Long Fever Poems
Long Fever Poems. Below are the most popular long Fever by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fever poems by poem length and keyword.
Glancing with a stare,
pouncing with a thought,
the jungle fever is never far off.
The sirens blare to the senses,
the sight, the scent, the glow is so soft.
The pull is there,
tugging that has no care,
these instincts howl through your soul.
Responsibility knocks,
but the door is already ajar,
marching into this passage
out of control.
There is no turning back,
with this unquenchable seduction
just within your reach.
A longing gaze
sparks the fire,
a touch, an embrace,
finally forbidden desire.
This union comes
in continuous waves,
cresting and crashing
in a turbulent sea.
Then the finale occurs,
bodies gone limp.
The waters calm,
the sun now rising,
the peaceful eye of this storm
will not last very long.
It darkens again,
this time with vengeance,
guilt, shame and betrayal
come for this wrong.
Your body all over mine.
Sinful, how it titillates me!
A billowing smoke, drifting
to an untold destination;
your silhouette dancing
against the fading light
of my dreams.
You taste sweeter than nectar
on my tongue. The mischievous smile
on your face, beguiling.
Your come-hither stare,
so passionate and seductive.
It brings me down to my knees
like an army surrendered.
That charm...that charm of yours
is like an intoxicating fragrance
That wink...that flirty wink
the intriguing intimation it bares!
Oh, how you tease me!
The heaven in your sighs
tranquilizes me
like a sedative.
The magic in your touch;
such fever it engenders!
You haunt my reverie
with your irresistible allure.
Date written: 06/26/2020
I am exhausted from this dance with misery.
I feel faint at the intenseness of my tribulations.
My sudden spirit lingers in the shadows of despair.
I no longer want to whirl around in the turbulent winds of iniquity.
I wish to be free of black vipers snapping at my heels.
Release me O'Lord from this burdensome fever of condemnation.
I wish to alienate myself from corrupt disparities in this vast darkness and bathe in the sun.
The thirst of my soul desires a quenching sip of thou divine grace.
Let me dine on peace and spiritual prosperity.
Give me the strength to shed this evil raiment.
Let me rest my weary soul on the road to redemption.
copyright 2016 Labyrinth of Life
When all falls...apart
at the seams of the impact
stitch up some scribbles on paper
and find meaning from descent
The fountain pen never fails once smudges
have carefully dried over dissolute tears
pale into insignificant blotches untold
The scale tips when expression
finds designation and flows slowly
from shackles and utter despair
Wail if you must but find your pitch
let fever assemble the heat to cool
down up again in letters and script
When everything falls...rise above it
from catacombs and pitiful pits
mute the cacophonous silence
And write to your hearts discontent
Sooner or later the broken soul will tell
another story to link freedom and ink
Sometimes in the night she creeps into my bed,
Her unsuspecting target is my head.
I lie awake and listen to her words,
So often they ring true and new
And full of promise.
Sometimes her mind will change
And I must ponder her meaning.
Never bold and brash and angry
But ever thoughtful,
Sowing seeds that may prove fruitful,
Or will they wither and be dead
By morning light ?
In deepest sleep perhaps,
So many silent nights go by
Without her coming in the darkness.
Restive, I enjoy her welcome touch,
Her words will echo in my head,
Tumbling and turning, round and round,
Then in excited fever, as in a trance,
I reach out for my scribbling pad.
Her words secured, I now relax,
My mind once more returned
To fitful dreaming.
My wife, long suffering, now wide awake
And restless in her marital bed,
Asking herself "For goodness sake,
Why did I a poet wed ?"
When others sleep
I lie awake
Waiting
For night
To become day.
Rubbing
The sun
From my eyes
Everything I
Tried to forget
Comes back
Like an angry wave.
Hearing about the hurricane
And the neglect
I went to New Orleans
Barely knew the place
Only what I heard
Creoles and Mardi Gras
The Big Easy and
Good times
A distant city singing
Its own sad song
From the South.
Long days and
Months later
A fever came round
From damp nights and bad food
A public health doctor
Looked at me
With an innocence
And worry
I haven’t seen
Since childhood.
Restless
One night
I set out
Towards the outskirts
Of the city.
Fires burned everywhere
Violence
Lay waiting
In gaping holes
Of empty houses
And abandoned cars
The spider web of
Death
Hovered above
Waiting for its next victim
I thought I saw the worst
But I hadn’t.
On a garbage strewn road
Was an old woman
Patiently
Stirring some sort of gumbo
In a beat up tin pot
I approached her
In the darkness
We were
Two solitary
Figures on a dirt road
The space between us
No more than a foot
From the fire
The veins on the back of her hands
Stood out
Her face hidden in the flickering shadows
“I’m noticing you
You’re a stranger
You don’t belong here.”
Looking past me
She asked,
“Tell me mister
If they put a man on the moon
Can't they rescue people in a flood?’
I had no answer
Tapping the spoon
Against the side of the pot
She spoke to no one in particular,
“Must be
We got to be people
On the moon
Before anyone can help us”.
Behind us
Shadows moved
Heavy voices were heard.
A sudden downpour came
The rain turning
The dirt road to mud
The old woman shrugged and left
I walked back to camp
Leaving as lost
As I came.
The night
Became a faint memory
I slept forever
Exhausted
I opened my eyes
To see wet clothes
And muddy boots
In the corner
Of my room
Then I knew
The night
Hadn’t been
A dream after all.
She screamed honey honey
Come see rats
He rushed for a slasher
ready to terminate descendants Muroidea
And sons of rodent
Where honey where
The the rat killer asked standing like superman
The woman shouted here here
The man asked under sheets?
The woman said yes honey yes
Rats in sheets
Rattus rattus honey
Come kill Rattus rattus
Her eyes were now blazing fire
And the man understood
He crawled like spider-man
Not to scare the muroid rodents away
His hand lay on the cotton mouse
And she started screaming again
Kill it Honey Kill it
He shot seven plus six plus two plus...
And her classical swine fever faded away
As all rats ran into their honeysuckle
Till she screams again
Rats Rats Ratter
It's full moon fever on this cloudy Scottish night
Dark angels leave their roosts in shadowy eerie flight
To the fields they fly as if summoned by an invisible force
This date has always been, it's just a matter of course
For always on this night when the scarecrows face becomes lit
A village would soon be divided in terror screaming split
Frenzied inhabitants, would run amok in killing spree
Frothing at the mouth whilst staring at skeletal trees
The moonlight captures flapping silhouettes of black
Swooping down in stealth their attack shows no lack
Beaks in laceration whilst crimson oozes free
Like headless chickens they run in panic spree
The dawn draws ever near amidst scenes of carnage spew
Bodies abound in deadened lie, as the new morn views
What's strange about this happening, is the lost are never mourned
It's as if they were never born, their birth never adorned
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-10.php
Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.
Forays so fraught with fine failure;
forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
for folly to feud for a field.
Forced forwards with fleetness of foot;
firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Forces fight so ferociously,
fratricide set free on this field.
Forthright and filial feelings;
families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
Entered in Brian Strand's "Contest No 515".
(1st Place)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
She opened the door and tiptoed in,
golden luscious hair, tossed to spin,
her legs were naked,longer on heels,
Here she was with my evening meals!
Blue eyes smiling behind black lashes,
Mask on face and shoe without laces!
She adjusted bed to serve me food,
For man of romance, so far so good!
She poured me water, from a bottle,
My heart was going at full throttle!
Her perfume put my mind in a trance
Every bit of me was up for romance!
Some evening she brought me a treat!
My high fever was all from love heat!
one day she slowly took off her mask,
poured me coffee from thermos flask,
That was the day I saw her full face,
her smile was running out of space.
From that day on, mask she never wore,
With every smile I was in love even more!
fever came down, the bill was high,
I left the hospital with a deep sigh!
Now I wander in thunder and in rain
So I can get sick and go back again!
Written 21/07/2020
Premier competition winner
10 to 20 lines on Mask
Sponsor Mohan Chutani