Long Curve Poems
Long Curve Poems. Below are the most popular long Curve by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curve poems by poem length and keyword.
Evening settles along San Antonio’s River Walk
where the river has carried centuries~
Payaya canoes gliding through reeds,
Franciscan friars mapping water to mission,
stone masons shaping banks
that would one day cradle a city.
The water moves with its old patience,
green and unhurried,
bearing the memory of every hand
that once depended on its flow.
Cypress roots clutch the earth
the way they did long before
the first chapel bells rang.
Bridges replace where footpaths once wound.
Boats slip past,
their lights shimmering like stories
recalling river foraging,
and irrigation lifelines
I feel how the river gathers every era~
Indigenous footsteps,
mission bells, and
modern dusk~
The place seems almost sacred,
not through grandeur,
but through the
quiet and faithful way
it keeps passing moments
in the curve of its water.
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
To feel the curve and fullness of your hips
My tongue sinking inside your pearly lips
Feeling the soft hard tissue of your twins
Swell of your chest promises more wins
Smell of yobody floats beneath my nose
Sweet fragrance of rose
Wrap me in your duvet of love
The only treasure I now have
Bury my head in fullness of your bossom
Plant five stars let our love blossom
Lemme hold you by your slender waist
The vacation in Miami is never a waste
Holding hands;kissing in the rains
Admiring the African beauty with brains
Unbuttoning the blouse; sucking nipples
Moving back to the neck;filled with ripples
And when my hands return to the ranges
Lemme press hard those wild oranges
When you're right in the wanted mood
I promise I shall read that interesting book
Sweet, sweet,sweet,sweet hours
The beautiful bouncing baby is ours.
John Lenda (Poetic World,2022)
Blue-green splashes as you pull into the sea cliff curve.
I stop to view nature's rainbows through a glass swerve.
Watch the sparkling waterfalls, trees, stars, and sky.
What is more dazzling than a natural wonder display?
Dance with Fall, a waltz that bent the limbs of the trees.
Tell me all you've been hiding from me under the seas.
Spring, sing to me with the rustling of your wings.
Blow on me your savory smells from your swings.
Sunflower fluff, silver-throated tanager, brisk July flight
An auspicious fall wind makes the hillside maples spray.
A damp gust is swollen away by a breath of fresh air.
The wind carries pollen, seeds, and dying twigs bare.
Written: March 24, 2023
Never planned on breaking a sweat,
Yet by day's end, my clothes tell a different story.
Never wanted to trade sleep for anything,
Yet now, I greet the silence of 3 a.m. like an old friend.
Never had intentions for love,
But somehow, I remained faithful for years
To someone who never returned the feeling.
Never cared about the number on the scale,
Yet here I am — hyper-aware of every curve, every calorie.
Never imagined giving up my luxuries,
But now I stand, shoulder to shoulder
With strangers on public transit daily.
Somewhere between my nevers and now,
I learned — change is the only constant.
It just takes over, unasked,
And makes itself at home,
Turning me into someone I never expected to be.
Here for a while,
Seize whatever happy;
Thus frame a smile,
Transit temporary.
Make presence cite,
Despite odd suffering;
Forge escape writes,
Engage vain mutterings.
From time to time,
Withdraw your self from fear;
Cut-and-paste rhymes,
Seek a deeper dance dear.
No one can see
The wind that blows the breeze;
Know what may be
A learning curve you squeeze.
Watch stillness fling,
Strange cast of mystery;
Or that soft ring,
Dry brown leaves falling free.
Is the sky clear?
An upside down blue lake,
A glimpse of cheer
Engulfing give and take.
Mellow seems brief,
The sway and stretch of peace;
Pulse of sad grief,
Tentative mind at ease.
Leon Enriquez
23 September 2017
Singapore
I came upon it slowly~
a curve of lantern-lit houses
along the coast,
each leaning toward the sea
as though listening
to the moon’s summer song.
Stone walls breathed warmth,
still holding the day’s heat,
and narrow alleys
wound like soft secrets
between terracotta dreams.
Above me,
the stars burst open~
bright, jubilant,
scattering silver petals
across the velvet sky.
They fell in slow arcs,
fireworks without sound,
celebrating nothing
and everything at once.
The sea answered them.
Its tranquil surface
held the summer moon
like a polished coin,
laying a silver path
straight to the village’s heart.
Along the shoreline
trees and flowers
glowed with iridescent breath,
Blues melted into greens,
pinks into gold.
I walked among them,
feeling the night
open gently around me,
feeling the village
welcome me
as though I had always
been expected.
In that moment,
the world felt wide again~
a place where wonder
still knew how to bloom,
where moonlight
could rewrite the shoreline,
and where a traveler
could stumble upon magic
simply by following
the sound of the sea.
Beautiful
I think I lost,
my ability to think,
For she is beautiful,
So much I might not blink.
The glint in her eyes,
and that mesmerising smile,
Her much-awaited presence,
one could sense from a mile.
With her baggy clothes and messy hair,
she shines among the crowd,
For she is beautiful,
clear and loud.
But behind that glow,
beneath that grace,
lies a world,
She'd rather not embrace.
The dark circles under her eyes,
showcase her sleepless nights,
The countless moments she spent with herself,
Engaged in silent fights.
Those engraved scars,
carve deep on her skin,
And the tear-stained letters,
that always end up in the bin.
The blemishes on her cheeks,
She hides with care,
The irritating acne,
She wishes weren't there.
The clothes too loose,
her frame too thin,
The curve she feels,
She doesn't fit in.
She hides her sorrows and keeps to herself,
With a grumpy face and grumpier mood.
The weight of words she heard about her body,
makes it hard to swallow her food.
She's told to smile,
to sit with grace,
To not speak her opinions,
and to know her place.
To dress just right,
to lower her stare,
As if the world,
It isn't hers to share.
She fears for herself,
as she walks alone,
A firm grip on her keys,
with a dialled number on the phone.
She's passionate and precise,
her imagination runs wild,
Yet somehow she's never,
her parents' ideal child.
Sometimes she's numb,
her silence too loud,
Her dreams are somewhere,
lost in the crowd.
She doubts herself,
She holds back her tears,
Thinking of her society,
she hesitates, she fears.
Yet even in her doubt,
She stands so tall,
For she is beautiful,
scars and all.
Through every tear,
through every fight.
For she is beautiful,
in her own light.
They say its a poet's curse,
they lose everyone they verse ,
and if thats true
none of my poems were for you,
Implying my soul is not my muse
leaving my curse of no use
If I had not written for you
i'd fold your laugh in pockets blue
Like sun-warm coins I'd spend at tea
on trembling afternoons with you
Id string our meetings like warm lights
hang them careless at night
polish the edges of our small rites
Until even faults held gentle light
But, ink,
ink would not let my memory sleep
it traced the curve of your soft name
each line vigil and while I weep
And found the way the quiet came
I wrote the way your hand would rest
a hush of blue bell on my skin
I praised the way your laughter dressed
the ordinary rooms we would been
So call it cruse
call it a curse
a cup which fills with wanting slow
to write was to rehearse the verse
that lets me feel you when you go.
I lost you once in parting's hush
I lost you once when paper kept
the gentle shape of every blush
and let my yearning wake and weep
If silence saved me from the ache ,
I would wear it's calm like hidden threads
but words are the small gifts I make ,
to hold our afternoons instead
Ten years ago,
I did not stumble into love,
I stepped into you,
slowly,
as one steps barefoot into morning light
knowing he will stay.
You did not arrive with thunder,
but with silence
that made everything else grow still.
You were never a spark,
you were a slow fire
that found the corners of my cold
and made them warm.
The way your eyes linger,
not asking for attention,
but undoing me in quiet.
The way your breath bends time
when we’re close
and there’s no past,
no next,
just now.
Ours hasn’t been all laughter and poetry.
We’ve had seasons of sighs,
nights when "I do" had to be chosen again
through clenched hands and whispered grace.
But you...
you held our love
like sacred fire,
never letting it flicker out.
You do not need music to move me.
Your presence is enough.
Even brushing past me in the kitchen
feels like holy ground.
Even your absence in a room
feels like a missing rhythm.
You make faith feel like skin.
You have taught me
that covenant is not confinement,
it is wildness kept safe.
And desire,
when rooted in forever,
blooms again and again
with deeper fruit.
You are still the ache I don’t want healed.
Still the curve of joy beneath routine.
Still the scent I recognize
even in dreams.
They said love fades,
but I know now...
it deepens.
It hides itself in the mundane
and waits to be rediscovered
with every morning touch
and midnight breath.
Ten years of your body next to mine
has not dulled the longing—
it has baptized it.
If I could choose again,
I would still choose the trembling yes.
Still choose your voice
breaking the silence.
Still choose your hands—
and all the world they hold.
A decade of you
has made me less of a man
and more of a lover,
a worshiper,
a gardener,
in your garden.
A thousand lessons have I learned,
the greatest of them all—
how to love
by loving you
NB: For my beloved wife Ann, my every tomorrow