Long Chaste Poems
Long Chaste Poems. Below are the most popular long Chaste by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chaste poems by poem length and keyword.
What range
Can change
Greet strange
What zest
Can quest
Greet best
What ease
Can peace
Now please
What feel
Can thrill
Frame will
What kind
Can find
Free mind
What play
Can stay
Each day
What sight
Can light
Put right
What craze
Can maze
Now daze
What lot
Can thought
Fund plot
What book
Can hook
Fine look
What rhyme
Can time
Flood chime
What taste
Can haste
Spur chaste
What lines
Can brine
Salt fine
What move
Can groove
Show proof
What play
Can say
Spark day
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2016
Singapore
Lulled to sleep by the tale, my eyes flickered but then I heard the scream
I popped up and stared at the mermaid.
Not me she said, through telepathy.
Someone was apparently being eaten by a shark.
I felt a mixture of glad it was not me but sad for that person.
Two more shrieks then nothing else.
Sharks? I asked the siren. She did not respond, staring at me with amber eyes.
Eyes that could hypnotize others, but not me. I was strong.
Her tale came quickly, not in words, but in pictures.
From her mind to mine.
The tale was sad, frightening, she had been stolen as a baby.
Turned into a fish by Neptune who claimed her as his own.
His goal was to use her as an interpreter between species
To keep her chaste, and forever imprisoned.
She had escaped at the age of sixteen.
A guard she loved had died helping her.
Murdered by her sisters, who wanted to keep her
So they would not have to stay.
She was gulping for air as she told her tale.
He was the love of her life.
Melodic waves took him deep into slumber.
When he awoke he was not sure if she had ever been there
or if it was a wonderful, magical, mystical dream.
However, there was seaweed in his bed.
On snake’s fangs, miser’s money chest,
On lion’s mane, chaste woman’s breast,
Hand of an alien man’s affront
On proud, honoured and eminent,
Can be had if they’ve surrendered,
Or in case are lifeless rendered.
_______________________
Translation |37.09.2024| snake, miser, woman, breast
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. Some place are too rare to tolerate an alien hand, beasts or humans : a cobra’s fangs, miser’s money chest, lion’s mane, a chaste woman’s breasts, and the like. An alien hand can dare to be there when its owner is dead, or surrendered. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Sarpasya ratne, kripanasya vitte, satyaah kuche, kesarinasya keshe |
Maana-unnataanaam sharanaa gate cha mritau bhavet kara prachaarah ||
A young lady was wickedly chased
by a man with intentions not holy.
Though once so incredibly chaste,
her innocence now was not wholly.
He cleverly seduced with a carrot,
this man; self-described as a colonel,
a ring with a diamond, one carat;
the truth of that; not one kernel.
He embraced her, enticed her to cede,
on the grass in the soft morning dew
he knowingly buried his seed;
she, sadly, knew not, what later was due.
Now, while lying alone in her berth,
as her ship slowly rounded the bouy
this lonely young girl gave birth
to an innocent fatherless boy.
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hat Bueckert
Date wrote: 12th October 2022
Tis brisk, this love, that rounds her abs with haste.
With dawn of quick pursuit, she trembles light.
His eyes, they stroke the lamb, her wooly-chaste.
Her long locks, bind, grab hold the sun, excite.
Too soon, the moon, the stars, her lips are wan.
Tis brisk, this love that stabs, does wound his heart.
Lamb’s eyes grow dim, for her the curtains drawn.
He’s wiped the lust off foxy boots, t’world falls apart.
A gentle kiss. He rounds her waist of grace.
He hopes and prays, does kneel in silent lee.
Just then, leaps sunset peach into her face,
As locks of gold release heav’n’s latchkey.
His breath, shallow; his tears, they brim with fate.
He wants to join his lamb at pearly gate.
I’ve been blinded by a blistering light
An atomic angel in the nuclear night
Have they come to take us away at last?
Have they come to punish us for the past?
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Papa, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
I’m here in the wilderness with my kin
A makeshift shelter from sticks so thin
The kids are asleep so I cradle the gin
Alone in the reeds with secretions and sin
When morning comes like an atomic cloud
When hard truths assault you like bombs so
loud
Whatever happened to once make you proud
Will be crucified like the Face in the Shroud
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Mama, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
Mother and infant, both hopelessly yearning
Scraps of subsistence ‘mid garbage cans burning
Walk up close to them, their cart full of waste
Permanent Babylon — no figure chaste
Now does the sex of the child much matter?
Will its birthday letters be seen ever after,
From up on some small planet’s observing post
Its tiny embryonic, cancerous host?
I’ve been blinded by a ruinous light
A ballistic angel in the wintry night
Have they come to take us away at last?
Have they come to punish us for the past?
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Papa, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
He came to me with skin like ivory,
although his eyes and hair were dark as night.
He came with one year past his eighteenth year.
I, with one year shy of my adulthood,
was a woman-child with expectations
brimming of romance!
He was my Adonis and I, his virgin Madonna love.
Deep gazes and nibbles on the neck and ear lobes
comprised our innocent foreplay.
The main event of our romantic love
was everything
(yet nothing more than long sweet silken kisses).
Romantic love was chaste,
unsullied by a future for us that never came.
Probably he’d had experience.
I’d never thought to ask,
but he instinctively knew better
than to ask more of me
than in that momet
I was prepared to give.
Nearly half a century since then has passed me by.
I do not know where my Adonis is,
yet here I am now writing poems
about that special night.
Other romances came and went.
Then matrimony bound me to a long-time fidelity.
However, the young Madonna that I was
one beautiful warm September night
appears from time to time inside my poetry
as I reinvent myself as Cinderella
because a chaste romance dwells eternally
in long smooth sweet silken kisses
where ivory perpetual romance prevails.
10/11/18 Inspired by a previous contest I did not get to in time
For Laura Loo's Any New Free Verse Poem Poetry Contest
How dare goddamn Laura divorce him
After thirty years arduous pre dawn sacrifice
Menopause made her dismiss marriage on a whim
Told Rod he'd not have true love twice
Victim adamant to prove prowess
To construct his dazzling platform
Marina tower apartment, salesman finesse
Enamour for strawberry blonde, he'd perform
Abattoir visits supply excess meat
Too good to discard, soon crows found
Raw morsels upon sunny balcony heat
Slowly rotting, sixty metres above ground
Pleased frequenting feathered friends
Swoop hungry, hot tiles smeared in grease
While his platonic blonde sidestepping pretends
She's not ready to consummate their needs
Shimmer photoshoot illusion windswept strands
Whip her dazzled face in gold to behold
Pristine boat grid below, his meaty hands
Suddenly clamp her jugular, slowed blood cold
Duck egg irises fear increases, dance shoes slip
Held up by Rod's determination to murder
Strangled finally to submission in his sausage grip
Remote controlled bird saw and heard her
Floating microphone, struggled inhale caught
Quad propellers wing nimble, zoom eye snaps
Amor of flaxen haired dancer he sought
Filmed before her fatty floor collapse
Cocky Rod knows how to remove her corpse
Platonic blonde diced by cow carcass blade
Churns through her chaste, chest flesh warps
Chuck steak beak struck, friends caw unafraid
20th July 2022
Written for Contest: Start Sleuthing
Sponsor: Natasha L. Scragg
DEATH IN SHERWOOD FOREST
Thank you for agreeing to this final interview,
Before you shuffle off this mortal coil.
You’ve lived for many centuries
And soon you’ll be returning to the soil.
Ah well, I’ve had a good life.
I can’t complain too much.
Although I have Dutch Elm disease
When I’m not even Dutch
You must have many memories,
So tell me if you would:
Back in the day, do you recall
A man called Robin Hood?
Ah, there’s a name to conjure with.
Although I was just a teen,
I could tell you a few things
That never appeared on the screen.
His romance with Maid Marion
Was portrayed as chaste and pure.
But what went on in the shade of me,
Well, you know what I mean I’m sure.
Friar Tuck hid in my branches,
One day when they were kissing.
But he was far too heavy
And that’s why one branch is missing.
I could tell you so much more,
But my sap is almost gone.
I don’t think I have the energy
To talk about Little John.
There’s one thing I’ve always wondered,
But I’ll never know I fear.
If I fall tonight in the forest,
Will anybody hear?
12th June 2023
Interview Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Anthony Biaanco
He looks ... Once more
The wide, weathered barn door
Tilts … To the wind
Its hinges broken … Rusted
It will never close again
Doesn’t matter
A small, solitary swallow
Flees from the shadows within
Vanishes into a chaste sun
He wonders … To where will he fly?
A radiant white dove
Descends
Upon the shimmering tin roof
It struts (in righteous pride)
It coos (in blessed compassion)
And
It defecates
The field beyond this building is … just a field
Is there more than clouds above?
He hears the wife call to him … Gentle … Soothing
His impotent body moves … Retreating
The ache in his throat … Tormenting
This time he’ll tell her that he didn’t
… Hear the child’s laughter