Long Affectation Poems

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


Premium Member during take-off i shouted, 'GODSPEED, JOHN GLENN'

the plane ascended.
i yelled it.

this straw in the wind; fly fly fly
i felt it was a necessary affectation 

to ensure a safer flight
or rather a calmer form of passenger

bring out the java
i want to ride the bean

we soar, slope upward 
i greet the turbulence 

with grit
i summon over a flight-attendant and 

offer to help up there with the pilot
she politely turns down my offer

and the choppiness subsides
but i still want a role

give me valiantness, worthiness, nobility 
and astropolitics 

we thank the crew as we disembark 
i look into the flight attendant's helium-3 eyes

'when men are arrived at the goal, they should
not turn back.'

i was stopped at immigration for four hours


Premium Member A Poet's Ego: Inside-Out

Inside-Out with all the psycho-babble.
Multifaceted melange - merry and melancholy.

My pen’s prophetic,
authentic,
inadequate.

Hazel eyes that ponder divinity:
See the world.
See God through the world.
See the people.
Empathize with earthly beings.
Fall to my knees.
Seek inspiration.
Grab it with gusto.
Don’t wait for the brain to catch up.

I observe the peculiarities in my familiar space.
I often hide behind the blinds.
Occasions, work, and friends -
push me out into the serendipitous sun and clouds.

Clench books on dusty shelves.
Throw them into a shopping cart -
they’re all free.

Attempt to organize floaters -
those iotas, that crystallize,
to form a complete thought.

Exhaustive concordance of my travels -
violets, forget-me-knots, tulips,
and fear and sorrow

The viscous web of grandiose heights -
zip lines, edge of mountains, glacier treks.
Falling...falling back on my knees.
Confident? Conceited?
A poet - that’s me.

And ideas materialize -
with family and strangers,
life and death.
The affectation of emotion, pondered.
Like a journalist, I report roller-coaster happenings.

You see, I used to merely have an emotion,
get comfortable in its chair.
Now I play with it,
craft my joy or despair.

The mirror cracks -
my reflection
as I grow wizened,
with a chromatic symphony
of mystique.

Words Not For The Faint Of Heart

Commemoration for those gone before 
Affectation of all you continue to adore 
Altercation at the start of a burgeoning world war 
Annihilation of the injured, innocent and poor 

Commensurate collusion of the parliamentary debate 
Irreverent confusion at the celebration of the state 
Degenerate delusion as they refuse to integrate 
Protectorate protrusion while the masses consecrate 

Augmentation of the algorithm just to watch you bleeding concentration 
Abdication of the firm decision to be needing an invitation 
Applications that are stern in their derision of the cheapest imitation
Admiration of the vision that requires an invocation 

Cosmological wonder at the formation of a star 
Chronological plans asunder as the organisation takes things too far 
Pedagogical pathways go under like the motorisation of the car 
Methodological melodies make thunder as the applause acknowledges every bar 

Broken by the aftermath of all this rhythmical thinking 
Woken by a polymath of history missed while I was blinking 
Spoken words meets sociopaths inside a ship that’s sinking
Token forms of telepathic silence that sees me winking 

Altercations of a race in danger from dawn to dusk to midnight fire 
Annexation of a border to cross when life inside becomes too dire
Amputation of a limb that has begun to gangrene and expire 
Affectation that is over the top as my neurons need to rewired 

By Elizabeth Moroz copyright
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member For My Mother's 90th

For My Mother's 90th                                                         

From whence we came
To where we go
None may truly fathom, guess or know
But our mothers pull us
From shapeless dark
To seek our way,
To make our mark
To steer a course
Well shown by practiced hand,
Between unbounded, nameless lands

They call us out onto the stage
Into the spotlight of our Age
To gather days, to harvest nights
To learn from sorrows and delights
All Mothers' gifts,
Now ours through sacrifice
Of time and care, 
Their bright support
From here to there,
The Mothering never flags
Come whatever may
Through dark of night, light of day
They guide us ever on our way.

So it goes, from start to end.
From there to here
Through decades built 
Of wondrous years
If lucky, we revolve through one another's lives
Until, astonished,
We find we've both lived out the better part of our century.

And what a time its been, not so?

Carnivals of friends!
Niagaras of memories!
Mountain ranges of moments mundane and sublime,
Thunder and Silence
Gain and loss
All the colors, lights, shadows
Dreams and hopes that paint a life
Into the masterpiece we try to make it;
These all have been ours,
With you out in front to guide the way,
Just by doing the dance so well, 
Without least affectation.

Immersed in the avalanche of days you brought us to,
The parade of lessons learned goes on;
For this has fashioned us 
Into what we are,
Here and now, on until we leave the stage ourselves.
Form:

Premium Member Pet Hates

Pet Hates
        
 "I'm trying to"

Ever text, email or call your best friend?
Why are they forever giving me these
dubious defenses?
"I'm trying to......(fill in any activity).

I suggest do not answer the person at all.
Especially if it's a close friend or relative.
Ah, but that pet hate , throws me against
the nearest wall. 

I can't even enumerate the excuses given.
Some turn me purple and supremely livid. 
I don't fault the person just ye olde internet
And the funky bad manners delusion it sets.

I don't think even Poetry Soup could hold 
all the excuses.
It's just a way of vile internet pretense.
Cold to the core, and pure affectation.


****Poem entered into Kevin Shaw's Contest***
          " It Really Gets Me Going."
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Reflections Recited

SEEING CLEARLY 
An empty space,filled by light
brings simplicity to life,
the empty heart,fills with pain,
cries out why,again,again,
and still the emptiness remains;
Simplicity forgotten
in complexity will drown,
darkness overwhelms the mind,
despair see nought,with eyes blind;
light fills up the empty space
and illumes the vacant place,
hope blots out disappointment
as our emptiness relents.
Singularity brings forth clarity
on which imagination then flies free.
VAPOURS
What are years  but days inter-locked 
one  by one,each  the same but   different 
and yet seen  through  an aging body,remain
unique continuous as we change they ignore
our  passing;flotsam upon a  timeless    sea
AFFECTATION
Love,where can love
be found as each day
the world spins and 
chaos reigns supreme-
Desire outflanks love
and enchains consequence
 in culture's clash- Beauty
trashed and trivilised
innocence so early lost
beneath false masks
of love crushed
into the g r o u n d

Listen to me read these poems on youtube under name of ichthyschiro
Form: Verse

Pearls Don'T Shine No More

I am done beseeching,
I am done disrespecting myself.
Grabbing onto twigs while drowning in a well.
Wells don't have no shells.
I am here writhing in pain and you look so well.
 
Your eyes which I thought were pearls,
they don't shine no more,
My heart was like a paper to you,
 which you so easily tore.

You love me so less,
You don't care for me at all.
Yet you want me to answer at your every call.
I so stupidly run in your direction,
Mistaking your affectation for affection.

Then you abandon me with no explanation,
Here I am asking myself hundreds of questions.
Your eyes they are souless,
Your words, they are meaningless.
I am letting you go ,
This wound is going to turn sore .
But I am ready to move ahead,
The coffin's ready it's now time to bury the dead.
Form: Rhyme

Addictive Ampoules Annihilate After Alluring

amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages 
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault afoul 

affable affinity and affectionadumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly 

Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed 

albeit admonishing, alluding, 
and attributing authored 
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents 
accompanying as accomplished accomplices 

accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating 
appositely advocating ancillary assistance  

addict adrift afloat anchors away
along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration

against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite

acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable

any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted

alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant

acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.

Premium Member Do you see me in my fleeting forms

Do you see me in my fleeting forms,
In my moments painted with ephemeral hues,
With the posture of masks and affectation on stage,
Playful in jewelry that glitters vacantly,
Shyly heralding the yearned-for scents of summer,
An entire carnival, in silent nakedness,
With death cunningly hiding its vile stench beneath the dregs?
Do you believe, in words, I reveal my depth to you?
Or do you find in me your soulmate,
A mirror to your silent, undefeated thoughts,
Leaving your comfort undisturbed, unyielding,
Sheltered from the world's noise and the sharpness of meaning.
A secure universe enclosed within your walls
As long as you do not glance back,
And unforeseen horizons do not tie your flight towards the boundless.
Or perhaps you're just a traveler through the landscape of sensations,
On seas of impressions, of lives lived through others,
Cleverly avoiding your own seemingly vast abysses,
Like the Lady of Shalott of the tale, who still whispers,
Deciphering reflections of existence in a foreign mirror
To preserve her unknown aura, her soul intact.
But truly, can you pierce beyond what seems to be,
Discerning the differences, the dark and lively depths.
Confident in your own skin to explore fresh terrains,
Traversing crooked paths, ready to fall,
Your gaze races forward, you measure the leap, yet your heart is strong,
Diving into the unknown, a pioneer fearless of tomorrow.
Be that as it may, in the end, I am but a simple poet,
Begging existence
from you, the reader.
Destined to the fate of this game,
Conceived, not shaped, marred by the hand that made me,
I bow as I am,
And yet, entrusted to you, in your intimacy, I am lost or found.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Gristmill, Life

Ah, the "daily grind" ...
          spin, spin, the big stone wheels,
                    the weighty rollers of life trundle on, inexorable ...
                              the intense churn of actuality cares not what finds its press -

Grain or chaff, peril or promise, all at its mercy.
          But the painful grind is necessary ... crucial, even.
                    The crushing weight of verity, growth and wisdom,
                              creates a process as elemental as breath itself.

The fruitful heart is often hidden ...
          within shells of bad habit, error, affectation, and pretense,
                    so the glorious honesty of a spirit, often bears a hard exterior.
                              Society and happenstance create phony skins ...

Brittle but strong husks of falsehood that we hide behind,
          that we tend to use incorrectly as tools of ease and deflection.
                    Only through the braying of truth and reality
                              is the resistant and distorted hull broken down ...

And the wealth and bounty inside, set free.
          Yes, the daily grind is real ... and not to be taken lightly,
                    but it is, as life itself ...
                              our brutal and beautiful blessing.




~ 4th Place ~  in "The Gristmill" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Sponsor.

~ 2nd Place ~  in the "June 2018 Standard Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.

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