Long Exhibition Poems
Long Exhibition Poems. Below are the most popular long Exhibition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exhibition poems by poem length and keyword.
Maestro! I lost all the keys, all the lost keys
but I'm just a smudgy decoy, right?
awoken after the rising superstition
awoken after the old wheelchair genocide
I was bored in this theatre marionette
as a hopeful jackdaw, as a monstrous cyanide
disembodied voices took my luminous ladders
to the nocturnal visitor, his oncoming oversight
strange Faun's path brought me to the ravenous pit
but I am unafraid, back seat dead passenger
with translucent crowd and lavender sheep
my fragile sanity is the last one to inherit
monument made of dust and black bones
crestfallen crescendo of weird silent matinée
lunar throne made of my shallow backbone
bittersweet games for days and bloody soirée
I'm just a captive child of the nonsense murmurs
domed house of moan in a ramshackle park
the infamous orchard of final requests
the prince of wild northern winds incoming from afar
but you're oblivious, like wartime waltz
like a mahogany gorge within medical prophecy
devastating reconstruction of forty fractures
fatally bizarre like Machine, the almighty
do you see? the ludicrous stallions on the storm
nuclear wreckage of bullet brainwashing
shiny leather coat at the weird urn exhibition
we're the ivory chessmen in a paranoid town
and I'm your grotesque piper
with well-known manic grin
Victorian Era
~Victorian Era~
I think that the Victorian age would have suited me
The ingenuity fashion the great exhibition
Would all have been fascinating for me to see.
Not a child up chimneys, that’s not my mission
Not a Debtors Prison or Blacking factory.
None of these I’d do, that’s not my ambition.
I want to invent and better things for all,
The Victorian era was when inventors had a ball.
From Steam ships to sewers, lighting, and heating.
Bazalgette cleaned the streets Pettit and Smith made us warm
Lister invented antiseptic which we now use after eating.
Anaesthetic was invented, which is now the norm.
Science and technology all the greats were meeting
But prostitution and destitution were in need of reform.
A great Victorian lady I would have liked to be
But I am quite happy, with the twenty-first century me.
For: A Moment In Another Time by: Mandy Tams~GG~
Covering your face with strokes of color and gold/, but as Hatshepsut your inside is dead, cold/
Likes or dislikes thats all that pops up/, yeah your soul disappeared, went cloud up/
Contouring overdone, below a crop top there is an illusion of abs/, not a sight of slack/, just to get some more egoboosting feedback/ and some more ads/
Obsessive fullness to creat that perfect look/, defections all fixed, viewers conclusion, yeah a milliondollar look/, everything done just to keep them followers hooked/
Meaningless ink confirms that you are one of the many copies in this gallery/ seductive nudity to provide for what you call a salary/
Like an addict/ you possess an unpleasant habit/, you use needles to poke a flat empty space out, just to get some more views at it/
Yeah instead of woman up/, you fillers up/, being so fake that you are getting true at it/
In a 6 inch cell case your life is locked/, charged with only a lense of glass, shouts out, blocked/
Constant tapping will crack that screen, your protection/, leaving your storebought curves slowly oxidizing, no more public acception/
Soon too post for the present, forgotten, as your time has lined out/, yeah this exhibition is over and you're out/
Today West Ham Went Berserk
And Bournemouth Lost Its Shirt
No Need for A Cover
Since Jason Was Sent Home to His Mother
So Far, Its Four
That the Hammies Have Scored
This Will Put A Little Space
In the Stay Out of Relegation Race
A New Coach Is Here In Spirit
And The Supporters Let Them Hear It
Hopefully He Knows How To Steer
As Everyone Cheers
But Honestly What Will West Ham Do
With This Athletic Job That Was Real Cool
An Olympic Year Is Hear, What Could Be the Fear
Must It Be Chatter About Building Costs That Matter
With the Stadium Finished in Japan
West Ham May Want to Make Good with Its Fan
Money and Goals Are Hard to Come
And We Enjoy These Two Things Since They Are Fun
So, Keep It Going My Dear Hammies
And Next Time Lets Do Another Slammy
For the Enjoyment of The Fannies
It is a look….unhidden
A touch…..unbidden
It is desire…unveiled
Love and lust…exhaled
It is fantasy….released
Urges….appeased
It is passion…unbound
Euphoria…found
It is wishes….unashamed
Primal needs…untamed
Sensuality is supreme
The climax of a dream
The voice of arousal’s soul
The entwining that makes whole
The forever in the here
Exhibition without fear
Sensuality’s sultry kiss
Sexy Siren’s seductive bliss
All this and so much more
Is what lies for you in store
Then, what is sensuality?
Oh….Baby
Why, that is me!
It's when my smile alludes
and what my sway exudes
It's why my touch excites
and how my kiss ignites
It's when my voice enthralls
and how my body calls
It's what my lips evoke
and how my hips provoke
I'm seductive and demure
of victory I am sure
Sensuality is my name
To dominate is my game
Sensuality, is all me
Taste, and I'll set you free
Eileen
Hordes of numbskulls
ride the ether waving on its waves.
Hi kites twirling upon a digital wind.
Each empty head has but one thought,
a desire to be seen.
Hordes watch, flock to the hand-held stage
leer, laugh, get bored with the show
switch to game mode to fight dragons
with dirty fingernails.
What a grand way to die this is!
Shuffle dancing or
ass's twirking, cute or crass
while the kettle of life boils away
and the body pours
until out of gas.
They must,
they simply must be
in every bodies eye,
Must be noticed
and so they preform, risk all
for a dare.
The audience does not care
they are pictures in a camera,
dancing, fighting, or humping,
busy being
the exhibition of the day
minds far away
chattering to themselves.
Money they want for their play or the
paltry currency
of a less than minor celebrity,
a hope that like any bubble
or party balloon
will pop all too soon.
Then what is left? Only this,
the shriveled skin, the idiotic grin
skid marks on a wasteland of time
where they decline.
It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago,
where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know
transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous.
Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue.
The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue.
The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue.
Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made.
This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade.
Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities
In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries.
On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees.
These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities.
The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries.
The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company.
Many held the police for murderous culpability.
Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally
at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity.
They would assemble there in the early part of May.
Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day.
Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd
as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud.
A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation.
One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion.
Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty.
Seven other policemen died later from an injury.
The police opened fire on the people immediately.
At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally.
Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan.
They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden,
Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe.
All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury.
Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty.
Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency.
Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution.
The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition.
Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws
The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this
poem.
Why all these many thing's
Shine and smell like bedazzled
diamond's inside a plush pottered bowl
containing fresh picked petal
perfumery
That banishes every spec of rustic
dust clinging desperately onto a
swinging chandelier
Hanging resplendent in a castle
greeting banquet hall so everyone
can see
Or it's exhibition library decked out
with many bound leather book's and
cigar lounging chair's
That make the hair's upon one's neck
elasticate snap back with deadly
electric shock infusion wonderment met
Have and both provide oh so so many
pretty thing's all bar none
But the final answers to where
they initially came from or what
they actually mean
To those precious lucky few who
throughout the ages have stood
before and witnessed
These such treasured priceless piece's
and work's of classic artistry
Stowed away and closeted inside private
collection's unlike in a public viewing gallery
So not the many but very few will
ever see neither it the light of day
All of these so many pretty thing's
Hidden so the whole wide world will
never see
I didn’t mean to invade her privacy,
I was simply taking the trash out late that night;
I never noticed how from the back of the house
You could see right into her bedroom when she turned on the light.
The curtains were sheer and not completely closed,
Her silhouette was outlined and her flesh exposed;
I am not a peeping Tom but in my tracks I froze,
Watching her tantalizingly removing her clothes.
She stood in front of her full length mirror;
I inched a little closer to see her clearer.
It was as if she was even teasing herself,
Slowly undressing and watching her own reflection;
Her fingertips caressing the smooth exposed flesh;
Her exhibition demanded my full attention.
She is twenty-five years old and my neighbor’s daughter;
I am twice her age and a little bit more;
I know I am wrong to be standing here watching
But a more beautiful nubile I’ve never seen before.
Her clothes are now strewn on the floor by her feet,
She is totally naked and pleased by the sight;
Slowly she turns looking over her shoulder,
Making sure all of her parts are shaped just right.
God must be very angry at me,
But, God created this wondrous beauty.
She took inventory of body parts with both of her hands,
Pleasing herself with her delicate touch;
I knew that I should be turning away;
I was enjoying her exploring a bit too much.
She kissed her own reflection returned in the mirror
Then turned and walked toward the windows;
Just before pulling down the night shade
She waved to me hiding in the shadows.
Ashamed of myself and embarrassed by my actions,
I returned to my house all alone;
She knew I was watching and vexed by her beauty,
It was me she was teasing all along.
Yet it brought back memories of when I was younger
And my wife more beautiful than she;
Although I’m a widower for seven long years,
That night, again my bride was with me.
A Tango on the Lake
When Hooded Grebe are wooing a mate
Magic’s made in tangoes on the lake
Lovebirds perform synchronised in tune
Bewitched beneath a bedazzling moon.
It’s a wonderful courtship display
Where intricate movements come to play
They rise above swaying cheek to cheek
Afore spinning round in ecstasy.
Stretching their necks as they pirouette
Head wagging when dancing breast to breast
In harmonious amorous moves
That show they’re eager and in the groove.
A theatrical exhibition
Igniting the flame of their mission
Tango danced in ardent fettle
Worthy of winning a gold medal.
It’s inspiring what Hooded Grebe do
In a dance of devotion for two
Lovebirds mysterious alchemy
Procuring tango naturally.
30th October 2021