Long Complementary Poems

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


Premium Member All I Want Is Your Love

This day has resulted to something I have to confess.
I am greatly and deeply in Love with you.
My soul ponders anytime I just think of you.
Your face has increased the number of chambers my heart has.
I long to be your groom,, while you be my Bride.

Your beauty have I known right from time past,
and admired ever since I saw you.
I will feel so Jealous if you commit yourself to some one else.
And your time, shared grossly with another,
even if that person is your family.

Come to my empire of Love,
which flows with wonders of happiness and peace.
Give me the chance to prove to you,
that Love actually takes two to manifest.
come into my arms which are wide open
and feel the passionate warmth of my embrace.

Just as in all the books of Love.
My kisses overflow with the deepest passion of everlasting desires.
Desires not of lust,, nor of unquenching taste.
But that of fullness,, completeness and fulfillment.

I may be using too many big words here.
or using figurative expressions in this sincere letter of mine.
or even trying to make it look like a poem.
But all in all, I just want to say one thing.
I LOVE YOU LIKE I HAVE NEVER LOVED BEFORE

This is a special letter, coming from a special person
To another special person, on a special timing.
I really want to be that special person in your life
The one who will be your everything.

Your man, your soul mate, your dream
Your desires, your passion, your life.
Your present, your future, your hope,
Your love, your happiness, your peace.
Your laughter, your inspiration, your joy.

I want to be there for you always even when I am not there.
I want to store my name and soul in your heart
So that wherever you are ,there I will be also.

After God, I want you to be next in my Life.
I want you to want me and love me like I do.
I want our feelings to be complementary to each other.
All my wants and needs sum up to one thing.
I want to have your love. 

Just give me the chance to be your man
To be your one and only.
To be everything you had ever wanted
I don’t know how else to say this
And this is becoming too plenty to be real.

And not even a million scriptures 
with a million pages each are enough
for me to express a negligible amount
of how I need you and feel towards you;
even if this is too voluminous to remember,
Just remember one thing sweet heart,
And that is………..
I LOVE YOU BABY.
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Loneliness of Gray

Loneliness of Gray
                by Odin Roark

Could It Be…

The mirror by which we see ourselves
This captive freedom of art in all of us
This necessity to communicate
Desire to become
Is but destiny’s
Loneliness of Gray

For if 
As in physics
The typical complementary colors
Blue and yellow
Red and green
Passion's mainstay
When mixed
Yield gray

Then why
When one’s being
Claims gray
Must disappointment ensue

When there is such empirical truth at hand
When there is no opposite for gray
As it is its own opposite
It’s own quintessential purity
Of emotion’s blend
why

Yes

Some would say
The artist’s mind lives unique perceptions
Available to all
Yet determined by most
As out of reach

Few
Accept this fourth dimension
Others reject
Where hands and feet
Colors and viewpoint
Change about
Inviting the dual organs
Nostrils 
Ears
Eyes
To express like colors
Embracing opposites
Allowing vocal cords of multiple mode 
To render art’s communication 
Imagination’s reverse tongue
Creativity’s spoken proclivity
To forever accept extremities of the mind
As wonderment
As living

Ever notice

How simple the artists’ walk
It appears to be on whatever surface
Imagination might volunteer
Be it floor
Path
Greensward
Or bomb-rutted road
Where surfaces creatively experienced
Reveal a virtually abstract pressure-balancing of gravity
Requiring little of tactile distinctiveness
But merely an accommodation
Today’s levitational force
Accomplishing needed transfers of altitude

Where the climbing of stairs
But a walk up from lower levels of existence
To higher realms of selection

To the Artist 
Passage from one scene to another
Needn’t be a factor
Rather trust in gliding
Where shadow and blurred focus
Claim one’s mingled curiosity
Into a chosen whole

Where much of vision
Voids transient objects
Ambiguous appearances like
Furniture
Or details of vegetation
 
Seeking instead

A diffuse lighting of every scene
Rendering the scheme of reversed colors and texture
Bright red grass
Yellow sky
A conundrum of black and gray cloud-forms
Down to the white tree-trunks
Green brick walls
Embracing
A Lovingly
Angelical grotesquerie

Such reveals one’s essence
One’s creation
One’s smile at chance
Depending on how
The mirror might be hanging
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Great Transitions

Great transitions became part of human experience
after we gave up on daily nomad lifestyle,
perhaps too bohemian
to have ever actually existed
out of nutritional nurturing choice

As contrasted with necessity
of drought,
floods,
pestilence,
famine,
chronic wars,
climatic absence of healthy peace.

Great transitions
are choices,
positive more than negatively motivated,
to move from one habitat
in space and/or time
to another
that feels more promising,
worthy of trust,
a potential celebration of interactive beauty,
holistic balance,
resilient health,
aesthetically resonant wealth.

Great transitions
have their inhale stage,
before the moving Team appears,
which includes hard and soft decisions
and indecisions,
memories,
and rude reminders
lacking acquisitive memories
about where did all these properties come from,
external
with their internally complementary feelings
of way too much stuff
in my cluttered life,

Happiness to be bringing warm memories along
and sadness to leave so much cold
and neglectful waste
behind the dumpster

And great transitions
also have their less famous exhale stage
after the moving Team
moves on
to facilitate another household's preferably Great
but sometimes Traumatic
Transition.

Great transitions
in second stage
open one box at a time
to reload new closets
basements
attics
garages
sheds
shelves
entertainment centers
dress drawers
treasure chests
jewelry boxes
safes
mailboxes
kitchen and bathroom drawers
cabinets
medicine cabinets
CD and DVD racks
soundtracks
shoe racks
pot racks
wine racks
over the door hat racks
behind the door spice racks
tool racks and peg boards
hangers
umbrella stands
coat trees
bird feeders
pantry shelves
under the oven drawers
armoires
desks
hutches
book cases
curtain rods
picture hangers
linen closets
nightstands
pillow cases
guest beds

Great transitions
never die
they just fade in
to what remains of yesterday

Sufficient for this new age
of rebecoming
habituated
co-acclimated
seeking a healthier climate,
a wealthier place
for healing uncooperative
lack of felt resilience

To survive
and hopefully thrive
into our next Great Transition,
inhaling into recycling lungs,
exhaling out into greener
more resonantly resilient
Great Earth Habitat.

Premium Member Lavender and Lace

I awaken to the woodland scent 
of a favored fragrant herb.

Its aroma transcends nocturnal bliss
and then softly seeks so gently to kiss
the distant lingerings in my mind.

Of a cherished place where I had laid
embraced warm in a lavender field
and was but long loved 
by its strong perfumes
so fragrantly released.

Overfilling my heart 
and infusing my mind
with all earthly bodily pleasures due
Its overwhelming possession of my sensibilities
its passions hence do hold my senses close
as an all encompassing lover 
that it doth still now consume.

Its intoxicating signature fragrance,
like no other that hereby exists
The most vivid contemplation of Indigo,
that one could have ever seen
Infusing its heady oils upon my much younger memory 
and an older and much sweeter tryst.

The palest shades of those lavender flowers remembered
each blossom a sweet sachet
Eternally to be engrained upon my mind
the heady confections of that day 
to be forever missed.

The most complementary plumes of color, 
that before I'd ever had met
Stretching toward the horizon's backdrop
a blanketed sea 
a gently moving ream
A natural artistic composition of heady lavender
composed of surreal artistic color.

A palette holding court over the opposing values 
and yet very complementary hues
of lovely, lovely lavendar
and wonderful planetary greens.

And if I ever were a bride to be, 
I would desire to marry among the flowers
My sun kissed hair would be loosely worn,
 its wildness framing my upturned face

In a field of the world's most ethereal scents, 
a regal vison in colored lace showers,
Surrounded by a heaven 
of millions of happily scented blooms.

In an outdoor cathedral of fragrant herbal spears
the lovliest of earthly rooms.

I would share my love, 
of my beloved and with my beloved 
for all whom by their presence cared.

I would unite with my love to be right there
I would unite with my love to be
for all to witness as I promise you forever
for all to witness our solemn vows
above a cloud of perpetual lavender 
amongst the waves of those purple seas.

In Lavender and Lace 
I would marry my love
I would marry my love to be.


(December 3rd, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To My Parents In Heaven

Years go by and memories dim and fade
Many, once so close and familiar are gone
Most of them have faded into oblivion
But those of whom one can never forget, stay on

Oh, dear Appa (Dad) and Amma (Mom) in Heaven
As the days of Christmas draw near, memories parade 
Not in an orderly queue, but in a jumbled mass 
And your loving faces, before our eyes, flash, and fade. 

Leaving inerasable memories, you departed in silence.
When sick or unwell you always wrapped us up in prayer
Now you stay in a place untouched by stain or strain.
From there, you watch over us with tender care. 

When festive days arrive, we miss you so badly
Though days and years pass, we feel you so near 
But we know, you cannot come down from your sphere
To be with us on this day to give us cheer

So, transcending the boundaries of space and time
Our hearts rise high to your loving presence
Where you stay secure from all sadness and sorrow
And abide with your Heavenly Father in perpetual jubilance

We see you celebrating Christmas with Jesus
Along with the ethereal throng in great joy and mirth
Kneeling by the throne surrounded by angels and seraphs
Listening to their celestial choir, glorifying the holy birth

On this festive day, we send you warm Christmas wishes
Wrapped in memories of the times we were so deeply loved
With loads of gratitude for the warmth you gave to last a lifetime
With an assurance that we will live up to the ideals you avowed 

Though gone, every day we feel your presence,
Especially when lonely and lost, unable to find our way.
At the rim of the far-flung sky, we see you as two stars, 
Blazing our path with the trail of light you shed on our way!

_______________________________

(My parents made a compatible pair 
Being together for long 57 years, as man and wife
Far from perfect, yet complementary they fared.
One’s weakness compensated by the other’s strength
One’s rigidness indemnified by the other’s light heartedness
Graced with a rich sprinkle of compassion and piety, 
With their strict adherence to the lofty ideals of life,
They set the solid foundation for our value system.) 

_____________________________

Dec. 12. 2022

~Placed Second~

Christmas in Heaven Poetry Contest
Sponsor. B.J. Legros Kelley
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member THE STORY OF A HOUSE

I pass a lot of houses in the quiet of the morning as I walk the streets alone.
It gives me time to think about how every house has a story all its own.

And though every story of each house is unique and different…
they’re not as different as they seem.
I imagine the story of each house follows a similar, complementary theme.

Let’s say two newlyweds or two partners are looking for a house…
Let’s say they never bought a house before.
I imagine there’s a feeling they get when they step through the front door.

Perhaps they share a look, perhaps tighten the grip on each other’s hand…then sigh….
as so many dreams of the future play out before their eyes.

They see babies crawling, children drawing crayons figures on the walls.
They hear the sound of those same children laughing…running through the halls.

They see Fairy Tales being read as they tuck their children into bed.
They see a family seated around a table sharing stories as they’re fed.

They see many moments of happiness together while the children are still young.
Christmases, holidays, celebrations…Happy Birthday’s being sung.

They see their children growing up, getting driver’s license, their first date.
They see themselves waiting up anxiously for their children…who are late.

They see their young adults heading off to college or a job…
They imagine all the places they might roam…
They see their bedroom waiting patiently should they return back home.

They see grandchildren crawling, drawing crayon figures on the walls
They see those same grandchildren laughing…running through the halls.

They imagine a time way off in the future…they know not when…or why
once this house has fulfilled her duties…it will be time to say goodbye.

And as they sell to newlyweds or partners they will all pause in the doorway for a while
as together, for a moment they share a loving smile.

Each smile has it’s own meaning…each one differently defined…
as one couple imagines a happy future…and the other…
the happy past they leave behind
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

I Love You

“I love you”
When you hear that phrase,
What do you feel?
Do the words feel real?
Do you feel sick ?
Right down to the pit
Of your stomach?
As you remember that cliché chick flick
Where the guy was only playing his part,
When he said those three words and then broke a girl’s heart…

“I love you”
Are they the spare key that will hopefully lead to getting some action,
The three word lie, used several times to fulfill sexual satisfaction,
Or the phrase used as a conversation filler,
But when its not chanted back, conversation killer.
Are they just words that we have learnt to neutralize ,
Neutralize into lies
Learnt in the playground when love is only understood as the prince and snow white,
I have been taught that love should be worth the fight,
But sometimes we must question whether we are fighting for that one, who is right.

“I love you”
I did not just read three little words,
They epitomize the truest promise or oath,
Said by the one who cares for you the most,
The one, who bellows into the depths of your soul, 
When they earnestly say that not only do they adore you, 
And not only acknowledge that you are their Romeo or Juliet, 
But also understand that you were designed by One greater, 
For each other
You fit, like an image of ying and yang,
Complementary souls that become one.
Their voice plays over and over in your head like a never ending song,
Only their eyes can read your deepest thoughts,
Only their ears catch every word you say
Only their voice, can say those three words, the right way..

Love is patient, Love is kind,
Is true love even possible to find?
Love, perhaps overrated, for some non-existent.
But no matter how hard one may try to deny or ignore love,
It translates into hundreds of languages and is real for millions,
Te amo, Je t’aime, te dua, tora dost daram, I love you.

Premium Member Woman: Waterbearer

Fascinating,
this multicultural shift from monotheistic "feminist"
to compassionate "womanist".

Not an either-or, competitive shift,
typically left-brain dominant;
But a more complementary
cooperative
reciprocal
dipolar contrast
between ecological feminists
and theologically polypathic womanists,
reconnecting secular-sacred iconography
for MotherEarth's healthiest resilience.

Ecofeminists
struggling against egopatriarchal grand-staged history
of violence
war
capital-driven colonization,
rabid predation,
viral rabidity.

But, a womanist herstoric view
more quietly
domestically
intimately
vulnerably
transparently
sacredly
mysteriously
curiously
courageously
challenges left-brain straight white male humanists
to think and feel and act
with less anthropocentric assumptions
about underlying cooperative health systems
and nutrition networks
and safety values,

To include,
or at least consider more divinely
transcendently
and yet intimately,
To invite,
extend warm hospitality
to all organic creatures,
all ecosystemic energy systems
thirsting for reciprocal democratic healing
health
safety
compassion
resonant resilience
polyphonic polypaths
restoring health within retributive
win/lose
capitalistic degenerative systems.

To stretch our cooperative imaginations,
to reinterpret herstory
of a domestic and internationally transcendent MotherEarth
nature healing through restoring peace
and spiritual justice
what left-brain dominant humanists
have disassociated
with retributive anthro-hubris,
man v nature
and angry woman v left/righteous harmonic spirit.

Fascinating,
this multi-paradigmatic shift from monotheistic "sacred feminist"
to compassionate 
health-resilient 
water-bearer
womb well-being "womanist".

Premium Member TalAngela JamIN- Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY 2


TalAngela JamIN

Dance in the early 19th century
There’s s a woman named TalAngela, complementary
She was a pretty woman she wears a crown
And she surely knows how to get down

TalAngela wore 10 inch heels
While out on the dance floor she would reel
Her step be on point
As the music lit the whole joint

Ragtime music began to gain mainstream respectability
Her desert on the floor the cakewalk, tippy-toe
TalAngela racket, quick foot cuts space
And sideways slides, performed in either place

Three-forth such a gallop in redowa, in the waltz
Ooh we we not getin lost in the Foxtrot
Ahh! Show them girl you can dance
Dancein  cause got  has a smooth gliding feeling frank

Tango Teas, reneasause got me on my tippy-toes
Ragtime begin to gain mainstream look at her go
Popularity around the late 19th century and into the 1910s.
Redowa triple time come on down girl friend

Spin around three times with me
Grizzly Bear growl at me
Run on them two legs luv
,    Foxtrot, Duck Waddle, Bunny Hugs

What kind of gentleman is love?
How bout, it Turkey Trot stepin hard
Ooh, you stepping on the right spot time
Black Bottom move groove N rhythm rhyme

Combined shoulder and hip movements spin that dime
A modified national craze get them hips rotatin rhyme
The Texas Tommy
Swing dance in San Francisco African Follies

The Texas Tommy breakaway step
In an 8-count rhythm move your tummy breath
Ooh! Getting down swing like in African Follies
There was this woman named TalAngela Dolly

And she knew how to get down
TalAngela wore 10 inch heels she does


10/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY #2
Form: Lyric

To Raja Ravi Varma

Oh, Ravi Varma, you are a legend! 
When I look at this Indian postage stamp 
(brought out in your honour),
a miniature of your self-portrait 
with the inset of your painting 
of the legendary Damayanti 
with the mystic swan,
I am of course reminded 
of the well-known little narrative,
the episode from the grand epic—the Mahabharata:
Princess Damayanti interacting with 
the soothsayer-swan, which,
at the moment, is suggesting to her
to take King Dushyanta as her spouse—
in the ensuing swayamvara, the moment of choice 
(of a husband from among the suitors), 
and Damayanti listening, 
with bated breath, to the mystic bird.

My stream of consciousness takes me
to the originals—oil on canvas: 
the strikingly common feature in both the portraits,
I must observe, are the observant eyes—
Your bright, beady, artistic eyes
And Damayanti’s glittering eyes 
that nearly give away the excitement
surging in her, the bhava;
and her bhava, too, her posture. 

My thought stream takes me further 
to the other eyes in your enchanting array of portraits— 
of the celestial Mohini  with her bewitching eyes
And the legendary Shakuntala with her alluring, lovelorn eyes—
to mention just two. 
Your artistic mind visualized the scenes  
and your eyes didn’t fail to capture the bhavas,  
and the bhavas, that is, the feelings 
together with the complementary postures.

Oh legend, you have had your accolades—
national as well as international;
You also had to face turbulent criticism;
you still face it.

But, as we know, it’s not the grounded aircraft,
but the flying plane that faces turbulence!

***
© Ram R. V.  Create an image from this poem.
art

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