Long Electric Poems
Long Electric Poems. Below are the most popular long Electric by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Electric poems by poem length and keyword.
Last winter, I refilled my blackened quill with
a dose of your sensual sonnets,
allowing your soothing voice to be the maestro
of moaning moonlight,
reawakening a cathartic infatuation.
Drunk on symphonies that you’ve orchestrated,
a throbbing thirst instills
tantalizing tercets into my trembling veins.
I submissively let every ounce of my skin
be stroked by your titillating tongue,
tracing the milky quartz trails of
goosebumps you’ve ignited,
leaving me intoxicated in your
mellifluous world of poetic pulses,
where your honey-dipped fingers strum
the script of my love-struck soul.
Awakening fervent fireflies to flutter,
flickering luscious sparks,
while cocooned in electric feathers,
caressing the internal warmth
of wildfire whispers.
Yet, there is something about
the way the skies burst euphoric writings
on your untold rivers~
never revealed, forever lost
in the silence of sultry suppression~
luring me to follow the magnetic rhythm
of your restless roseate runes.
I will someday kiss you into written poetry,
when I take a breath
to climax as couplets intertwined,
screaming caffeinated stars in hypnotic cadence.
The seeds of your love
will illuminate pining petals,
pressed between velvety sheets
of lunar-glazed pillows,
and the cinnamon sun of a sage dawn,
awaiting drizzling diamonds
with sinful secrets etched from sweat and tears,
teasing the melted twilight
that flows behind periwinkle prose.
So place me on your empty canvas
of nocturnal stanzas.
Paint me with tender rhymes,
flowing like fluorescent ink,
bleeding from your aesthetic baton,
so effortlessly,
forever aligned as soulmates,
tied to the gossamer tunes of timeless harmony.
Bully me, yours truly
never ordained, gifted, or blessed
with mien mean characteristic
evoking, jump/kickstarting,
representing, nor zapping
friend or foe courtesy fiery intimidation
if anything aura, charisma, dogma, and karma
emanating, issuing, and oozing out
body electric of one heretofore bookish fellow
immediately facilitates characterization
hashtagged lucubration and manifestation of quietude.
Though true agitation transparent to passersby
soul asylum of sexagenarian beleaguered
with invisible mailer daemons
that hound the psyche
of this doggone muttering bonafide wordsmith.
In argot of polymath author of these words,
(the modestly noteworthy
opportunistic, poetic Matthew Scott Harris)
essentially he describes himself
as a generic simple Simon,
who never met a pieman
his mellow outward demeanor
belies, harbors, and represses
a quaking, raging bull, and seething
tempestuous storm beneath the calm,
which faux placidity
shields a woke monster
(donned in Harris tweed and Scottish tartan)
mashing everything in his wake
courtesy huge feet
resembling puff daddy bear paws.
Though found out later in life
than most muggles
aforementioned humble
human like bipedal hominid
discovered extraordinary ability
to morph from dimwitted dork dweeb
into grim faced, frightful,
albeit gentle unassuming
pygmy up by the petard giant extraordinaire,
which latent superpower
never served him in good stead
to ward off cruel classmates and peers
tormenting teasing taxing
terrorizing treatment til tears
trickled down my cheeks.
Every now and again,
when some nasty brutish beastly lout
dares to utter colorful invectives,
a gradual transformation
slowly but surely occurs
within every baited cell
(automatically summoned, triggered,
and unveiled courtesy a bitterly
deadly force to be reckoned with
deep within these lovely bones)
witnessing sudden bravado and daring do
additionally helped along after I discretely
chomp on powder milk biscuits
(the secret recipe only known
to forbidding Norwegian bachelor farmers)
giving an unexpected
judicious Hawaiian punch
to the loathsome miscreant
(never knowing what hit him)
knocking said thug out in cold blood.
Blue
Why is it, if people are sad,
we say they are blue,
when blue is such a happy color?
Blue are electric skies of October
that bring cool breezy weather,
and find children joyfully
jumping in piles of dry leaves,
playing tag on the playground,
and munching crisp juicy apples.
Blue are the eyes of the little
blond girl with golden curls
who smiles up at me from
a tea party with her dolls.
Blue is the sparkling ocean
on a hot day in summer,
waves making little slapping noises
as they hit the rocks of the jetty,
calling swimmers to jump in,
skip flat stones across the water,
or search for pieces of beach glass.
Blue is hyacinths that perfume the air,
and iris and forget-me-nots
in the garden in spring, and
elderberries and blueberries
and blueberry jam for your toast.
In the marsh a great blue heron
steps majestically toward dinner.
There are blue frogs, blue mussels,
blue claw crabs, blue butterflies.
All are delights of nature.
How can we call blue a sad color
with such a myriad of happy blues?
Time moves so fast:
Yet love outlasts
Too soon we age
Cite worn out page
Years come and go
Move fast and slow
Our two hearts know
A deeper glow
Those were the days
Of happy play
Fond tryst that styles
Rapture and smiles
A lovely kiss
Warm touch we miss?
Pulse electric
Touch magnetic
You my darling
In a grand spring
Hurl of magic
Feels fantastic
Now heart to heart
Soul fashions art
Happy right here
True love endears
Sweet nectar squeeze
In poignant breeze
And all these while
Live warm soul style
Thank you my dear
For such fond cheer
Leon Enriquez
24 May 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT
Mid-Summer Rain
The warm sun rises
to take the fleeting life
of the morning dew.
The blazing sun makes
the red horizon laugh
by spreading its
dazzling white radiance.
The sizzling sun bathes
the folks in sweat
as they run and exercise
on the sidewalks and parks.
The fierce sun embraces
and scorches the skin
of the outside laborers.
Summer is the whining
of the boiling sweat, or
the restless lamentation
of the electric fans?
As I was ploughing through
this mid-summer’s lap and
yearning for some cool breeze,
A wind blew, a thunder was heard,
One drop, many drops,
you came pitter patter,
with the smell of fresh soil,
Oh my mid-summer rain!
I cannot stop gazing
at your dancing beauty.
As you slide down,
Caressing the tree leaves,
This fire-baked Earth
chilled in salvation
so my body and soul!
Come often to wipe off the sweat
and to wash away the grime.
Come often to dampen the dryness
and to hold off the drought.
Come often and often,
Oh my mid-summer rain!
Oh gosh, what memories pancakes brings back to me …
As a child I used to make them every week for my dad
He adored them but I never ate them! It’s been many years since I made them
Lets see if I can remember the recipe for the batter
Carefully weigh out 4 oz plain flour, add in ¼ teaspoon salt
Sieve this into a bowl. Make a well in the center
Then carefully add three medium sized eggs
Do make sure they are fresh and you scoop out any bits of shell
You don’t want to find anything crunchy in your pancakes!
Use a hand whisk or electric whisk to incorporate the eggs then
Gradually add ½ pint milk (or milk and water combined)
Whisk until you have a silky smooth batter with no lumpy bits
Now the important thing is to put the batter in the fridge
Leave it to rest as long as possible ideally at least ½ hour
Then you need a medium sized frying pan, drizzle in a little cooking oil
Heat the pan until it is fairly hot but not smoking
You don’t want to have clouds of acrid smoke and have to ring the fire brigade!
Pour in a little of the batter It will start to sizzle and splutter
Tip the pan to spread the batter and make a thin coating
Cook until the underside of the pancake is golden brown
And the top is covered with bubbles
Now comes the fun bit…
You can simply flip the pancake over to cook the other side
BUT if you are daring you can try tossing it in the air …
hoping it doesn’t stick on the ceiling!
Disaster can strike if the pancake misses the pan and ends up on the floor…
I was never brave and always flipped the pancake over
Once the pancake is golden brown on both sides slide it onto a warm plate
My dad always ate them sprinkled with sugar and zesty lemon juice
But you can use any topping you desire even savoury ones
Dad would roll his pancake and eat it in slices
Whilst he was eating the first pancake
I would continue cooking until the batter was used up
I’d make sure I added a little oil before cooking each one
You don’t want them to stick
If you are making a batch of pancakes you can cover them
Put them in a warm oven until you have finished making them all
Enjoy!
Contest:-Didactic Food
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
10~07~15
“The World’s Playground”
"Ring around the roses. Ring around the roses".
Jack the ripper, he slept with a whore, and became deadly ill
Awhile his wife Jill became suicidal dependent on the Prozac pill
Mother Goose lost all four of her children it was easy to ignore.
She was too busy being a **** star it was hardcore.
One had his brains fried. One died from electric shock.
One survived to an infant to be killed on the block
Last became involved in gambling, a financial debt he can’t pay
The mob sent the goose a bleeding red box saying happy birthday.
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves, and atm machines
By raising the right hand shouting upon the witness stand
This is zappy land, this is zippy land, this is the zingy land.
Sparrow and Fly killed Cock Robin with a ball and chain
In a black pond the fish devoured the bird’s brains
Old Grandma once had delicious pie the night when Crow Man came.
She then had two children who took her life’s blame.
Hansel became a business man who took people’s homes.
Baba Yaga pimped Gretel on the streets of Rome.
Hansel lost his control. He cooked his old hag.
Gretel was cut opened killed by a douchbag.
“Girls and boys, come out to play,
The [stars] doth shine as bright as day;”
Leave your families, don’t be discreet,
“And come with your [fellows] into the street.”
Little children holding hands, "ring around the rosy".
Children dancing gleefully "with pockets full of posies".
Happily they burn the days away. "Ashes, ashes".
Going through life, "we all fall down".
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves and atm machines
This is happy land, this is happy land, this is happy land.
Welcome to our playground. The world is such a joy.
Every girl and every boy is a Playgirl or playboy.
We have candy, video games, lollipop, and teens
We have Drugs, sex, alcohol, slaves, and atm machines
This is happy land, this is happy land, this is happy land.
This is the place to be.
"Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down".
Form:
Swimming in a forest of Great and tall Trees,
Walking in a sea of fragrance so sweet
and Glowing in the doorway,
Blue eyes are gleaming....
It's the Green Man and he sees me dreaming.
In a swirl of blue around the Earth drew,
his Oceans to protect the Seas.
A light in a beam, he shines in a stream,
creating the electric bees. And a breeze...
Giving life in the Light and a cycle so right,
he's growing his love in the seeds.
Making glow candle bright to continue right
he's loving his Trees into Light.
And they're beaming....glowing on the wick
and streaming...
It's the Green Man and he sees me dreaming.
"Come the Great Bat" by his side in a stride
Nurishing Time that was right for the flight.
Feeding with care and with love and with pride,
the MasterPeace Trees on his Mountain side.
Makes a Moon shine in a Knight she's seeing,
Two eyes through, the light and they're beaming...
The Green Man's Trees are the seas in my dreaming.
I feel as if you're my missing puzzle, dear.
Ethereal love, brawn, and joy to cheer
You are my life and my innermost being.
Counted each real nature and unseeing.
I feel like your song, so be my verse.
I'm yours, whether lenient or worse.
Health or pain, you're eternal in my life.
I shall love you despite social strife.
I feel I'll still love you, no matter what.
That's why, honey, you have my trust.
True love's name is lost to time.
In silence, its source is sublime.
Even quirks feel cute in your embrace.
I'm happiest when I look at your face.
Your touch evokes me of childhood.
Coffee you brew, folks we met in the hood.
I feel our love as an airy echo of passion.
like a spirit striking the soul motion.
A soul invasion causes an electric wave.
Veins ooze gorgeous, sensual crave.
Written: January 21, 2023
How Do You Feel Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
The electric jolt of the city stops
It bows like a sapling in a February storm
The thirsty windows collect the drops
The heart, the pulse of the place— still warm
Still whispering behind doors, under grates
Beyond the snowy garrison of the city, Spring swarms
Over the yawning, gushing streams the melt creates
Near the child with the mud covered sneakers
The icy mist that lingered dissipates
Blooming from trees, fresh buds are sweepers
Brushing off the flecks of dirt and snow
They become the season’s youngest keepers
A wind to break the back does blow!
A new era is but a stone’s throw!
~For Regina McIntosh’s contest “Heart Universes”
Tuesday, February 9th, 2021