Long Counterparts Poems
Long Counterparts Poems. Below are the most popular long Counterparts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Counterparts poems by poem length and keyword.
TRIPTYCH EXPERIENCES
portrayed
surrounded
now
repotoire
recited
recalls
questioning
the formulae
to
stimulate
subjectivity
delicious
luminous
dialogue
in
bizarre
graduated
contrasts
with unbridled
shades
predominantly
prevailing
afresh
in sensitive
hesitant
scenarios
passionate
unreachable
role-play
studies
of
facial
splendour
in
lavish
concept
a
formulated
process
to
conveys
a
quiet relaxed
series
carefully
fronted
emphasis
balanced
precise
awareness
with
vital
counterparts
in
closely
occasioned
devices
~STRIP TEASE~ Featuring:) SKAT
Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
---
Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums,
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen,
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact,
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
I need a glass of hard drink to brush the teeth,
A jug of wine to complement a wheat bread,
An alcohol to bath all day long,.....
I'm a vagrant...in my mansion street,
No wife to cook for me,sons and daughters to make me a father cared,
Wardrobe full of dresses,but one has become as tempered silicon to my wrong,
Having an agreement with the bathhouse,"will be here when I'm hungry for its need",
I know I walk straight in focus,
but the picturing of the society throw wars,
I walk on snow with barefoot,
A skeleton in the cupboard,
Family can't handle if mocked,
Crowned best in breaking bonds of secrets,
Situations undercover......I just can't hold unto,
World prospective figure,...gone worst,
Can be a spell,influence or addiction,..will drink till I'm filled,
Freaky wild tongue,counterparts waits for my presence at the wine bar,
Arrayed in the cloth of a whale,
Killing me slow pal,
An elephant impaled,
Advice ain't gonna metamorphose me,....really need to be intervened for,
Let there be a transformation by his mind renewal,
That's what the Lord assure,
Will destroy the container for a mourn,
Change my name,...I'm a new born!
Paraded endlessly, this spectacle the Elephants know to be degrading,
And their counterparts from the sea , the Orcas, resist in captivity
By refusing to unfurl their proud dorsal fin, stings my eyes like a gnat
Lodged in my cortex, no amount of profit seems to dislodge.
Waking from my dream, I notice the old man waving to the crowd,
Gesturing wildly, as if warning of something no-one has yet seen.
Every evolution of Plybinium Quasar, the spectacle increases, with
Dogs leaping and biting at the air, and Neptunes, of disproportionate
Size, unable (or unwilling) to allow the pain to subside.
The viewing platform, constructed entirely of entitlements, teeters
Vicariously in the breeze, with the prominent attendees smiling, despite
Frostbite, inching up their extended promises.
Utilizing “light-track” technology, the time hoppers applaud
At pre-determined intervals, a strenuous exercise for sure,
Given the time restraints imposed by the counters in the Humbolt Quasar.
In this unfamiliar atmosphere, what clean air there is left to breathe
Smells pretty bad, like a cake frosted with sulfur.
01/10/11
9:46 pm
© All Rights Reserved
The doves arrive, gentle creatures
heads bobbing as they walk,
plucking stray seeds blown free across the ground.
Paired matches, clutching together
in the softly shadowed rays
of early morning sun to welcome the day.
Peerless counterparts, solitary and alone
scanning the demarcation zones
marked and policed by energetic squirrels.
Boundaries are set, locked in place
periphery margins of time and space
held orderly by the season.
Winter, spring, majestic intertwined interludes
painted purple, black, blue, creamy orange
by intermittent cold and warmth rising and falling.
Signs of the time, forewarning harbingers
of time cycled in conscientious discreteness
dandle acclimation to greet the age of change.
The doves come, peering through the gleam
of light and its reflected mirrored surfaces
long methodic glances at the systematic march of time.
If I said "you had a beautiful body" don't hide,
I never lied though I may have tried
please "would you hold it against me,"
I coulda been your "Love Machine"
and you, my "Disco Lady."
"I love you more than I can say"
"Everything is beautiful" in those younger days.
It's the "age of aquarius", and I'm "On top of the world"
a dream child of the seventies on a "Midnight train to Georgia"
with "Time in a bottle" ready and willing to "Rock the boat".
Missed the Woodstock extravaganza free love lurch
but I was off on an expeditionary search
of myself and peace and love not "War" unhurt,
so "Rock me gently" and "I'll write the songs"
'cause "you ain't seen nothing yet."
If I sing the songs and "If you could read my mind"
they'd be heard again to vibrate in my heart
after all, I'm was just a "Gypsy, Tramp and Thief"..
A ghost of the past with my counterparts;
still hanging on in "troubled Waters"
best now to pack it all away and "Let it be"
all those memories "I can see clearly now"
the 1970s are "Killing me softly" .
Note: I know Age of Aquarius was 1967, so now you know, I'm a child of the 60s but woke up in the 70s.
Three score and five and I am still alive
It's been a rocky road from there to here
For years my only goal was to survive
When each tomorrow was a new frontier
Of friends and foes that came into my sphere
The beauties and the beasts, my counterparts
Some saw me stumble, others saw me cheer
Those who were with me from the very start
And though I can not name them all by heart
Nor deeds nor misdeeds, that which came to be
The choices that I made, they had no part
If one should point a finger, point at me
Responsibility is mine alone
Someday it will be I, who must atone.
Daniel Turner
Spenserian sonnet
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
Fearless and unrelenting in their pursuit,
Bold and unwavering in their pursuit,
They push against life's tide.
Women, not slowed down by maternity,
They run their courses with undying zeal,
Their family is their priority,
The home front is not abandoned.
They believe in female emancipation,
They're independent women,
They're not cowed by their male counterparts,
They stand shoulder to shoulder with them.
Sisters with divergent views,
Separated by their choices and opinions,
Walled by their apathy,
Birthed by different mothers.
July 11, 2022.
Women in my family poetry contest,
Sotto Poet.
Once there was a debate in the lost paradise,
All the heavenly bodies are sitting in disguise.
The muscle flexing was seemed to be the only priorities,
The stars tried to take over the show as they were in majorities.
The Sun was smiling at these herds and their counterparts,
The moon looked at the firing Sun sitting in cold altar.
The moon was furious on the other hands to disregard their presence,
The Sun hesitate to enter into this fight of crown with diligence.
The moon asked the Sun to protest against these twinkling stars,
The Sun smiled and said
"We are neither near nor they so far."
Knocking on success’ door, irrespective of its intensity
is worthy of a response and an attention.
When life smiles and nature is happy, the one who passes their estate
is embraced by favour to take luck home.
Showcased by a tale
of two counterparts of same platform but different worlds.
He’s serious, but she’s playful,
a test defining their progress into another phase is the huddle.
From book to book, knowledge he accumulates
even sweat’s discomfort is no match
for such a determination which scares both life and death.
His living is subjected into a miserable triangle;
lectures, canteen and home is all he knows
even his dreams have been converted to a library for research
and a single spoken word from his lips
pours out a barrage of wisdom.
His understanding then gives an entire jungle
the salvation of great civilization.
Her time for merry is never taken for a joke,
her schedules are tabulated by the inventors of fun,
leisure and study share the spoil of her engagements,
pleasure tops the yardstick for all her toiling
and her indifference to progress in life
makes the demons of failure lust after her course.
Nineteen weeks of play and a week of work is her formula
on the eleventh hour, before the day of reckoning
she reads in compartments,
choosing her focus through random selection.
He commands the justification to succeed
while she queues in the long line of fate.
Passing through this is a decorated corridor to his success
raising her hands in pathetic surrender is her bullet-less gun.
He’s sure, she’s not; he’s ready, she’s frightened,
he walks confidently; she does it in a gait-like manner,
the heat of such examination he absorbs, but she gets burnt.
What next, is the short incubation period of truth
when several hearts await a straight forward judgement
and comfortable minds anticipate a glorious confirmation
with all efforts well deserving of the medal
and a prosperous finding, a worthy result of true seekers……
She passed!..................... He did not!