Long Attar Poems
Long Attar Poems. Below are the most popular long Attar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Attar poems by poem length and keyword.
Will you burn the earth`s skin to glass?.
Yet, right there , in Harmony of `69
I bent in adoration
before the dusky pearl of your forehead
the soft slopes of your never-ending body
shifting under a sea of blankets
Oh! treasure of treasures !
sparkling
to life
love
in the inner-sanctum of the
tent-temple of my emerald heart,
filling it with that attar fragrance ,
that compassionate smile,
that yearning voice,
quieting my storm
urging me
to swim your sultry sea.
How could the world ever be the same again ?
Outside,
rooted like stark brood of the Black stone ,
rocks parried thuddingly the capricious charge of waves
and subdued the swell and swirl of a dark ,disturbed sea.
The summer night was short
and I
cleaved to you like a calf to its mother.
Your dark-eyed nipples breasted the blanket ,
occulting the coarseness of Harmony .
We rocked to cradle the peace in the galaxy,
with love milking the way
to the morning star .
Winking over the mount,
Venus caught us intertwined ,
drooling like babes,
sated
I, summer cloud paramour of
you Landie ,
altar of my sensuous sacrifice
sweet naos forever
Yolande
briefly
undraping your
compassionate cosmic essence
for a gallant stripling
starving for affirmation.
Awed,
i nested in mouths
harmonizing
now enchanting,
now strident symphonies,
keen enough to split
chaos
into mutual opposites
that grappled , grinded and finally clashed ,
giving birth to a higher union.
I tattoo your name , Landie, on the stretched skin of the earth.
I pullulate the waves in your name
sackbutting the syllables
till tremolo breaks it breathlessly to foam
on the glistening beach of your belly
Wrinkles I didgeridoo into the dark blanket of our night,
stringing out your diadem of stars
I spiral you stately across my deep.
Breaking away
reluctantly
from the tug of your knees
i trolled our anchor through love`s flow
girding it close to my wound-up heart.
"Go now love….spare me a thought "
Your voice and a gentle seabreeze wafted me out.
Diving at dawn with a whale of love
between waking dunes
capped by sourfigs , bleary-eyed revellers,
the blue-blue sky warbled
“one and one and one is three
One thing you got know ,is you got to be free
Come together, right now , over me.”
.
Jogging on the roadside,
With my friends at my side.
He moves every inch with us...
I almost forget we were four.
Seeing him as one; we discuss
Along the line to the very core
Before I knew he was a stranger,
He has turned out a humble words exchanger.
"What's your name?"
He asked diligently.
"What's your aim?"
I replied bluntly.
I know you feel dismayed.
Notwithstanding, I am for peace.
So; be unafraid,
Set aside your earpiece
And give ears to me,
My words with a straight face.
Pasting all the copied pleasant words
Into my ears like songs of birds
Pleasing to the heart every dawn of the day,
Hardly could I get away from his voice culture
Painting itself raw on the blank vacant space of my mind
Loom up with the best attar of roses.
Allover me again and again till my withered flowers grow kind.
Considering him a different vulture
Not to feed on carrion and fly away
Coming up roses with bared teeth for another tease...
But I sensed he would love it a game
Or see me behind the times--
Telling him I will think well of it
So that he won't see it as endgame.
Though, the well-intentioned untruth, I've a heart-stirring permit
Of one's own free will beyond wildest dreams
And set a match to my pun
As we smile and stun
Through the narrow hole of my ears,
His running thought beautifies the flowering moment.
Through the shady words in cool paints,
Filling the widened path to hold my breath.
Where sunny days hid afar in our accoutrements,
The hot weather foaming to worm the family birth...
If we won't only do it for fun and disappear
Between the thin lines of complaints.
Someone I never think of,
Is now the reason I uncontrollably laugh.
For the silent moment easily pictures,
His unrelenting acts decently packaged which bathe me
Romantically thinking of our future,
Praying and working to make it be
The richly blessed one absorbed in friendship.
Down the line against all hardships.
Yet, for all these
I never let go of laughter
Whenever I remember
The awesome pictures of all the tease
You planted into my head
And the zeal of beads around my waist well thread.
In which I film
You as the humble stranger
Who purposefully endanger
Peace of love into my dream
Three lying deacons
swim in a handbag -
and a lone, celibate pastor
paces longingly bemused.
Michael, the Arc Angel,
poses silently,
in dusty Gabbana drag,
cursing the lipstick-painted laymen
writhing in rancid attar -
naked
and intentionally
unused.
Four wide-eyed boys
dance on a daydream –
kissing ripped posters
of a white collared rapist.
Saint Peter understands
the jovial jokesters -
the foolishness
when blackened specks darken the void;
the flurried flutter of his eyelids
casts a tainted shadow
upon a fractured sexual ballet.
They continue to kiss
below the waist.
Three lying deacons
and a pacing pastor resides –
five lip-smacking nurses
massaging your head.
Four wide-eyed boys
caress your knuckles
as the well-trimmed priest
pronounces
a poorly
scented infant:
"anally dead."
Seven cardinal sins
slip and divide
into 3 venial ratios.
"Hi, Sonny"...
Greed, lust and vanity
are mortal crimes;
Father Fragrantly Fresh...
quietly proclaims:
"snuggle a bit closer and
sniff a hint of Genesis."
Say I’m to blame
and cause-count the afflictions –
smaller undetected lumps
hump the jaded addictions
brain dead and haughty –
the zombies
circle and laugh!
I wasn't born in a dark discarded
Parisian tunnel but -
can you Roman Polanski me,
please?
Kill the poet...
and make him pay -
below the waist.
Crushed words embody
a forgotten loner’s
epitaph!
(force him to stutter stupidly)
and within a last breath -
and within a last breath -
and within a last breath -
GOD...
"the string-strangled
puppet
conventionally chokes -
and quietly succumbs
(to a textured landscape)
of a youthful
silenced dying...
...swaddled
and swallowed
in a heavenly -
haloed chosen
death..."
sarah & wodjan
debates over the presence
of Sarah Attar &
Wodjan Ali Seraj Abdulrahim Shahrkhani
at the Olympics raves on,
concerning whether or not
they have been used as pawns
thrown from the pools of women’s
oppression in the middle east,
as if their time spent was somehow
negative?
those talking on behalf of human rights
go on about how the real issue is the
absence of women’s rights in countries
like Saudi Arabia, that was represented by
both Attar & Shahrkhani,
as if having these two women competing
was not an valid inspiration to women all
over the world.
even if Attar lives in the US and doesn’t
have to deal with a third of the bull*****that
Shahrkhani does, living in Saudi Arabia,
the outcome of the sound bites & images of
her running in the games should not be
discounted, for it all means progress in the
greater scheme.
though Shahrkhani has a greater challenge,
going home to horrible name calling
(dubbed an “Olympic Prostitute” by those
backwards assholes twattering
who see both these women’s participation
in the Olympics as a slap in the face of
muhammad) & slim to no Saudi media
coverage of what has to be one of the most
exciting and meaningful moments
(not to mention amazing & historically
significant!) of her young life,
the fact remains, her Judo fighting in the
international arena, for all the world to see,
means progress.
Evening Hours
An azure sky is being defeated
by a shadow world where
a persistent half-moon is already
making its way up the silken expanses
of blackest night
A horse whinneys, spooked
by the rattle of an old
lawn mower on its way to the shed.
Mosquitoes, agitated, smell blood
in veins that evade their foray,
then try to find egress
through kitchen window screens
A limousine glides through
the dusk, empty, but proud
A raggedy convertible pulls up
The driver pets the fur of his
small dog
Both must stop at a traffic light
while an old man with one leg gone
is sweating to get his wheelchair
across the street before
the light changes
A silver haze from too much heat,
lasting too long, shivers over
shadows in the park, where a
street man has curled up on
a wooden bench.
The half-moon tips its crescent
toward a statue of a soldier
on horseback, saber raised,
hat on straight
A slip-slap of slippers sounds
on the still-warm concrete
as a young woman puts out
a letter to be gathered
by the mail man.
The evening smells of roses
attar burning the nose with musky beauty
Murky pools of gathering night
darken the corner the corner
where daisies grow
Evening Hours
An azure sky is being defeated
by a shadow world where
a persistent half-moon is already
making its way up the silken expanses
of blackest night
A horse whinneys, spooked
by the rattle of an old
lawnmower on its way to the shed.
Mosquitoes, agitated, smell blood
in veins that evade their foray,
then try to find egress
through kitchen window screens
A limousine glides through
the dusk, empty, but proud
A raggedy convertible pulls up
The driver pets the fur of his
small dog
Both must stop at a traffic light
while an old man with one leg gone
is sweating to get his wheelchair
across the street before
the light changes
A silver haze from too much heat,
lasting too long, shivers over
shadows in the park, where a
street man has curled up on
a wooden bench.
The half-moon tips its crescent
toward a statue of a soldier
on horseback, saber raised,
hat on straight
A slip-slap of slippers sounds
on the still-warm concrete
as a young woman puts out
a letter to be gathered
by the mail man.
The evening smells of roses
attar burning the nose with musky beauty
Murky pools of gathering night
darken the corner the corner
where daisies grow
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
I'll come as the raindrops to sleep on your flowery heart
Nothing in this Universe possesses the power to set us apart
Compared to you and me, Monalisa is not the greatest art
When you are alone, I'll will be right with you as your breath
You are the equation for every single deliberation I do in math
My soul will still be with you even after I got racked up by death
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
When you become the night sky
I'll embellish you with dazzling technicolour stars
When you ever wanted to cry
I'll make you smile with the tunes of sitars
When your throats are going to dry
I'll cool them with the Sakura's fragrant attar
Whenever you say the word "bye"
I feel the excruciating pain of a thrusting scimitar
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
How could I ever live without your smile by my side
Oh, sincerely, without you, my heart would have dried
The aroma of your canorous words is my greatest pride
The light from your honey-splashing cheeks is my guide
In the paradise, the God had this relation forever tied...
Moneywise, I'm far...
from rich, but in life
and love, I sure am rich...
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
Today was not made
for some; their eyes never saw
dawn's sunrise; mine did,
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
Notwithstanding my share
of bleak, hard-to-get-through days,
I still cherish the attar of roses,
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
I've ridden the seesaw of life;
felt it's highs, lows and in-betweens,
yet still find it all worthwhile,
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
I've walked the razor's edge,
swam the tempestuous ocean of despair
and managed to make it to safe harbor,
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
I've been shoved and sucker-punched
by misfortunes time and time again,
but by the grace of God, I'm still standing...
for that, I'm eternally grateful.
April Ambassador
April, ambassador of spring, appears -
Mediator of the truce
Between dusky winter’s sighs
Of first snowfalls
And the incense of l’air du temp
Where mourning doves entwine with peaceful wings –
The scent of cashmere’s spring
Soft upon the meadow;
Envoy of hope’s wild spice in Resurrection,
Sweeping away the dead odor of winter’s tomb,
Consul coaxing breath into oxygen,
Spring’s letters of introduction,
In strawberry scented tresses,
Overflow with summer’s promise
Redolence of fresh seed
Overflowing from her diplomatic pouch
In deep furrows of earthy loam’s consecration
Curving round the hilltop
Envoy of soft rains tenderly opening a closed door
To negotiate between days mingling with warmth
And diamond edged dewy nights
Emissary ushering in the pungent potpourri
Agent of yearning for the seasonal zest
In the sweet cologne of truce for rose attar.
4-16-21
Contest: Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
L’air du temp – Air of Spring – also the name of a perfume
Her man was woven into love spell
By another woman, not of her smell.
Bewitchery, she will not tolerate
To the perfumery she’ll calculate.
Apothecary had the perfect answer
An exotic earthy whiff from vetiver!
Happy she was her man found her erotic -
But, alas, it was only episodic!
She spritzed the air with essence of rose petal -
Then a reminiscence of the betrayal!
Love and romance the attar generated
Very soon enough it evaporated.
Memorable scent of basil she wore next,
Pleasurable things her man not to forget,
In vain, it was she who cannot forget -
In her mind fresh the err her man had make,
Scent of her rival made her green with envy,
Scent of betrayal made her very angry,
Desperate but hopeful, she went to a lone edifice;
Temperate and humble, the scent of water brought her peace.
7/14/14