Long Façade Poems
Long Façade Poems. Below are the most popular long Façade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Façade poems by poem length and keyword.
Her name was Susan and she was breathtaking.
She could spin a poem into a spider’s web strength and ethereal wisps.
I was smitten beyond reason.
Captured by lust quickly tuning toward love.
Then the however happened.
However, Susan was adept at spinning a gossamer web
Silently, she captured victims blinded with lust
like this one whose idea of loving her went bust
Susan was a mean girl, a Black Widow weaver
she encased him in a silk cocoon...
until her appetite for a meal woke her from peaceful rest
A smile on her face, legs crossed... all eight of them.
Patiently, she waited while giving herself a mani/pedi
Susan sat drooling at the thought of lunch
She decided she better dress for dinner
after all…
her lunch date was just hanging around.
She looked such a temptress
With scarlet lipstick smeared over her face
And perfectly manicured talons
She set to work unwrapping her prey
Ready to nibble him down to the bone
Susan’s prey appeared all debonair with bells on
She could see through his charming but fake façade
He saw her eyes glimmer, her lips red and inviting
She offered him a kiss as she wrapped her eight legs around him
His eyes bulged as she kissed his lips while suffocating him in her web
He begged her to stop as she drank from his mouth,
until he was silenced
The above verses were inspired by a prompt given to poets, Jan, Tania and Lin, by Arlo Parker, who wrote the first verse. We give credit to Arlo for inspiring us to write these verses; a joint venture of Arlo Parker and the mean girls.
“STANDARDS”
Let’s talk about the standards of the general society,
And not just society, the beliefs, normalizations and false norms believed by variety,
We live in a new world now whereas being your most authentic self is not just enough,
And then you begin to question yourself and society calls your bluff,
The truth however is that everything the society has made out to be is all a façade,
A deceptive appearance to deceive the likes of the mass media and general public,
And we the audience fall for this stage performance and feed into their lies,
The truth actually is everyone is living a life of their own disguise.
The normal we once thought was normal is no longer normal,
The countless hours we spend online watching influencers tell us what beauty is and not,
With every trend, every transition, every thirst trap we watch that makes our eyes rot,
That we feel we need to be a part of in order to feel like we belong,
But the truth is behind all that baddie and thickened layers upon layers of makeup,
Still lies the little traces of acne scars, the uneven skin tone and the dark spots,
We use these unrealistic filters cause we’re afraid society will only see us for our faults,
But like Edgar Allan Poe once said “There isn’t beauty without a little strangeness”
Many a time we lose the best part of ourselves just because we want to fit into another person’s makeshift reality,
Because unfortunately that part of us isn’t acknowledged by society’s ways,
It’s just a mask that everything except the truth displays,
People will only show you what you want to see,
It’s better to just love yourself, be yourself and set yourself free,
Social media is now everybody’s emergency line for fixing their relationships,
Where now girls only want guys who can take them on the most expensive trips,
Don’t let them fool you with these unrealistic standards.
WINTER
Winter creeps across the landscape
unfurls a blackness – an ivory drape
across horizon’s denied a shape.
Crystal eyes devoid of sight
Entombed within a soundless night
beneath the chill of withering blight
mourned by shivering candlelight
failing flicker - last hope mislaid
Aghast under pale moon’s charade
the howl-less drone of wolves abrade
the roots of its façade decayed
resist no more the frosts of fate
Tolling bells of long set date
the hands of time can’t abrogate
nor hasten time to shorten wait
Thus destiny extends her hand
Harsh guide across a barren land
erasing all that life had planned
not a request – a last demand
Winter creeps across the landscape.
©12/5/2017
submitted to – Rhyme Time III – Poetry Contest
Is my laughter
Tempered with disaster
Is my smile discreet?
Who will see behind the brave façade?
Who will notice the hurts unseen?
Who will see the pain in joyful eyes?
Who will hear the fear in laughter?
Who really knows
The troubles through which one goes
Who will actually try and care.
Who will actually try and help
Those who are in pain.
Who will make a stand for those in desperate need
For those who are starving and in the streets.
Will we be a Nation who cares?
Who helps their own
Poor and needy.
Or will we live
In the denial
That these people need help
That they somehow deserved
To live as less than men.
(November 15, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Life’s road is never straight,
instead the directions senseless;
a twisting, turning labyrinth
of adventures and challenges.
It wears down the spirit,
more than the shoes.
Dangers faced with support
can breed courage.
The road walked alone,
can harden the mildest soul,
building an unbreakable wall.
The façade worn is often mis-interpreted,
but the shoes reveal every challenge and hardship.
All of the masks we wear
cannot hide the life history
written in our shoes.
Like the lines in the face,
old shoes fill in the blanks
left after we don yet another, facade.
Old shoes are the portraits
of our journey in life.
Don’t throw them away,
put them on display
and they’ll keep you humble.
One should never forget
where they’ve been.
It’s in the forgetting
that we fail ourselves.
Contemplate where you’ve been,
to decide the next turn,
you must make.
2-6-2022
A STRAND (1067) Poetry Contest
BrianStrand
As this week closes into hours of pewter night
may the moonlight touch your lips while
I sleep in the arms of dreams unrefined.
Though I may not be with you
on misty evenings caved by my pride,
but think of me as I send you this
whispering sigh
of an embrace feathered by the sky...
I humble myself in your presence not,
but,
wait for me to disrobe this façade,
while you can, then…
Remember days like other days
when the roof of blank shades begin
to unwrap this cloistered body
hidden in a pile of sawdust
still reeling like a glistened dragonfly.
The light bulbs of time's avenues are streaked
with marquees of a name
where the lattice of my wishes
climb into a garden of your moistened eyes so green.
Enter the 100 in a ROW contest #2 Contest
Sponsor: PD Linda 7/6/2016
A dark road creaks, a crackling carapace of ice
under bruising rubber.
Driving to the all-nite store --- need antacids.
It's pre-dawn, an hour behind the light;
potholes dream in their black bunkers.
No one rides this deadened road,
no car beams, or open-eyes gleam
until the car drifts into
the low magnetic hum
of a forecourt.
The neon Mini Mart has sunk
inside an insane façade of purpose,
lost as it is, in an electric trance.
Nobody dwells here at this hour
only the heavy-eyed-blue-heron man.
After the purchase, he disappears
into a cubbyhole of shadows.
Back home, the grinding jaw
of a garage door
seems to awaken a lick of daylight,
not here, but in the back of my mind.
~~~
edit
In the remains of the day
Looking away into the planes
Green horizons void at the end
Of the gray dawn man washes
His façade and the pain
A bitter rain
Pride of a prodigal sun
His beloved the envision pawn
Scream of rage in the FACE of the loss
On sable sand where death had ran
Wondering in his sons lineage
Image of man watching the falling rain
Like golden mana, falling, falling
On the bones of his humanity
Logic twisted tragedy in the opening act
The genesis of the one
The rising gun the empirical sum
The running of the dark dominions sun
High, silhouetted in crosses on a mount of bone
Marking Adams Empire
Seeing the exploding light
Desolation’s Tower rise…
Seeing the remains
The truth like dried flash hanging
Living in a coil of primitive fury
Awash in delicate oils of lives toil
At the corner of an ill creation
Is the corrupted soil
Waiting for the righteous born
On sable sand raise
Fill the wells of the loss
The skeleton remains
Of a dream one once lived…
Golden
Now the runes of the earth
In the fragments of gray daylight
Long buried away…
40.
Ode to the Flower of April 2011
Got thee at the façade
Of my father's stone abode –
This day in world history
Important for somebody
England's future king & queen
Just got their Royal Weddin'
While writing this poem of mine
They're in their reception shine
Just after watching TV
I got this white pen with me
To write this poem of this month
With flower that's not fragrant
Which I picked this afternoon
Knowing Royal Wedding's soon
That's ‘coz I'd no more reason
This month just went on and on
Without any occasion
Wherein I can attend on
So this fourth flora's unique
Like a lid, like a gimmick.
-04/29/2011
*Ode to the 7 Flowers of 2011
The façade of content that you see
Disguises a brewing pot of misery
Hidden deep inside his empty soul
Devoid of passion that life has stole
Making love only to his left hand
While she sleeps beside another man
The pale, impression from a wedding band
Discarded inside the bed nightstand
Seeing his children just once a week
A source of advice they no longer seek
The prospects for improvement look rather bleak
Alimony slaps him on the other cheek
He has felt the noose around his neck
But hasn’t stepped off of the chair, yet
He has tasted the nozzle of his gun
But has kept the safety latch turned on
The façade of content that you see
Keeps his life of pain a mystery
If that façade ever comes crumbling down
You better pack your bags and get out of town