Long Deftness Poems
Long Deftness Poems. Below are the most popular long Deftness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deftness poems by poem length and keyword.
My heart is empty
But my mind is full
So I have all these thoughts
But no feelings attached
My ears hear thoughtfully
But my tongue tastes tepidly
And the person I was 10 years ago
Well, he no longer exists
I feel like a manic mannequin
Masquerading as a man
Once vibrant eyes have gone dark
And I'm closer to death than birth
I write these words in my head
But they're written by foreign fingers
Lacking the deftness
That they used to have
Everyone thinks you die once
But after all I've been through
I think you die a thousand painful deaths
Before the Grim Reaper comes calling
The vibrancy of the mind fades
An aging body breaks down and decays
Hope transmogrified into one day at a time
But it just doesn't get any better
I feel like a software update went wrong
And erased the operating system
Like when Windows replaced XP with Vista
But it was never quite the same
My heart is empty
But my mind is full
But my feelings are attached here
To fill my empty heart
I reach across the pillow bare
And caress you with my thigh
And upon your lips
I gently bite
And breathe your hungry sigh
You pull me close
Hip to hip
My body is in song
A hallucinatory return to where I still belong
We are a skein of tangled feelings
Traversing time and space
Incantatory memories rouse us
As we begin to move apace
The remembering of your fingers
The deftness of your hand
My body still your conquest
You raise your flag upon my land
You say you feel my heart in yours
And my blush betrays my thrill
To taste again the salt and slick
Of your urgent hungry will
As we rise to meet the moment
You place your head on mine
We move together silently
In defiance of our crime
The treacherous dawn sun rises
Your scent begins to fade
I lock my eyes on yours
And cling to your embrace
The light leaks through the curtains
And draws me from your grasp
I wake in painful longing
Untouched unseen
I gasp
I lie alone in reverie
Until I hear the pad of children's feet
And the fragments of our union roam
Beyond my aching reach
I rise and smooth the linen
A requiem for the dream
And I begin again the counting
Of the lonely days between
(after a painting by John Constable)
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
And ravens, weathering wild thermals, glint
blue-black beneath these clouds of graphite grey.
The strong, squat tower, formed of ancient flint,
has settled in the landscape, like the bole
of some decaying oak. The long-dead lie,
obscured by nettles. Nestling on its knoll,
the tiny temple shoulders out the sky.
What is compact is beautiful, to me.
Design with deftness guarantees a grace
that grander gewgaws lack: economy
is elegant, sublime in straitened space.
The more I practise, play and ponder on it,
The more I love the stature of the sonnet.
Children, pancakes, needlework
An initial draft, a first book
It’s no surprise they came out weird
No matter what pains you took
The first one is the practice one
You need it, to make a start
It’s okay, it won’t be perfect;
We weren’t expecting a work of art
It’ll be squiggly around the edges
Details not well defined
Awkward, clunky, unpolished
Scruffy and unrefined
If you haven’t got the knack yet
It’s understandable, you’re new
You’re learning how to unlock your skills;
What you should and shouldn’t do
You have to make the cringey first one
So your deftness can grow wild
The next attempt will be infinitely better
By B Philippe (a second child)
Seeing through emotions
And letting go of them all slowly one by one
devotion
Pain, happiness
Part of a life journey wholesome
Deftness
Enjoy
Dusted and done
Boy
Seeing through emotions
Part of a life journey wholesome
Boy
Notes
Format of the New form of Rhyme named MlNICHU is as follows:
1. Total 12 lines (4 stanzas of 3 lines each)
2. Rhyme scheme: Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD.
3. 4th stanza consists of repeat of 1st line of stanza1, 2nd line of stanza 2, and 3rd line of stanza 3.
4. Poem should stick to a chosen theme through all stanzas. A twist can be introduced in third stanza, if required by the theme, to make it more interesting.
5. Syllable count :
Stanza 1: 6,12,3
Stanza 2: 4,8,2
Stanza 3: 2,4,1
Stanza 4: 6,8,1.
Many are the memories of Hoosier farm life as a lad that I recall.
One was what Dad called 'hog renderin' that occurred every fall.
When he proclaimed the old boar had reached his maximum weight,
That meant for sure that the old feller was soon to meet his fate!.
After Dad did him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wielded his butchers' knife with the deftness of a surgeon's hand,
Carvin' out loins, hams and bacon from our late-departed friend!
Curin' bacon was Dad's specialty in which he took great pride.
He performed secret incantations which he never would confide.
Massagin', injectin' stuff and smokin' them again and again,
To ensure they were suitable for Mom's iron skillet fryin' pan!
After milkin' the cows and sloppin' the hogs at the break of dawn,
I could smell the bacon sizzlin' in the skillet as I walked across the lawn!
Enterin' the house the aroma of the bacon wafted about the place.
Even Dad was so anxious to dine that he waived the prayin' of grace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Education has never deluded me,
it is a rich mine from which my gemstones are extracted;
and all of them can adorn with its brilliance
a king's crown, but the glitter on my silver pendant...
with my natal sign, not with my image, outshines it
and displays it very elegantly.
As skilled hands relied on mental deftness,
I depended on mom's provincial practicality,
not on chances, but on her canonical guidance;
her words told no canards, only truthfulness:
an illunination of beatitude to encourage and fortify...
and that voice taught me acts of benevolence.
Guessing what was the mysterious name it bore,
would have been quite easy to identify with sharp eyes:
examining the deeds I did and the actions I still compromise,
to conclude with certainty
that it fitted me so perfectly...
I learned that art by listening to clever people with more ardor.
This is not a gift which is instilled
in the infant's brain at birth,
it is acquired by growing somewhat old...
who could have such a prodigious knowledge?
The Old Testament prophets for instance, or possibly
every learned man who studied philosophy.
Spend time with me, and observe how I peruse:
listen to the clear and incisive words spoken aloud,
riddling no mystery, or being derogatory...
proverbs might be included to give some clues;
and they were written in an inimitable way
to stimulate the minds of the unlearned.
Is intelligence inborn or learned by chance,
or even isometric to astuteness?
Many admit it stems from accruing knowledge,
to increase the capacity of the thinker or genius...
accumulating their ideas and earning praises,
while the uneducated struggle with rage.
Logical astutness is efficacious when it invigorates ability,
and exhorts a great deal of mental energy;
and will the proper words be used to that effect?
Happy New Year to all the wonderful Poetry Soup members!
Copyright 210 by Andrew Crisci
*(A lyric on the sweet seductions of a lovely, vampish nymph and man-eater named Lolita.).
With a body so fine and rare
like a lover who comes afresh
with a glow that's both sleek and fair;
and lovely in her fine, smooth flesh;
she sways me so with not a care
as we slowly combine and mesh.
With expert skill that's hard to find
and deft and not so innocent
(and with her hands and unchaste mind),
she unzips my rising discontent.
She pleasures me: I nigh go blind
(as her deftness makes me potent).
With focus and seductive powers
she peers into my fettered soul
and frees me from my iron trousers
which crush my sex and spirit whole.
And in minutes, not even hours,
I'm under her swift, sweet control!
Lucent snake
From lofted peaks it writhes
Through jagged fissures and wind scarred ice
Bewitched by Newton’s muse, wily serpent descends
Gorging wide through meadows snared by wildflower’s charm
Still, down it coils in stalking deftness
More prey around the bend...
Mountain Stream
Trois-par-Huit (3-2-3)
The eagle’s wings flap with elegance and vigor;
even though the wind blows with great strength and power.
While both branch and twig sway due to a shrill clear sound,
as the green leaves rustle above the conscious ground.
This ferocious feathered appendage shows fierceness;
He untiringly glides with deftness and quickness.
Because he lets hope and trust win over the storm
that intends to inflict evil, damage, or harm.
When he is on a flight, his eyes are on target;
seeing his abode in the mountain of sunset.
He shows sheer happiness and joy when he goes home;
reaching the nest of his young ones that never roam.
He fearlessly leaps from the tree to fly and glide
to scan the view below with his glory and pride.
His eyesight shows sharpness along with his keen mind;
his heart bravely pulsates as love is there to find.