Long Encounter Poems
Long Encounter Poems. Below are the most popular long Encounter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Encounter poems by poem length and keyword.
A little tale about the real me
twisted all inside as can be
the visions of the end
is all i see
F.T.W. setting my self free
waking up with the thought
i survived.
"SURVIVED!" another dream
holding my head under water
no one can hear my screams
cursing each and everyone
for this demon has won
taking over my soul
ripping out all my sanity
reliving over and over
the day i took my own life
my own hell is more than an element of a dream
slicing my most deepest vain, with the dullest knife
a fear so dark lashing out a terrorized scream
reality, to sanity, losing my main brain
a deep dark fear lurking, red blood stain
creeping up a MOSH caught in the way
F.T.W. we are all to blame
inside I dread the day of my rebirth
shout my guts into space for I have faced
to slow down the beast with a potent power of radiation
a frame out demon skinning the philosophy you once new
an evil more than vile, a poison worst than sin
motivating his way in to my voyage of my on tormented life
a DEMON dust from Neptune possessing me its rings
never to think in my wildest observation
I would encounter my own depths of a zero pointless energy
giving to my by the lighted gravity of humane
restricted on the eyes, for the ones who do not wish to see
a trance faster than the speed of light
ending myself to a forever night
fighting with them who reject to see a demon so twisted
dropped from the cosmos of realistic
no one wanting to acknowledge the relativistic way
that time travel out*** and Demons travel in***
lost forever in this rotten being
making me shout out loud to he
who knows my name
dealing with the devils Darkest Poet
in a Dark Poets game
-contest-
just a dream soupppppers lol. : )
Hop onboard overthinkers
A warm Welcome aboard the overthinker to all our guests,
Especially Mr insomnia, and Mrs overthinker, both frequent flyers and our VIP guests
I'll be your minds captain for this flight, through awake all damn night,
And then on to good mornings beaming bright resort in daylight,
We have no nap-overs or drifting-offs scheduled this is a long-ass-haul, direct flight,
Emergency exits are located in the right and left ear, emergency lights,
Are located along the optic nerve in case of loss of power,
We can also deploy an emergency slide down the nostrils should we encounter,
An emergency landing over the cerebrospinal sea,
Otherwise please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy tormenting this mind with me,
Dear passengers this is your captain speaking,
we are experiencing some frustration turbulence,
And some drowsiness daydreaming,
this is Likely to continue until 4am so please remain seated,
As our head is hitting head on, stormy pillow clouds, and alas
A tossing and turning tornado has formed in our flight path,
Forcing us to go around the temporal lobe which will mean a delay to our arrival,
Passengers you can now lift up your eyelids once the kettles foggy fog,
Has cleared you'll be able to see the sacred sea of coffee,
And as we loop around the kitchen island there shines a good mornings sunrise,
Passengers we have arrived at our destination, good morning,
Upon the irises horizon is the sunrise dawning,
Here the local time is 5am and the current temperature is about 36 degrees,
Welcome to our new guests and a warm welcome back to our 2 VIPs,
We hope you enjoy your stay here at the daytime resort,
Oh don't forget to checkout our duty free thoughts
On your way out, I've been your mind's captain
Remember time flies when you're having fun aboard this mental contraption
So hop aboard this mind if you are to an overthinker,
Encounter of the Once in a Lifetime Kind
Waiting for his appointment, he scrutinizes her
(she’s oblivious to him). Long tapered nails,
like wing-tips of scarlet butterflies,
flit above a keyboard, and her perfect form
sits poised, tall and straight in her seat.
He imagines her in red chiffon. . .
seated in his sports car, the bodice of her dress
tight against white skin of ample apple breasts.
Long tapered legs emerge, and red high-heels
touch street as he takes her small soft hand
and helps her from the car.
Inside the club, the music plays calypso.
He finds himself a slave to hips that undulate
beneath a swaying skirt, and long svelte arms
that draw him in. . .
Her eyes are hieroglyphics; ravishing.
He cannot fathom what she sees when
he is in her gaze. Perhaps she is a vampire.
Common though he is,
his blood is just as red as any man’s.
Would it be so bad to have that ruby mouth
upon his neck. . . . . ?
The eyes he could not read are looking up
at him from her computer. Now he sees
what he missed in reverie.
Her eyes are two comets with a brilliance
which he’s never seen before.
Such as these are glimpsed
but once in a lifetime. They travel over him.
How can he even hope to ever be their sun?
Her smile is a rosebud now opening to him.
She tells him he can go into the room.
And as he turns away, he looks back
one more time, wondering and wondering
what he might abscond with when he leaves.
What of hers could be his souvenir?
For "Free Your Mind~! (Free Verse Only)
Contest by Chris D. Aechtner back in 2011
And now for Linda's Your Best Free Verse Poem Poetry Contest
You brought gifts to my home, spending your money
Sent me chocolates, you were sweet like honey
Like a chameleon your colours shone when we met
It soon changed 3 weeks after we wed
My confidence disturbed your dominant demeanor
My independence danced to a tune you did not like
Relieved when I left, the grass was much greener
For respect was not something you gave me as a wife
Your toxic masculinity took you for a fool
Thinking your wife must be a subordinate which you rule
Your father's counsel never made your choices wise
Your obsession with being in control led to our demise
Heart break never stained my resilient heart
For it was impossible to fall in love with a Narc'
I could not be heart broken from something I tolerated
Leaving your prison home made me feel liberated
At our first encounter, you were a radiant sight
Like a chameleon your colours beemed very bright
It was a temporary adaptation. Soon your colours changed
For indeed a reptile a chameleon will always remain
The domain of the things that are foregone
Is a wild cemetery, a huge burial stretch ,
For the dry thoughts and memoirs - all
Enlivening with hope, as great or small
Forming and shaping an upstart or a wretch
And cheering anew with every next dawn .
Like blurred slides ,scenes glide and move ;
And dewy cold, yet fresh brewing sensation
Prevails along the line of reminiscence smug;
And heavy frozen events are reluctantly dug
Out of the sad grave to re-form the notion
In cloudy symbols and faded colours a few,
The whole past seems as it were to ruffle
And turn into a revolting lot to bring out
A settled, confident self, ready for change ;
Time may cause to encounter things strange ,
Painful, uneasy , prompting a safe rout :
Never to give up, but to go on with the scuffle
Religion-propped ~~~ toward virtuous deed
I thank my parents’ example indeed
Instilling, imparting practical creed
“Do good works; and such will God bless to breed.”
With that perspective, I learned to do right
Midst litanies of dos, shoulds, musts, oughts-plight
Making me a “nice girl” in others’ sight
Hoping to reach heaven through good works’ flight.
Trying to do well, I struggled with doubts
As to utmost best for perfection routes
Leading to fears and skepticism bouts
When hell’s fury would magnify guilt-shouts.
While questioning religious dogma’s reign
Over search for genuine godliness-gain
Peace I yearned became elusive midst pain
Trekking along hypocrisy terrain.
In my freshman college days, Christ I met
Through a divine encounter He did set
Redeeming my soul, paying my sin-debt
Quickening me for spiritual outlet.
Assured of heaven through my Saviour’s grace
Not by man’s religion of good works’ brace
I'm granted eternal life, sealed with love-lace
Pardoned to enjoy blest freedom faith space.
Toward spirituality Scriptures claim
Such is what my heart perseveres to aim
Worshiping the Lord Whose name I proclaim
Jesus I trust with His mercy-filled fame.
Propelled by the Holy Spirit, I strive
With the great Almighty’s goodness to thrive
Serving well, not through vain religious drive
Grateful that in HIM, I’m truly alive*.
*Romans 6:11 Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.
May 22, 2021
3rd place, "Religion or Spirituality" Poetry Premier Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 5/22/2021.
On my way, again
On my way to a friend
Out at night
Guess I ‘m a night owl
Some kids were daring each other
Of who would
ask me if they can help push me
I was close enough to hear
I politely said no at the gesture
My neighbor Easton was near
I then accepted his offer to help
push me halfway and back home
On the way, he tilted the wheelchair
on its two back wheels, all the way
to my friend’s house
we arrived at my friend’s house
normally I would be afraid of falling
being in a tilted motion
but I trusted Easton for some reason
I collected money that was owed to me
Then me and Easton left
We were home bound
Somehow, I became aware of
Easton that was a bit tipsy
While I’m in my chair in a tilted motion
I became a little afraid
of falling but kept it to myself
We arrived at our street
where we parted ways
We said my goodbyes and thanked him
He replied don’t thank me
Thank God…
Form:
HANSEL AND GRETHEL*—A FRACTURED FAIRY TALE
Poem written for and submitted to “The Seed of Fear Poetry Contest,” Jami Patterson, sponsor, August 5, 2025.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the great city where towers scraped the sky,
lived an accountant with taxes too high.
His fingers trembled over empty ledgers,
scary times calling for drastic measures.
No longer in democracy did his country embrace
personal freedoms left without a trace.
The economy did falter
most everyone, including him, lived in squaller.
His wife sighed, "Oh, what shall we do?
Our cupboards are bare, our dreams bid adieu.
No bread to share and not enough food
for Hansel, Grethel, you, and me. We’re screwed!”
“There's a camp on city’s outskirts,” he did say,
"where the broken, lost, and weary can stay.
There we can live free on government aid.
So, dear wife, not to worry, for everything will be paid!"
“We can’t go there!” she said, her voice filled with dread.
"We shall not seek where the lost souls are led,
in a camp where the government with us its taxes has bled
offering breadcrumbs to our children instead."
Hansel, with his innocence, clutched his mother’s skirt.
Grethel, with wide eyes and a sweet voice, filled the air with mirth.
But with heavy hearts, they packed up their toys and possessions~
no more yearnings, no more hunger or worries, only depression.
The night was beastly cold, hope worn thin.
The stars watched Hansel and Grethel’s struggles begin.
The camp, a frightening place, was filled with sorrow,
no more dreams of a bright, better tomorrow.
Personal freedom was bartered for fear;
drugs and violence were always near.
Curfews, rampant theft, socialism, and criminal infestation
took hold in our once great nation-now the land of desperation
*Note: "Hansel and Grethel is a German fairy tale collected by the Brothers Grimm and published in 1812. It tells the story of two siblings who are abandoned in a forest by their stepmother and encounter a witch who lives in a house of candy." (Wikipedia.com)
I embroidered my dreams on my skin, with threads of desires and burning hopes,
But now they pull at every movement, tearing me from within.
In the burnt pages of my journal, there you live,
Somewhere between the gray ashes or in the scent of dried roses.
You will live forever in the expanse of ink spread across those pages,
You will live forever in the irony of my words spat over those lines.
In the buried corpse of my grave, there you live,
Somewhere between my ribs or in the scent of blood that the heart offers.
Through the infamous gaze of man, I am an intense and unpredictable mystery,
Becoming more confused with each encounter, a labyrinth of contradictions.
Through the gaze of a woman, I am strong and proud, displaying all the scars
I have gifted the world, daring it to take yet another.
Through my own unknown gaze, I am someone I cannot define,
A puzzle of thoughts and feelings that never fully align.
Between the burnt pages and written lines, between my ribs and the flowing blood,
I exist, a paradox of life and dream, torn yet whole.
In this world of illusions, I live and die, lose and find myself,
A soul whose song cannot be reduced to a single note or melody,
And in this journey through shadows and light, I wonder and seek,
Who am I in this vast universe of mysteries and stars?
It's funny, because I've vacuumed under your bed
a hundred times in the past two years
I've dusted the black bedside table
picked up your Scotch and Soda pants off the floor,
still jingling with belt attached
All of your belts and shoes are brown
My father told me as a child, that homosexuals
were identifyable according to the colour of their leather
- Brown meant straight - black equalled gay - simple!
It was an odd jolt seeing your face for the first time
Framed in slim silver, large laptop screen size photo
A typical care filled composition
Brunette, proud as puch five foot five, linked her arm
Through your blue shirt arm, her grin was relief saturated
She had to be a Christian, your family is devout Christian
Appearing 25, she no doubt felt a first sexual encounter
was long overdue
But catered for entirely by God's intention
Anyhow, Aaron, I'm sorry I digress, - you're a busy man
Hence I've never seen you on a Friday when I clean there
You haven't yet moved out of Mom and Dad's s home, it must
make it easier to keep life in order, avoid giving in to urges
1920's movie star you are, in glinted silver screen frame
Minus Charlie Chaplin moustache
Plus ten pounds, giving your face cherubic cuteness
Kewpie eyed expression unphased
jowls harking harmless ventriloquist puppet
Don't be upset
If I described myself it would be similarly unorthodox
Vacuum zooming (according to aggressive motor noise)
I gazed at your lax lipped purple tinged face
- it has to be the most obvious unspoken secret in your family
- Aaron, sweet child of God.
Your world won't have a bar of who you are
Your Mother had just returned to position a large vase
showcasing three dozen orange roses behind your frame
Plus a cellophane covered hamper of high end liquor
God, Aaron - your upbringing has enclosed you
aligned with their strict beliefs
You'll need to put that cellophane over your mouth
Wrap it tight around your heart
- You have a congregation to consider
you'll be alright