Long Brail Poems
Long Brail Poems. Below are the most popular long Brail by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brail poems by poem length and keyword.
His hands traveled over my body
Like a blind man learning the lay of the land of my bodied brail world
His breath,
SO intoxicating.........brings forth springs of truth
Disconnected words, but admissions of truth.
Like... I. ummmmm.. just. Not normally like this..
youuuu...
you make meeeeee flustered
but... I like it
My
Sentences,……………………words………and…. Thoughts…………………chyeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Face
Flushing
With
My animal desires
To lose myself
Surrender it to the moment because the moment
Where you are kissing my neck getting my legs all tangled in yours our hearts
Rapidly beating through our thin layers of t-shirts
has me completly gone
and when I say gone I mean far past jupiter a thousand galaxies away laying in a cloud of bunnies.
he
his tongue
Down my
Neck and…………………………….
There
I
Go a thousand miles away from where my critical thinking part of my brain ANALYZES
LUSTFUL SYNTHESIS.
i know i am
Losing
my common sense
Sighs of happiness
Higher than any hard hit of Marijuana
Ughhhhhhhhh chyeaaaaaaaaaaaa
toes
so numb
Feeling lie I am hovering over top of my bed in ecstasy
INSTEAD I am laying here hours later alone in the dark typing suprisingly happy romantic poetry.
Since when did the poetess write a happy romantic piece for her poetry...
his cologne
sits on my skin. He is the sweetest sin
I would drink his kisses over and over again.
beause my mind is lost again.. taken by the tide
I am swept away again...
Drawn into his arms like the alternating parts of a magnet
I move to him Like the constant pull of the moon to the tide
My chest rises
And falls
as I take deep breathes of
happiness in
it has been so long my lungs have only been lifted
by my lonely chagrin
mmmmmmmmmmmmmm my Heart rate is
Dropping rapidly
my shoulders so tense before now sink into the fabric of his Vista Crusier
like playdough left out in the sun
He is pleasure in the form of a human
AND FOR ONCE TONIGHT
he has me at a loss for words
Form:
There is nothing normal about me.
I’m unnaturally arranged.
I’m artificially artistic and gifted
With a quirky quantum brain.
Billions babble like me
But not one of us’ the same.
It’s a calculated risk to freely
Unleash me all the same.
There’s another voice inside of me.
It wasn’t there before and now I feel deranged.
Telling me to do these things I’d never do.
Forcing me to think outside the box.
Is this really air that I’m breathing?
Are you really there or am I just grieving?
Who has all the answers to my questions?
"Who am I? Why am I here?
Am I alive? Am I aware?”
“Is this stuff on my head
Really hair?”
I run my fingers through it.
I feel there’s something to it.
That in another life
I must’ve been a Super star!
For engraved behind my skull
I feel some raised brail-like scar.
I can’t quite make out its meaning
It may simply just be numbers,
Hieroglyphics or a Chinese scan bar.
Perhaps, I wasn’t even born at all
Manufactured in a place called,
IQ Implant Enhancements,
Or Androids Are Us, down at the local mall.
I seem to be playing music in my head.
Perhaps, it’s a small android violinist.
I seem to be humming with him, “Amazing Grace.”
The harmonies put a strange smile on both our faces.
It pauses and takes a moment to look out my eyes.
The world comes into focus, and it gasps,
“What the...”
The Braille of Cobblestone
Keeper of darkness,
of auras reaped from high seas,
vast is your harvest
of earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard glass.
Such reflects primate-memory
once clamored upon by man and beast running,
dodging blade and spear
as wash water dumped from windows high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful,
ever hungry,
ever historic.
At the high noon of one’s life,
we wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications lining your path.
you the wrinkled skin of ancient masons
serve sunbaked feasts
from the past of pasts.
Your micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send spirits aloft from grasses high,
reminding us that while calendars may crumble,
your stone of old remains young,
transcending the language of vowel and consonant,
acknowledging the touch of phantom eye to eye,
even whispered touches beneath a Nike sole
speaking the tongues of old,
echoing the murmurs of felled travelers,
the severed limbs of warriors,
the rivers of passion red,
polishing fossils within.
Still…
Others would fake Nature's setting,
even make ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference.
Such serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon your offspring
sold into bondage, interspersed among the fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of oar-navigated ports.
For like Rodeo Drive's cobblestone plazas,
where modern slavery prisons of today
masquerade as knockoffs once authentic for tomorrow,
your history is reaching fade out,
sans your hidden messages,
your quiet cacophony of silence
made orchestral for those who can hear,
those who dare see through the darkness,
those who can be moved and touched by
the brail of cobblestone.
Quote by M Rose: If love had a thousand faces they'd all look like yours
Your visage is what I'd seek first in my lost and found box.
I'd feel for the corners of my box with nimble fingers
eyes closed I'd brail the contours of your missing face
like a schoolchild pining for a spark of self esteem, I'd linger
on words last spoken, before you faded out of place
If love had a thousand faces I'd see only yours for all eternity
lost in a sea of despair, I'd search for you far and wide
like a mother craving for a child's return, I'd scour the city
rummaging the streets, looking in places you could never hide
If love had a thousand faces I would never look for anything new,
I'd take delight in the likes of you and only you.
Shoes
I can count to ten,
I can play Beethoven,
Bach and Seuss…
with equal flair.
One and two fish,
they, all-together swim…
the bright-green sea.
The colors of the rainbow,
I ponder in every shade.
I draw outside the lines,
but they are just…
(take a long breath)
boundaries to be broken.
Going to the moon,
the zoo, or grandma’s house?
It is all a trip to heaven.
I really want to go back
to the castle…
(soft crying)
Someday!
I think in pictures,
speak in unknown signs,
write symbols no one’s
ever seen.
I am a story that needs,
telling...
to be sung in words of brail,
to blind people that
learn the task, but still
can not read the truth.
Silently,
my mother
(sad sigh)
ties my shoes.
Like magic there are bows.
Bear’s chase rabbits,
and… I play the piano.