Long Attentions Poems
Long Attentions Poems. Below are the most popular long Attentions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Attentions poems by poem length and keyword.
Many people pamper their pets
Love them so much
Treat them as small children
A dog with a diaper on
For cleanliness
A dog with a mask on
For hygiene
A dog with clothes on
For tidiness
A dog with dog foods
For nutrition
A dog goes to veterinary
A specialist
To pets they pay a lot of attentions
Maybe they deserve
How about their own children
And the oldies
Don't they deserve more
Sometimes children are left to the nurseries
Sometimes oldies are left in the old folks home
And their pets are always with them
Always being attended to
I'm lost
Does God says anything
About this discrimination
I wonder
If you are having trouble conceiving, come down to the Wild Horse
We have a drink guaranteed to loosen you up, which will let you relax.
We cannot guarantee a child within nine months, of course.
But we have six gentlemen who will share their honest facts.
They each had trouble getting their wives in the family way.
Then they came down and had our magic elixir, which cannot be beat.
They now each go home to a family of five at the end of each day.
Some boys, some girls, and a wife who is grateful and sweet.
A secret, so you have to come to the back door and give two knocks.
We only share it with men who can show twenty dollars in the keyhole.
When you get home, amorous attentions will get rid of all sexual blocks.
Attentions will be on you, and your wife will not in any way say “whoa!”
This baby making elixir is fine, and only sold for a limited time.
You will have the best child that money can barely almost buy.
Does this sound worth twenty dollars and one small dime?
Why not come to the Wild Horse and give our magic potion a try?
A stranger lifted me up today
While I was lost in my own self-centered universe,
Silently crying about nobody else reading, commenting or caring
About anything I’ve said,
Considering myself poetically dead.
I’ve been more concerned with the encroaching materialistic
Responsibilities, requirements and concerns of living
Instead of turning my attentions outward towards others
And lifting myself out of this whirl pool of self-pity
Into the ocean of giving.
When to my wondrous delight dark turned to light
As out of seemingly nowhere a fellow poet spoke gently and composed:
“Your poetry is like the softness of a country rose.”
And while I know not where she lives and breathes
This furtherance of feeling was shared with me:
“I too am blue as sky is gray and nothing more will do today
Except ethereal connections are how we poets play.”
I was more than moved, to say the least
How this gypsy out of cyber space
Renewed my poetic vow:
To speak the truth simple, plain and clear
As I know how.
And how
My words and hers connected
Through the vacuum of space and time
Is a story for another day and rhyme.
Until then, I stand transformed
By those few words she engendered –
And would give anything to tell her
How sweet and kind her words were rendered.
The intimacy of knowing your body
as well as I know my own…
The unspoken permission
to touch with my hands,
to feel with my lips,
my tongue,
to move upon and explore
the most secret of places,
witness the most intimate functions.
Your salty sweat is delicious,
your saliva is like fine wine.
Each pale hair that covers you
deserves attention and devotion.
I want to taste the words
that spill from your lips as you speak,
taste the flavor of my name on your mouth.
I want to crawl inside of you,
as if you had a uterus
and it could be the womb
where I suck my thumb,
secure and safe.
To know you as intimately as I know myself,
and to peek in at your thoughts…
to seek and find that hidden place
where your soul resides!
I would that I could lay seige
to the shelter that succors your naked,
vulnerable soul…
and live there with you,
hold you in my arms for eternity.
Goodnight My Beloved Grandma (for Elizabeth Ugoeze Nwadinobi)
By Izunna Okafor
As an ocean bleeds unbounded
Troubling the sons it founded
In pathing the ways with tracks
Tears have bathed my wang with marks
What a world !
The wave blew aloud like a ruse
Kidnapping attentions as a tale
Only to jail some minds in her rue
Blinking as sorrow in the eyes of men
What a world !!
We never expected an untimely departure
But that has reposed our own to her home
For the time of men is tied to the nature
And our tears for the dead a show of sorrow
Death has seized the noble hen
And the chicks abandoned in the dusky earth
We cry not because we need a sympathetic help
But to cough sorrow off our heavy heart
Death is wicked
And the world a tricketh
But we'll forever remember you as a mother
Farewell and goodbye our dear grandmother
Good night !
Good night !!
Good night !!!
(Your Grandson)
© Izunna Okafor 2018
soft, yet ...
like a breath of Noshaq
you are gone in a whisper
bound for some dreamy realm (imagining)
where exquisiteness affords you
a throne in Valhalla …
you dance among the frosted peaks
like Misha with the Mouse King
prancing on a puff of wint'ry wind
yearning for the bloom
of early Spring
the nuzzle of a warm nose
or the easy gift
of a frozen lake of swans
hush, you ...
about your business
secret stories you tell to the mountain
of visceral attentions, keen
wondrous things that we lesser creatures
will never be privy to -
things that you find your common bidding
but that fools like me -
wholly taken with sublime form
and ghostly airs -
find spellbinding ... breathless
enchanting ...
you are a feral phantom
demon AND deity of a covert kingdom
I am cursed to only conjecture on
or put to inadequate word ...
a magical dominion of
deliberate and brutal elegance
that has graced me with but a glimpse
a rare, tender, precious instant
blessed by the substance of a moment
far too beautiful to ever
capture.
She is the gentlemen’s ultimate one dream girl,
She is a rogue who pompously goes the world in a swirl.
She is so called to be the best Queen Bee of all,
Deep inside is a rake Wanna bee of one famous gal.
She wears a smiling crown around her lovely hairy head,
Her sweetest angel scent smells like those flowery scented thread.
She’s a an ideal queen with a truly humbled personality,
That girl who wears a crown is childish in a comic reality.
She explicitly tells about her real emotions,
She’s obviously genuine in giving her friends’ attentions.
She easily gets irritated when they mock at her,
That childish reaction is so much funny to stare.
She is someone who I so always adore,
Confidences I see are fiery raging and soar.
That Queen in a yellow dress that always looks amazing,
Is a Queen on Demetrius fire who is incredibly fine and stunning.
Beauty lies not
in her eyes:
Fair eyes like the winter's brow,
beckoning to eyes,
arresting attentions.
Beauty lies in the heart:
What does she say?
Her words contrary
to her actions?-
A dog in lambs clothing.
'Abundance of the heart
the mouth speaketh'...
1)Looking stern like an
indifferent moor:
Looking mild like the rageless sea.
But within her is
an adder of seven heads,
pouring out venom with
detestable hatred.
Beware of such:
A demon in an Angel's regalia.
Their actions speak volume of them.
2)Looking wild like an
hungry cheetah,
Whose claws are curious
for blood.
Not presentable and ugly
within her lies an hidden jewel.
Which beems not through her eyes,
But through the acts of her heart.-
An Angel in an aged clothing.
By her fruit you shall know her!
3)"The eyes talks not of beauty. The heart does."
17:1:12:10:27
The Old Black Dog. Dave Taylor.
It refuses to die, this old black dog.
Matted and lame but on misery he thrives.
Makes existence, seem one, long, slog.
How long `till it curls up and dies.
Even on days, when in line with the shame.
Of feeling downcast, and pitiful.
Just wishing there was other, than my mind to blame.
And soothing words, prove far from helpful.
When malicious whispers, in cold tones say.
“Face the truth, you are UNTERMENSCHEN!!!!”
And dark forces, hold me in sway.
The lone host, of their ill attentions.
The triumph for me is to stay in the fight.
Wait out the dark, and know it won`t stay.
Hold hard for the sun, to illumine my sight.
And cast myself into the fray!!!!
The dog may bark, but it`s lost its bite.
And I can take, it`s toothless grin.
Knowing in the end, all shall be right.
If I don`t allow the black dog in.
But pah; I don't think she's the woman you think you married..
She called you a blaggard, she stood in sunday church and spoke
you as a scondrel and satan: mentioning your lack of concern for her.
She bragged about finding it funny that your horse went missing
durning the same time the Merchants son came around with Beef
for sale, He gave it to us for free as i fecked him several times in the
saball."Gobe" he spoke of mi husband and became offended
and fecked his brother in spite. After I became pregant I came back
to mi Hubby to trick him into a night of romping and a good feck..
I'll make mi decision on staying when the little one is born. She told
the on listeners to pray for her as she had fallen of the wagon and got knocked up
in spite of her Hubby. He is in the running for who the Father is"
"Pray for me Ya'll!"
Durning the service
she stood again anwsering what was the difference between a Dog and a Dug.
"She anwsered a Dog is a companion a Dug is a person working near or in a hole
that uses his assitance to convey his needs as he works in the hole or tunnel"
The poreacher asked her to use the words both in a sentence and she did.
Well she said, I was lonley so I patted the dog on the back and took him out on a leash for a walk.
And Dug: she said whill digging the outhouse hole I stood by my man in case he need help if the hole collapes. I was his dug and was proud of it!. That was Feol Chapail we had for dinner? Naw Pah it was horsemeat!