Long Fantasyheart Poems

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


Blood Lust

One stands utterly still
in darkness only lit
by a full moon obscured by
eerie clouds, drifting 
slowly across the moon’s path.
Nothing moves, not even a 
gentle breeze exists in
this place that has been
painted black.
Sound does not enter one’s 
ears; quiet has overcome its
presence, it makes one feel
deafened by silence.
Still one stands motionless awaiting
that sudden sound created by
human presence.
One awaits hidden in the gloomy
shadows created by edifices
created by man to provide
safety; how wrong they were.
Something moves making the
gravelled paths crunch like
breaking bones.
Their heart beats loudly, 
their veins protrude
teasing one to strike but
one must wait,
one must not be too hasty 
or all will be revealed at
the wrong moment; timing is
vital. 
The sound steadily grows louder;
the creature is in the vicinity
of my presence, the smell of its
blood is potent enticing one to
lust its precious gift of life
that flows through its body. 
It passes the edifice that
creates the shadows one is 
hidden in; one has stricken
without warning.
Blood pours in to one’s mouth
through the harsh wound now 
upon the creature’s neck, it
warms one’s dead heart making
it beat only for moments.
The creature squirms endlessly; 
pointless and futile,
it becomes sluggish and grey,
one stops and pauses; the 
creature dropped with a
heavy thump, it was a man.
One breathes heavily; blood drips 
sinisterly down on to one’s chin whilst
peering at the now dead
man lying on the ground
in a twisted way; its
bones snapped and protruding
through raw muscle.
One has killed, stolen
innocence and still the
blood lust grows, like
perverted roots that
never stop expanding
deeper in to earth;
that is where one truly
belongs, buried beneath,
trapped, alone and with
nothing but hunger for all eternity.


The Lady of the Lake Part I

Mirror silver clad she stood, upon the lakes dark shore,
A spectral icy vision , that chilled me to the core.
A vapour’d hand she raised to lead, across the sheet glass lake
With racing heart and awestruck eye, I traced its misty wake

A  cold dead air, that chilled my soul, now held my senses keen.
For there among the darkened  woods, I saw what can’t be seen.
Like unlit candles stood a host, of mournful waxen dead,
In decaying desperation, with the fixed stares of the mad 

My pounding heart so close to fail, beat faster at the sight,
As gliding ever closer drew, these sentinels of night.
What fearful power, what dreadful fate, hath drawn them from the 
grave.
Whilst  I transfixed upon that shore, my sanity I craved.

Then turned the lady of the Lake and fixed her steel grey eyes,
then pointed once again to where, the darkwood secrets lie.
My fading gaze could scarce suppose the horrors there replayed,
Whilst spectre ranks, in silence viewed with countenance dismayed. 

Upon my knees, through fingers splayed, and terrified  to see,
the horror there unfolding, between those witness trees.
I saw the bloody massacres, heard shocked and dreadful cries,
I felt their fear, and died their deaths, with terror in my eyes .

Each wicked deed, each evil act, each thrust assassins blade,
of every dreadful murder done, within that forest glade.
With screams of death, and cries of loss, the misty shore resounds,
To haunt my soul and flay my ear, upon that hell struck ground.

In faint I fell with senses lost, afraid to look again,
as words she spake in whispered tone, ‘Remember when you wake, 
these unjust works, these sinful acts, leave vengeance thirst unslaked,
thus you must tell of this darkwood, beside the silver lake.’

The Stone Cutter

There once was a tiny village where a stone cutter lived with his family.
He loved his job and he was the best there ever was. For no one could cut a stone the way that 
he did. Some even said it was in his blood, for his father before him was also a stone cutter. He 
always made sure to take his time and get the cut exactly the way the customer ordered. His 
whole life revolved around perfection, he had the perfect wife and kids with the perfect job, so 
perfection was part of his everyday routine. Till one day, there was a fire in the tiny village and 
several houses were burned and three lives were lost. The village leader came to the stone 
cutter and asked him to cut three stones. The stone cutter's heart was saddened to learn that a 
mother and her two small children were killed in the fire. So right away, he started carving the 
stones to mark their graves. When it came time to carve the names into the stone, the stone 
cutter was horrified to learn that the three souls lost in the fire were his own wife and kids. These 
were to be the last stones that the stone cutter ever carved besides his own. When he learned of 
his loss, he simply couldn't go on living. And on the day he finished cutting his own stone, he 
simply died of a broken heart. The whole village mourned the loss of the stone cutter and his 
family. When they buried him beside his family his stone read, “Here lies the stone cutter, who 
lived by perfection and died by a broken heart”. And on his stone was a heart with a single crack 
down the middle.
© Larry Belt  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

The 100th Day Obsession

100 days to that day
The stars clapped
When the cap with your lip print
Landed in my hand, so perfectly and clear,
The print of your lips I could almost trace
So I cut to the chase, while my heart race
To the denial that I’ve got feelings for the lace
That follows your essence as you move past me.

Clearly you do not see me
Obviously my feeling does not scream
The cream on my lips that I keep plum does not suggest
My luminous corner craving your attention does not say.
The obvious luscious body in the dress I chose does not communicate.
Clearly my actions do not shout enough.
So, I wait for the 100th day.
For it was a 100 days to the perfect day
When expressing love in words is in order.
In wait I count down the days 100 to one.

At one you were still the one
None had my attention
None Held my heart arrest in the rhythm yours did.
Every word I chose stood pointed to you
Every expression expressly about you
Every choice of color as hot as you
Mine was yours and only yours
I watched you walk toward my beckon
Without reservation your steps bold towards me
I can swear I forgot to breathe
All I could hear was my heart beat to your steps
Though concrete and silent it was far reaching and controlling
One I did not resist.

Just a fraction of that attraction
I harbored and labored to control
Over powering as I Handed you the piece of me
That piece of hard paper that could only carry the words,

“Be My Valentine.”

Who's Driving the Map?

On the PlanIsPhere
Alion just right to hear
Align the date with the time of day
What shows in the window, will show the way.

Latitude DB North.

Dragon points to hear.
The CAR DO go,
where the red tongue flow ~>
November to remember.
Corona BoreAlIs you see,
She bore the CAP TU
the static sea.
Respens as she spins
reBootes as she bends
BAC2 LUC as she mends
HER SCULE

The message was TWO
Then STACK and add too
The ACTimes2
Nere the MocaDice
She said BE NICE


O PHI, UC said HUSh til THREE

... I'll be back in just a minute...

Tongue between TUlips to see
On the breath smoke
from the Dragon's Tree
It flows in the vein
Releasing knowledge and then,
Never again will 4ever end.
The message is mend.


Flow to the ale
roc on a real
CapTu the deal
Pen the Cor_On
Show the CARDO_
Sea the CARBON
Hear the Heart Hon


~I SAID I AM a Dragon, in the middle.
~Not a snack, you hear?

~Glass of peach mengo dear?

~Relax, we've gone back
~Now we go 2Word There.

"Creation came as 1 and 2...
The other part of ME
is the part in WE,
which is the part I love
in the Heart of you..."

Our Hearts are true.
The travel is through.
The message from Me
is the message to you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

~How many digits on three wise men?
~How many digits on mice who said 'hen'?
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


The Bizzarre Bazaar

Achmed made a marvellous find 
as he walked inside the Bazaar, 
all kinds of mysterious treasures
deposited from near and far: 

A Heart of purest Gold
nestled inside a wooden chest, 
some cobwebs clung to the side
yet it still shone its very best.
did he sense a slight beating
as he held it in his hand?
was there still some life left
in this golden heart so grand?

A bright glint caught his eye
and, reaching, he saw a gem -
was it a small Sapphire Eye
adorning a Moorish hem?
did it give him a quick wink
to catch his concentration?
could it really be living?
or, was it his imagination?

Before he could be sure, 
he saw what looked like a Nose
carved out of finest Ivory, 
what history would it disclose?
and then, it seemed to snuffle
as if it were enduring a cold; 
dare he touch this strange thing?
was Achmed really all that bold?

The shopkeeper tapped his shoulder
and asked if he liked what he saw -
he turned around, and fell to the ground
of his Moroccan bedroom floor.

It was all a weird, delirious dream 
Achmed dreamt that hot night, 
and, standing at the lattice window
he stared at the soft moonlight

Shining on the open Sea, 
wistfully heaving a huge sigh, 
was it more than his imagination?
was it more than met the eye?
Form: Rhyme

Form of One

Eyes blazing with fire yet black as coal
Hair glistens from the capture of souls
Beads of moisture on her body hold
The hearts of Lovers who dared.
Naked in the cave we were there
as her dripping form appeared,
echoes of time in perfect unison,
we stood and knew we were one.
.
Her body firm and tan in health
Silken skin as Nature’s wealth
Eyes blazing…
Lips moist and inviting in…
”...come to me…”
She dares the sin…
Gaps of light shed redemption
Legs strong and defiant in perfection
A Sensual teases with salvation…
.
Dark coals blazing, long hair glistening
My heart racing but I’m not listening
Memorized by the flame in her eyes
My legs betray and I’m frozen in time
Deep within a mysterious cave I’ve
become enslaved…to her rhyme.
.
Before I knew we were face to face
Desire over sense my heart replaced
Drawn to touch what a mind has chased
Felt in a dream but never embraced
”...can this be real…?”
Temptation lures the body to heal…
.
Naked in the cave we were there
as her dripping form appeared
steam from the heat of her skin
Lips moist and inviting in
echoes of love in perfect unison
Sin as salvation in the Form of One.
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Daytime

I never ever see them move
Except a lone bicycler cruise
Window shut shutters glued
I swear upon a heart so true
 Someone's Peeking out the window

People moving to and fro
To the market and back they go
From school with kids in tow
Mechanical garages mysteriously close
Someone's Peaking out the window

I see a bicycle upon a fence
A house closed with no offense
Nothing else happens then
Occasionally they come or go
Someone's Peaking out the window

Out of sight they walk around
And climb a fence without a sound
Or go in the back if its allowed
The lawn is often carefully mowed
Someone's Peaking out the window

Out of the corner of my eye
Cross my heart and hope to die
An image jumps, leaps and fly's
Destination quite unknown
Someone's peaking out the window,


No one would ever believe
They come and go without reprieve
Know no work or morality
When I garden on my knees
Someone's peaking out the window.

Very soon I pray to leave
No memories to forget or grieve
No friends or loves to hold or see
Forced to leave without ample means
Someone's peeking out the window.

Daytime

I never ever see them move
Except a lone bicycler cruise
Window shut shutters glued
I swear upon a heart so true
 Someone's Peeking out the window

People moving to and fro
To the market and back they go
From school with kids in tow
Mechanical garages mysteriously close
Someone's Peaking out the window

I see a bicycle upon a fence
A house closed with no offense
Nothing else happens then
Occasionally they come or go
Someone's Peaking out the window

Out of sight they walk around
And climb a fence without a sound
Or go in the back if its allowed
The lawn is often carefully mowed
Someone's Peaking out the window

Out of the corner of my eye
Cross my heart and hope to die
An image jumps, leaps and fly's
Destination quite unknown
Someone's peaking out the window,


No one would ever believe
They come and go without reprieve
Know no work or morality
When I garden on my knees
Someone's peaking out the window.

Very soon I pray to leave
No memories to forget or grieve
No friends or loves to hold or see
Forced to leave without ample means
Someone's peeking out the window.

By Candle Glow

Through the night by candle glow
I stitch, patch, glue and sew
With deftest hands I repair the parts
And give new life to broken hearts

Jars of stardust, moonbeams glows
Angels feathers and fragrant Rose
Rainbows colours abound my store
With bottles of love ready to pour

Some come filled full of sadness
Drain them off and fill with happiness
And those that are full of sorrow
Stuff with hope for a new tomorrow

Those that come lacking of care
Fill with kindness, that they may share
And the childs heart that searches love
I fill with prayers from the lord above

The heart of a lover broken in two
The smallest of stitches and ksses true
Fill it with honey and beautiful dreams
Caress it with love and sentient themes

And those of the old that come to my care
I fill them with peace and memories to share
Those that come angry and so full of hate
I wash and scrub them and say they must wait

My work is nearly done as I start to yawn
My time is short if to deliver by dawn
The beating heart I replace whilst asleep
A kiss for your heart and away I shall creep
Form:

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