Long Contact Poems
Long Contact Poems. Below are the most popular long Contact by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contact poems by poem length and keyword.
Eroticism -
a supple spine in a wanting curve
and a foolish fever simmers a scarlet heartbeat—
temptation is an aphrodisiac
and guilt— a red kite lost in a hot hurricane
a strand of blue moonstones plunge to titillate
illicit points of contact caught by starlight
restless yin-nerve-endings take an edgy stance—
primal presence pearls beneath parted flimsy fabric
ah.. gossamer chic taken and tossed by windy hands
freeing moons and earth captured in your orbit
golden hair a dirty tangle flies— streamers
of infidelity seized in someone else’s hands
heat-seeking rhythm throbs within walls
a slappin’ poppin’ bass line frenzy
our bodies wild like a warehouse rave
a driving beat hugging hips caught in a fishnet shimmy
high on oxytocin and fizz of affaire du jour—
unbridled breakers breaking vows in a whipped up gale
as hedonistic hot spots revel in unrestrained spindrift
.. it’s a jungle for conjugal love ..
volcanic ash streaks a feral romance
carnal cat (a hungry stippled stray)
pins me down like prey in a dopamine storm
where edges rendezvous soft and hard and fuse
a silhouette of geometry body-painted in black sands
as the surge uncurls the waves—
dreamscape escape on a slick onyx sheet
nakedness blurs in the rough charcoal smudge
shapes shaded with a roll on the rim of a graphite night
the art of cheating sins stain a seedy portrait on skin
yet basks in the moonbeam’s push into the pulse
without mercy or justification—
just unadulterated
adulterated
euphoria!
My eternal verities remain intact
It’s obvious why you broke contact
When I see your heart
Then I understand why you would react
You want to be my enemy
Did you not know that I had the remedy?
One day we both will end up in the cemetery
So why do you want to be my enemy
I am not on your team so
Stop playing these war games
I despise your ways
Listen to what the Good Book says
But you want to be my enemy
Did you not know that I had the remedy?
You are not the elect
I will keep my respect for you
What do you expect
When you want to be my enemy
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
No means no. When that word comes out of a woman's mouth, no matter what time or place, that's precisely what she means. It's unequivocally clear that she means stop! She is voicing her objections vehemently. She's saying "stop what you're doing and get off me." It doesn't matter if she's intoxicated, scantily clad, or initiated physical contact. It doesn't matter if she's your girlfriend, or even your wife.
the message is clear
stop whatever you're doing
no really means no
Date written: 07/25/2020
My short story continues with this insightful excerpt:
The One Actor That I Did Not Know
Most of my guests are corporate leads,
and my first was none other than, The Jackson Five.
I was one week new on the job, then--still 18--handled a few guests, as I was learning the ropes of the hotel's various department functions and their contribution to the hotel. Tom Hanks, bellhoping at age 20. As I'm keeping my jaw tightened, a kid about my age with a nice afro that is in style. "I'm Michael Jackson." Pleasantries were exchanged as my assistant dropped the room key, and as I maintained eye contact, "My assistant is briefly detained (to sway his watch from behind my back making hand gestures to the clerk), our bellhop there will take you and your luggage to your suite.
storm, weight of rain sloshes
o’er the sides of the acrylic tub
thunder of strobe, eyes blinking
slashes of screams, disaster —
utterance of lips, gutteral
door jammed, eye to eye contact
with the lion and lamb; the owl
on heights of despair interrogates,
scrutinizes, eyeballs the blood seas,
sees all, inspects your history,
his and his too, talons tapping.
outside the storm-beset sanctuary
enlightenment, smoky decanter,
revolt against rage, mercy seeks
mercy great, dumbo’s ears all wet,
humbling effect, spirit genuflect
running, running, out of breath
entangled in net, unseen drooling
at achilles tendon, heel’s devotion
genuflection at soaked-white tow’r,
emptied of a mother’s call, deliver’d
a newborn once more — water
breaking, agony of childbirth
the ruination of seeds, road rage
— off course; after impregnation
of tumbling weeds, g.p.s turned off
God is greater than all this. Later
it seems frivolous. Weight was great —
shoulder-pounding, tremulous.
But He comforts us
as if we had a boo-boo —
God, great and wonderful
cleanses the germs
thoroughly, applies bandaid,
kisses the wound; also
the forehead
mother’s heart and stomach
patched; her seething brain
restored to sanity
God moved
the husband’s hand to phone
softened hearts of stone
punishment was puny
Three cords intertwined
A fourth runs through and through
Spirit of release and joy
the Lord allows not
the ruination of a mother’s soul;
pulls her close — nose to nose
with the lion, lamb and owl
she can only smile now
8/12/2020
Brian Strand’s contest
Do I hate Walt Whitman...No,
I never heard of his tolls,
but I came in contact with his withdrawals-
and I think he is an ass that could use menthol's!
Back in time,
people didn't pry,
he tried....
But also hoped the sun would bring a Nile-
of truth about a spiral...
But the water runs more than miles,
and this is all about the smile's,
so what if people become wild...
and barbarian,
and filed-
oh why do they think of a child?
My child wouldn't say beguile!
But the apes might agree that you are mild!
Filled like the kind,
blowing gas outta the behind,
riding other people's minds, to the lake,
and then back to the blind.
Rather than contact tech savvy Macbook Pro technician
Computer technology a dog send
boot also a source of woe,
cuz prohibitive costs charged by technicians
to troubleshoot Macbook Pro
just recently sought out
self teaching methodology
perhaps oddly enough
even tapping into pantomime lessons
(mastering "art of silence"
such as the estimable Marcel Marceau)
found yours truly accessing youtube videos
replaying tutorial(s) until I experience
cognitive understanding like ya know
geared for the common
government issued Jane or Joe,
whereby I would not need
to dish out plate fulls of dough
to help improve functionality of said laptop
subsequently kudos to crow
perhaps acquiring understanding
to acquire knowledge
and subsequently purchase a bungalow.
Rather than succumb
to frustration or angst and allay
premature ejaculations of anxiety
(telling myself Rome
didn't get burned in a day),
I must constantly stave off dismay
allowing, enabling, and providing
yours truly (me) to learn
and not drive analogous
to crash test dummy
(potential dire straits mindset
of foo fighting beastie boy
incompatible with central
processing unit of mine
in tandem with heat sink)
need be synchronized
regarding adjusting learning curve
aligned with pinpointing apropos
online lesson plan
amidst plethora of youtube videos
constituting information super freeway
so as not to career
into zone of discouragement
pacing mastering concepts
without feeling rushed
to make headway
lest rage against the machine
or worse yet inveigh
against accursed limited aptitude
heredity decreed, though still smarting
courtesy poor academic track record
I decry still struggling
and most likely will forever hold contempt
toward Matthew Scott Harris
experiencing horrible education
within Lower Providence school district
such maddening sentiments maintained
until mein kampf finds unnamed mortal
on his deathbed, where head doth lay.
An older man and I cross paths
Each morning when I walk.
For months there was no contact –
Neither nod nor wave nor talk.
Until last week, when all at once
Our glances did connect.
I smiled and then he nodded;
Recognition, I suspect.
For several days we waved hello.
I thought that would suffice,
‘Til yesterday, when he did say,
“That cape of yours is nice.”
My woolen navy cape I wear
On autumn’s chilly days.
With big gold buttons, it attracts
Its share of glimpse and gaze.
My walking pal was one of those
But filed that fact away
Until the ice was broken
And a lead-in came his way.
We never know just what effect
We have when paths align
And for my new acquaintance
I must thank that cape of mine.
An hour before dawn,
the market people arrive
then settle like resting birds
beside the Ping river.
Girls squat over large straw hats,
hats brimful of dried chilies
or small freshwater fish.
They lay down bamboo mats
laden with okra, aubergines, mangosteens
and rambutan.
They are not from Chiang Mai
but are a Thai hill peoples,
villagers that have cycled through the night
to bring their produce here.
Carefully they wrap your choices
in newspaper bundles tied
with red raffia.
They offer this livelihood to us
with modest smiles.
A daily subsistence parceled with a grace
that can be felt as a currency, a simple act
of transference.
A few coins are exchanged.
The barter and haggle
of a busy city market is absent here
just the affable contact
of a hand to hand correspondence.
A mutual recognition
of the rivers that join us
and the oceans between.
In my alone ...when I'm alone always alone but yet not alone all I have to do is attend to myself breathe my own breath talk to myself listen to myself and relish in the fact that though I'm alone I'm not alone
Don't git it twisted don't be convicted it's OK that I'm I am not sadden nor relying on the masses I'm sociable yet I ain't over whelm my or your devices quietly I spill away alone with holding hands always with my father his hand removes me from the crowded judgments unimportant voices and riddle and rain down on and around me
Again my alone when I'm alone is in a mix of Jesus and The Father a Host of Angels covering sound exclusive from anyone everyone else my social contact is my heart Jesus God's first Within Myself I'm alone it's okay and I'm all right I am all right in myself and in myself I am all right...in mine alone
11/30/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr