lips part to tempt me, as if in slow-motion
Plump, dewy, spicy-smooth, and salacious - fun-fruits, ripened
Unblemished sugar-cube teeth nip your lower lip and hold it
Mouth corners turn haltingly up in a vexing smile
Eyes sparkling, mischievous, coy, demure
Tugging like a lost puppy at my heart, spirit
Core, attending and rapt ... close, closer, closer still
Your eyes close, (mine stay open - I want to watch, NEED to)
Adoringly, I place a bent index under your mink-soft chin
Gently pull it up to mine ... the chilis part further
You release your sexy nip on them, mouth slowly opening
To the dance of a sweet, pink, bubble-gum quarry inside
It seeks mine out even before our mouths meet
Licks my lips as if ice cream, and they part to taste you
Tenderly, as if unknown, your soft blond tresses fall between
Mixing in our nectarous and esurient feast
Is there any candy yet as sweet ... as compelling and sublime??
Were it not for the life-sustaining needs of the human condition
Or the requirements of responsibility and motivation
I would lose myself - us - forever, in your clasp
In the exquisite, licentious, pure, and carnal enchantment
Of your consummate and delicious mouth
Locked away in the round-tower of your appetites
Slave to the flawless ecstasy that we create ...
With our love ... with our kiss.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Love Poems for Her (That Special Romantic Interest) Cash Prize" Poetry Contest, Team Poetry Soup, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Slave To Love" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
There on the couch she snoozes and lay
Easing her back from a tiresome day,
Put on music to entice her imaginations
And there in the forest she found herself in deep hallucination...
Then he comes, with a picnic basket on his hand
Blanket, aged wine and a flower which is rare of its kind,
Laid the blanket on the ground and summon her to come
By his side, be with him as they watch the sunset this time.
Wine tasted their lips as they have the first sip
Adoringly look at each other with love so deep,
Their hands meet, as he bends for a kiss
Profound happiness is felt they don't wanna miss!
Yet blessings of rain comes dropping in
They run for shelter, giggling hand in hand,
Off they haste and find a shelter under a tree
Shiver in coldness, closer than close they ease in glee!
Frogs croak and dance at nearby pond
Singing merrily they seem have fun,
At the wetness and coldness the rain brings
Yet coldness draws them naughty as they do the deed!
Hmn…they look at each other and naughty smiles seen on their lips
She wink at the thought and he knows what it is
They have same thoughts, same lOve, and same lUst
Same wanting to fill their longing deeper than deep they hope to last.
So at same rhythm as the frogs keep on singing
They too felt same rhythm of their deep urges and wanting,
Letting their body melt at profound heat, oh, so amazing
As they kiss and move and touch with same rhythm!
But alas! One frog leaps on them, indiscreetly croaking
Hmn…better run then and continue the rhythm
There is a good place waiting
Where damn naughty frogs could not disturb their mating!
Inner Whispers
(Ha ha! Dedicated to my FROG PRINCE! (wink!) T'was fun making this.)
When I am only an almanac of belonging
left behind
I will leave a son who will move on
allowing me time to pick his pockets
of the sins of his father.
There will be grandchildren
tucked away in kindergartens,
my stick figure and bloated face
peering adoringly at them from
nursery walls.
The fridge door is a temple to
all I love and their absurd rate of growth,
also the shifting dunes
of windblown years.
To leave a wife who loves me,
will be the hardest and easiest.
She who has agreed to forget me
just as soon as she can
will stick to her word,
for she has forgotten already
what a great lover I used to be.
All else is already showing
the telltale signs of old love affairs,
their sweet regrets loom large now
cumbersomely so.
Some rooms are for such things
peculiar to me alone.
My interests, my collections,
once desirable objects
now bearing a false and
incomprehensible witness
to holes in my life I tried to fill.
There’s more baggage in the attic and garage,
where a kind of surgery known only to
collectors of hollow meanings
has taken place.
Music I will take with me
for it has saturated my being
and cannot now be located in flesh and bone.
Then there is the poetry and my first wife
both have been filed away untidily
on an internet cloud,
where she still critiques my words
with a jaundiced eye.
I fear my purchases will go the way
of all such impulsive fantasies
notable only for their volume
and not their content.
I wonder if those that will pick through
these accumulated impedimenta
will they consider for a moment
what great need overtook me,
what my intentions could have been?
Truth is,
I cannot recall intending
any of this.
The vigilant Knight of Winter stretched out his frost-lined hand
Gauging temperature changes over the desolate land
His trailing snowy mantle skirts the overhanging bower
Welcoming dawn's re-emergence this sun rising hour
Solitary Knight no wish to remain
Sentinel to nature, grave cast in all but name
Then emerging cautiously from a shrub's fern-like spears
The maidenly form of Spring appears
Dew caught sunbeams cascading down
her plait of corn stalked wheat turning brown
In a dress of peat with grass stained folds
And network tracery of germinating moulds
Purple star aubretias crown her hair
She glances to see her Knight's enraptured stare
Lachrymose Spring sinks softly sobbing
Lamenting her Winter Knight so true
Could our separation be forever
Alas, no time left to renew
The eternal link between us both
She sighs, "Maybe when autumn leaves comes forth?"
Winter chides," Don't forget, May the Summer Miss"
Surrendering the embracing Seasons kiss
Responsive blackbird on the branch above
With bobbing head and throat a throbbing
Sings an unbridled song of love
Winter reassures, but no longer calms
Her piteous pleas for continuance
A proposal to his Spring formed wife
"From my demise I give you life
There is work to be done on the earthly plane
Then we shall reunite to begin again"
"Why wait" Spring pleads, trying to turn it around
"No time", he murmurs, "look about you,
it is here on the ground, "your awakening".
Adoringly her encircles her so
Against the raw world of sleet and snow
In dreamlike slumbers they disappear
Only Spring reawakens to her seasonal year.
MY BEAUTY
Piece by piece
I will remove them
I will undo them now.
I will undress now
Like the stripper you wish me to be
I will throw them at you
Daring you to grab them
Measuring how vast your desire is
Seeing your indecision on whether
To hold the pieces
Or to touch my nakedness.
I will gently remove my starched headpiece
That sits majestically on my head
And finger comb my shaggy shrubby hair
Knotted lifeless on my head.
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your loving eyes?
I will with particular care unclasp my gold earrings
That have been winking all night at you
And leave dark scarred earlobes
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your yearning eyes?
I will unadorn my neck
Tugging away the heavy priceless pearls
That have hung around my neck
And leave my almost invisible neck
Bare to your glance
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will with precision and concision unclasp my floral printed blouse
That has fitted me to perfection all evening
To reveal my wrinkled saggy breasts
That have obeyed the law of gravity
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your coveting eyes?
I will slowly push my pencil skirt
That has hugged my curves adoringly
I will sway with it as it travels down
Revealing flabby cellulite infected folds of flesh
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For my beauty
Is what really glazes your eyes
Not so?
Today I could feel only burning salty tears of sadness
Alone as I walked slowly along the beach pondering
Sweet memories pervading my inner psyche deeply
With coiling inside gasps of heavy breathless moans
Sweetest honey holding precious memories so real
Faraway looking into the sun setting warm—a utopia
As a special friendship was born under a sweet kiss
While conjuring true a most incredible dream shone
Visions flashback into far distant everlasting thoughts
Full of smiles adoringly walking along the golden sands
Feelings with joy as magical tunes are so divinely sung
As large waves crash over and over in the mind’s eye
True emotions burning with love stays forever so pure
As tears fall upon the sand symbolizing a rapid change
In realizing your very touch means and meant so much
As salted heart burning flames stir unquenchable fires
You who burns inside this candle lost in your very space
Darling the happiest day of my life came on our meeting
As I found you fortified in a castle of one mystic dream
As whispers cast over the warm sea finding a true love
Carnations lovely crowning petals of a most regal life with
Beauty whose golden visage lights faraway sunsets so real
While smiling gently and graciously before her—Our Queen
Who seeks with tears and toil to restore our Paradise Lost
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (June 6, 2015)
(Unrhymed Quatrain)
Every inch of me burning red with heat-
Waiting anxiously for you to treat...
My body is soaked in anticipation of yours-
Our hunger for each other reaching deep down to our cores..
Your body, so temptingly, moving towards mine-
Your eyes pouring over me as if seeing something Divine...
Your hands start at my face and slowly caress their way down-
Slowly dropping to the floor my black silk gown...
Hands and lips moving over me as if at any moment I may break-
Do not let go my Love, for I am yours to take...
Let me take you to a peak of ecstasy-
Let my hands and lips have their chance to see...
Allow my body to swallow you whole-
The heat surrounding you, reaching to your soul...
Swimming through a sea of eternal love and desire-
Feeling the burning heat-but not fearing the fire...
Our bodies pressed together as one-
Barely noticing the rising morning sun...
Adoringly we gaze into each others eyes-
Loving the way you are gripping my thighs...
Basking in the heat rising from our embrace-
Wishing I could forever feel my pulse race...
At last we climax-both clinging to the other so tight-
Quietly, the world suddenly seems right...
We lay together, catching our breathe-
Both so infatuated-and yet scared to death...
Not knowing what the other is thinking-
Our biggest fear-all of this disappearing by simply blinking...
Form: