Long Affinity Poems
Long Affinity Poems. Below are the most popular long Affinity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Affinity poems by poem length and keyword.
Joy, empathy, compassion
On an upward arc
An effervescence eternal
Causes bliss ignition to start.
Octaves of Love 5-15-26
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`````
Octaves of Love
Between the lines and staves
Touching the finger of eternity’s sacrifice
Pure sounds blend
As the breath of bubbling joy
Vibrates
With clear notes
In unison.
Clad with compassion
And trembling in frequencies of empathy
A new identity surges
In untarnished affinity
Into auras of flames and winter moons
And shared sunsets
Not trapped but breathing
In this fluttering portal.
Ascending scales sound
Stretch from one rhapsody to the next
Reaching into
A hollow between hallowed resonance
And the space where breath births
Rising in chromatic intervals
Toward consummation
In grace notes and evolving hues
Of perfect fifths.
Molten moonbeams
And swirling wind stars
Refine the motifs of the ageless composer
That coax the vagabond
Into harmonious vibrations
From a seed of irritation
Into a pearl
Of sheer transcendent transformation
Andante released
Into eternity’s resolution, delicate syncopation.
In clutch of loneliness she wasn’t alone
For grief always readily came along
When her happy path destined for love
Detoured sadly to lovelorn mirage.
He was an affluent handsome man
Yet, wealth of life he didn’t have
Being fueled by an unworthy heart
Poverty of thoughts reigned inside.
She found love when love was elusive
But elusive was the love she found,
Though she chose a budding ruby rose
Alas, its splendor had prickly thorns.
Summers of bloom she longed for
Agonized in gloom of monsoon storms,
When colors of love autumn invoked
Trees of joy shuddered in wintry throe
And leaves of affinity began to fall
Spreading glumness on pristine lands.
Silence she endured spoke volumes
When solitude starved for dialogue
And harmony of voice echoed discord
As overtures to reconcile faced a wall
While everything right, yet so wrong,
Left her feeling she doesn’t belong.
Passions her own, warned of trespass
When unrequited lure yearned romance
Attempting to litigate a case long lost
As hope of despair mocked her heart.
November 22, 2020
Placed 2nd: Juxtaposition Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Inspired by Iron Maiden song " I live my way"
I walk my life at my own pace I set,
create the course on the lone pathway I pave.
I see unwanted faceless people
probe me at their will,
break the barrier of protected privacy and pry,
asking incisive questions
that invades the realm of my persona.
I don’t answer.
They want their fragile footprints
I follow in meek compliance,
abandon willfully on the wayside
what defines my identity,
exist as a formless empty entity
and impersonate their hollow lives.
They hit me with caustic comments,
tell me I’m utterly inflexible.
The atypical manner of my behavior,
they feel is blatantly eccentric.
I don’t react.
My heart sinks dejected
in the quicksand of unfriendly times.
My emotions struggle to rise
from the despondent debris.
Things good they do for me voluntarily
I can’t acknowledge loud,
but the buds of affinity for them bloom in me,
I adore unexpressed.
My porous sensitivity absorbs gratefully
all the inarticulate feelings,
I don’t demonstrate.
I’ll be doing till the end of my time
what I do, being totally forthright,
for I’m me.
Even if they call me an obdurate being,
I don't care.
I throw down poems onto a page, and look at them fondly.
Some glare at me, others take a swift bite out of my neck.
Trying for attention.
I know it is not personal, so I let it slide.
Enthusiastic poetry always starts out with the words
“dancing and prancing” which is tedious now, but Trixie is stuck there.
Do I retire her? Fire her? Inspire her? Aspire to guide her gently?
It is a quandary.
Rhymes I love, but they take a bit more work, for I
am compulsive enough to want each line to have exactly
the same amount of syllables. Often an impossible feat.
And yet, here I am, throwing tally marks all over my paper.
Someone asked me how I come up with ideas.
They land in my lap, on my shoulders, they hit me in the petootsie.
When I least expect it some of my most unlikeable co-workers
will run in to confide something, and voila. An idea is born.
I have an affinity toward making fun of co-workers
silently, stealthily, behind their backs.
Or in front of their faces.
It matters not a whit.
They never see
themselves.
Passionate whispers of love songs in the night,
Evening's glow, a heartfelt and a tender light.
Across the room, smile sparkled, your eyes meet mine,
Cradling hearts sang the song, our souls align.
Echoes of love, unisom feelings, in every breath,
Serenity, fondness, that transcends death.
Petals of roses in starry night, softly fall,
Everlasting affinity and love's gentle call.
All our fears and despair fade in love's embrace,
Kisses and hugs that time cannot erase.
Endless dreams in your arms, so true,
Reflections of love, forever you.
(In the 17th century, when thinkers
were first getting to grips with gravity,
they named it "kindly inclining".)
Seeds adrift on water
coalesce:
fueled by affinity,
they form a community.
Last pearls of wine
combine:
electing against space,
they cling to the curve of the glass.
Berries stain the fingers
that rupture them,
their plasma clasping the hand,
rather than leave unthanked.
We scraps of matter
are emboli,
swimming in Not-Being.
An impulse in the void
coagulates our Something.
Swathes of stellar gas contorting,
slab on slab of basalt pressing,
horses on the hill cavorting,
algae in the swell fluorescing,
ospreys on a rock face nestling,
children tumbling and wrestling,
matter moves to matter.
We are starstuff all,
and motion is our purpose.
We are aided on our journey
by the steady pull
of starlight.
(“Eye of God”, 2018, original encaustic/mirror mixed media)
Seeking Identity
Sometimes I seek an identity
Deeper than the one assigned by others
The loose and sloppy consensus
Of public opinion and perception.
Deeper still than the one I have created
For myself, through all I have accomplished
And gathered through experience
Reflected in possessions and preferences.
Deeper even than the composite lens
That everyone I know, friend and foe, expresses,
The various qualities they have
Both good and bad, which I
Through affinity and repulsion
Obviously identify with.
Beyond all these external references
What is left? What is genuinely me?
Somewhere before anything is done
Or known, accumulated and rejected
There is a flavor distinctly one’s own.
Certainly easier to observe in others
Than oneself, since our whole experience
Has been flavored with this flavor
The same way a fish only knows water,
We can know it inferentially
Glimpse it in photos, and experiences,
Qualities of friends and foe, strangers and all
The things we know and notice,
Think and dream, but to actually hold it
As something separate to call mine,
Now that is the ultimate dream.
(8/29/25)
Thinking it sophisticated, he declared himself a sophist.
Dwelling deep in Plato’s cave, he became learned in the shapes of shadows.
Enamored by their dim dancing, he concluded there can be no truth.
One day he realized that for this assertion to be true, it must be false,
and if it is false, it cannot be true.
Stepping out into ambrosial, golden dawn,
Departing at the new glistening inception,
he carried the heart of a befuddled terrified nomad.
A drifter, always hungry for affinity.
Rootless, always foraging for simpatico.
He became the vagrant ferreting the ambient gleaming
reaches, never certain of what he found, but convinced
that his search was urgently necessary.
In luminous amber ambience, he ambled the ambulatory.
Though his methods seemed antiquated and antique, he knew he could
never return to the cave shadows of antiquity.
No, they would never deceive him again.
But then as explorer, he confronted new dilemmas,
choosing between the newspeak of alternate realms.
His path lit by ubiquitous glittering rocks; he felt the glow penetrate in ways
he never before conceived, for he had always been soaked in stygian tenebrosity.
Common minds traverse comfort zones, seldom seeing beyond their boundaries.
His new freedom granted an empathic eye, remembering his hardest anxious choices.
Never before did he recognize how this residue, he collectively shared.
Upon this subliminal shoreline between mortality and the sublime, he could reify rapturous grails. He knew then, this divination was made possible only by his relatedness of being.
Moral codes based on inclusive truths make civil discourse achievable
because universal joints join collective being with unadorned conscience.
Morgan Le Fay, born in England, becomes a priestess
and a leader of the sixth century cult called Darkhold.
Later turns into the supervillain of Marvel Comics
and the nemesis of the original Black Knight.
Derived from her faerie genetic configuration,
she possesses natural affinity for magical forces,
that made her one of world’s greatest female sorcerers
who can mystically manipulate the earth’s ecosystem.
She can cast illusion to remove spirits from their bodies,
place them under her total control as an enchantress.
With the supernatural power to transmute things,
she can change people and animals into other forms.
Her schemes have crossed the limits of centuries,
the true power of the magician filled with ill will,
destroys kingdoms and challenges all the Avengers,
while her elven heritage grants her immortality.
She can control the astral space where she once existed
and descending on earth she tries to take it over.
Her feats earn her a place in Sanctum Sanctorium
as the world’s latest sorcerer supreme.
_____________
April 9, 2023
Contest : The Women Of Hellboy
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
She is a wise woman who has the ability to read the stars with affinity
when she gazes into your eyes like a crystal ball she knows your future
There are many men who consider her "the woman of their dreams"
but she will never enter another's life, for she has only one vocation
She is a Princess no doubt not by title but by the way she carries herself
I'm longing to meet someone just like her someday, but I am afraid
that she will look right through me and tell me all my weaknesses.
Then again a woman like that with rare ability is surely serendipity smart
she can easily point out my strength and send me soaring like a true King
this wise woman is beneficial to many a heart, but she suffers no fools.
Contest Name:
MAX 12 LINES - poem-inspired prompt
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Aug. 23, 2020