Long Clamoring Poems
Long Clamoring Poems. Below are the most popular long Clamoring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clamoring poems by poem length and keyword.
The missus brings me high test coffee...
A cold wintry January 53rd, 2021
at Highland Manor apartments
picturesque snow covered landscape
safely ensconced within Unit B44,
we (yours truly and wife)
occupy bedroom and
television room respectively
comfortably numb and toasty warm
at sixty degrees Fahrenheit
courtesy climate controlled environment.
I practice crafting poetry
(seeking posthumous fame)
while the spouse busies herself
channel surfing putting
down remote control
after espying satisfactory movie
(Fatal Attractions),
about which she knows
every single detail,
and can rattle offer personal tidbits
about cast of actors and actresses.
Aforementioned regular routine
predictable until
onset rites of spring,
where warm weather perfect balm
to allow, enable and provide
antidote to existential woes
coping with being quarantined,
though sensing optimism
regarding president Joe Biden
green lighting living social pursuits
possibly revisiting
following favorite pastime.
Recalling contra dancing
as palliative against bashfulness
life as high school wallflower served me
without any budding female friendships
until lo… agent tulle nudge, yes
my mother over mollycoddled
then uprooted me
mein kampf familiar
bedrock level road terrain,
which venue offered groundswell
to blossom forth into
golden sterling resplendent rod
of natural equipoise,
(an unbiased opinion) and balance
with freestyle improvisational swinging motions
unchained from moors of formality
lit figurative saint elmo’s
Sesame Street Big Bird
winging fiery dance
allowing, enabling and
providing shy awkward self
during his young adulthood
to cast away four ever
self embroidered handsome
straight as an arrow
naturally high as a kite young guy
buzzfeeding like yellow jacket
liberating spontaneity
that je ne sais quoi joie vivre
clamoring headlong toward pollination
healthy packing heat overflowing
testosterone bin laden well nigh
erupting pistol (stay man)
toward opposite gender,
whereby bravado donned as key
to hoe field of whet dreams
fostering initial albeit late blooming
roll in the hay hormonally
rooted rutting squeal!
Oh, mythical fairy, how bashfully you woo me tonight
Attuning love’s lyrics to music of the passionate night
Alluring astral delight, the moon and stars you invite
Dazzling passions emanating from your enticing eyes
Twinkling celestial heights in scintillating smitten skies
Seducing tenor of fiery night, as sparks of love ignite
Inflaming sensuous hearts under opulent moonlight
As the lady of mystique embraces her beloved knight.
Whirling rhythms of my tempo in glamorous dance
My desires you waltz beaming glances of romance
Hypnotizing me brazenly in clutches of exotic stance
Arousing flirtatious entreaties clamoring to conceive
Tantalizing sensibilities yearnings of bosoms weave
In forbidden web of transgressions, longing to unseal
Secrets of fantasy world, titillating your occult zeal,
As essence of love’s enigma surrenders to my appeal.
Savor my dear, elixir of life, before it’s time to depart
Painting portrait of this union on canvas of my heart
Narrating love poetically, reminiscent of Rumi’s glory
Adorning fable-eternal, scripting rhapsodic allegory
Beholden to doting night, unwilling to meet the dawn,
As echoes of our heart-bells endlessly toll on and on
Urging for this dream to live on, stilling reign of time,
Cuddling pleasures divine, satiating fantasies sublime.
September 24, 2020
Placed 2nd: The night of passion and desire poetry contest
Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
War's main objective is to inflict pain,
pillage, and kill; evil runs greed's campaign
for Man has free will, Angels can't constrain.
Will love win out in the end?
Poor people are forced to live on the street,
exchanging their pride for something to eat;
trading dignity for one more heartbeat.
Will love win out in the end?
Some are killed for the color of their skin,
yet politicians do nothing but spin,
while pushing for the killings to begin.
Will love win out in the end?
Bigots and fascists tout erecting walls,
so that opportunity never calls:
dreams die in the chambers of city halls.
Will love win out in the end?
Civil unrest is the future forecast
as this generation is holding fast,
clamoring for change, while being harassed.
Will love win out in the end?
Still, some will risk all to help a stranger,
oft placing themselves in mortal danger;
as taught by a Babe born in a manger.
Love always wins in the end.
Aromatic lingering scents
Shadowed dancing from candlelights
Touches of scattered roses
Stings tickling the senses
On the dim cool lights
He held her slowly
On her narrow waist
He circled his arms
He led her on the floor
As music rises
Filling the room
He swayed her harmoniously
Eye-to-eye, they behold a gaze
Hands locked for support
Hips and lips graceful
With each hug and kiss
Uniting with the rhythm
Whispers one can audibly hear
Movements conjoined
Matching all push and pull
Even glides and circles
Breathing becoming ragged
Exploration up for a crescendo
Arms clutched as feelings rises up
Temperature fires up, boiling fast
Heartbeats thundering rush
Clamoring for a liberated climax
Then it explodes rigorously
Unstoppable beyond reproach
Time cease and freeze
Sighing.. Reviving deep
Plunging with the moment's bliss...
by:
olive_eloisa
4:34pm
revised: May 06, 2014
Sponsor Kim Morrison
Contest Name Just Write
2nd place
------///--------********
Looking intp the vast algorithmic wilderness we begin our search for truth...
For in this chaos of digital existence for we navigate
the maze of virtual connections seeking answers in the
pixels that....
form our fragmented identities.
Yet, amid the ceaseless chase for productivity we grapple...
with the paradox of busyness wondering if our
worth is measured
by our output or...
our ability to simply be.
In the era of constant comparison for we confront the...
existential dread of inadequacy haunted by
curated lives on screens...
that mirror our own
distorted reflections.
Beneath the surface of superficial interactions for we crave
for genuine connection searching for
authenticity in a world...
where masks are
worn as shields...
against vulnerability.
Surrounded by the droning of voices clamoring for...
attention we struggle
to find our own among the noise
craving moments of silence...
to hear the wisdom in
the wind of our true selves.
In the face of ecological devastation for we grapple with...
our role as stewards of the earth, questioning
the meaning of progress...
in a world on the
brink of potential collapse.
Against the backdrop of societal...
polarization for we confront
the existential challenge of empathy
while wondering if
compassion can bridge the chasms...
that divide us or
if we are destined...
to remain adrift in a sea of discord.
And in the end, the finality...
we finally realize the journey
was the destination all along...
Before golden opportunity
(goes no argh hue mint
the way of Long John Silver)
doth fade and dwindle
not necessarily cuz the missus
did (NOT) bribe and swindle
an ambition (for nor rhyme nor reason)
arose to kindle...
Affectionate communication
employing (figurative) gambol
probably testing your patience
to decrypt me trademark ramble
essential crux of matter after
ye prune thorny verbiage,
metaphorical berry good bramble.
Methinks yar psyche slid into funk
cuz usual upbeat gregarious disposition
of late (June 26th, 2020)
analogous to reclusive monk
whose nonverbal body language
shrieks "LEAVE ME THE ƒµ©* ALONE"
lest recipient (in this case yours truly)
receives judicious suckerpunch
finding him landing - ouch
on his buttucks - kerplunk!
Nevertheless as one
mister misanthrope to another
who could pretend cavorting
as asinine make bull heave brother,
(or undergoing extreme makeover,
and stretching imagination voila
one garden variety generic beastie boy
rendered into... yup, your grandmother.
Hoop fully no unpleasant memory
doth suddenly unfold
linkedin to said very old
boot (moost likely)
long deceased family member
turned to dust commingled with auld
Lang syne amidst weathered tombstones,
markedly intact skeletons absent
any flesh o'the rear
some etched with hands folded in prayer
mausoleum enshrining even in death near
(think grim reaper kingly leer)
still provoking jeer
profligate (yet prolific) paperback writer heir
housing generations ghostly forebear
comprising your family tree, once... dear
father, mother, sister, brother, et cetera
who profusely guzzled beer.
No intent to induce fury if playful banter
loosed psychological trip wire
merely harmless ambition to deliver mirth
lobs strike out as decided
by just now summoned umpire
on the ball punning away without tire
greatly flattered if literary antics inspire
ye to pen memoirs,
which become New York Times
bestseller, thus countless clamoring demands
to serve as ghostwriter hire
prompt ye with fame and fortune
before thee doth exhale last breath and expire
when moments prior,
I while impersonating a squire
wished ye a cheery bon voyage.
Written: September 1st, 2024 For Constance la France Contest
Quote (The ocean's voice is seductive, whispering, clamoring, and grumbling, enticing the soul to wander in solitude and lose itself in introspection.) By Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Allow the oceans to dance with sweet waves,
Flutter your flowing songs, as you swirl bright.
You, copious wrinkles, all day and night,
Talk cheerfully with breezes and graves!
Streams flow sportily across the wide slash,
Until you are white and covered in foam.
And patter past steep stones and curvy roams,
Pearls and diamonds are lush in the trash!
You may call me obvious, stream, or mane,
Is moonlight pale in the cerulean sky?
My gaze is mirrored as I sweep awry,
My face's tan is spurred by molten rain.
My full beard is adorned with crystal moss.
In music, mermaid laughter is like dross.
10 Syllables by line Checked by HMS.COM
Upon the arc rises familiar visage of tenebrous dawn
As birdsongs protest, yet another day gone wrong,
In anguish of emptiness thrashing~ stygian, forlorn,
Screaming relentlessly of despondent, indignant void
Blasting his emotions, clasped in poignant thoughts.
Nothingness was the theme of his darkened night
That brazenly shrouded luminance of starlit skies,
As the waxing moon turned pallid, refusing to shine
And benevolence of Venus dolefully uttered a sigh
When dreams, too, acceded to nightmares’ assault.
Life has been a long journey, trekking hills of misery
In hollow pursuit of hope, always despaired trying~
Every forward step of progress unresponsive, lacking
To rescue him from oblivion, from gravity of abyss,
Where silence echoes fear, warning there is no exit.
He knows intimately, she too feels dread of anxiety:
Of ocean-storms unseasonably rushing summer heat,
Parching her delicate notions of blossoming spring,
Of harsh winters encroaching on her autumns fiercely;
Yet, she stands steadfastly, defying the curse of grief.
Prodding goodwill of divinity she tolls bells of harmony
Giving voice and meaning to life’s reassuring feelings
Clamoring for a day to brighten halo of their morning,
Demanding relief; with her clenched fists at the ready…
Forever, if it takes that long, to alter path of destiny.
December 20, 2021
Poem of the day on December 22, 2021
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 27 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title: A Shout Into The Void
A poem that comes at night without a thought in mind
Words appearing outside a plan yet finds a place to opine
They seem to lie in wait, for a chance to take a bow
completing the lines in need and leaving me to wonder how
Words, plucked out of the air while clamoring around for a rhyme
And battling the thief of words, an unknown in this space and time
Not seeming to be apart, yet, volunteering for the issue at hand
Slipping in under the radar searching for a master plan
A poem appears on my page built with suspicious means Words written without a thought at least, to me it seems
The poem master comes riding high and lifts a calloused hand
My horse, running with an empty saddle; I only hold the pen
The master knocking down the blocks that mute the good ideas
Unbolting the door that locks the mystery where useful words Appear
He rides to ensure success when the wreckers of the brain come in
I’m at a loss to his confusing ways, I only hold the pen
A patriotic fervor producing fealty
A noble cause compelling loyalty
Paired with a callous indignity
Brash enlistee plunges toward destiny
Honor's badge worn with impunity
Duty's moniker embossed with magnanimity
Insatiable bloodlust squelching all insecurity
Unbridled ego clamoring a garrulous enmity
Toward the villains who shattered blithe serenity
First skirmish, pageantry displaced by gravity
Mettle varnished with aura of invincibility
First battle, fallen comrades question mortality
Successive battles, severed limbs, caustic wounds challenge credulity
Fragile mind being conditioned to atrocity
War's heavy mantle now shorn of indemnity
Threatening mind's sanity, hearth's perpetuity
Once faceless foes now scream their humanity
Once noble leaders brim with insincerity
Supportive countrymen now fickle, distant entity
Cheering press now rank with duplicity
Only solace, hardened comrades equanimity