Long Desire Poems

Long Desire Poems. Below are the most popular long Desire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Desire poems by poem length and keyword.


Deep In the Piney Woods

Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!

The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a 
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon 
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago. 
The mica was 
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death. 

Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines. 
The local children like to scare 
themselves with the 
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at 
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave 
and  pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."  

In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods. 
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming 
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end. 
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
 A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on 
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk 
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
 carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.

On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered 
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers, 
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
 ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger 
across your face and neck. 

Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an 
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen 
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville 
holler offers more
 than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
 young lovers 
brave or you
 may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Form: Narrative


Pierrot Lives In Sorrow

The people surrounding me keep asking “why are you going back and forth uneasily on the empty stage shedding crocodile tears, and telling the stories of negative effects on others, though you are not of a man of faculty who is even able to produce a theory comparable to 'Blind Will of Universe', one of worst hypothesizes a man can think of.

It’s because though, 
when a worldly-minded snob shouts from a podium
“you should have a positive attitude,” while displaying 
his resume proudly with the title that is little-to-do with his personality,
his limited academic background that barely conceals the lack of intelligence, and insignificant accomplishment with somewhat concocted experience hiding his real being and thought, he receives respect from the audience who fascinated by every movement the snob makes in the form of applaud with standing ovation, I was always treated badly from audience, fed only by unwelcome astringent fruits of rejection and drink bitter tasting water sprang from unwanted rotten roots to quench my desire…

And that’s why the course of my reasoning became negative, 
and, as a natural consequence, no matter how often you may say 
to the audience “you ought to be a person of positive attitude,” 
since there are more negative aspects surrounding us than 
the positive elements, and that’s why I was accepted by 
others negatively. More importantly, I was treated negatively 
from others simply because reality goes before me. 

Although positive thinkers boast themselves as if their thoughts are
sound and healthy, by saying that the water in a cup is half full;
negative thinkers sigh with a defected air and say that a cup is 
half empty. However, it doesn’t make any difference how you think, 
men’s thoughts cannot surpass the physical phenomena
and, therefore, a half is a half, no more nor less than a half.  
In the boundary and limit is as such, whether you like it or not,
men have to go on the path of their own destiny.

Then, why does everyone has to have a positive attitude? I suppose, 
that is, not more than a writhe of the men who won’t admit reality 
in desperate agony. That’s the self-gratification of men 
who are not able to face the facts as they are.

[The irony is, nonetheless, man is able to bear and raise a baby 
by an act of self-gratification. It’s amazing, the world is a place 
full of wonders.]
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Immunity To a Death Sentence

Now the public library in our town contains the knowledge for mankind, 
and there’s not much happening ‘round the world, that I cannot find.
I can think of any subject that I like and tell Jenny what I’m after,
and she can find a stack of books that darn near touch the rafter. 

The library’s helped me countless times from days when I’m at school,
and I’ve become a handy man with books my back up tool,
but aside from books on lifestyle needs, on fiction some are geared,
and some authors write for little kids, and some write on the weird.

I’ve hired books about our history and read about some shocking wars.
Our garden is designed from books, and I’m obsessed with reading ‘Jaws’.
But crime became my new desire with cases filed from years gone by,
where Capital Punishment was handed down and why some had to die.

Description of the victims sent a chill right through my bones,
right to the guilty on death row with all their over-tones.
I read about their last few weeks, with how and why and where,
before they took their final walk to the electric chair.

One story written by a Warder based in a Southern US gaol,
is penned about a chilling case that for you I will unveil …
Leroy murdered seven folk; the warder wrote down in this book.
For twenty years appeals were held then Leroy’s goose was cooked.

When you’re with someone for twenty years, no matter what they’ve done,
you can form a slight attachment even if a fragile one.
So one week before that final stroll Leroy was asked by Warder Black,
if there’s something special that he’d like, and Leroy answered back.

“There is something I do desire - but it must involve me faithful wife.
“My wish is” Leroy grinned. “Is to eat her meatloaf now for life”. 
Well Leroy’s wish was granted and for three meals every day,
he ate the meatloaf that he begged for while the hours ticked away.

On the eve of Leroy’s execution there was tension being shown.
The corridors were creepy now with a ghostly eerie tone.
Forgotten were the seven victims - in the morning there’s one more.
Leroy must face ‘old sparky’ waiting down that corridor.

His final meal of meatloaf was brought before him on a plate.
Said Warder Black with teary eyes “You don’t look worried mate!”
Leroy laughed “I’m not my friend, that chair won’t kill me man.
If this meatloaf couldn’t do me in - I know that nothing can!”
Form: Rhyme

Our Love

Our Love

Our love, like hydrogen's bond,
Is the simplest, yet profound.
Like helium's lightness, we float,
In each other's arms, we bloat.

Lithium's fire ignites within,
A spark that's always been.
Beryllium's strength is our foundation,
A love built with determination.

Carbon's essence fuels our fire,
As we create our own empire.
Nitrogen's breath is in our lungs,
A love that never fails or slums.

Oxygen's embrace is like a kiss,
That fills our hearts with pure bliss.
Fluorine's passion is in our eyes,
A love that never tells lies.

Neon's light shines in our soul,
As we journey towards our goal.
Sodium's presence is always felt,
In the love we both have dealt.

Magnesium's spark has made us whole,
A love that's pure and full of soul.
Aluminum's bond is unbreakable,
A love that's true and unshakable.

Silicon's strength is in our mind,
As we journey and unwind.
Phosphorus's light guides our way,
Through the highs and lows of each day.

Sulfur's heat fuels our desire,
A love that's deep and won't expire.
Chlorine's essence is in our scent,
A love that's pure and innocent.

Argon's stability is in our heart,
A love that's never been apart.
Potassium's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.

Calcium's bond is our foundation,
A love that's strong and never shaken.
Scandium's essence is in our will,
To love each other until.

Titanium's strength is in our being,
As we embrace and keep believing.
Vanadium's spark ignites our fire,
A love that's true and never a liar.

Chromium's bond is our connection,
A love that's deep and full of affection.
Iron's strength is in our love,
As we soar like an eagle above.

Nickel's essence is in our trust,
A love that's pure and never rusts.
Copper's spark ignites our passion,
A love that's strong and full of compassion.

Zinc's bond is our commitment,
A love that's true and never indifferent.
Silver's essence is in our purity,
A love that's deep and full of security.

Tin's spark ignites our flame,
A love that's pure and never lame.
Gold's bond is our unity,
A love that's strong and never petty.

Lead's essence is in our loyalty,
A love that's true and never disloyal.
Platinum's spark ignites our soul,
As we become each other's goal.

*_@Otieno Elvis Gikoi_*
*_30LettersToMyGirlfriend_*
*_THE ELO’S POETRY_*
*_ArtFromHeart_*

Vantablack

The poem "VANTABLACK" exhibits a profound exploration of emotions and existential themes. As a poet, one would appreciate the nuanced use of language and the depth of introspection conveyed through the verses.

The title, "VANTABLACK," immediately draws attention to the darkest substance known, emphasizing a profound sense of darkness or void that permeates the poem. The tumultuous street and the notion in flight evoke a sense of chaos and uncertainty, setting the stage for the emotional journey that follows.

The poet skillfully employs imagery and metaphor to convey the complex emotions experienced. The notion that "hastens in haste" and then "averts its gaze" suggests a fleeting and elusive quality, mirroring the transient nature of emotions. The descent of the heart's echo into a "crimson abyss" hints at the depth of emotional turmoil, perhaps symbolizing pain or longing.

The lines "Your name, I called, yet emptiness replied" and "A bloom of yours, I drew, withering away" express a sense of loss and unfulfilled connection. The act of calling a name and drawing a bloom implies a desire for presence and beauty, but the responses are characterized by emptiness and withering, adding a layer of melancholy.

The exploration of choices in the lines "Life's lines extend before me, To choose, where your love resides" delves into the existential theme of navigating through life's possibilities and seeking love. The word "resides" suggests a search for a meaningful connection within the vastness of life.

The recurring ritual mentioned in "This ritual unfolds each day" implies a cyclical nature of introspection and perhaps a daily struggle with emotions. The poet peers within, describing it as a "melancholy abode," suggesting that the internal landscape is characterized by sadness.

The concluding lines, "Where my heart, a vantablack canvas, remains," encapsulate the essence of the poem. The heart being a "vantablack canvas" signifies an emotional void, absorbing and reflecting no light, emphasizing the depth of emotional darkness or emptiness.

As a poet, one might commend the poet for the rich tapestry of emotions woven through carefully chosen words and metaphors. The poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of connections, and the existential quest for meaning in the face of emotional voids.


Sappho Translations I

Sappho Translations I

Sappho, fragment 132 (Lobel-Page 132)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

1.
I have a delightful daughter
fairer than the fairest flowers, Cleis,
whom I cherish more than all Lydia and lovely Lesbos.

2.
I have a lovely daughter
with a face like the fairest flowers,
my beloved Cleis …

It bears noting that Sappho mentions her daughter and brothers, but not her husband. We do not know if this means she was unmarried, because so many of her verses have been lost.



Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131)
loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
 
1.
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda ...

2.
Attis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda ... 



Sappho, fragment 140 (Lobel-Page 140)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
 
He is dying, Cytherea, the delicate Adonis.
What shall we lovers do?
Rip off your clothes, bare your breasts and abuse them!



Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?


Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

May the gods prolong the night
 —yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.



... a sweet-voiced maiden ...
—Sappho, fragment 153, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I have the most childlike heart ...
—Sappho, fragment 120, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There was no dance,
no sacred dalliance,
from which we were absent.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s ecstatic brilliance.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s splendor.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You anointed yourself
with most exquisite perfume. 
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Awed by the moon’s splendor,
stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
—Sappho, fragment 34, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: Sappho, Lesbos, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, love, sex, desire, passion, lust, lesbian, LGBTQ

Twilight's Raimants In Blues


                As two, hearts dance the embrace of a fire,
                 plucking your heartstings as a lyre
          Distrust, lies, eclipses love's satellite true- natal 
                loon, into a suicide hot air balloon ride! 
    Moves aside bend of light, chooses, 
          side, of a dark malignant side of moon !

   In the twilight hour blues, 
where passions softly stir,
emotions start to blur, turn sour,
painting pleasure in the night maw to devour two

In the depths of the night, a solitary light wound
casts a shadows upon the heart, 
where darkness slowly seeps through

With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desire,
a symphony of emotions that sets souls afire
Strings of anticipation strum 
in rhythmic delight tuned to
caressing secrets, where fantasies abide, nude


Signs, who, hides moons of the truest kind! 
O a tale apart
Moves side winds, breath of the dark arts, 
to align into hearts maligned 

arms folded in death to make with 
as a stolen kiss ignites a flame,
like a symphony, our hearts fall prey to again 
be betwixt in the game

With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desires, 
hollows,
a symphony of emotions that sets 
souls adrift from the shallows
In passions dance in the shadows, 
at Night, where secrets cannot hide their gallows 
from the ghouls that preside in it's marrow

In a tale ripped apart...
every 'plete of your heart 
Strings of anticipation strum in 
rhythmic delight tune 
turns to the knife of sacrificial rite

In the twilight raimant so blue, where passions fly,
the jolly roger of motley fools,
selling the fine line
sailing the live mines

Embracing the darkness' essence, 
a tale yet for reason
harmonies of ecstasy reaching 
a breathtaking peak of reasoning


Oh, the cadence of desire, intoxicating and divine,
as crescendos rise and fall, our spirits intertwine
a symphony of emotions, wild and misconstrued,
leaving souls aflame, forever marked, 
for death do you sever
apart partaking your
passions dance in the shadows, 
at Night, where secrets cannot hide to
desires lever toggle with every touch, new,
every sight of slight or bruise

Urban decay of a dream, 
dream theater of a tragedy 
playing looped scene

In the Twilight raimant so blue
With every beat of your heart
Moves side winds, choose, sides, 
with a dark maligned tune
art
Form: Rhyme

Where We Belong - a Collaboration - Part - 1

My lady of the night, you light my soul with Vampyre passion,
long I have walked alone from the delights of your Vampyre love.
Now, once more, the night lives with your embraces.
Gone now the melancholy song of my nights,
once more the night is alive with sensual promise,
I feel as if my heart and soul are home again,
holding you close, I know once more the joy of a beating heart.
My Kah Vah Teh, my lady of the night, sing now with me our song,
that song which ever joins us in love's sweet bliss.
The promise of our nights shall once again sing,
come into my arms again and may our night hearts sing in majesty,
let the night be alive with our love, I am again your Shadrach Hah ....

..... Sire, as I breathe this thin night air
And hear the songs upon the wind,
I beckon once more for you, 
Your fingers upon my face
as your lips caress once more
The lines of silken skin that I hold bare
For you to take your fill .....

..... Come close to me this midnight, dark, 
Enfold me in your arms,
so once more we may walk as one,
Into the aeons of immortal love.
I hear the songs of gentle love
and dance with you once more, 
Come close to me, my dark desire, 
let us dance again to the songs 
that only immortal love can sing .....

..... Our harmonies of love sing into the night,
Are we but two silhouettes against the moon
or are we a fire of desire, emblazoned across night's landscape?
We are the desire of all love's passions,
from the core we join in primal passion as our fire grows.
We become an immortal flame,
a sensual dance of the night's longing.
Oh my beloved, what joy sublime,
caressing once more the temple of my lady of the night.
Your kisses fanning the flame of my complete passion,
lifting my desires to a spiritual plain.
In the night's embrace, together,
we are where we belong .....

..... Silver moon to guide us this night
And the essence of your being upon my lips...
My beloved! How complete are we in this moment!
Your pale skin glowing in this glorious night!
Raven dark your eyes as they fall upon me
And at this moment the universe is witness
Of the glory of a life, a love, immortal! 
My vampire knight... I will behold you
Into infinity of immortal time and space!

To Be Continued..........

A Collaboration By,
Morgana VientoLameculos.
&
Michael .P. Clarke.

Vampire: Wampyre Love Poetry Series.

A Dreamers Plight On Judgment Day

A DREAMERS PLIGHT ON JUDGEMENT DAY

Give solely sovereign sway & Masterdom.
The air nimbly & sweetly recommends itself unto my gentle senses
To commend the ingredients of my poisoned chalice.
But this same thing we desire the most
That makes us say 'the one I love the most is the one I hate the most'.
The love that follows us at times is our trouble.
How tender it is to love the babe that milks me?
And make my face vizards to my heart,
Disguising what they are.
False face hide what the false heart knows.
From a dream, I hear a shout; a loud one
But hear it not, the dreamer; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell
For sleep is the cousin of death
Which keeps the face pale as lights thickens,
The crow flies away to the rooky wood.
Nights black agents rouse to their preys.
As a dreamer wakes unannounced from nightmare
And eats his meal in fear
Sleeping in the affliction of those terrible dreams
That shakes him nightly.
The torture of the mind which maketh lie
In restless ecstasy...
My virtues will plead like Angels trumpet-tongued.
Upon the sightless winds
Shall blow the realities (of life) in every eye,
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature gives way to in repose.
Innocence & pity like a naked new born baby
Striding the blast or heavens cherubim riding on an horseback
Then arose to escape the thrills of the instant
Living a coward you ones own esteem.
And I asked: is it nights predominance or days shame?
But knowing where my path leads to; I follow my journey
Even when the dark night strangles my travelling lamp.
Would nature hold God's benison from those
That would make good of bad and friends of foes?
Maybe with vivacious or flushed face, we all go to the grave
After life's fitful fever, we sleep well
And be not disturbed, nothing touches us further.
Just like a possessive man trust are their great grandmothers
He sleeps well not, because six feet of solid earth
Hath not keep her permanently underground.
She would creep out - so many Lazaruses from the grave
But after the dead which goes to peace
And at the end, hears a voice cast from pure gold, calling
Heaven or hell, the book chooses
Even he who was left unwept, untombed,
A rich sweet sight for the hungry birds beholding
Leaves for a permanent and eternal home.
Get set.

VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2009.

Her Eyes Were Like Fireflies

In all honesty,
I never learned your name.
I didn’t need to; 
The look in your eyes is your name 
Like fireflies, they twinkle and glimmer your name
A name I love saying 
The way you stare at me 
It’s like I’m the color yellow,
And I’m painting away the grey of your world 

That’s what you tell me 
As my head rests in the crook of your neck, and your fingers trail up the bare of my hip
You’re yellow, and sunshine to me you say
And I’m grey like a pebble, soaking up your rays

I laugh 
But grey is my favorite color I tell you 
It’s the color of the skies on the days I’m tucked in your arms, because its too cold and wet to go outside
It’s the color of my favorite blanket that I keep under my bed
Its only for special occasions
When I need to cry and shake and let the dreams of the night know I’m not okay 

You’re not just for special occasions though
You’re for every occasion. Every fight, every dance, 
Every laugh with my head thrown back and my fingers tightening around you for purchase because laughing with you is like an ******, it breaks me, it builds me, it loves me 
Even when you’re not here
I still think of you
I sit you beside me, and tell you thoughts, even when reality speeds around us, and you’re not really there 

Even now I can sit you beside me 
And trace the figures of your love with my eyes 
Black hair, straight and deep. Sometimes short, sometimes long; I can’t choose, you’re beautiful either way
Brown eyes, deep like the dirt flowers and dreams can only sprout in, that burn like the hearts of spinning stars
Tall, and I hate it, but you always use it to your advantage to capture me tight
I lied 
I love it 
Long fingers, and you pluck secrets and whimpers from me like notes from a harp 
God, I love them 
God, I crave them 

You’re my all dreams bundled into one, my opposite, my piece of the puzzle, my favorite melody, my infinite addiction
I can’t live without you
A day that goes by without you is another breath stolen from my lungs but what can I do because you’re not even real 

Like Pygmalion, I’ve fallen in love with my own mind’s tortured creation and now I can love no one but you 
I can stare at no one but you, and when the night falls, I can go to no one but you 
To Orsino, how can you say women can’t love like men?
I’ve fallen in love with a woman and now I’m dead.

September 25, 2018

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