Long Ensnare Poems
Long Ensnare Poems. Below are the most popular long Ensnare by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ensnare poems by poem length and keyword.
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring mor'n 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
He speaks of sunken treasure
Draws maps to fortunes you may find
He writes it boldly as to where it may lie
Taking pleasures in his masculine pride
A gentleman cultivated in artistry
Loving lavishly he knowingly struts
Boosting his flirtatious ego
His moves, planned, calculated
To arise primal pumping blood
Eyes that manipulate and conspire
Until your dreams become endless desire
He breathes a burning fire
Embers embedded within
Unsuspected your caught within his grasp
Words uttered to ensnare
He persuades you in a game of trust
Leads you into passion and lust
Making you believe in sunken treasures
01/09/15
thanks to PD for the inspiration to write this poem.
In the world of deep shadows and lights torn by time,
where every thought and inspiration twirls in the silence of the abyss,
the creative being, a unique entity from the fragile weave of humanity,
detaches from the canvas of societal pressures that ensnare the others.
She, the eternal seeker of truth hidden in the folds of consciousness,
steps beyond the boundaries of conformity, questions what we accept without doubt,
for there, in the lights filtered by doubt, lie the roots of revelation.
In the silent hours of the morning, in the whirlwinds of nocturnal thoughts,
she feels liberated from the burden of uniformity.
embracing the misunderstood fragments of a world forgotten by the monotony of life.
The inner ocean of melancholy dances with enigmatic pleasure,
where every wave of inspiration travels without fear, without hindrances,
and there, in the depths of the soul, she finds the words bearing magic.
The others, caught in the routine of the common narrative,
cannot perceive the sacred fire burning in the heart of the creator.
He, the liberator of dreams and the unseen,
carves his path through the dense forest of preconceptions,
looking beyond the ramifications of the obvious, towards the roots of the universe.
Every passage through the darkness of the unknown
is a return to the pure essence of existence.
The rustle of the world and its turmoils become just a background song,
their charm disappearing in the echoes of a disenchanted mind.
Because in the heart of creation lies a vast universe
where every pulse, every breath, is a call to the infinite.
The whispers of truth sneak through the cracks of reality,
and the creative soul, open and vulnerable, becomes a portal of discovery.
He, the artist, the poet, the philosopher, embraces the shadows as old friends,
exploring the darkness not as an adversary, but as part of the journey.
In this flow of consciousness, in the delicate weave of feeling,
he finds freedom, a lyrical dance between light and shadow.
And perhaps, one day, the others will look through his eyes,
and will understand that true magic lies not in conquering the world,
but in the profound exploration of one’s own self, liberated and authentic,
in a universe of limitless creation and an infinite inner landscape.
Like unwelcome intruders,
it is in the stillness of the night,
intrusive thoughts come to plague us.
Like thieves sneaking in the dark,
they come without prior information
and without waiting to earn permission.
They often come as unexpected visitors.
giving a sudden jolt, leaving us appalled.
At times, they withdraw, before the wake of dawn.
but sometimes they settle in the heart,
dispersing a volley of dark and nagging thoughts,
all at once or flinging them one after another.
Like
little
flecks,
leaving burns in our hearts,
they consume us in flames.
With scalding heat, they make our hearts melt,
like the molten lava after a volcanic eruption.
They feed on us until all that’s left
is a handful of ashes or sedimentary rocks.
These thoughts eat away our vitality,
sup on our vulnerability
suck our life sap
and fatten on our gloom.
Like tenants, these intruders who haven’t paid
a single dime as rent invite our wrath!
Even under threat, they would never vacate.
Sometimes, they are so aggressive
making us go insane.
telling us to kill ourselves
or dash into the speeding traffic
or jump off a steep cliff,
bang the head on the wall
or with a sharp knife stab into the chest
Weaving sticky gossamer threads,
to ensnare all happy thoughts,
which come our way,
like ugly arachnids,
they arrogantly dwell in our hearts!
"Love weaves a mysterious magic spell"
Lady Dragonfly
Masculine and prickly, the proprietor of a gambling house,
Wispy wings finesse her dress, its translucence will arouse
A Dita von T. vedette, an alluring erotic oozing femme fatal
A Seductiveness, her love weaves a mysterious magic spell
whose charms ensnare her lovers, like a fierce dragoness
She is the narcotic opium in the pipe, a smoking goddess
Lady dragonfly the name becomes the vicious villain vamp
Cold-spirited and flighty with an icy sting clammy and damp
Constituting a roll as ‘madam’ sexually domineering and violent
Puffs of wistful thoughts, tricked times these the turbulent
Swarming like flies, men condemn her racy domineering image
Confined, she justifies the life of promiscuous privilege
Grief comes uninvited, like a marauder,
like a one man army charging,
he makes an unexpected onslaught.
A thief in the dark who comes stealthily,
without pausing to seek permission
and settles in the heart like an intruder
His stay is long and tedious.
He eats away our vitality,
sups on our vulnerability,
sucks our life sap and fattens on our gloom.
Like a tenant who hasn’t paid
a single dime as rent, he invites our wrath!
Even under threat, he would never vacate
It is at night, he revels
and makes the most fierce onslaught
He snubs out our sleep, disturbs our calm
Wide eyed, we have to watch
the nasty antics of this tyrant
He drives out all hope,
battles with our cheer,
evicts all positive vibes,
and invades the entire space.
Weaving sticky gossamer threads
to ensnare all happy thoughts
which come our way and like an ugly spider,
he arrogantly dwells in our heart!
__________________________________
Sept. 11.2022
~ Placed First~
Pick a Title, Vol.32. Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
Sword brashly drawn from scabbard
Gilded blade with a lucent polish lathered
Burnished to reflect the availing light on each side gathered
Conversely, deflecting the pious streams pharisaically blathered
Weapon-grade mind steeled to cut through the broad discourse
Sharp point piercing each tangled, silken strand; puncturing each uncorroborated source
Serrated edges slashing through the syntactical pulp so coarse
Double-edged blade mincing then scoring lexicon that generational divide did divorce
Vaunted crest advertising noble intentions
Brittle helmet to repel callous, vain repetitions
Dense breast plate to ensnare all heartless pretensions
Luminescent shield to deflect all trite inventions
Nightingales are singing
To a world wide awake.
Oh my, how they ensnare!
How wonderfully sublime;
They spread joy in the air.
Nightingales are singing
As I rise with the Sun
With my eyes closed, I listen.
I hear them loud and clear.
Their songs, jewels that glisten.
Nightingales are singing
Much to my heart's content.
They hold me tight in bliss,
Paying rapt attention;
No moment quite like this!
Nightingales are singing
Brightening my gloomy day.
If only they could sing
Until the end of time.
This morn', bells of mirth ring!
A hypnotic effect is possessed by this gadget
It could even lead to a syndrome called pagets
Bent over and private its user spellbound
But unsocial and rude to all those around
Multiple noises are deftly emitted
With buttons to press and assets unlimited
Texts dispensed and news accessed
Leaving conversation to certain death
Ring tones abound in public spaces
Phone chat like barkers in public places
photos and selfies posted here and there
All manner of games to further ensnare
Thus putting the user in greater peril
When mobile phones become a menace
To drivers and walkers all absorbed
A selfish misuse to be abhorred
And a blight when the charger is mislaid
And constant debit to be repaid
This amazing gadget should remain in pocket
Until really needed, then out of the closet
-Inspired by my temporary English instructor, Mr. Phinizy
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Evening had diminished to night; how very quickly did She fly
It is funny how quickly time passes, as if our brains tweak the clocks of life
The night was of moderate warmth, and my house suffered terribly still
And with the stifling heat inside, many hot questions filtered through my mind
I asked myself, Where did the summer go? Why must our suns die?
Why is it sweltering in September? Why has sudden anger blown her aside?
I really need some sleep, thought I, looking at my face through the murky glass
Tracing dark circles under my eyes, I was reminded of sagging Death longing to ensnare me
Yes, Death followed me that night, dwelling upon me, boiling away the autumn breeze
As I looked into my sleep-deprived eyes, I knew Death waited for my ultimate slumber,
When all commemoration of time, that flew so rapidly before, suddenly just…stops.
With many a sigh, I turned on the faucet, soaking my hands in the cool, flowing water
I needed some relief from the heat…I needed a refreshing new idea, I needed cleansing
Anything to clear my mind of the negativity daring to break me every day of my life
For such depressing thoughts spewed forth like a wild river, the rapids racking my brain
But these waters were not living; they were dead and hot like blue blazes of hell
I turned off the faucet, for there was no Balm on this earth to sooth this soul
There was no clock on this earth tweaked enough to return me to earth
The warm breezes, the sickly pale cast of many thoughts had driven Her away
And though the everlasting sleep of Death sounded soothing, the Balm does not assuage me…
It only burns forever, in obstinate constancy; angered to the core,
That night stuck in this fractured rhyme of time, I was up late…too late