Long Dea Poems
Long Dea Poems. Below are the most popular long Dea by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dea poems by poem length and keyword.
We three teachers were taking a painting class.
Mr.G, the teacher was new, fresh, nervous.
Asked us if we would please let him put our paintings into an art show.
Kitchia was reluctant, but Margo and I handed ours over quickly.
I begged Kitchia to let him have hers too.
He needs more for the show, I argued.
She had been bragging all the way to Des Moines how great it was.
Her husband Ronnie loved her painting right?
I begged and begged and begged and begged and begged her.
I am not usually this persistent. But I was that day. No idea why.
Except he wanted to prove himself to his daddy, the head art teacher.
She finally handed it over, after I practically tore our friendship up.
Mr. G. was going to take our paintings down, and they would be juried.
No dea what that meant, but had a weird feeling when I saw him return.
With Kitchia’s painting.
Mr. G. explained the art panel had voted not to accept it.
What? I could barely look at Kitchia. I could not look at Margo either.
Margo had seen Kitchia’ temper, but I never had.
Her cheeks were flamingo pink; she was hot. I am sorry. I whispered. .
Her cheeks turned crimson, so I knew this was wrong.
We always get an ice cream for the ride home.
I ask, “Who wants to stop for ice cream?” Kitchia has not said a thing.
“I DON’T!” she screams from backseat next to her unhappy painting.
One she said husband Ronnie loved for an hour on ride to art class.
We stopped anyway.
Margo got vanilla and I got a chocolate vanilla combo.
Air so frosty, you could not have broken tension with a hatchet.
Rode the last thirty-six minutes in silence after I gave up having conversation.
Kitchia leapt out of the car first.
She stopped at a dumpster for a second. Raised it up.
Threw painting in and stomped off, still angry, furious, obviously hurt.
“And you had to beg her to put it in the art show,” Margo said.
I felt like a dead dime.
We saw each other at school, and I tried everything to be friends again.
She gave me another chance, but it was never the same.
No matter what, our laughs and smiles were stilted after that.
I still felt remorseful every time I saw her.
A stale, lukewarm second chance.
I learned one valuable lesson though.
When someone is reluctant to do something, keep your mouth shut.
my humblest apology if you experience addle brained, frazzled, harried, livid with rage akin to bing mad as a hatter gritted teeth syndrome when trying to make head or tails of confusing message, which essentially can be boiled to down to a genuine search for female friendship of the intimate kind.
perhaps the courtship of friendship (maybe something beyond the pulsating phallic pale) will prompt me to sober up and express feelings, ideas and thoughts (other than a desire for sexual intimacy) in a more understandable fashion. essentially (as you so might clearly intimate and interpret), i would like to become at least casually familiar with an attractive gal (per what the nonconformist paradigm of near sighted eyes property of myself deem aesthetically pleasing) and intelligent woman.
mud dea ova electric kool aid acid test
to share bounty of sentiments - n savor warm female body during rest
no requirements nor stipulations imposed on lifelong quest
minding manners to avoid bing a pest
'specially carnal craving bubbles forth noel hung er oppressed
from private "v" age high nah nest.
although a strong desire for physical (read sexual) involvement the primary force (that goads me and takes off in flights of bon mots poetic fancy - frequently irrelevant on most readers), i would also be delighted to share intelligent conversation otherwise known as verbal intercourse.
anyway, i immediately admit as k9 buel
NOT bing snoop doggy dog nor ll j cool,
yet attest 2 a habit 2 slobber drool
just garden, generic variety household fool
who subsists on thin emotional gruel
'thou envisioning a mirage of a jewel
or whatever foodstuffs given a mule
where mutual acceptance doth rule
feigned cheerfulness shown at yule.
Form:
Leapin’ lizards up in dem gizzaeds, we call it the creepy crawl. Moon blood creepin’ like rust in my lungs. A greasy beast lies deep amongst the carrion. Blessed ***** hog. The poltergeist of Bethlehem with the sweetest Lobotomy eyes. Shards of heaven digest slowly, lynched by halo…none so holy.
This feeling washes over me in a cool wave, something that I am not familiar
Within this life, it is strange Deja vu. A familiar yet vague feeling. I know
Your scent. You've put life back in the rickety bones of this ol' devil. I'm
Overwhelmed, I have yet to stop Trembling. My goose bumps have goose bumps. You
Truly are magickal in more ways than you could ever understand. I have tears of
Joy in my eyes and an undying love in my heart. This is an alien notion. I'm
Perplexed, I'm enthralled by you. You're real. I know you. I've always known
You. Are you the memory of the Celtic goddess Dea Matrona? You are the fertile
Soil. Towards the Pantheon, onward driven up the mountain. There was you. You're
The furthest from a stranger. I want to reside within your bones. I'm the bird
in you rib cage. It’s all true. The scrying pound speaketh of you. Your lips.
Your flesh... My worship. My praise beset by an unworthy tongue. I hold no court
For your true glory. Your light Burns so bright, I feel my atoms shall combust
With a mere interaction with your divine gaze. I'm a simple creature in the
midst of holy notes. My mind and body could never fully decipher. Fodder of
spirit. Honey of vibration. Water of color. I haven't any fear. I welcome you.
Valentine butterflies, they are unlike any other butterfly you ever did see.
Assembled in your soul, they only come out to play when you fall in
Love. They flutter free of their own accord. Red velour wings as large as
Elephant ears. They are soft to the touch and they tickle gently for they are
Naturally inclined to be mellow to sweeten your disposition. They say
That love is a promise best kept forever but these butterflies truly have no
Idea, how long they will coexhist in your bosom.
Never take them for granted for they are volatile and will cease to exist if
Enbezzeled with indifference.
Butterflies in your stomach means love in your eyes
Undiluted adoration leads to existential inspiration
Trust love and it will take you down the rose petal path
Trust love and it will lead you home to familiar ground
Every heart deserves affection, maybe this year its you !
Receive them with grace and share in their affection. Let them feel
Free to roam inside you. These butterflies are happy wingsies.
Love, it flutters free of its own accord. So be sure to
Invite it in, along with those sweet little floating beauties. Somehow
Each year they migrate to Cupid's chamber, where they are arrowed into
Souls that turn to Lovers. Well done Cupid, well done butterflies.
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26
January 29, 2023
This is the story of Joe, he use to be all aglow, loved to put on a show and whatever he did, he did like a pro.
One day he was feeling low said life was moving to slow, he felt he needed to grow and make more dough.
So he tiptoed to the sto came back with a kilo of blow, little did he know, through pure hell he was about to go.
Although he was going solo, he picked up the tempo, scored another kilo of blow, pure snow and hell soon followed.
He felt on top of the world until he met Pearl, such a beautiful girl, she became his world. Much to his suprise she was the Devil in disguise.
Even though she would beg, steal and borrow, he was still all aglow until she brought in her friend, Coco, Hello. And on a downward spiral he started to go.
The man didn't have a prayer as they turned him into his best customer. And turned his life into a movie thiller, full of snakes, wolves, gansters and killer's.
He went from aglow to full of woe. He started pacing the floor because he needed to score. So the girls took him where he could get a play and in rushed the D.E.A.
They put everyone away. But what he didn't know, he'd become the prey they were planning to end his life that day. I guess The Lord do work in Mysterious Ways.
Now all that mess he let go, good seeds he's starting to sow, instead of the night he see a beautiful rainbow and he's basking in the afterglow.
So if you want it fast but you have to stray off that straight and narrow path, take it from Joe, Don't Go you could fade into the shadow and be no mo.
Our words are a heavy foot on the accelerator;
memories that just won’t let up
Pressing,
and
pressing
down;
revving up the engine tucked away
in your chest.
I know that when you think about it,
you get light headed,
maybe even a little drowsy,
and then you stop caring
because where we parked our
car has always been crowded.
You see, the fumes can be dea
dly..
If you’re not careful.
—————-> If we don’t get out every now
and again, fresh air might become
toxic to our mutated affirmations.
I only know this because,
I’ve learned to love the feeling
of your hands around my throat,
and you used to be so sweet.
It’s hard to breathe in here,
watching you swallow my
**** and grin like I’ve given
you flowers for the first time,
And I…
remember
…quite clearly
you don’t even like flowers.
I don’t know where we’re going,
you keep …laying your foot
to the floor, breathing harder,
like you can actually smell our
brain cells dying.
And all I can smell is your perfume,
that ridiculously exotic potion that
your grandmother buys when we
visit, insisting that two taps on the
wrist will make you smell just like
Marilyn Monroe did…
I never thought that something
so beautiful would reek of death.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Faith that endangers and saves
It was 1988, Bogota, Colombia, during the time of (La Violencia) the 40 year war of insurgents against the government. At the same time Pablo Escobar was wreaking havok, killing and maiming thousands, all who opposed his cocaine empire. Americans who were found in the country were viewed with suspicion (were they DEA agents, were they spies?) I was there with 20 others (all North Americans) we were on a Christian missionary assignment, constructing the national headquarters and Bible publishing factory in a small town 40 kms outside of Bogota. The Bishop was not happy with us building in his town. He called and complained to the Mayor, who then called the Governor who then called the President, who then called the Military to intervene in what they thought was some illegal clandestine activity by Americans. Two convoys of soldiers came without warning, and broke into our compound, soldiers searching and screaming "donde estan los Gringos?" (where are all the Americans?) I was quickly hidden underneath a pile of wood in the carpentry shop, I could see the soldiers with their machine guns, in a frenzy checking everywhere. I prayed fervently for a half hour, supplicating God to save us! Not one of us were found that day!
Faith that endangers
Scorching animosity
God's saving power
For Faith Haibun Contest by Regina Riddle
July 09,2020
This feeling washes over me in a cool wave, something that I am not familiar
Within this life, it is strange Deja-Vu. A familiar yet vague feeling. I know
Your scent. You've put life back in the rickety bones of this ol' devil. I'm
Overwhelmed, I have yet to stop Trembling. My goose bumps have goose bumps. You
Truly are magickal in more ways than you could ever understand. I have tears of
Joy in my eyes and an undying love in my heart. This is an alien notion. I'm
Perplexed, I'm enthralled by you. You're real. I know you. I've always known
You. Are you the memory of the Celtic goddess Dea Matrona? You are the fertile
Soil. Towards the Pantheon, onward driven up the mountain. There was you. You're
The furthest from a stranger. I want to reside within your bones. I'm the bird
in you rib cage. It’s all true. The scrying pound speaketh of you. Your lips.
Your flesh... My worship. My praise beset by an unworthy tongue. I hold no court
For your true glory. Your light Burns so bright, I feel my atoms shall combust
With a mere interaction with your divine gaze. I'm a simple creature in the
midst of holy notes. My mind and body could never fully decipher. Fodder for
spirit. Honey of vibration. Water of color. I haven't any fear. I welcome you.
Go on, spoil me rotten
Wrap me in wooly cotton
Enroll me in a class
Where I’m taught the art of grass.
Like your food I always ate
Life is served up on a plate
Now I’m hard to satiate
And you’re the object of my hate.
CH
Give me what I want,
Give it to me now
If you won’t placate me
I take it anyhow
Give it, give it, give it,
Give it to me now,
If you won’t placate me
I take it anyhow.
Go on, spoil me rotten,
Until I’ve forgotten
How to live a decent life
Let alone attract a wife.
But, hey, I’m qualified
To tell lies of how I lied
It’s all music to her ears
It’s the truth mother fears.
CH
Go on, spoil me rotten,
I’m your misbegotten
Eighty pounds over weight
Got a job hauling freight
From Brazil to LA
Where my tic gave me away
To someone from the DEA…
My lawyer had a field day.
CH
I’m no longer spoiled rotten
I wear denim, not cotton
Can’t get hold of a fix
To ease these incessant tics.
I’ve lost weight and all hope
Clinging to an end of rope
Knowing now my selfishness
Was nurtured by your weakness.
Take what you want,
Take it off me now,
If it don’t placate you
I give it anyhow
Take it, take it, take it,
Take it off me now.
If it don’t placate you
I give it anyhow.
(This is a fictional poem)
When I was a child, I ordered action figures through the mail.
They sent them in cellophane bags and I always caught hell.
I removed the action figures and threw away the bags.
Instead of being trusted, I was constantly nagged.
Mom found some of the cellophane bags when she looked in the trash.
Dad went through my things because he thought I had drugs stashed.
They checked my body for needle marks, they even looked between my toes.
I told them that I didn't take drugs but they wouldn't let it go.
Dad said that I had to be spanked.
He said it would hurt now but one day he'd be thanked.
He put me over his knee and slapped my rear.
I had a porcupine in my pants and it drove Dad to tears.
My parents constantly hounded me during my youth.
They never believed me even though I was telling the truth.
During my prom, I was grounded instead of spanked.
Dad couldn't go to work for days because of the sugar I poured in his gas tank.
When my parents found my flea powder, they thought it was cocaine.
They handcuffed me to the bed and poured it down the drain.
They still think I'm a drug user even though I work for the DEA.
They won't believe me no matter what I say.
Form: