Long Emanations Poems
Long Emanations Poems. Below are the most popular long Emanations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Emanations poems by poem length and keyword.
On certain days, I’m moved only by a tailwind,
The breathing of the sky, the cadence of my heart.
On special days, I know only the imagined,
The sanguine waltz cascading from the start.
Some days, I just inhale the spice of powder earth,
The emanations of every life force I behold.
I dwell in iterations, the treasures of life I unearth,
Each moment is serendipitous, so wondrous, and bold.
On given days, I inhabit my core quiet, my still pond,
In touch with my tranquil repose, my smooth slumber.
I center in my soothing moment, never looking beyond,
I may be circumspect in my introspection, but never somber.
On different days, I drift on tidal dreams of many moons,
The wash of whispering oceans, and undiscovered seas.
I breathe in the briny fever of green, my private lagoons.
I savor the firmament, all the pleasures felt with ease.
On other days, I carry the chorus of every endearing flame,
Every deep carnal craving recalled, renewed, and revived,
I regret all the lost loves for which I am solely to blame.
Repairing my past, I long to heal all those I have deprived.
On certain days, I’m moved only by a tailwind,
I touch my reset button to live all my life in the imagined.
I adopt dainty etiquette
when quenching thirst or dining
to buzzfeed growling beast
inside me tummy.
The missus requests obedience
raising both my little fingers in the air
upon taking beverage or repast to lips.
Additionally, she also requires I
(well healed husband who toes the line)
perform dance shuffle - think clog
feigning to trip over feet
as if yours truly quaffed to much grog
while balancing atop log.
Miss iz manners re: lee the spouse
sets prime example being lady like,
what with her belching and snorting
of course with mouthful of food
no surprise she nurtured impolite brood
raised on learning language crude
even this Geico caveman exhibits
less coarse attitude,
he likens himself to subdued dude
trying his darnedest (golly gee)
to avoid family feud
general behavior hashtagged as rude
linkedin with antics qualified as lewd
encouraged nsync while
slurping or masticating in the nude,
whereby other body sounds made
unsuitable for strait laced and prude
folks who don't take a fancy hearing
so called uncouth soundclouds exude
out body orifices considered foul,
inapropos and extremely lewd
when unless quarantined in solitude.
One upside of COVID-19
postprandial aural emanations
(all time favorite flatulence)
knows no outward bounds
unless colorectal explosions
register highest magnitude
when measured in concert
with handy dandy
blues clues rattle seismometer
and register courtesy
Richter Scale and the Mercalli Scale
direction and intensity of earthquakes.
Upon experiencing aforementioned prime mate
i.e. the bellowing gal offering herself as ahem
(pardon the double entendre) master bait,
I knew from the get go
Tex-Mex Connection
in North Wales, Pennsylvania
where we shared our first date
(outsize bean burritos)
I tooted my own horn,
she unwittingly got me into checkmate,
just for that her fate got sealed,
when our respective gametes
(ova and sperm cells respectively)
new life we did miraculously create
the first of two female offspring
would become housed in utero
and come to resemble
a spheroid somewhat oblate
even now unnamed counterpart,
(and partner in crime) still swell person
hook hood benefit to lose some weight,
cuz... well adipose freight
quite ample around equator.
Listen to sterile silence
nursing homebound fans
wavering white noiselessness
of silent futile passing
Absence of passion
hope
care
happiness
or creased
and reasoned
nearing deceased sadness.
Hear this void of madness,
lack of hunger
or parched thirst
for conversation
splendid nutrition
scandalous emission
empowering immigration
enlightened emigration
or angry fear emanation
of forced solitude migration
Into mortal loss
of sensory reception
political deception
economic perception
theistic inception
septic conception.
Smell nothing.
Taste everything
becomes dust
delustered rust
lust for transcendent
disembodied consummation
omnipresent transportation
omniscient evaporation
full latitude
for fragrance-free
plastic platitudes
feckless attitudes
disdainful blows
against further fertile emanations.
Sing where nothing
settles into rounding octave rings
to never
ever want to dance
in robust spirals
forming springs
Against depressions
felt repressions
thought impressions
known suppressions
unheard deflation
worn through integration
transcultural conflation
Of pantheistic elegant circling Zeroes
absorbed by a monstrous
monopolistic silent
slick supreme One
Listening to sterile silence
nursing homebound fans,
white emptiness
of silent
restless passing.
Glare at isolation.
Rake loneliness in.
Sleep with solitude
if you dare
to care
and share
yet without an inch
or squeezed moment
to spare.
It was the darkest night of the year, and the light was eclipsed but the haunting moon was so near. Lagging
hope faded, and the jading stillness increased my fear. Twas a warm, muggy night with a cool, misty fog drear.
A vixen wind against my jaundiced awning did sheer. All at once, ghostly emanations and visions of black
ravens became so stark so clear. From a nearby church cemetery; gasping, satin-sheathed mummies from their
soiled compartments began to rear. Wispy, veiled goblins in the distant pines started to appear. The nearby
stream gurgled spewing, nauseous vapors that filtered across my warping pier. Gargantuan gargoyles around my
crenelated windows did swerve and veer. White-tipped bats with ebony capes around my porch light did flitter
and fleer. Cringing 'neath my pleated, satin curtians, I heard a knock so *****. Bounding from my cloistered
lair, all my remaining wits did forswear. Flinging open the door, I was confronted by a craggly-clad seer. In a
hurried, modulated rant, he with warnings of pending doom filled each, perched ear. He, then, paused and
glared at me with a bleary-eyed leer. Slamming the door, I began to ponder his doleful, portentous lear, then staggering to my pantry, I grappled for a bottle of cheer. Unbeknownst to me, a pilfering vampire had
spliced a bloody concoction in my satiating beer. Suddenly, the velvet-laced furniture was shrouded with a
crimson verneer. Stumbling along a meandering course to the basement, I located a wooden box that
resembled a bier. Accepting my perilous fate, climbed into my designated tomb, and into my coroded heart
plunged a jagged spear.
BEAUTY OF ORCHID OPHELIA
Beauty is often hidden beneath the crusted soil where our subconscious sleeps.
The life-supporting roots claw through the dust to find the nourishment they seek.
Only when the caressing light filters through the frightening fog of night
Do the emanations of Life shake awake to reach high enough for flight.
As the gentle creature forms her path to rise higher still to drink in the light,
We see her breathe a sigh of relief once her fingers burst through the soil and sand.
Then her swelling petals stretch and paw the air reaching for the shining rays
That gives her hope she can hold on until the forming body is raised.
Slowly she transforms and aligns into symmetrical living grace.
From her hardened branches springs the promise of petals on her face.
All these miraculous changes silently and stealthily took place
But we didn’t really notice because our life moved on at full pace.
Then, suddenly the petals bloomed, and soft velvet leaves soaked in the rain.
Completely, perfectly, amazingly formed her transformation is nearly complete.
Now Ophelia contentedly sets beneath the warm and sunny window pane.
We are drawn to her Beauty and the deepening violet majesty of her blooms.
She is the center of all attention when our patients walk into the room.
She blesses each with her Beauty as they closely study her in the vase.
Her name reflects the soul within which offers comfort, peace and grace.
It’s the flow that energizes;
from brain to paper though it changes
from sparking though to inky pools;
emanations upon the page like,
fresh blood from a wound.
I bleed words...
rhyming, redundant, mystical,
metaphorical; imagery drawn
upon a blank canvas.
I have no choice, you see;
it comes and inundates my brain,
overflowing the grey cells with passion’s
bliss, I pour...
Inspiration from nature’s very soul;
the world is a painting,
waiting to be revealed;
transcending the womb,
to wing its way to the page;
a butterfly upon its way.
My pen bleeds the soul
of eternal secrets;
it is the magic wand and
I am a channel,
for the universe...
I pour.
A Distant Shore
Beached upon a distant shore I wondered about my life
Beseeched by solitude all I could pour out was sadness & strife
I reached for something in the distance that looked like it was a knife
It teached me to be indifferent as I knew my thoughts were running rife
Extending out with a notion leading my mind toward the dawn
Pretending that without devotion things are soon to be forewarned
Defending all of the commotion as my spirit lays there torn
Upending my torrents of emotion as I pray to be reborn
Pertinent proclivities that can’t hold onto prevention
Militant sensibilities that keep you a candidate for detention
Indeterminate absurdities that seek creativity for invention
Recalcitrant eligibility’s that defy the next mass organised convention
Incantations of a prophecy that came true far too soon
Lamentation of Sophocles by the light of the full moon
Emanations of soliloquies that are about espoused around high noon
Invitations of proclivity that contrive while I turn up the latest tune
Observations of vibrant conversations while I go without vocalisation
Sensations of reserved consternations bring about the elevation
Emulations of salivation over something close to revelation
Colourations of computations that lead me toward general devastation
The End Elizabeth Moroz copyright
There in a galaxy and a land, far, far away
There are super Stars and super Humanoids
They playing baseball with hot plasma baseballs
Aliens are causing bright light luminous emanations:
These from their lightning light-saber laser like bats
A League of teams is fighting for their own home planet life
No one ever touches the ground over there
The only very strict rule is to keep walking on the atmosphere
The cleats used there are to be able to endlessly hover
Also, on their backs are super powerful gama-ray jetpacks
Home-runs there do cause volcanic catastrophic land shocks
To win is life with zeal, to lose is a demise and a death unseen
Somethings there are similar as here; these things to be pondered
Darkness blights chilling
streams ignite
stark shadows silhouetted
against my window
shading the night; distilling the
availing light
shrouding my inner sanctum;
sheltering my fright
creeping and crawling with an
eery spite
ghastly outlines swaying and
swerving
wavering, quivering each fold
dances
grainy emanations of wispy
ghouls, stunted sprites
flash across bartered pane
eclipsing the night
serenating my nerves; stalking
my spirit
in rythmic cadence they appear
then alight
metastasizing, then returning,
my collected wits to spite
stealthily disappearing at
dawn's first glint
sleeping 'till twilight then
haunting vigil renews
Hurriedly enroute to her royal majesty
porcelain goddess throne
whereupon earlier today
March 28th, 2022,
after incomplete defecation
sitting pretty on pissoir,
I jiggled and wiggled posterior
(analogous to performing
the bum bared hustle)
until gasping for breath
though unable to shake loose
dangling dingleberry yours truly
nevertheless synchronously praise zing
a mostly functioning sphincter muscle.
Gross and smelly
as human excrement considered
expelling fecal matter comprises
important function, whereby any unspent
ingested material shunted
thru alimentary canal
then spewed courtesy sphincter vent.
**** lies zing constipation
and/or stubborn stuck drek
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction,
no matter emetics
applied with bonafide clout
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, maleficent
malevolent malady
body electric doth flout
analogous to uranus
clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation
equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
if/when yours truly constipated
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable turd emits foul
gaseous emanations accompanied
with a$$ a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
in place, but my ill luck
regarding aforementioned plight
merely naming said nerve pain
accursed affliction arises
analogous to parasite malefactor thieve
ving would be
equally unpleasant and offer
absolutely zero reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out bum,
but veins snapping,
popping, and crackling,
utmost effort I forcefully heave
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.