Long Covertly Poems
Long Covertly Poems. Below are the most popular long Covertly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Covertly poems by poem length and keyword.
I let you see who you want me to be.
You give me that look, which tells me I’m doing great.
You are fooled into sharing your deep secrets.
Because I look like that kind of listener.
I am not, but I want you to think I am.
You are so grateful to my fake listening eyes
That you spill your guts into my lap
I covertly shake them out onto the floor
And stomp them thoroughly but secretly
So you keep talking, thinking that I care.
I am a master at not sharing any of my real self.
I was taught years ago that people take their cue from your eyes.
“The windows of the soul” some say.
Mine are on auto-pilot, slammed shut.
The hurricane shutters are tighter than those you buy at Home Depot.
But you look into them and you are completely fooled.
I am the master at showing you a false me whom you readily believe.
Saving the real me for someone who has never arrived.
Freda's an obnoxious old woman
She‘d say loudly ‘I want it right now’
Her long suffering husband Timothy
covertly called her a bossy old cow!
Each weekend they’d both go shopping
Freda would always jump the queue,
declaring in her brash whiny voice
that she’s bursting to go to the loo!
Poor Timothy would stand there
his face turning a shade of bright red,
she’d say ‘just get on with the packing’
and give him a cuff round his head!
Last week she pushed in front of me
and then gave me such a nasty glare,
Timothy stood looking embarrassed
perhaps wishing that he wasn’t there
Still, I ended up having the last laugh
when the manager came over to me
Saying you’re our millionth customer
so everything is your trolley’s for free!
Freda jumped up and down like a banshee
exclaiming loudly that this just wasn’t fair -
that she’d ONLY swapped places with me
meaning she should’ve really been there
Timothy seethed and said shut the duck up
(Freda looked like she’s about to explode) ...
He said ‘maybe this will teach you a lesson’
and he turned on his heels with their load!
This couple no longer go shopping
(last I heard Tim’s seeking a divorce)
He’s moved back in with his mother
and spends weekends on the golf course!
Fiction Poem – just having a giggle
04/12/20
She is a masterpiece of wild contradiction,
fuse blown by a wick, of litmus tongue in your senses-
her moods shifting chameleonic shades everything at once
in candle wax trick or residue residing nowhere.
Heart's firework pinwheel blown
by a wish everywhere
and summoned without lips service-
to neither Hades, Avalon nor Loch Ness, lore.
In her magic lies a silent non disclosure appeasment,
a benediction like a life preserver of electric feel.
Her trinkets are cursed idols, in a pool of profoundness laid- imply at your feet, dewly spilled.
She sheds jade droplets of faceted
watershed moments,
strings them like pearls
to loose your balance on your
precipitated emotion.
She is "in the field"- set of runged abominations-
of a fools notion.
Jade droplets of faceted conglomeration
bathed of precipitale- emotion-
swimming your head like electric eel.
She is a storm brewing inside a jewel,
vagabond bauble non descript versing of
evident residual haunting your soul to steal-
new horizon, taunting virgin territory, with infatuation, lightning.
Underwritten page of felt covertly, subtly everything hunting, seasoned overtly sensory heightened display.
Moraed morals, moreover-sustained
of overlay fonting the atmosphere
cover paged as she wears where she lays.
The sky, a distant dream in the ocean of her gaze,
Wind stripped bare in a pool of borrowed
rhymes swimming your head in amaze
as we scramble for the right words to parlay
in her charms way.
In her voice lies a silent romance
leaving more questions than answers in her wake,
as her moods shift, atelier 'steem-roller,
like runic winds
of intolerant display, mind, screen-controler.
Touchstones in a pool of profoundness,
sun ray sing song at hand after the reigns.
Title 2/ BAIT
Quote: Better to shun the bait than struggle in the snare. William Blake
The transiting sun shines on you deceptively,
spreads shifting spectrum in chameleon sky,
the masked faces designed by innate ingenious craft,
walk you baited on the golden garden’s blind pathway.
In the deluding dim night of deceptive dreams,
their footfall is unheard in trance of tranquility.
Their sneaky eyes probe to capture you to consume,
as the masks melt in the misleading depth of darkness.
In the fatal desolate domain of feral fright,
under the ebony sky on the gloomy ground,
the conniving creatures of night creep unsuspected,
stalks the unwary prey, you can’t escape the hunt.
With the desiccated life in forlorn desert,
you chase the misleading mirages of deceit,
while you’re seduced by their delusive enticement,
your heart breaks in the debris of false temptation.
The alluring animals slither in illusive wilds,
cast the designed bait with bated breath.
The cunning artists perform perfectly, a masquerade,
unmasked, they morph into prowling predator devils.
With arcane acumen of despicable trickster,
as silhouettes of menace they covertly crawl
into the quiet quintessence of your existential euphoria,
suck seraphic ambrosia from the sanctum of your soul.
The turning time’s deceiving show goes on and on,
prevailing spotlights shine on veiled visage of fraud.
Finding a fake place to survive in the archive of pretension,
you turn into antique lure in the museum of masked faces.
I sit in the back corner of a dark musty warehouse now
Discarded, forgotten, despised, unwelcome, bereft.
No one has been in this place for at least sixty years.
Once upon a time in my heyday I was revered and petted.
Children squealed with delight as they approached.
They laughed and giggled and chuckled about my candies.
Fat women covertly looked both ways before approaching.
They loved my offerings but did not want everyone to see them.
Milk chocolate! They said with a sigh, as they gulped my candies.
Skinny men whose wives had them on diets approached with a skip.
They fairly hopped away, with the enthusiasm of their youth.
These memories keep me happy as I sit here in this dark dungeon.
A wind of gratitude is waving
River of love is dancing, exhibiting wonderful styles whiles meandering
Cloud of commemoration is drifting.
All to say ‘’ayeekooo’’’’Osagyefo y3 ma W'amo’’..
The throne is set, come and receive a panegyric
You are a relic in our memories
Posterity will always judge in your favor
A man of wisdom and valor.
You fought covertly or overtly for then progeny's emancipation
That fight had made us a proud generation.
Your were the torch of your mother,
Your contemporaries can't gainsay.
Your foresight laid the foundation for your mother's future.
You started building the walls that projected your magical plan's picture.
Your confidence was willing to leave no stone unturned
Alas, nature sent you to the urn.
Great dreams stuck in the skull
If you can hear me, speak through a necromancer.
We have missed the great voice of an orator.
Even if your phonetics can’t do, let us feel through your kinesics
We will love you until our hearts are no more
Your mother will remember your sacrifice until she closes her memory's door.
You indeed are a founder.
We salute your charisma.
Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, ‘’mo ne adwuma’’
’’S3 3nn3 y3rehyir3n s3 nsroma’’
’’3y3 wo mm)denb) ntiaaa.’’
We respect today.
Because it is your day.
Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah
’Mo mo mo’’
We salute.
O come to me yon revelry
As you constantly stand ever,
Before me...loving people
Rise and rise up thine
Covertly any based on
My animosities
Clever and clover and cut
My stems ever so
Eat my petals as I grow evermore
Wash out thine mouth
With thine own perverted spit
Kneel, curl-ball up liken a fetal position
So you won’t git hurt none of God's loving people
Standards are by standards they are
Procreated by man every second, on the hour every hour
Daily
Sinful, not praying unbelieving haters of
Loving people
O go yon, travel fest far away
As the air breeze breathe within its self
Rise and rise up thine praise and hands
Covertly any based on I release all my stuff’
My forgiveness, has been forgiven
O come to me yon revelry I stand repentant
As you constantly stand ever, so God mercies rent
Before me...loving people
Alleluia
12/14/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Beyond The Open Door
She stretches her arms across your abyss,
so that she can covertly open your door.
She cries as she peeks into your eyes,
for you hold onto a grief that does not belong.
She promises to baptize you with positivity.
Sadly she cannot promise you wholeness.
Eternal bliss waits until the end of a journey.
Your place is here, within this current heartbeat.
Do not fear, you will find deliverance.
Tick tock, tick tock, time whispers,
as you grasp for sanity.
Roots and branches are different
and still they are the same.
Above and below the grass,
they stretch beyond the boundaries of shame.
They know there is fresh spring water
and a blue sky to claim.
Root rot happens if you choose blame.
You will burn through obstacles,
for you are one who possesses an ancient flame.
“Ooh ooh the rain comes,
my eternal heartbeat drums,
ooh ooh my heartbeat drums!”
So she caresses your leaves
with fingers and thumbs.
She’s thankful to witness
one of the blessed ones.
She listens to church bells
singing in the night.
Under your branches
she bathes in the moonlight.
There above you is a star dotted sky.
Together you absorb that pure bright white
Thump thump,
thump thump.
You whisper her name.
You are both different
and still somehow the same.
You live on the thin line side of insane.
She feels no shame,
no need for blame.
Ooh ooh the rain comes,
your eternal heartbeat drums.
ooh ooh your heartbeat drums.
She desires to caress you
with her fingers and thumbs.
Your branches stretch across that abyss.
With your leaves, her lips you kiss.
Thankfully she opened you to more.
Not a slave to fear anymore.
Together uprooted to an ancient shore.
Yes transplanted at the edge of paradise,
just a few steps beyond that open door!
By: Richard Lamoureux
Words can be whimsical, a merry-go-round
They run in a circle, they bounce up and down
They play hide-and-seek, until they are found
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
Words can seduce like a scandalous dance
They'll perplex the complex, if given a chance
They're as sincere as England, as sexy as France
As reckless as the caution they throw
Words can get tipsy if taken too much
The pretentious go on-and-on about such-and-such
The brutish ones can bail you out in a clutch
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Words can be tacky, tongue wagging gabs
Words can be lavish and leave you the tab
Words can covertly steal and grab
Their smile is only for show
Words can impulsively issue a dare
Words can react with extravagant flair
But words must always be handled with care
When timing's too slow, for words on the go
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
As reckless as the caution they throw
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Their smile is only for show
When timing's too slow
For words on the go-
8/7/18
I let you see who you want me to be.
You give me that look, which tells me I’m doing great.
You are fooled into sharing your deep secrets.
Because I look like that kind of listener.
I am not, but I want you to think I am.
You are so grateful to my fake listening eyes
That you spill your guts into my lap
I covertly shake them out onto the floor
And stomp them thoroughly but secretly
So you keep talking, thinking that I care.
I am a master at not sharing any of my real self.
I was taught years ago that people take their cue from your eyes.
“The windows of the soul” some say.
Mine are on auto-pilot, slammed shut.
The hurricane shutters are tighter than those you buy at Home Depot.
But you look into them and you are completely fooled.
I am the master at showing you a false me whom you readily believe.
Saving the real me for someone who has never arrived.