Long Capping Poems

Long Capping Poems. Below are the most popular long Capping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Capping poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member A Dream Cloud

I joined the mile high club
Love as one began dreaming magic beautiful sunflower rays
dancing feelings  within clouds gleaming 

Blossoming flowers within your star lighting crystals 
frosted dewdrops sparkle inside treasuring soul thoughts 
embracing warm smiles in dazzling sunshine beams

Baby you always take the lead 
as the winds haunting moans crying through the trees
howling one spirit of a lone wolf born under the cold moon

Sure as the clouds gather together capping
heavily darken with rainfall running down the mountain
one silver stream chain towards the great Atlantic 

Most purest star of blinding light 
sitting high among'st the angels 
stunning heartstrings when warmly plucked 


Strummed touching echoes warm vision of a goddess 
kissing dark jewels flickering lights up across many oceans 
always waves land on golden sands footprints our forever

unrhymed tercet


Apollo Devotee Bathed Earthling Coppertone Fresco

Caution taken (lathering
     exposed epidermis with sun screen)
     against harmful innocuous
     rich (Times New Roman)

     12 font ask tick sun yet sen sate)
     refulgent radiant balm
unequivocal panacea medicinal luxuriant calm
     on par with a old

     sister wives tale remedy me late mom,
would magically construe
     to alleviate home sickness qualm
post pledge initiation invocation befriending
     Jason the Argonauts and Major Tom

dizzyingly zipping thru space
     in search of the golden fleece,
     (which acquisition
     ranked as a no brainer)
which recollection, sans above exploit flashed

     (at greased lightening speed) this peace
full May afternoon, a pitch perfect spring day,
     one adequately oxygenated
     air supply crowded house

     legendary fete of the rising son momentarily
     sol limb lee flared concluding with reverberating
     (though decades elapsed
     since fortuitous galactic heralded

     world wide web panegyric
     broadcast cosmos wide),
     then with just as quick
     memorialized recollection

     prominently recalled,
     said remembrance as things past
     vis a vis denouement across Universe
     with Poof! lifelong (black hole sun hopping)
     capping achievement did surcease.

Ah...such blinding realistic provocation sparked
     via pure imagination
     upon one earthly terrestrial beast

Sunkist soaking raiment sequestered
     within corner nook decreased
with onset of dusk, a mind bending
     dreamy experience least

expected while nonchalantly fantasies take flight
basking (with robins)
     in an angulated nook sky height
upon premises of Highland

     Manor Apartment out of sight
from the buzzer (I may as well be
     a million miles away),
     thus poetic justice end trite.

I Dont Give a Fig About the Brouhaha

I Dont Give A Fig About The Brouhaha...
of new year's eve,
yet yours truly does consider
at least one singular plum me facet by Jeeve
er...Robert (or Rabbie) Burns,
a profoundly poignant poem, he did conceive.

Anyway, this wordsmith fascinated
by historical lyricist whose unbelieve
hub bull lee brief life, nonetheless
made a lasting contribution,
a psalm burr tune folks across webbed

wide world sing to grieve
of recent sorrows past, plus pay
homage to joys summoned from
deep within core of soul bellowed
forth with an exultant heave

perhaps unbeknownst to most Robert Burns
(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796) did leave
his lasting legacy, sans (as national poet 
of Scotland celebrated worldwide)
particularly the classic traditional chestnut

auld lang syne rendered in many versions 
waving white capping
New Year's eve celebration proud
accomplishments one did achieve.

Coincidentally, "Auld Lang Syne" 
and "America the Beautiful" 
at which juncture, I interject 
a historical grace note to mull
how latter named above patriotic 
song in the United States, 

(lyrics written by Katharine Lee 
Bates saw many occasions 
after music composed by church organist 
and choirmaster Samuel 
A. Ward at Grace Episcopal Church  
in Newark, New Jersey) dull

lighting oomph and pizazz, extant 
since early 1900s, origin gin null 
intent format arranged as poem, 
"Pikes Peak first published 
Fourth of July full

edition of the church periodical 
The Congregationalist in 1895, 
now sung by mull teat hoods at Super Bowl 
every year since 2009, and appeared pull
say ting stadiums at some sports events 
after the 9/11 terror attack hull 
lob bell loo in 2001. 

The song comprises four verses, 
one of isung before kick-off 
in NFL's showpiece game.

Just by giving cerebral activity free rein, 
this inquisitive mind of mine
learned how twenty first century New Year's 
celebration include auld lang syne
linkedin with feted mid eighteenth poet 
laureate, whose death at thirty seven, his spine

tingling spirit issues forth to give 
him immortality almost divine
everlasting longevity within the pantheon 
of August artists who humanity did assign
an eternal place future generations will 
revere such metrical design.

Premium Member Peckers

The babble of youth
grouped in gaggles like pecking geese
pricked by the silence of the unabsorbed,
garbed in the flesh or cloth too large
or too small for their burgeoning minds.
Gangly limbs akimbo
intent, inward…looking outward
flung like a sling-shot’s  stone… forward
brimming with all too human DNA.

Stilled… a pensive brooding deepens
bonds of childish chatter break as Mother Goose clucks.
Heads are stabilized by, held up by white-knuckled fists,
free-hands continually rove the groomed while grooming
furrowed brows knit scattered kernels of thought.
The soft-shelled few gaze glazed, dazed
contemplate the ground unfulfilled
ponds of thought mine the mirrored depth
the hooded eyes of the limb-crossed
capping a fountain of chi…

Premium Member Your Body, Your Touch

Your feelings in a group of touring innocence
travel up North towards trust and sincerity
in sweet submissive care like a carefully rubbed suede.
You put day light into your entrapment
for noontide to go nonstop.

Caress from yonder, massage from under
your skirts make appetite nonchalantly mourn
your legs present so nutraceutical to manly weakness.
If your bones are licked by wild beasts
the jungle would be protected by the ghost of sweet affection.
If the rains fall through the planes of your body
vapours of lust and desires will spring out of the Earth.

Your expensive flare, expresses you as a needed nougat
sliding pleasurably though wet lips in a greasy enjoyment of noodles
with aroma and taste capping up a nouvelle cuissine.
Night is dead from your day-long engaging chemistry
making the aggression of your nubile emission
in ration to any attempted resistance an improper fraction
when the night's light strike your contrasting body
for the creation of a mobile image so dark and graceful,
nature will sit down beauty for a serious interview.


Losing Touch

 
"a dagger of pain, a tear of grief"
quote by Constance La France


Tossing and turning, I think
where is the lid to this pain?
Perhaps, capping this catastrophe
will cause an explosion.

It’s nightmares like these
that come from my bouts with radiation.
A wish for death, easy death
to hasten the slow burning of my flesh.

Thirst unquenchable,
my tears have dried up my throat 
the mere thought of eating, drinking anything
fuels my nausea
which drives me to further visions.

The doctor says it’s working
maybe five more sessions.
What good will a body be
if I lose my mind?

May 16, 2023

contest:  Writing Challenge  "A" quotes
hostess:  Constance La France

Premium Member Cool Beauty

Hailstones falling from the sky 
blown by a cold icy cutting wind
bouncing off the ground
clouds black to grey shawl 
winter takes hold 

The ground takes shades of white 
snow capping the mountains peaks
First snowflake falls 
gently melting settling on one finger

Thoughts drifting away inside the soft touch
Petals caressing heart and soul singing 
a choir chanting pulling strings 
blowing warm breaths clouding steam 
frozen whisper of time
feelings flutter into your space

Dancing to loves tune 
weaving our silken soft emotions together
ribbons of light piercing a single teardrop
holds beautiful love in high esteem

I will take you my love higher
to where the heart darling 
will always and forever 
surrender to you without pain 
The snow queen smile, cracks ice

Premium Member Tipping the Scales

Finally finished with forcing the future 
Beginning to balance the scales of life 
Purposefully pivoting to the present

Ruminate, rinse, repeat was my motto
Causing consternation in all situations
Finally finished with forcing the future 

Pondering potential paths pulling me away
Capping my capacity to be in the moment 
Purposefully pivoting to the present

Relieved to no longer wrangle what’s next 
Calmly swapping control for letting go 
Finally finished with forcing the future 

Diving deeper into today is the only way 
Reassuring to realize I’m on the right track 
Purposefully pivoting to the present

The shift has started as the stage is set
Riding the wave of what’s coming my way
Since finally finished with forcing the future 
As purposefully pivoting to the present
Form: Rhyme

Mother Mother

Song:-  1990

Mother    Mother
   love me  love me 
   love me  love me
   I need your love

   (repeat)

why don't you like me?
why do you hate me?
why do you hit me?

Mother  Mother

where is your love?
where is the safety I think of?
when I hear -

Mother  Mother  !!

Mother  Mother
are you mine?
why don't you love me?
why do you hate me?
why do you hit me?

Mother  Mother

How can I live without love?

I hide in the dark
I build walls in my mind
For I can't believe

Mother Mother

You don't love me.




I have posted this for others that are facing suicidal questions. 
This was a healing song written to release my own walls that I used to protect
myself from age 4 and onwards.  Was reading Daisy Tyrell request for feedback.  Hope it helps a little.  I could fill a book on the subject of the fight for life.  Will attempt to put some in words as I can.

And it is a fight - those that are willing never to surrender will live. I remember, one time - stuck in a noisy hospital wing, a friend also suicidal at same time in another city.  I wrote every moment, filling a large A4 pad.  On my knees, crying  - I was writing " I want to live"  I am willing to live.  Over and over. Line after line.  Page after page.  Also writing to my friend -
encouraging him to fight and live.  I won my fight that time -but my  friend
did not.  When I heard of his death - It put  me right back in hospital again.
The fight started all over again -never easy, but I won that one too and several more after that!

Daisy's poem talks of wanting to find beauty within.  That may not be what there is to find. A great truth is found the point of rock bottom.  Mental health counsellors term it  'bedrock'.   When you find bedrock -you find your truest self.  It was to my great astonishment I found my bedrock housed an 
unquenchable spring of joy!  Once I came to terms that this was the real me - 
I was able to identify what was capping that well of joy.  It took another 15 years to free myself from all those restrictive people. Once totally free never had another mental health issue.  Funny that.

I have only shared this to hopefully encourage others.  These times are long gone and totally cleared for me. Live a joyous, happy clownish though late starter life.  Love always - Virginia

Premium Member From Child Labor To Divine Ecstasy

Utter me a lamenting word; we're enduring terribly.
A thing past forgets, weaved in emotional leeway.
Simply capping to bear, inside the inward personality.
Conjuring an immovable conviction of power decay.

We don't forget, yet the splitters rise promptly tall.
Providing expanse for visible shadows to improve.
Sunshine glares through possible cracks in a vast wall.
They'd instead allow proper shades than curtly remove. 

At 13 years aged, I toiled with dullness and disarray.
While my friends invest vitality at the coast way,
None beats assisting our vast kin with daily cash.
As yet, the child work misuse endured a moaning clash.

When the whiff crackles my sun-damaged hair,
Bushy brows, credulity cloaked in a razor-thin stare. 
In the ingenious wrapping depicting rainbow,
Our dreams crave a variety of gold pastry yellow. 

I could achieve my goal if I had bettor arm. 
I need to work as opposed to getting a training form.  
Crammed inside of the gloomy, fearsome facility.
With hundreds of underages within the occupancy,

For what motive should boys bear-like Steve Jobs?
The most they can compete is a dollar daily odds.
They should be nimble, sturdy, and esteemed.
Not altering at a factory under hot eyes enraged.

The beginning of dusk goes prior to morning.
On the shoulder, there is a blaze of lightning.
Perceiving that we've merely been a pawn.
A view on life deepens the rule of aging brawn.

With regards to all-inclusive visual impairment,
Society's clever lies are fastened to its acquirement.
Divine intervention will vastly convey reality.
Every one of the clasps was at that point slouchy.

Written: December 17, 2021

DIVINE INTERVENTION Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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