Long Clinches Poems
Long Clinches Poems. Below are the most popular long Clinches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clinches poems by poem length and keyword.
She wanders through the corridors, each and everyday
carrying a single rose, for the love that's gone away
her face is muffled by a veil, that only she can hide
and her secrets all concealed, nothing to confide.
Her perfume is masked with guilt, what must she confess
of course he must have loved her, or at least loved "her" the best
She sits beside the window, the curtains tightly closed
and mumbles beneath her breath, and clinches tight the rose.
She stands to see the painting, perfect on the wall
the only man she ever loved, who never loved at all
She jerked it from its rigid hook, and turned to walk away
shards of glass and memories, to lay there on display.
She cries her self to sleep at night, and walks the halls by day
for in her heart is the part, that will never go away
bittersweet is the love song, that soured with the time
to pop the cork on love unsworn, must have felt divine.
She often curses his name, and what she had to do
why did he, think that she, would never get the clue
So now as she sits cursed, there is no turning back
only to be known, as the unbearable beauty in black.
Trails and rails, and winding roads
Empty barns, abandoned abodes
I've grown too tired to bear this load
In this world, I have no place
My path has led me, far from home
I find no comfort as I roam
Away from all the love I've known
I'm lost without a trace
Along this path I wander, aimless.
To history, I shall be nameless
For hollow were the dreams I've sought
The right direction, I know not.
Repressed the jest that brought me smiles
My sorrow grows with passing miles
Upon myself, Ive brought these trials
I haven't the strength to face
I left the place where I belong
Too stubborn to admit I'm wrong
Despair is for those, who wait too long
There are too many steps to retrace
Disillusioned by my hopes
My soul is not equipped to cope
For hollow were the dreams I've sought
Of inspiration, I know not.
Tomorrow my sorrow shall grow even more
So distant the faces of those I adore
So deep is this anguish it clinches my core
I long for a loving embrace
All that I've gained, I would eagerly trade
For a chance to erase,the mistakes I have made
and return to their arms before memories fade
I ask this of God by his grace
Solitude is the burden of pride
and destiny is a heartless guide
For hollow were the dreams I've sought.
My destination, I know not.
Four scores and seventy
ingrained in blood stained garments
ancestors still rumbling in their graves
impatient souls lamenting their years
pages kept turning
pens are writing
and the story is unfolding
Dead trees hang over broken walls
threadbare buildings stand solemnly
in a city that was once their home
mothers weeping for their children
people scramble in the streets
and the great big God mewl from above
The tough bent curb wood swerves around
and cuts massive clouds into thin air
chopping trees pounding light posts
swinging and dancing from side to side
then paused upright in the open space
The karma
the sprit
the holy words
a limb for a limb
a sword for a sword
raw vengeance soaks up
the weeping earth
Stricken night makes its debut
swelling echoes mount from beneath
decades of blisters that clinches their feet
and the tension brewed as it gets closer
The moment fires strange emotions
filtering, wrangling and mooting
dignity and power captivates stubborn minds
and eminent slaughter looms from behind
anticipation impress heavily upon tainted lips
while an exodus flows in the manmade ditch
It aims directly at the center
empowered by a forceful northern wind
and moves vigorously toward the west
I saw her pulling his tiny hand
dragging him away from the screaming crowd
while she secured her little girl
intimately to her thumping chest
She struggles through the imposing crowd
with faith courage and determination
but the swelling boomerang ripped the children
from her weary arms
swiftly it disappears
and she heard these words
whispering in her ears
Wash your face
dry your tears
walk close to the mirror
and let down your hair
listen carefully
and tell me what you hear
breathe deeply
move slowly
you are here
©2013 Christine Phillips
It’s again that time of the year
When words bandied are ‘Love’ ‘Romance’, and ‘My Dear’
Question popped is,
“Will you be my Valentine’?
No, nothing wrong in it
That’s fine
But to find ‘genuine’ love
And not to be scoffed
Take advice from…
No, no Love Guru
But someone who has gone through
The Valentine charade
That Love parade
Yep, someone like me
I assure you
No consultation fee
Both of you may think
‘We are made for each other’
But just look around brother
See the fun
Everyone’s under the same impression
So, don’t be fooled
By the Valentine feel
You need not paint the town red
On the contrary
Ensure your relationship is on an even keel
In case of incompatibility
Rid yourself quickly
Give her up for good
And don’t say, “If only I could”
If you follow this
You’ll be in ‘permanent’ bliss
Keeping yourself out of harm’s way
For example, let’s say
The snorting father
And the charging mother
If you be both judicious and bold
You are sure to hold
Your own-
Her skin
As well as your bone
Turn to someone else
Let your charm sell
See that your new partner oozes love
Addresses you as
‘My Dove’
Remains with you
Through thick and thin
Above the Valentine din
And before I close
Do you have any questions to pose?
I know what’s passing in your mind
You want to find
Whether it’s my ‘Valentine experience’ which speaks
If it is this
What you seek
Well, only the wearer knows
Where the shoe pinches
So, the matter that clinches
If for someone’s love
You don’t pine
You’d never write
Such silly lines
On a desk, heaps of books and papers lie,
A bundle of wires, a puzzling surprise,
An honest handmaid, a modest laptop,
That lights bright and clinches words at a prop.
With touch of the keys, it moves to and fro,
Though not a grand device, it seems to know,
With trace of the fingers, the links to chase,
Across the extensive digital space.
A tangled spread of cables of black hue,
Stretch on the desk, like a sleeping snake true,
A forgotten pen, a treasured note book,
On which some brilliant quotes and thoughts are hooked.
A wilful webcam watches, ever keen,
To capture lovely moments, raw and seen.
It eyes the thoughtless yawns, the pensive frowns
And nose, as oft user dozes around.
A printer sits nearby in dull silence
Until it`s asked to come in prominence
With woeful whirs and creaking printing sighs,
Beneath its multiple observant eyes.
At the desk, a fluorescent lamp one wields,
Illuminating this packed working field,
Holding in its sway in the creative life,
A spring of joy, a sober source of strife.
Though the computer desk is worn and old,
It holds unending stories to be told,
A hearty humble haven, strong and free,
The centre of the world for folks like me.
It is where one triumphs, where one may fail,
Where sublime stories start and journeys trail,
A loving laptop desk, set as per wish,
Is the seat and the source of endless bliss.
Don't make yourself smaller
Determine: walk taller
Be a friendship adorer
A - phone your mates - caller
Don't squirrel away
All your treasures each day
Your wonderful existence
You light-up with your essence
There is love all around you
You don't see it but we do
Your spine, it should straighten
We can't bottle or patent
All this fabulous You-ness
Let's be honest it's priceless
So big shout to you, beauty
You're a loveable cutie
Not just in your reflection
It's our inside detection
That we honour and clap for
From you, couldn't ask more
Be bold and courageous
In your kindness outrageous
You are generous-gifted
As our spirits are lifted
While we breathe in your presence
With your joy effervescence
So, wherever you started
You've ended big-hearted
And your height not in inches
So impressiveness clinches
In each lovely encounter
Say "we like you" 'cos we're bound t'
SS
29th September 2023
A man with a quiet demeanor
was cursed with a miniscule wiener.
He tried lotions and pills
But not one cured his ills.
Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
His todger though tiny still worked.
When he went for a wee it jerked.
He could still have full sex.
It was rather complex,
but when it was over he smirked.
BY JAN ALLISON
His wee-wee was indeed very wee
to the extent that no one could see.
When asked, “Are you a man?”
He replied, “Yes, I am.
You can follow up stream when I pee.”
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Went out for a night with a hooker
Blonde but thick and no looker
When she saw his todger
Said my dog is bigger
You're taking me for a sucker
BY SEREN ROBERTS
A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing
I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing
For sex a useless reject
Can't tell when its erect
We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling
BY MARTI
Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie
isn't always small, it's big as apple pie
the winds were mighty chilly
affecting my poor old Willie
now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry
BY TIM SMITH
Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches
nope, the part for me what clinches
is strokes per minute
while they's in it
not a tool needs movin' with winches."
BY LIM'RICK FLATS
if you want join in the fun!
TRAUMA
anxiety
feeling
unprepared
yet resilient
&very blessed
hybrid
of naturalistic
fantasy
elaborate
sequences
compelling
but
fascinating
warm
& captivating
interesting
&
accepted
incredible
meaningful
creativity
identified
the
emotional
connects
&clinches
a beautiful
idea
to transition
imagination
into
fearless
personal
experience
from
chaos
of anger
&rage
to
the
idiosyncratic
&
unique
BLUSH
so elusive
gradually
emerge
from
scattered locations
otherwise
unknown
light
as parchment
the delicacy
of nature
swirling
wayward
& abrupt
white
materialise
like a vision
every
nuance
natural
below
& beyond
in
disorientating
dimensions
about
to be gone
lies
the bizarre
&coarse
glimmering
out
of nowhere
against
a hazy
darkness
in
appearance
&
so expressive
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand