Long Allure Poems
Long Allure Poems. Below are the most popular long Allure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allure poems by poem length and keyword.
Can I ever aspire to have, from you, a glance?
Can I ever dream to have, with you, a dance?
On a yacht
While the mermaids will watch
All enraptured
By the fiery glow that emanates from our burns
Our burns, shining forth
Making us hoarse
And worn, all spent from love making
All tired and being to the rest of the world, unheeding
Why, you have been blessed with everything that life can offer
From beauty to money
From sexiness to power
You have it all
While I am, if not a creep
A simpleton
A simpleton, having been by your allure, stunned!
A simpleton with a tendency to glance up at the skies and wonder
Really wonder
About where is this world heading to
Revolving on itself everyday and every night
Having theories and science to cure its sickly plight
A world it is, made of false pleasures!
And I, belong not here,
I wish I could have the powers to steer clear
To ride away, to seek the world above
But since I am made to be like I am;
An imperfect human;
I cannot help but stare at you
I cannot help but want your attention
I cannot help desire to be your world
I'm a creep maybe, obsessed and enamored
I'm a freak maybe, being made of plain features
I'm a shadow while you are the sun
I'm a moth while you are the butterfly
I'm human while you are a god
But since I don't belong here
I shall make no fuss
I shall live on my life
As long as I am meant to be!
For Contest Creep
Sponsored by Silent One
" Amid the jagged shadows of mossy leafless boughs"
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Gold tinged paints dripped from the air,
under the clear opalescent autumn sky,
jade foliage turned to full-bloom flower,
I flew my heart like a bird over the canopy.
The canopy of your allure so beguiling
took me to the enticing heights of ecstasy.
The nest we built in the cleft of boughs
glistened in love-laced moonshine night.
Night of strife surged a wrecking storm,
the nest crumbled to debris of despair.
You flew away to the sunny sky obscure,
left me to suffer in the spasm of winter.
Winter frost slithered with the north wind
to desolateness of the defoliated boughs.
I felt my love freeze in the congealed heart
amid the jagged shadow of broken wings.
" Without love, we are birds with broken wings"
- Mitch Albom
November 28, 2019
For Brian Strand's Contest A Brian Strand July 12
Unbearable beauty in Chartreuse
A week ago, late at night
She came in Bill's bar
The way she walked, made her dress
Shimmer like the stars
With tall red hair and bright green eyes
Her hips were swinging loose
Such an unbearable beauty
All dressed up in chartreuse
I tried resisting her allure
but I found it was no use
My eyes went wide, and couldn't hide
Staring at her caboose
My friends soon found it funny
That I hadn't an excuse
I heard all them laughing
As I took their lame abuse
When she grabbed and kissed me
They tried to make a truce
But, I walked away, with this beauty
All dressed up in chartreuse
The allure of mirage
magnetic,
thirst unquenched
in hidden hope
unperceived,
insight intuits
crafty illusion
in life of reality,
rational awareness
absorbed.
Onyx cloud clumps
condensed,
shadow masked mind
tenuous,
disguised dreams
delusive,
shaped nebulous
by silver lines,
foresight outlook
splits spectrum
reflective
into colors of trance
in prism
of optimism.
Convoluted canvas
capturers
hideous faces,
makes murals
magnificent,
sparkle the contours
of conceived smile
in vintage vision
of beholder,
the pensive painter.
I would write words for you, dipped in beauty and gold
my heart would burst for you, if it were just that bold;
with you, our romance cries out, for an eight day week
with you, I have found the truest of deep love I seek.
Walk with me, to paradise its bright singing birds
Talk to me, your voice sends golden, beautiful words;
stay this night, let our two souls and pure hearts entwine
allow dawn to wake us, let our loving hours shine.
Love does flow with heat for you from my melted heart
honey dipped allure your ambrosia does impart,
time together precious as racing pulse does chime
in amaranthine night of purple passion prime.
Basking in our luscious love lush and heaven-sent
rousing first blush bathes us embraced in our content;
sunrise spreads ardent reds blessing our love story
dawning dew thrills the bloom of our morning glory.
Robert J. Lindley and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
July 17,2018
Poet’s note: My dear friend Robert, thank you for your gracious invitation to collaborate with you on this luminous piece of poetry. It is my honor to unite our poetic voices once again and a joy to be inspired by your golden verses of rich romance and ardent love. Our collaborations, and your wonderful talent and kindhearted friendship are treasured and I cherish our shared passion for creating poetry.. I truly enjoyed this exquisite poetic and artistic experience with you my dear friend.
In the darkest of shadows
where deaths distress throes
where haboob cold winds blow
sandstorms one only knows
and where the heart’s a swindler,
a flame needs its kindler
The force of darkness ends
as sparking awareness mends
As the sun responds with heat
at dawn's rising we greet
Gratify light and energy
ratify our source of synergy
Life’s thriving in Amazonia
since days of Babylonia
Goddess Flora’s allure and beauty
fauna’s animated antiquity
Ravishing roots uncovered
medicinal miracles discovered
Flowers blooming bright
a bride’s bouquet, a rite
A rose scents us with love
purity of the white dove,
liaise and symbolize
God’s striking creatures are the prize
Planet Earth’s born native
our souls be collective
Baboons and macaques eat its figs
scarlet macaw’s perch on its twigs
An Amazon rainforest aerate
soulful breaths cognate
A tropical canopy perennially
and shall perish eternally,
sans the sun’s rays that carom
across a ginkgo harem,
or man’s deforestation at bay
Deforestation decays
Deforestation is our death
stifling the Amazon’s breath
Sun-loving deciduous
spiny forever green cytisus
While briny sticks and stones
in conjunction are onymous tones
We crossed its path and tripped
our life source stripped
Eremite, anchorite
inheritor of dirt a birthright
Of warm zephyrs in August
and enlightenment we trust
As final cadence alludes
a sequence of preludes
Velvet vignettes ponderous
our effervescence wondrous
Evolved body and spirit
sans any limit
Sans light, the soul shan’t rise
lest a spiritual demise
When all laden and encumber
burdened by the stark of slumber
As dark vs light torments
paroxysm laments
When in a verklempt presence
reach out towards God’s luminescence
PASSION FLOWER
On thorny stem scarlet red rose to smile
in its specific charismatic style
as precious gem to allure.
When tempted to tear off, faced failure.
My finger was stuck on spiny spike
Pulled it, yet pain to endure
Drop of blood on fingertip in scarlet red.
Vain attempt to make me afraid.
Piercing passion in blazing flame
Lovely rose abloom in thorny frame.
Bright lustrous, yet thorns to blame.
Not the thorns, but the rose I claim.
To stop the blood, I had to suck.
Scarlet red rose! I must pluck
Again, I had to try my luck.
Got ready for second attack.
I tore the rose and won the game.
07/11/20
'The Flower, The Thorn or Both' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
It feels like the world
has been struck by a
plague of pathological lies,
where fictional truth
seems to sell better,
the allure of
imitation glistens
even brighter,
while superficial tongues
recite infected mantras,
praising slaves of Satan~
singing corpse lullabies.
And I can feel
my drained soul
descending
into darkness,
as this cathartic
sanctuary
slowly decays,
into odds and ends
of incessant numbness.
Spikes drive through
this splintered ribcage,
shackling my life force,
to silently bleed
in salvation.
I feel the scorching
iron ore entering
my splitting heart,
as they watch
the crimson flow,
mocking my
doomed empathy.
For kindness
is disregarded,
in a cynical world
that has no mercy,
falling into an
abyss of tears,
awaiting eternal sleep,
never to rise to
another devil’s trance,
whilst bleeding in
reckless reckoning.
I am the mistreated
mistress in misery,
stranded in the
midst of an
abandoned island~
cruising through
roaring waves,
in desperate hope
for butterfly bliss.
I trace
deadly deeds
in bloodstained
sea-castles,
pleading the lord,
to tether
the cold walls,
that hide all these
layers of brokenness.
Carvings of
chaos on my skin,
choreograph a
prodigious dance
of death,
commemorating
creased calm,
with prophetic
songs that
have no life.
For the coldest
breeze still
lingers in circles,
from the pits of
an out-burnt mountain,
reluctant to rearrange
dried up poison,
with their cape
of sentiments,
in cold refrains
and resentment.
Yet I question the
cosmic Peridots
scattered between
moonstones in
artless skies.
How can a poet
make the dead
seem beautiful again,
when musty maggots
are the only
fillings they would get?
I met them at work,
Dressed perfect for this art—
Crop tops that teased,
And curves played their part.
They were mining,
The rarest of ores—
Soft as glass,
Pure as stars.
No shovels in hand,
Just allure and sway.
Bodies bare, daring to be
The "baddies" of the day.
A man desperate to find,
Something pure, something kind.
Craving love to ease his mind,
Like a baby, unrefined.
But miners know not
To linger deep in the hole.
Once they've struck the ore,
They abandon the soul.
Leaving the earth exposed,
Erosion sets in fast.
Cultivation forever lost,
A once-green man now a shadow of the past.
A gold digger's task,
Weeks of mining, fleeting sight.
The ore uncovered,
The gold stripped overnight.
(Note: This poem is a Sonnet with Alliteration.)
----------------------------------------------------
Start stereo streaming, laughter lifting locks;
Hunter hurling hooks, choice chasing chatter;
Dance distant dreaming, trouble trouncing torque;
Buddy bearing books, mind moulding matter.
Love listens lovely, play planting promptly;
Texture tussles trade, boom bulging blossoms;
Vex voice valiantly, touch textures tightly;
Flexing frenzy fades, allure aids awesome.
Loiter lingers lull, words weaning wonder;
Do deliver deal, pressure primes pleasure;
Cheer cleverly culls, posture plots plunder;
Set sleepy sight still, movement mimes measure.
Winding westward way, preying pampers piece;
Pleasure pleasing play, ever eastern ease.
Leon Enriquez
06 May 2014
Singapore