Long Fem Poems
Long Fem Poems. Below are the most popular long Fem by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fem poems by poem length and keyword.
It was 64ºf and overcast this morning when Lisa and I started our 5-mile jog to the Harbor and back. We always start our semesters this way. We’re emotionally ready for fall weather and hopefully, a long and cruel winter.
Sunny, Lisa, Leong and I were starting the morning with breakfast together. We have summer catching up to do.
Of course, Sunny never does the expected. Over a bowl of heart-shaped Cheerios in the cafeteria, she announced that she’s “really going to try this year.”
“That's a choice,” Leong admitted dryly.
“You mean academically?” Lisa asked, for clarification purposes.
“Wait,” Leong updogged, “Did your parents ask for proof that you were here?”
Sunny rolled her eyes, she knew she’d get trolled with a newfangled declaration like that, but she meant it and she wasn’t tempted to elaborate.
“You’re a phoenix, rising from the ashes,” I said encouragingly.
“It’s a 4th in a lifetime opportunity,” Lisa noted.
Handling university academics is largely a structural task.
All it requires is artfully arranging information and slices of time.
“You’ve got this,” I affirmed.
“Let’s not get excited,” Sunny cautioned, “One reason I’m so hot is that I’m emotionally unavailable.”
“It’s your best quality.” Leong observed.
Tick tock, we’re all still unpacking but things are taking shape. Senior year starts in 3 days.
.
.
Songs for this:
Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall
Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing by Stevie Wonder
Our cast:
Sunny, (roommate) 21, is from Nebraska, she’s a cowgirl (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races it), she’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady whose life is an endless parade of ‘sleepovers.’ Sunny knows all the best gossip and she’s somehow befriended all the professors.
Lisa, (roommate) 21, A Manhattanite and reluctant ‘glamor girl.’ My bff. A fellow (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.
Leong, (roommate) 21, is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). She and Sunny are ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology majors.’ I speak Cantonese - I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) - maybe that’s why she was originally paired with us?
Me, Your writer is just a simple country girl from Athens Georgia.
NYC nior in black and white
NYC nior in black and white
Dark landscapes 1957 NYC
of automats radio city and hotdog stands
memories of things past
Take us back to lucid dreams of light and shadows cast
set the stage late night dark wet NY detectives on the beat
slow moving like grit and steel they stride down the great white way
steam and clouds shoot to the sky from sewer covers
smoke rings blast out from bill boards of urban midnight cowboys
from route 66
On the street hipsters glide down in pinstriped suits
cool sleek long with straddled watch chains dragging
smoking stogies from drooping lips
wing tipped shoes rested on black boxes at shoe shiners row at 53rd and lex
wanting fem defal’s dark diva’s in fish nets tight red skin dresses with sleek spike heels long cigarettes with long brim hats and netted veils as they walk the line swinging their Purses leaning against posts on the foggy corners
Dharma bums gaze at city lights dreaming of old bards songs
through garment push carts and rushing feet
in the machinery of the steamy night
the boxcars moving past open doors
The cities glare in shadows bare
neon signs striptease flashing in the backdrop of honking horns and traffic
night clubs casinos and one night stands in greasy motels
pool hall hustler’s poker players loan sharker's and scheamers
whisky bars dockyard and widowed screams
tenement houses windows open curtains drawn
sweat and muscle tee shirts yelling out to others
saxophone city of butchers boozers bribers and brown baggers
Bright yellow checkers and taxis on Times Square
down the smoke hazed dark lanes against the hard walls
slim Jim zoot suiter’s lazy dazed side leaning
roll loaded dice with steaming cheap Tricks
Newspaper stands and barbers shops with marbled checker floors
white steaming towels with waiting hot lather
man with straight edge and black leather strap leans over
with Sinatra playing in the back
Neon city balanced in chaotic disorder of abstract lines
of municipal signs
city where monk lady day and Coltrane play Improve
in old coffee houses of smoke filled cafes for pennies a day
as street poets whisper and drink their troubles away
dreaming of Brando bogie smoking Joe's and blondes
of slip hips and jive
.
amin
amine (i'm losing it people...lol; it's pronounced amin)
lin
line(can one imagine, english lit teacherz, instructing their students to draw a 'lin', down the center uv their note pads) that's right, i spelled it lin, instead
uv line <-long "i"
spin
spine(or, can i take the car for a spine)
win
wine(i'm thirsty, may i have the flask uv win) <- ;)
pin
pine (i'm the cultivator uv pin nuts)
feminin<--- that's nin
feminine<-that's nine, long "i"
i speak english precious readerz, i'm still unto this day, confused with the english vocabulary, and i can't be coxed into believing, that the third syllable
in feminine, iz not pronounced "nine"<-long "i"
fem-i-nine. short i's are pronounced "i" az in, it
long i's are pronounced "i" az in, 'I' belong to her (did ;)
Iodine, turpentine...thank Yahweh i do, in
Yeshua's name, for; "poetic license", whut would i do dear poets!
Therefore, for those who indulge mine writes, know that...
"james' "feminine" iz pronounced, "fem-i-nine" az in #'9'
i should have shared this, long ago....much luv, me ;)
"This Spring"
spoke i
to
mine feminine
whom
mine feminine
"would marriage
cause yourn sing"
"cross the t's
and dot the i's"
'fore i close for the night
mine eyne"
"yes"
said shez
"yes
yes"
"it's yes"
"it's yes"
And off went
theirn green
mine Winter dreamz
dream after dream
after dream
;)
She was lean, she was mean, a fighting machine.
Sixteen brothers had toughened her up.
She was secret woman, our little Arlene.
Raised on cold kerosene from a cup.
Our mother had passed when Arlene came into the world,
On a horribly stormy and mean October Saturday night.
We all crowded around, as the drama unfurled,
Sixteen brothers, and a dad, oh, so tight.
We dressed her in our best hand-me-downs, the best fellows all around.
And took turns with her feedings, up until a quarter ‘til three.
Dressed in blue overalls, and short-named Arley, she loved to run around.
Like a wild thing, thinking she was a boy, the best she could be.
When she started to school, the teachers wanted her to change F to M,
Thinking she was a boy, a fellow, one of the guys, which she thought she was.
Until one accidentally discovered she was girl, but knew nothing of fem.
Then them teachers started horning in teaching her to cook and sew and stuff.
Pa and us stood helplessly by, as they tried to change Little Arley into a girl.
It was great when she could make delicious chili soup and cheese cake surprise
But we were all irritated at sixteen when she started wearing girl clothes,
And got her eyes on some idiotic seventeen-year-old not-so-great guys.
She went to the prom, and we all followed along in our pick-up trucks and RVs.
She was our baby, and we were not about to let anything change our family’s way.
Five years later we followed her and her new husband to Texas, so he could see.
She was our baby, and we were not going to let her move so far away.
The marriage did not last, and we have lots of reasons and thinking about the why.
But she is home with pa now, safely tucked away, with her wedding dress on the closet door.
Making chili and pastries, and other good stuff like molasses cookies and pumpkin pie.
Home where she belongs, wild and crazy as ever, Little Arlene, we always knew before.
Little Arlene, the best auntie around,
Little Arlene, the one our children adore.
Little Arlene, the best sister we have found,
Little Arlene, home for ever more.
Little Arlene, Little Arlene, Little Arlene!
It’s December, it’s foggy and rainy, but that fits. Of course, a rainy Saturday means gathering in the common room with my roommates and watching either “The Hunger Games” or “Twilight.” Leong’s never seen Twilight, believe it or not, what are they DOing in China? We were explaining that It’s ok to talk through Twilight because it’s completely senseless. Yeah, good times.
We got back from Thanksgiving break, and we had to hit it - grinding to squeeze half a semester into 18 days. It’s a cornucopia of pressure. So, we’ve hit the books, but we’re still us.
Here’s a question: What’s the first season in December? “Spotify wrapped” season! EVERYONE has Spotify and once a year you get a summary of your listening habits. The reports came out this week and it’s all people are talking about. Comparing their lists, artists, tastes. Those lists say a lot about someone and it’s ok to not have taste, we should normalize it.
My top artist was Taylor Swift (duh) my top song was Taylor Swift’s “Renegade,” Spotify says I listened to it 285 times but that’s biased because more than once, when writing a paper, I put that song on a loop for 6 hours. My second most listened to song was “Champagne Problems” By Taylor. That song is so Rory, Gilmore Girls coded - like Rory saying, “you're on your own.” My other top artists are TV Girl, the backseat lovers and hypo campus. Yeah, I roll big.
Taylor’s also been in the conversation because Sophie has an ex-fem-friend (a freshman) who started seeing *a 45-year-old guy*. Let me ask you, what does a 45-year-old man have in common with an 18-year-old girl? We have Yale friends in their early 20s who still consider themselves teenagers and children and THEY are horrified. It’s naked fracking pedophilia. (Sorry, that one foamed over.)
The whole situation is ripped from Taylor’s 2010 masterpiece “Dear John,” which is about her dating John Mayer when she was 19 and he was 30-something. Her friends warned her, but she wouldn’t hear. Taylor Swift can be corny, and I love the corn, but she can be topical too and even though I was 7 when she released “Dear John” (2010), it’s a timeless lesson.
Crushing snowberry bushes on a hillside,
Droops down, discarding fallen blossom petals,
magnificent sand dunes soaked in pure water,
countryside nature soothes with the sweetness of honeyed melody,
And down to the beat.
A stream that appears as blue beads,
Draws the surroundings light,
Pretending a strange miracle,
Sometimes it hides, sometimes the stream shakes out,
Screams for people to hear,
Make sense to the floras too,
Hey! I am very happy, This is great!
Grinds at a point,
In another place,
loud and shivering,
No matter how much these things are,
Immediately unmoved,
The journey goes on and on,
It travels as long as it meets the place called the ocean somewhere,
As soon as they meet, donates whole water resource to the vivid ocean.
Rocks crash and give birth to sweet water bubbles,
There is ecstatic happiness in those bubbles,
Says, while walking on the plains,
Hey!!! I'm so bored going on like this,
However, the journey continues,
Nevertheless sometimes,
scared stiff because people walk on the banks,
But accepts sadness and happiness in moderation.
Quenching the thirst of the people,
The precious thing called aqua is worn like a charm,
It preserves its cycle preserves,
The splendid appearance even awakens wonderful visions in man,
Being like a winsome astonishing and pretty fem-me,
The nature of this journey is similar to the life of a peculiar lady,
Like a railway line...a mind-blowing blue resource on the surface,
To the world, she is a channel carrying water,
But an artistic depiction,
pointed out as a river.
One day under a starry sky,
While standing among the rocks,
While near a forest,
While under the caves,
I hear her whispering,
Bringing a beautiful message to this world,
It is a doctrine for nature,
Is an authenticity,
Something eternal that does not die.
Shrieked thunderously,
Sensitive as if shaking the whole world.
Hey! Someday we all have an end,
It's comforting,
In the right way,
With the noble reality,
With Overcoming challenges,
As long as you walk with the truth and finish.
.
I saw her's at the
distance
I tried the whistle
It flew out like
tweety bird's
caught by sylvester
featherz and
all
hern soon
oke
choked
Hitherto
i whistle not
at fine
hers'
her's
lets lips
mine
not
*i ofttimes spill the nouns (the)hers
:>shemales; i meant, females..(did so ')
(the)shes
therefore I explicate and may the poetic astute
accept mine artistic license :) hers: females... 'period'
shes: the feminine plural ;) oh stop ,)
edvard'z lisp and *sensitive feel> (fem~i~nine)
^:uh wight guy ') her's: possessive
* oke^ hern: belongs to her e.g. her's, in the broader sence; 'twuz her decision I.e; the poet, can say "her breast were in mine maws", yet, wus it her decision that her breast were there(the 'terse' poet would need to explicate, cramming hiz lisp with unnecessary werdz)..but, if the poet (i exspecially)exclaimed; "hern" breast were in mine maws", hiz readerz intuitively would know, that 'she gave' her breast up willingly(her decide). If the poet exclaimed; "hern pussie wuz pink"
^('she' lets poet see it's
pink
etc.)
i pray there be shes reserving sum hern for mine
indulge....words...that's what i well i tried to meant ')
Deception In Soup Creek
There once was a town called Soup Creek amiable and quaint
Filled with all these characters, a perfect picture they'd paint
It was founded to protect the innocent
Where one was welcome to come visit
A bold western saga exquisite
A Mayor, a Sheriff, a saloon proprietor
A bar owner, also a realtor
What comes next you can’t make it up, is true
A charlatan Sheriff who already knew
The saloon owner was a phony too
This is the tale what we thought a young fem,
Claimed she was being stalked by men
who used different user names
All the while she was doing the same
Many here feel used by her deception
Manipulated for her own protection
Even I was dragged in
To keep the adventure going
I was a bit overzealous
Got a vibe she was jealous
Cause I added a twist
And then there’s this…
Whose face is it?
Someone off the internet
Identity theft is what I saw
Or is madam above the law
I uncovered a foul devious charade
Just ego and hubris on parade
Meanwhile she had
Told a few folks who also were played
Madam’s her old self, and is back
With fists ready to attack
Writing about the value of friends
Pshaw, a victim again, it never ends
I don’t have the time for this
I’ll give it to you quick, Ma`am, Miss
What were you thinking, is it mental illness?
Tell the saloon owner, who invites us in for a drink
What in heavens name would Milton think?
I know I should move on gracefully
But it just didn't settle right with me
If lies and deception are your lot
At least you can try better not to get caught
I’m a bit of a sensualist.
First, let me emphasise emotional resonance,
there has to be an emotional base,
not just an appreciation of hotness.
Then, there’s a sense of longing and mystery—
that male unknowableness.
Don’t forget the hard strength of those rough male edges,
you know, the feeling that he’s kind of sculpted from
a marble and you just want to run your hands over.
And this jet-black hair, the curves and the spiky bits,
casual, careless, not fussy or particular,
and his warm firm and Implacable hands.
Oh, God. Gimmie some.
“Sensuality is connected to desire, ya?” I asked the room (Sunny and Lisa are there, studying).
“It sure is,” Sunny said, flippantly, “and you just need that hot boyfriend of yours to spank it out of you.”
“No,” I winced, shaking my head no, “that’s not true.”
“Ooo! I love this song” Lisa said, as ‘try’ by BETWEEN FRIENDS began to play on our Echos.
.
.
Songs for this:
this is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
golden hour by JVKE
.
.
Our cast
Sunny, (suitemate) 21, a (pre-med) molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major, is a cowgirl from Nebraska (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady.
Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff and a high society princess, who grew up in a 50th floor Central Park South high-rise. A (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.
Your author, a simple, multinational, upper-crust, trust-fund baby from Athens, Georgia who's also a molecular biophysics and biochemistry major (pre-med).
I just finished Face Timing with Sunny, one of Lisa and my roommates.
She’s an edgy half-a-laugh, and I can’t wait to see her in person.
Sunny’s a slipa and a seductive gadabout - this poem is about her summer:
She’s a treacherous lover whose infidelities could populate
a city of confessions. Apparently, the streets we ignorantly
travel, are crowded with immediate, sordid, physical wants.
And Sunny, she can see them, like blinking neon bar lights,
feel them, like radio waves the rest of us monkeys miss.
Does she seduce the Waffle House waitress (in the restroom),
the professor (in the closet), the Urban Outfitter salesgirl
(dressing room), the dental receptionist (supply room),
the bar girl who rejects everyone else that hits on her
(backroom), or do they seduce her?
“How do you know?” I asked her once.
“I know,” she said, nonchalantly purring like a big, Serengeti cat after a kill. Now, you might ask - it’s legit - how do I know these trysts are real?
Well, at school, she brings a different girl to her room almost every night.
They pass through our common area quietly, on the way to her room.
And, like you and all of us - she carries a camera - and uses it.
Her cloud archive is an erotic, deep dive into a hidden America.
Flipping through it leaves me breathless, and I’m not fem-facing.
If she sold it to ‘The Getty’ they’d have to open a new wing.
.
.
Songs for this:
i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red
Lava by Still Woozy
.
.
half-a-laugh = someone with a biting humor
slipa = a crazy girl
fem-facing = a girls-girl, a le-boy, a lesbian