Long Body Poems
Long Body Poems. Below are the most popular long Body by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Body poems by poem length and keyword.
She was going to visit her old auntie at 91 years
The sweet old aunt lived in her own home
in the town of Ostrow Lobelski in Poland
On the floor she found her body lifeless and cold
Her heart did not beat, and she was not breathing
Medical and police were called
The old auntie Janina Kolkiewicz was declared dead
After she had been in cold storage at a mortuary for 11 hours
she ensured that the employees got themselves a real shock
Body bags began to move - she was not dead
The niece says that when they came home
Janina asked for a hot cup of tea
she felt cold all the way into her body and soul
- This is a true story !!! -
16.11.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Morning light shine
And I reach over to my bedside
I can't feel her there
I smile as I think she is at it again
Surprising me with breakfast in bed
It suddenly hits me, she is gone
We laid her to rest just yesterday
Tears forming a path on my face
I remember her body once full of life
Now pale laying there as if begging me
To blow life in to it
The only reason I'm not considering
Suicide right now is because I know
She is in heaven and I won't get a chance
To see her if I do
What do I do now, because everything
In this house reminds me of her
Every love song carries memories of her
This is it I have loved and I have lost
But now I how do I cut the umbilical chord,
because I doubt I would be able to breathe alone
Will I be able to get over you my love?
Time heals but how can it heal me when it reminds me of you,
we used to count the
Seconds, hours and days together
Goodbye my lover but you're not dying alone, a part of me sleeps with you.
Form:
There’s a sign on the door, so please take note
Because tonight you’re going to feel every single stroke
So let me provoke and revoke your consciousness
Now put you mind at rest
As I promise to bless
Your body with all the pleasures I possess
No contest of who’s the best
My body to confess
The emotion of my deepest soul
So prepare for a thrill of the untold
Soon you shall behold
How deeply your passions unfold
As I provide all you need
Provide what you feel
Providing your heart with a fantasy too real
Together, our lips are sealed
While our love so open
Our bodies soaking
Wet with the sweat from the love we’ve spent
This night, you won’t regret
Neither can you forget
So to any passing by, we’re alone, my girl and I
The sign, “Do Not Disturb”, is there for a reason
For we’re engaged in a love everlasting,
A love… ever pleasing
Said the caste abolitionist
to the privileged preservationist
What Earth needs outside
we both feel inside
What people want inside
fills and spills outside
Following polycultural
polypathic
polyamorous
polytheistic Golden Rules
Ways
Means
Golden Ratios.
Caste abolition,
like anthropocentric constraint,
and unlike narcissistic complaint,
engages transformative potential
to recreate an organic civilization
in which every sacred body
has what is needed
and every polyamorous mind
has what is wanted.
Every neurological system
well-trained
and peace-making empowered
to recognize
and responsibly self-correct
any dissociative dissonant differences
between body nurturing needs
for kind touch
and mind-care wants
for compassionate communication
Spoken
and unspoken,
saged
and mused,
crowned
and rooted,
mountained
and valleyed
FatherSunned
and EarthMothered,
LeftBrained
and RightBodied,
enlightened
and empowering,
polished Win+Win
and abolished Win v Lose.
Too many years of cruel, senseless self-inflicted
wrath
Just fooling myself as I drift along this sordid
path
Potato chips, donuts, candy bars, soft drinks, ice cream,
pork and all sorts of artificial junk
Stomach aches, runny noses, flatulence and mental
congestion; my humanness on the brink of being defunct
I've been playing this melancholic tune called "Slow Death."
as the funeral procession moves closer to my final resting
place
Darkness and confusion no longer live in this SACRED temple.
thank you dear lord for shining your precious light and your
"amazing grace"
No more fat and grease to clog my arteries and suffocate my
'loving heart'
Regeneration is my mission, so to FAST and PRAY is where I
must start
No alcohol, stress, or cigarette smoke for my liver...
It works hard enough as it is; that stuff only gives it
the quivers
I've got to change my mind and body state.
To be renewed, I must clean this dirty slate
Eating to LIVE and not living to EAT
is how I must flow
To do the right thing is smart; when confronted
with that fake stuff, JUST SAY NO
Now! Is the time to start building a new me?
Yes! A temple that's full of love and peace, and
one that is disease-free
Form:
When I was 16 years old, I walked into the English class on the first day of school of a new year. I’d been waiting through the long hours of Economics, of Chemistry, of Physics to get to English class, the subject I loved most.
My teacher stood in front of us and explained that we’ll be studying the theme "Coming of Age" – the transition from childhood to adulthood. We were going to read many different novels that tell this story in diverse ways, and as we read, we’ll discover the universal themes across diverse accounts of this rite of passage.”
Then he told us about the books we were going to read – Lord of the Flies, Black Boy, A Separate Peace… I noticed something odd: none were written by women and none were about a girl coming of age. I knew it wasn’t right for a classroom of girls and boys to only read stories about boys.
But what was most remarkable about that day was this: I felt a strange surge of energy. It wasn’t anger – it was more like momentum, vitality, passion. It came with a feeling of “I’m going to do something about this.”
At the time, I was a little lost – in teenage rebellion, in hating my body, in being bored with high school. Suddenly, I wasn’t bored, or lost or hating. I was excited about something. I was working toward something.
Years later I turned out to be a biology teacher even without attending any teaching school or training.
And used the opportunity to enlighten lots of female students on maturity (the transition from childhood to adolescense and to adulthood) and several female related issues that wasn't in any textbook nor in the curriculum.
Today I might not be a very rich man but I am a fulfilled man. I am fulfilled because I know deep down that I have made an impact in the lives of several females out there.
So whatever is that drive, that burning passion inside of you, that push to make a positive difference, to contribute to humanity, I just want to tell you "don't give up on it. It's only a matter of time"
Together if we all put in our little effort, we can make a huge difference.
So whatever field u find yourself, be it entertainment, music, acting, poem writing, YouTuber, blogger, teacher, student or parents, let's all join hands to make the world a better place. All it takes is for you to use your field to make positive impacts.
#POETICLORD#
(c) JANUARY 2019.
EIGHT
A deliberate surprise
A shove from the back
while creating artwork
in my second-grade class
Perhaps an ocean scene
A distant angry memory
of my eight-year-old
consciousness
The broken waxy blue crayon
in my right hand
Before me the ripped orange
construction paper and
a scattered image
Girl bully momentarily
reigned behind me
her face encircled with
frantic spirals….
a golden mane
My neck flashed heat
and then a cold sweat
I challenged her to a fight
In the girl’s bathroom
that day
Pale turquoise tiled walls
screamed at me
as I entered the ring
Staring up I saw a field of wilting flowers….
wads of scrunched up soapy paper towels
hurled up at the ceiling where they clung and
appeared as corpses threatening to fall down
on me at any moment
The pungent thick air of girl
bodies surrounded me….
A hungry lion appeared with
open mouth ready to strike
Tightly wrapped around each other
A blur
A blow to my right side
A second to my stomach
Descending to my knees
catching my breath
Rising up I landed an efforted
blow on her left cheek
An explosion within her wild
starving eyes filled with
superpower magnetism
The pounce
The strike
My body collapsed…
the blue tiles hugging me
Sounds of silence
Distant voices of teacher adults
dispersing the crowd
Inside the small stall
crumpled body crying
on the toilet seat
head on my knees
salty tears cascading
Tasting them now
With armor and shield
bleeding …dented and broken
my heart and soul
rejoiced
Whisker Fever had suffered a really horrible, angry, bad day.
He had not gotten the Kibble he wanted. His master was way.
Creature he’s left him with was too prissy and stuck-up to like.
He would have pedaled away if he had been left with a bike.
“Oh, Whiskers,” she cooed, in a saccharine voice, irritating him.
She had a tiny bit of oatmeal stuck firmly to her left chin.
“Where is my big boy?” she crooned, like she was a friend.
If he had an axe, he would have given her a swift happy end.
“Where are you Honey?” she asked in a voice meant to please.
He hid in the smallest cupboard, a place his body could barely squeeze.
Tonight when she was asleep, he had a diabolically wonderful plan.
He would dump all her fish, watch them twist in his hand.
Then he would gulp them up and spit out their heads.
Their eyes would go buggy showing their last moments of dread.
Whisker Fever was angry as all get up, and wanted to leave.
But then she brought home catnip, and renamed him King Steve.
The magic you will always return to,
Isn't just the body of your love's quest;
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
The fragrance of her smiling face, pursue...
Risk of timing grace you never confessed:
The magic you will always return to,
Is of unseen peering eyes beyond clue,
To free the touching mind posing unrest...
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
Awful memories mind never subdue;
Through the worst, best moments wish be confessed-
The magic you will always return to.
Catching a glimpse of crime, love denied queue,
Trying to cover up pleasure... expressed;
The magic you will always return to,
Like the body, your burdened soul once glue.
misty autumn evening
our lips collide
under blushing stars
and rustling leaves
on sassafras trees
my skin you touch
cooing dove sounds
exit my lips
caramel eyes on fire
my hand glides on silk
and warm cotton
perfume inhaled
fingers sweet
that ole south huckleberry wind
comes cool off the river
wind plays tag with
running brown leaves
inside the castle walls
shadows tango with sunlight
vibrations race throughout my body
shuddering like a leaf
a meteor shower
of onyx and cafe noir
the scent of clary sage
and alabaster
is the perfume I wear
feeding frenzy breath sounds
skin muscle bone and sinew
liquid caramel brown eyes
glistening rosy pink lips
eyes dilate as the levee breaks