Long Cheek Poems
Long Cheek Poems. Below are the most popular long Cheek by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cheek poems by poem length and keyword.
Sweet youth of mine - how you have fled.
You once were blossoms on my cheek
before you lost that rosy red
with which you shone when at your peak!
You were so fresh; you were so fair.
Sweet youth of mine; how you have fled
with lilac scent from springtime’s air!
Now mostly grey I see ahead.
Like bright leaves that the trees have shed,
which then decay in autumn’s ground,
Sweet youth of mine, how you have fled!
You disappeared without a sound.
So many dreams that I have dreamt
are dying (if they’re not yet dead).
For all that’s lost is my lament.
Sweet youth of mine – how you have fled!
Black rose
Black hair
Black clothes
Blank stare
Lips black
As ash
Burned and cut
Scarred and rashed
She stands out from the crowd
She’s different from the rest
If only she was proud
To simply be herself
But the whispers are so loud
And everybody else
They love to run their mouths
To make her life a living hell
She tries to ignore them
To turn the other cheek
But her view is getting dim
And her eyes are dullening
She’s got nothing left to give
They’ve taken every single thing
Now she’s broken, faithless, hopeless
They’ve left her with nothing
Nothing but
Each burn and cut
And scar and rash
That never left her side
In the back of the class
Each slash and slice
Are the only friends she has
So for the sake of mental peace
She wounds her fragile hide
For the sake of balance
She cuts her flesh
Until it matches her mind
The broken girl was never perfect
All she was is less than human
A drop tickled his head; he ran like a rabbit;
Showed each one; they rubbed off as it's his habit;
He collected his pitchers and pots and stood out,
Morning went; noon went; evening too; same drought, O, drought!
It's one drop on his head next day; other on cheek;
In aromatic breeze there's unique streak and squeak;
Pitchers and pots doubled; Clouds seemed to roam in doubt,
Morning went; noon went; evening too; same drought, O, drought!
Third day went; the fourth and fifth flew away as well;
Drops many fell on him; who could he freely tell?
Monsoon, for them, is like surprise wedding dine-out,
Morning went; noon went; evening too; same drought, O, drought!
Lo, like a dam broken, rain torrents poured at last,
Was it owing to his prayer, penance and fast?
None thought of any umbrella; they can leak rout,
Morning went; noon went; evening too; where are you, drought…?
10 November 2022
Inspiring Rainy Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
With my tongue planted firmly in my cheek...
We certainly can't all be movie stars
Who'd be left to go to the show
I don't mind being the one to sacrifice
It's not about the big heaps of dough
Yes, the sacrifice would be a mighty one
But I'm prepared for life as a star
Maintaining my charm and humbleness
Which will certainly take me far
I'd live in a mansion in Beverly Hills
But I wouldn't forget my roots
You people could visit me any old time
It certainly won't cost you much loot
Normally I'd charge an arm and a leg
But for you folks it'd just be an arm
What the hey, you've got more than one
No reason to get so alarmed
It would go to a very worthy cause
To provide me with the life I deserve
For entertaining all you very sweet folks
You think I'm throwing you a curve?
How could you think so badly of me
When have I lied to you before?
I'm as straight and honest as the day is long
You've hurt me to the very core
Okay, okay, I must come clean
I'm yanking your chain a wee bit
The reason I've decided to do this for you
So you'll remember when I'm a big hit
© Jack Ellison 2013
Breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly
upon my neck, oh, how he pleases me!
Irises beneath long lashes gazing
down at me are gold-tinged and amazing.
Near moonlit water, on a beach are we,
breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly.
Our legs are intertwined; my cheek is pressed
against love’s rhythm beating in his chest.
His fingers trace the line along my spine
as stars peek down at us and brightly shine.
Breathing feather-whispers so lusciously,
caress us, Wind, before the night can flee!
Like ocean’s waves that come to kiss the land,
our passion mounts. Unbridled on the sand,
I give myself gladly and completely -
breathing feather-whispers ever sweetly.
Sept. 13, 2016
For Russell Sivey's' Choose A Topic' Contest: Love and Romance
Riverwalk
Sitting by the Riverwalk it's like
a park
People come to this place in our hometown
to eat drink and gaze at the water's edge
or come for private thoughts
so now my destination!
My tears flowed with anticipation !
as I sit on the edge of the bank gazing up
The scenery is amazing the morning beautiful!
People everywhere!
Friendships loaded with jubilations anticipation tones
swoon by the light of a new day with elations
Summertime breezes upon the cheek
very sweet
But in the winter cold fragile heat
Hard to understand turmoil toils
who rules the tunes
who rules the beat
Knowledge is burning to Speak!
Even when we understand not what?
faith to faith evidence
See the forest for the trees? no!
What we do know is that
April showers bring May flowers even when it's cloudy
And in December must we freeze in frigid winds am
not trying to boast about winter cold or summertime heat
which is better which is worse because we know
June comes before July summertime August is the hottest
So in any kind of weather may my mind calm down
dance tapping tones
swoon the waltz style out loud
beats the Black Belt complete
in victory not defeat
For we
trust truth mysteries from generation to generation
in quiet serenity and blessed Peace brings Joy
As we move our feet in our houses sometimes
we meet or greet each other maybe
around the corner in the mall, at the Riverwalk
In the street on the phone even a message
Dancing singing to our own melodic calls
and boldly we beat the drums for fun
by the river, we walked with the heart and the heat
and our feet and talked by the Riverwalk with others
its like a river park walk and talking!
There are days I when loathe the touch of another,
Where fingertips burn like cigarettes upon my skin,
And a hand on my shoulder carries the weight of the world.
Moments where comfort could cure, but I must ride out the pain.
There are moments where I am a normal human being,
Where I can shake a hand without the inner recoil of disgust
When a kiss upon my cheek is just a kiss upon my cheek
And my mother can hold me in her arms long enough to feel it.
There are times when everything has a meaning,
When two eyes lock and suddenly it’s a love people write poems about,
And I long to melt into each crevice of your skin, down to the bone,
So that when you finally leave, you’ll take me with you.
My mother loved me into wonderfulness
An odd child, too unusual for school.
I was sent home the first day, with a note.
I watched my mother’s face, for nuances.
A small wavering cheek dimple would have
Confirmed my most horrid fears.
I could tell by the whisperings of the day
The teacher did not want me there
Would my mother feel shame?
Would she call me names too?
Like the children had?
Arms enfolded me.
Relief.
She still loved me.
My mother, the one person who
Believed in me when I was feeling like
No one else did.
You my blessed son, are too smart to go there.
I stared into her brown doe eyes.
She had never been more convincing.
And I was a child who needed to believe.
She is the reason I persevered.
No other teacher could have taught me
Resiliency and tenacity like my mother did.
She, and she alone, convinced me of my
Brilliance.
No one else would have failed nine thousand and nine hundred and ninety-nine times and still tried one more time, right?
So in a way I must dedicate the electric light-bulb to my mother.
God bless you, Mother.
You are my hero!
Lips, you pass so close
From a kiss to words
Corollas of knowledge
And of pleasure
What are you doing here
On this deserted face
Kneaded by a bare silence
Without a halo
Aren’t you afraid
Of being late bloomers
Of crossing your borders
Into an unreal land?
Yet your edges tremble
And the skin begins to see
As if the ancient spring
Reopened the evening
To see the day
Is to open the sky
To see the day
Is all of infinity
To see the day
Is to leave the shadow
And the primal water
Takes us back
(To see the day)
(It is to open the sky)
There, the eyes gather
A timeless light
It slides on the cheek
Like fruit on the sand
And this chastity
Is not coldness
It is a hand of a spring
At the edge of the face
Aren’t you afraid
Of being late bloomers
Of crossing your borders
Into an unreal land?
Yet your edges tremble
And the skin begins to see
As if the ancient spring
Reopened the evening
To see the day
Is to open the sky
To see the day
Is all of infinity
To see the day
Is to leave the shadow
I picked a fragrant red Rose, dulcet and perfumed soft for you,
kissing the honeyed petals, rich, dark and dripping sweetness;
the sky azure, the sun gold as I press Rose to cheek,
and I gently carry her to you my precious and treasured one.
I breathe in the scent of Rose_ she reminds me of your death,
while melodious birds sing songs in low tweets of respect.
Oh, there is a silence that wraps around my broken heart,
and red Rose is wilting in my hand_ she hangs her head dying;
as I weep and lay her on the garden grave of my beloved cat.
___________________
March 10, 2021
Poetry/Imagism/The Red Rose
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