Long Fascinated Poems
Long Fascinated Poems. Below are the most popular long Fascinated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fascinated poems by poem length and keyword.
My job took me up north to teach people computer skills,
and that is where I met Jack- he was a wilderness guide.
He was wild and free and seemed full of pride.
Jack fascinated me!
Many hours we spent talking of things,
we had a lot in common, I was Ojibwe- he was Cree.
He took me to his cabin and our love had wings,
and words of love were cried;
his hands on my body gave me sweet chills.
But, after that amazing night of love he seemed distant,
I asked him repeatedly but his face was stone,
those eyes were so cold and all love had flown,
I felt like a dumb fool!
Not ready to give up, I was witty,
he did not seem to care and often his words were cruel.
His love for me had been so false and he had only pity!
I wanted to moan and groan,
for his rejection of love that was nonexistent.
I left- for a long time, I wished his name on a headstone,
yet, still, still in my heart, I wept for this man I had known.
____________________________
March 19, 2017
Rhyme/Love's Rejection
Copyright Protected, ID 885688
Having A Love For Someone And It Is Not Returned
Brenda Chiri
Second Place
Poems By Vicki Acquah
Cognizant:
You have shown to me
my GREATNESS
- YOU
Having been discerning
But were not always
in agreement
You were there for me.
AWARE OF ME.'
You have known me
in my weakest flesh
You have marveled
at my strong spirit.
I will have to visit
you when I transition.
You will know it's me still.
Not like some" Duppie "
in a third rate cinema !
When I Come to you,
I will whisper poetry
loudly and crassly-
in your ear,
in my stern voice.
"Yes it tis I" -
I will say..
You know me.
So when the air is not stirring.
I will be as a gentle breeze
floating over
your body,caressing you.
Whilst your perception
reveals me to your conscious.
When OTHERS- don't get me-
CANNOT FEEL me ,
CANNOT SEE ME.
Cognizant you are -
of my existence.
Awake - you are
in my dreams
and my reality.
WHILE others slept on me.
You were fascinated by all of me,
analyzing the
" tic tic" of my clock"
Too aware of my very being.
Alert, even to my batting lashes.
responding
with that certain look -
You'd address my emotions,
my humor and my dread.
Conscious of each
others existence
sometimes we'd clash.
Wittingly we'd exchange love taps.
stimulating the intellectual.
I am your muse-for now
You are my smile for today.
Often times you'd
relent -pretending to be
simple, soft and unassuming.
Allowing me to be Just where I am
In small villages, near the castle,
lived a fair maiden with her father, a blacksmith
She had fallen deeply in love with the prince,
but couldn’t get close enough to him to be recognized
Having no hope to be the love of a prince, she just went on with her life
One day she walked to the pond with a basket of clothes to wash
She came upon a frog
The frog said,
“O, fair maiden I’m an enchanted frog.
A kiss from me will make you as beautiful as a velvet rose that stands out in the middle of a garden,
The sight of you will make the Prince fall madly in love with you.”
The maiden was fascinated at the thought of becoming beautiful to catch the attention of the prince and
Believing what the frog had said
She then closes her eyes and brought the frog to her lips
Poof!
O! My!
An enchanted prince stood by the pond
To her astonishment, there was no change in her appearance when she stared at the reflection in the pond
With absolutely no remorse
The enchanted prince had other intentions of his own
He was in love with the prince’s sister
So off he went to the castle looking for the princess
The maiden was left feeling foolish with a weaken spirit and
A lesson learned not to trust anyone
By: Eve Roper 5/20/2015
Revised from;
Homophone - Girl And The Frog Only Homo's Allowed 4/30/2015
It was a flash mob…somewhere in Italy…a maestro was conducting Ode to Joy
and I found myself fascinated by the conduct of one little girl…and boy.
Moved by the beauty of the music…and how the maestro was instructing….
the little boy started dancing…and the little girl…conducting.
I love how, out of nowhere, this flash of music put these children in a trance
causing one to begin conducting…and the other one to dance.
And I thought I need to bring that childhood innocence into my morning walk
to be more open to the flash mobs around me as I circumvent the block.
Now, my heart controls the rhythm…providing a steady beat
then my brain receives the message and sends that rhythm to my feet.
Rabbits hop their steady beat to make sure I’ve got it right
as the birds, who provide the music, wake from their slumber of the night.
The crickets begin their collective chorus…voices reaching for the skies
until the owls, the mockingbirds, seagulls and squirrels begin to harmonize.
And on those mornings, when I’m lucky, in the trees I hear the wind begin….
and softly into the symphony…enters the violins.
The flash mob always plays the same song…it’s a daily Ode to Joy
and I try hard to listen with the innocence of that little girly and boy.
Which means on any given morning it is purely happenstance….
whether I choose to be the conductor…or if I choose to dance.
I lift you up, delicately
like a bouquet of flames in pink patient fever,
romantically, I rove your surface with fingertips that tingle,
the texture of your treated cover tempts an impatient lover,
I read your Title, Her World, Her War
subtitle, Surviving Sorrow & Love,
your emblem, embossed in opal
a quill spun across a heart spelling your soul,
I spread you open with both hands
my grip holding the breadth of your body
a scent of sensuous ink unfurles into my inquisitive senses
raising you into my fascinated face
smelling the cleavage of your binding
sailing my lips down the center of your special secret
having your silky ribbons root around my fingers,
breathing, in warm curiosity on your exotic fibers,
Loving me as I hold you in wonder,
as I finger your pages with fawning pursuit of pleasure,
speedily you whisper my name with no refrain
as my moist voice recites
your poetry of paradise and pressure points,
I venture deeper into your voluptuous volume
feeling sensations of starlight I do consume,
in your tome of thick passion I find a home,
I like to read you in the suspense of night
searching your love lines, tasting your grape vines,
touching your emotions, embracing your sweet seductions,
you get into my nerves like electric sugar
illuminated by your poems of ardor and prose of candor,
intrigued by the penmanship of a Princess, curvaceous and calculating,
I turn to the Introduction, to see a photo of the great Authoress
a face pretty in courage, a smile of beautiful strategy
your body of work legendary,
I kiss you because I must -
J.A.B.
Fascinated with butterflies
midst their freedom-flight…
dear child*, secured in his wheel chair
delightfully grips yellow crayon
along creativity challenge
to pursue artwork bout
while struggling against spastic restlessness...
Soon with glee-filled countenance
championing his thumbs-up trademark
devoid of bashful gesture
he shows a masterpiece:
oh, glowing butterfly
radiant in yellow
he has painstakingly colored…
Witnessing his gracious achievement
of gradual milestones
I'm thankful* for God-wrought remarkable changes
notable indications that he is “educable”
thus, not “progressing toward retrogression”
as diagnosed by his pediatrician
more than a decade ago...
Yes, I’m beholding actual metamorphosis
toward joyous fulfillment…
so with faith in the Sovereign’s miracle
I envision our boy in his functional zest
like a butterfly that has surmounted
infantile epilepsy --- now becoming triumphant
over “global developmental delay.”
*Today, July 24, 2026, the child in our church orphanage is now 17 years old.
** 1Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you..
July 23, 2020
1st place, "STRAND completely new (12) any theme any form" Poetry Contest Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 7/23/2020.
I’m fascinated by antiques, things of yesterday.
I search in shops of every kind, near and far away.
I gaze into the windows at the priceless treasures there,
a china doll, a wagon, a cuddly teddy bear,
gently worn old toys that some child loved and kept
beside them in the dark of night to comfort as they slept.
There’s a trunk from someone’s attic,
where family heirlooms lay,
awaiting someone special to find them there someday.
There’s a hat box and a pair of gloves, a satin wedding gown,
high button shoes, a cameo, a quilt that’s filled with down,
an album filled with photographs, history in black and white,
a bible with it’s pages worn from reading every night.
There’s a china plate and tea cup that must have held a brew
flavored with some secrets from at least a friend or two.
There’s an old oak kitchen cupboard filled with granite ware,
and salt and pepper shakers, at least a dozen pair.
There’s an old wooden rocker where someone use to dream,
or piece a quilt together and sew each perfect seam.
I love to window shop and stop to take a peek
of treasures, old and rare, of anything antique!
The pastel flower was gorgeous; I was fascinated by it. What do you call it?We call it Christmas cactus. I stare at my aunt. There is no red or green. No dazzling white or frothy lacy sock look about it. Arizona has curious ways Calling a pastel plant of pinks, lavenders and oranges this makes no sense to me. Seventy-six degrees on Christmas day also makes no sense to this Iowan.
pink lavender orange
why are you christmas cactus
in arizona
A whisper from you is my favorite sound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
The thought of you makes me float from the ground
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
Your presence stops my heart from its pound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
The aroma of your perfume makes me want to be romanced
It brings out desires and I’m simply entranced
I shall never take you for granted
The smell of you has me enchanted
A whisper from you is my favorite sound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
The thought of you makes me float from the ground
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
Your presence stops my heart from its pound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
I long for your touch and its better to have waited
When you caress me I become fascinated
A heartfelt hug from you is well exercised
A kiss from your soul leaves me completely mesmerized
A whisper from you is my favorite sound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
The thought of you makes me float from the ground
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
Your presence stops my heart from its pound
Your love leaves me breathless and spellbound
Most beautiful creature I had ever seen
More gorgeous than ebony pumas or wild wolves
I was fascinated, and intimidated; she was the Sheila.
There was danger in knowing her.
She was the ultimate circus star; a performer.
An artesian, her traveling RV was full of hand painted beauty.
The Sheila would have travelled easily in a gypsy wagon,
except the circus manager would not tolerate it.
I think they used to be married.
She was Bohemian, confident, a woman of truth.
Her beauty astounded and confounded us.
The Sheila could do every job in the circus, and she did.
She tamed the lions and sometimes swung from a trapeze.
She was stunning; mysterious and beautiful.
It was more than enough to wow me.
Form: