Long Facial Poems

Long Facial Poems. Below are the most popular long Facial by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Facial poems by poem length and keyword.


False Accusations, Part V

...Even worse as his youngest grew bigger
he noticed things that had him quite alarmed,
the kid had blue eyes, Whitney’s had been brown,
his were brown too, he could not understand,
his facial features were not like Jerry’s,
he felt things he did not want to believe.

Jerry ignored it as long as he could,
but that dark thoughts just kept building in his head,
not long after his youngest had turned five,
to a doctor the young child was lead,
“Just for a check-up,”Jerry told the lad,
hoping against hopes the results weren’t bad.

But when it came back several weeks later
it became clear the youngest wasn’t his,
he knew that it must be Alan Price,
what other man would Whitney have lain with?
He told not the kid, that would be a crime,
but inside resentment burning in his mind.

He raged at his wife for betraying him,
and Alan Price for destroying a home,
raged at the universe for taking them,
the objects of his vengeance now were gone,
like his wife before, he stared to drink,
and as time went on even more did think.

He’d known of his wife divorcing Alan
back before they had gotten together,
thinking from her place, seeing it all a hoax,
helped him too see the thing all the better,
to be torn between two loves, both alive,
he could see the confusion born inside.

And thinking of Alan, smeared as he was,
feeling so desperate he’d take his own life,
had Jerry been there, and feeling like that,
would he turn down a moment that felt right?
When half the world thought you guilty of rape…
all based on a lie, ruined by such hate…

But understanding only goes so far,
and Jerry needed an object for rage,
this started with a false accusation,
that Jesse Malinche maliciously made,
had that lying  not started this all
then none of them would’ve faced such a fall.

Jerry had never been a big gun guy,
in fact most would’ve called him bleeding heart,
but one day he walked into a gun store,
he had no record, or crime he’d had no part,
so there was no reason to stop the sale,
no reason to suspect that he would assail.

That night gunshots were heard at Jesse’s house,
the police came, saw him on the front step,
mumbling madly, his mind clearly gone,
his hands with blood were stained red, and quite wet.
They took him away, found Jesse inside,
dead in her bedroom, with glazed, waxy eyes…

CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
Form: Epic


Premium Member Prominent Tongue

I’m just having a good laugh while I still can dude before life takes its heavy grip

Until the community of clowns in disguise tie my tongue to their altar of reason

You think of a genius in the making but I just blew bubbles from my backside

Need some counter balance as not to think I’m off parity before the next photo


For the record I’m a bit sick of all those Rolling Stones songs on your play list

I can get satisfaction and you will be dancing to my tune as long as I tell you

Not yet silenced I am and you can’t always get what you want but will receive

What you need and moss could grow fat on that stone if you tried hard enough


I am your American dream or just pie in the sky for pi is a resolute number

And while I look like a young Einstein I favour the arts and a poet I’ll be

‘Baby’s got blue eyes holding back the pain’ reflecting the glow on your face

Give me face paint and Munch’s scream will look like Monet’s water colours


And those cute little ears I hear you marvel such fine complete composition 

Soon they will find an audition of rebellion ignoring trite shallow advice

Craft verses and rhythm deliver fine words you never dreamt of hearing

The comedy will be shattering with a bit of existential philosophy in the mix


You can project dadada’s and incy-wincy spiders as long as the cows mew

I drink from a fountain of pleasure and spill ink on your canvas of conditioning

Think that I am overanalysing but that is what you do when I smirk and giggle

Canned laughter comes in Campbell’s soup cans and better Warhol than wars


Innocent facial composure lies in the eye of beholders and dreams are for real

Let me play for that is the best I can do when drama and tragedy loom so soon

I’ll have my dreadlocks in plaits and you must not be scared of Sylvia’s mother

Van Gogh had one ear but a writer needs only one incisive tongue to critique 


My stream will be subconscious when I write about the meaning of imagination

When naïve contortions depict a world with smiles laughter and freedom

I will not change much from when the photographer took this digital image

Blue eyes stuck out tongue two ears one voice whatever you make of it now


25th April 2019


Written for contest: Baby Face What's You Thinkin

Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr

Photo 2
joy

Premium Member Always Part of Me

 

When I was a very young girl a tragedy filled my world
I watched my sister's blood soak the snow on the street
she died while I stood with mom ... I still hear mom screaming
and I went into a silent world and though I heard-   I refused to speak
I was in a dark and lonely place, so alone, so lost, so afraid, and sad

Then, grandma reached into my dark world with her kind voice
she would sit me on her knee and tell me her made up stories
you see, grandma was the family storyteller and I loved her so much
she will always and forever be my part of my heart and soul
I listened to so many of her stories and I became a storyteller too

I can recall watching her face while she spoke a story to the family
and I was fascinated with her facial expressions and tone of voice
though, I had heard her stories hundreds of times I would still listen
she encouraged me to write-   giving me a journal and special pen
grandma told me to write my sadness and I did and I still do

We would read what I had written over "a nice cup of tea" 
and we would hug and let our tears fall-  she encouraged me to write
"write it, write it for the world to read' - (I do grandma, I do !)
grandma is a reflection of who I am today as a writer, I honor her 
and all my hurts I write ...  though sad they are beautiful, so beautiful

When grandma died at ninety-four she could not speak anymore
her voice had been silenced by old age and she died quietly in her sleep
I was shattered yet insisted on speaking at her catholic funeral
writing seven pages about my grandma and what she meant to me
I stood at the front of the church trembling-  her casket a distraction

But, when I went to speak a great wind took my papers away
they floated around the church like they had wings and I was unsure
but I heard a voice ("you don't need them") and I started talking
I talked and talked about my grandma, me, and her stories
when I finished, there was silence-  except for the sound of weeping

In that moment ... I knew the power of words and of storytelling
grandma blessed me with her gift-   the Lord blessed me with writing
when I think of gran's face it is with so much love, her smile beautiful
I will see my grandma Helena again ... she is waiting for me in Heaven 
and when we meet-   she will say, "lets have a nice cup of tea"

Zika Virus What Next

Zika Virus What Next

It is officially announced, there is a global health emergency...
World Health Organisation (WHO) has just issued this health warning...
The rapid spread of the Zika Virus is an international public health emergency..

From its first  outbreak was detected in Brazil in May last year...
This mosquito borne disease now threatens in more than 20 countries....
Latest to join the strickened Latin American countries are Costa Rica and Jamaica.

The science behind the global outbreak of this disease is of much concern...
For the Zika Virus was first encountered in a rhesus macaque monkey in Uganda..
It is very worrisome, for this disease has jumped from animals to humans...

The rapid spread was in part due to the lack of immunity in our species...
It is after all a virus that profilerated before only in  the monkey species....
Its drastic spread in the Latin Americans now necessitates travel advisories...

Once afflicted, a human victim suffers 2-7 days of low grade fever, joint pains..
No fatalities yet, but symptomatic patients suffers a facial rash that spreads ...
Diagnosis is tricky, its symptons easily confused with other mosquito diseases...

But the greatest danger is threat of brain damage and microcephaly in new born babies...
And the spread of the virus through sexual contact and the blood stream is for real...
Prevention is better than cure, so is precaution before things get out of hand..

The common denominator in the rapid widespread of this scourge is a pesky insect...
One tiny little hellish insect with little wings that stridently brings victims into contact...
A little nip from an infected insect, the Zika virus is introduced into the victim's blood stream..

This dangerous little pesky insect is none other than the common mosquito...
To be specific it is the tiger stripped and blood thirsty Aedes mosquito...
Prevalently found in early morning hours and in the late afternoon daylight hours ...

Get the bug spray,  the insect repellant and out with the electric killer bat...
Do whatever it takes, so long you escape from the irritating mosquito bites..
Kill the Aedes mosquitoes, and save yourself from  Zika, dengue or chingkunya virus...

http://www.webmd.com/news/20160203/zika-microcephaly-link
http://www.futurity.org/zika-microcephaly-1115772-2/

Premium Member Things I think now that I'm old

The older I get, the more I forget the names of colors.
Would you call this paint amber, burnt ochre, or clay?
Would it were the same with all of my dolors.
But age hasn’t washed any of my dolors away.
I finally saw hills as old as me,
and it was a pitiful sight to see,
with many a crevice and facial scar,
and so, pointing at the hills, 
I asked my dearest wife, Shar,
"Is that what I look like?"
She said, “No, that's is not what you look like.
That’s what you are."

Only two o'clock ~ still an hour till it's three.
Time's passing slower than eternity.
Now it's four, and as even the clock's cuckoo can see ~
I'm having trouble with this end-of-life monotony.
How much longer till it's five o'clock ~
and I can put this head of lettuce on the chopping block?
Tick ~ tock ~
tick ~ tock ~
tick~ tock...
That's life ~ in a game with grandpa ~
running down the clock.

As I reflect on my old body’s daily decay, 
I wonder ~ did God really mean to do it this way?
Couldn't He have let me journey to life's end, whole and entire,
instead of having part after part of me periodically misfire?
You assert emphatically, "Yes! He really meant to do it this way!"
Okay.
When you're old, you know what's really insane?
It's when you're going down memory lane,
but you find nobody there
with whom a memory to share.
And you wonder ~ am I in the right brain?

My route home seems to have been mislaid.
I have a feeling I've walked way past the Fire Brigade.
And where's that street
where the park and the bicycle path meet?
I'm completely lost! ~ My God!
I'm so afraid.
One thing when you get this old
is that your body can get so unbearably cold,
because your skin gets so thin,
it lets all the iciness in,
and then a hot partner is worth their weight in gold.

You know how it is
when cola loses its fizz.
That's kinda what happened here.
And what can I say but, 'Sorry, my dear?'
I kinda feel like I've flunked the pop quiz.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead.
Rather have everyone don a motley party hat.
And if anyone's inclined to cry,
please say, "Don't shed a tear for this old guy,
cuz he's gonna live it up ~ in the sweet bye and bye.
© Rio Jansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Give It Up For Neil

out there in our world
there are brilliant individuals
whose minds are incredible,
awesome & inspiring,
bearing thoughts, ideas &
theories, which many of us
wouldn’t be able to fathom
if the thinker her/himself 
sat down at our breakfast table
& spoon fed it to us
like we were good little Gerber 
babies.

there are funny wo/men out 
there also,
who with one quick quip or
deliberate body gesture, facial
contortion or humorous act
which may up to this point have
no definition at all,
are able to tickle our funny bone,
sending us into a fit of
laughter, which may very well
create pain in our gut or
cause us to fall right out of our
chairs.

unfortunately it is the case that
seldom do these two vital human
qualities exist within the same being &
when you come across someone
who possesses both,
your jaw might drop at the same time
you begin to quake with an almost
violent 
guffaw---
this writer does feel that
Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson fits the bill.

Dr. Neil can captivate an audience---
armed with a comforting smile, 
razor sharp wit & pure down to
earth sagacity, 
in just over an hour (maybe less) 
he can take those who held 
absolutely no interest in Science
whatsoever,
and with an uncanny ability to weave
the most wondrous & complicated 
descriptions of what goes on in the
cosmos, 
with jokes & anecdotes
in a communicative way that does not
have an agenda,
outside that of education,
he is able to turn on whole crowds
to a love of Science!

and once you see him,
you won’t be able to get enough---
you’ll watch all the youtube lectures he
did, 
and you’ll read all his books &
the whole time,
you’ll be learning things 
which had they been brought you 
by someone else,
you might have just been bored listening,
or ignored outright.

though many good intentioned smart
wo/men
will do their best to convey 
all their research &
they’ll do so with all the compassion that
they can muster,
how unquestionably important it is to
have someone like Neil 
bearing as much communicative talent
as he does sheer intelligence,
so that he might continue to
illuminate the world,
showing his own love for what he does &
what has always interested him,
so that he may pass it on,
igniting further amazement in us all,
so that so many break the chains of
religious dogmas which have
kept their eyes & their minds 
shut & closed for so long!

Covid Waltz

A Rondo In 23 Verses

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my soul and my movements
It has ruined my life for sure. 

I hate masks but I wear them.
Fogging my view with each breath
They blind me to dangers in traffic
Forecasting my vehicular death.

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my soul and my movements
It has ruined my walking for sure. 

A haircut or facial nice to conjure.
I look like a portrait of doom.
My grey roots protrude and grow longer
The mirror reflects all of my gloom

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and my movements
It has ruined my beauty for sure. 

And Zoom every day, I hate it.
Playing Hollywood Squares with the mob.
At least I can work here pantless.
Until I find a new job.

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my soul and my movements
It has ruined my career for sure. 
 
At gym I used to sweat bullets.
Admiring the bodies around.
But now its reduced to a laptop.
And some formless voice counting down.

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and my movements
It has ruined my physique for sure. 

Homeschooling my children is stressful.
They hate every thing that I do
They look upon me as a jailor
A bossy mal tempered old shrew. 

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and my movements
It has ruined my family for sure. . 

And why can't we use our own dog walkers
Metabolically relieving the hound.
The city has forbidden this action.
Another way needs to be found.

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and my movements
It has ruined my pet’s life for sure. 

And please don’t repeat this around
I have a lover every Wednesday afternoon. 
Since they're not strictly in my bubble,
We can’t, you know what, in a room.  

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and my movements
It has ruined sex life for sure. 

Look, I know that millions are dying
I’m not insensitive to that. 
But my lifestyle has taken a beating
You can’t call me a brat for that. 

COVID is very inconvenient. 
Difficult to endure.
It controls my being and movements
It has ruined life for sure.
Form: Rhyme

Pondering the Same Old Entry

The facial expression I wear; it gives nothing away
says nothing to no one except the mirror only to scream 'HELP ME'
There's no doubt that I've been this way before
I only thought I closed the door
not pessimistic, just melancholy yet so optimistic
Things are complicated, so complicated
could it be that I am clueless
it's part of the million haunting reasons
but the world decided to give me its weighted issues
and let my shoulders do the rest
though it leaves my only two greatest friends and family in peril
yet when push comes to shove intangible I return
ready for a fight
and in my mind, I always ponder the same old entry
Will the world ever accept me for the real me
I feel as if it may once I erase my clueless title
then on the other hand, maybe I deserve it
I've constantly placed irresponsibly the ones I care for in danger
I'm the never ending punchline of a school housed joke
I'm at the bottom of the food chain
And the only one who deems me as somebody important
has a reserved spot in the ejecter chair
for my reckless rejection infatuation with someone
who loves the part of me I try to keep secret
I've always wanted to be someone other than this
I've always wanted something more than this
even though I've complained before, it was all fake
I have no complaints
just a few mistakes that I wish I could erase
How could I be the hero when I'm just the zero
how many times does my story have to repeat and fall back on me
I've tried playing hero before, just being my real self
but denying the part of me that makes me who I am
all my seasons before I leave sealed wit a miss
The last one ripping me apart
just leaving me a single kiss on the cheek
I was the blue rose she wanted
until I turn intangible and the rose withered away
but it gave way to my real feelings
don't remember when I noticed
could've been the day her eyes captivated me
at our first high school dance
my final season has ended, sealed with a memorable kiss
the whole world knows my identities
my name in both senses
I just changed my last name so someone 
would notice something different
nobody has except for one
I love every minute I've spent with her
and under her clouds of black, I know I'm her warmth
I could say I don't love her but I'd be lying to everyone including myself

Princess of the Ball

The black and white ball is on
The twist this year is
You my dear, have to wear men’s cloths
A black suit
 

You may be the prettiest girl that ever walked the earth
But there is no way you will be a sexy man
You pour your self into those jeans
Throw on a loose T-shirt
Causing men to drool
Making girls wish they were you
But you in a suit, well we will see
 

I don’t want to see you in the suit
Until the night of the ball
I will however
Make an appointment at the Taylors
No I won’t
I’ll take your measurements and get you a suit myself
It will be my present to you, for the ball
 

Damn on paper her measurements even look sexy
To the material shop
Ohh wow,
Black pinstripe silk 
Finding a walking stick is tricky
 

Drop into shoe shop she shops at all the time 
She is known by name so am I
Hello gorgeous how are you
I want to by my Lady a surprise
And I need your help
Great, thank you very much,
 

The first thing I know you don’t have here but I need
Are black fish net stocking
Would you mind getting a pair form to fit her pretty please
Awesome now I would like
Shiny Black Stiletto’s with 4” heals
To match this material in her size 
Thank-you so much 
Come here so I can give you a cuddle
 

To the beauty shop
Book you in for a
Full body massage
A Facial
Hair wash, perm
And make up
 

Off to the Taylor
His instructions
Here are the measurements of my beautiful lady
I want you to make her a suit coat with tails
Out of this silk
And a tie as well please
 

He says no
He will not make anything from paper
He wants to see her 
I agree with term 
She is no to know what is being created for her
He agrees, she’s booked in
 

She has been to the taylor 
She has been fitted
And she doesn't know why
 

The morning of the ball
Everything is ready
We just have to make it happen

My Sweet I have made you 
Raisin Toast 
Squeezed orange juice 
And Tea for a change
 

Put on your favorite jeans and T
You have a big day
 

Opening the car door for you
After stopping at the beauty shop
Where I must leave you for a while
 

Your Shoes look awesome
Love the Stocking she got you
The Formal Tails and Body Suit is wicked
 

Entering the Ballroom 
Standing at the top of the staircase
The music stops
The men gaze in awe
The girls stare in envy
 

You my dear are
The Princess of the Ball
Let’s party
Form: Prose

'araby' Revised

Setting: a cafe, chamonix, in hand a tea.
Across- a woman, seated, not seeing me.

Embarrassed I am,
that I, a questionable I, 
like a lamb: 97 and 1 kilogram,
am engulfed by her,
like Noah by heavanly mer.

Can I help it?- No!
That this Helen
this doe 
or maybe Annabel of Poe
has transfixed me so
No!

For she, unbeknowest to anyone but me,
has -- like a jockey to horse--
narrowed my vision, my every decision.

My goals, my independent roles,
are all now but foes
Dürers'crows
to that of this woman,
to that of this Syren;
A homeric vision calling my name,
my thoughts [set completely in frame].

For she is Femme French,
whose lip, whose tongue, whose
unequaled gaze,
melts hearts, muffles minds, and
spirits sets a daze;

She is a picture Romaine-
a poetic refrain-
a Cloud Loraine- 
Tout l'univers(se), turning perverse-
all those once sane.

And when you, pardon- she
speaks; «please, more tea»
she, unknowingly, speaks to me,
wow, she trully speaks to me. 

Votre langue francais,
what can I say.
We in the west, at our best
butcher and hack at our speach,
yet you- lyrically spue- a harmonious
coo,
a ventricular breech....

Our « (c)(h)(o)(c)(o)(l)(a)(t)(e), »
americanized, anglasized,
Is not as sweet as your---
« chocolat »--- taste that
mmmm-hmmm
tis better, the way you pronounce every letter
as in decrouver, or illuminer.

To think, that this, your verbal kiss, 
turns me so amiss.

But lets ((focus))- back to the Now,
sitting in chair, starring at her hair-
tied back, pulled back, let's get abstract:
lips parted, bangs parted.
Her cheeks lifted- my heart uplifted.
Facial confusion!
Her eyes whisper, « mister, »
maybe sinister?
Who knows, maybeee... the nose!
Striking a pose-
Running, twitching, creating true woes-
in a heart that weeps, reeps, but rarely sows.

Now you can see what she does to me.
my mind is adrift, but who cares- What a Gift!
To be lost in her presence- a humble
peasant- in the present is a present.

So- I'm sitting in a chair,
staring, glaring, intimately at her,
seeking, searching, for our eyes to
meet, to greet, in lustful heat,
for her to return my gaze
and to be lost in that haze till the
end of my days....

But wait....    What is this.      
Something is amiss.
A realization, a *****?
OH GOD....
I have a *****...
****. I'm just another creepy loner.
Form:

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