Long Fishnet Poems
Long Fishnet Poems. Below are the most popular long Fishnet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fishnet poems by poem length and keyword.
Glide of Falcon broken, channel smoothed
Transmission snap equals idle start
Dysfunctional gypsy destitute
Tricky situation screams for bird to depart
Tear away from failure with a free heart
Feathers propell her across the Caribbean
Flotsam washed up on shore Cottesloe
Beak weapon a compass to onyx oblivion
Binoculars barely detect tiny Como below
Jacobs Well regular fades beside posh Calypso
Ukelele strum seductively ruffles her plumage
Zephyr lift of anonymity instantly relaxes
Foreign terminus lures with image elusive
Sandy sanctum camps where regret collapses
Wigwams woven from Falcon's broken axis
Spit roast sizzles sin, black chunks blown away dust
Foil wrapped worry falls apart, ceases to matter
Scaffold stands bold though basic, vehicle rust
Drives psyche to triumph taut sail regatta
Egg whip pillow sips cocktails in Coolangatta
Gigantuan coast plays host to plumage patched
Bandaged beak hushed satiated dulcet
Fishnet fascination fetched her finest catch
Predator snatches status over physical impulses
Prey clamped in cabaret calibre talons convulses
23rd May
Bird can stay
Dirty martinis and Cuban cigars
Fishnet stockings on hookers Playing my guitar.
Long days at the beach
Women without wedding rings
Making a list of my favorite things
Sex before Breakfast
Out running the cops
A judge that grants bail
Then getting bailed out.
Books by Sandra Cisneros
And Renaissance Art,
All of these things have a special place in my heart
But when the bars close
And I'm still sober
My dealer doesn't answer the phone
I think on these things
To keep from getting pissed off
And I express how I feel
in a poem.
Rock n' Roll music and classic cars
Rockford Files reruns
Deep cuts that leave scars
My probation officer not making me drop
Dive bars bad girls and musty bookshops
A day at Wrigley
Watching the Cubs
Cool Tucson mornings
And falling in love
The sound of my children's laughter
and the first day of spring
What an exceptional life I've had to be part of all these things.
But when I'm hungover
And I've got warrants
Or when my car breaks down
I think about all of my favorite things
And haul my butt out of town
JSB
Eroticism -
a supple spine in a wanting curve
and a foolish fever simmers a scarlet heartbeat—
temptation is an aphrodisiac
and guilt— a red kite lost in a hot hurricane
a strand of blue moonstones plunge to titillate
illicit points of contact caught by starlight
restless yin-nerve-endings take an edgy stance—
primal presence pearls beneath parted flimsy fabric
ah.. gossamer chic taken and tossed by windy hands
freeing moons and earth captured in your orbit
golden hair a dirty tangle flies— streamers
of infidelity seized in someone else’s hands
heat-seeking rhythm throbs within walls
a slappin’ poppin’ bass line frenzy
our bodies wild like a warehouse rave
a driving beat hugging hips caught in a fishnet shimmy
high on oxytocin and fizz of affaire du jour—
unbridled breakers breaking vows in a whipped up gale
as hedonistic hot spots revel in unrestrained spindrift
.. it’s a jungle for conjugal love ..
volcanic ash streaks a feral romance
carnal cat (a hungry stippled stray)
pins me down like prey in a dopamine storm
where edges rendezvous soft and hard and fuse
a silhouette of geometry body-painted in black sands
as the surge uncurls the waves—
dreamscape escape on a slick onyx sheet
nakedness blurs in the rough charcoal smudge
shapes shaded with a roll on the rim of a graphite night
the art of cheating sins stain a seedy portrait on skin
yet basks in the moonbeam’s push into the pulse
without mercy or justification—
just unadulterated
adulterated
euphoria!
A Buffed Male Body walks along the beach
A Female watch
Her eyes like a fishnet catch
Summer heat warmth in the urges
Sweat pouring down the male buffed body
If he were to pose, the Female would faint
The sand and roaring ocean making the observation more distinct and intrigue
A push back would soon be Give in
The Female was thinking about a splash into the ocean
She would want that Buffed Guy to be her Lifeguard and give her mouth to mouth
Yet the hot sun is not making it easy
The Female is picturing in her mind of thought in censorship
Moment
Just imagine a Herculean Male Body and a Female curve with all the moves turning up the volume
Summer has already started ahead of schedule
The Female wants that Buffed guy in her own Beach module
Time to split
Bistro blowhards jump around in Johnny time
Bota bing bota bang Bota bang bota bing.
Dendrites are clicking, where did they get teeth?
Who invited them anyway? Gray matter coughs.
Fishnet stockings fairly frolic along my brain highway.
My soul shuts herself off, not wanting involvement.
I am on pizazz power; polka dotted persimmon pot pie.
No one better ask me anything or even give me a look.
What’s happening? My eyes wonder. They are on fire.
My throat is tight, wearing a girdle of ridiculousness.
I keep my mouth in a straight line, figuring out nothing.
Sharing no secrets or ideas, closing down for self-protection.
Sue lurks in the shadows of the night
She stands on the street corner in the red light area of town
Her body is silhouetted by street light flickering through the naked trees
Wrecked by years of drug abuse she craves her next fix
Skin-tight clothing outlines every curve of her aching body
High-heeled shoes and fishnet tights complete her seedy outfit
It's a bitterly cold November night; Sue pulls her jacket around her body,
it only just skims the hem of her miniskirt, giving no protection from the elements,… she struggles desperately to keep warm
Eventually a car pulls up,
A guy rolls down the window and she saunters over
After a brief conversation she gets in and they drive away
He’s in the market for sex
Desperation forces her to sell her body
Inspired by but not for contest
3/23/18
Before it’s too late
Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting
A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream
Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes,
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats,
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table
Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk,
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets,
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious
Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late
While from a secluded archway…
Taped to the door’s plexiglass pane, a portrait
Of a Savior with ardent heart burning
Sunlight invades with the turning of hinges
Untethering the hospitality of Tony, the lone waiter
His Brazilian arms are swinging doors, open to embrace
He wore fishnet leggings to the Halloween Jamboree
Leather corset paired with his jet black hair,
Moving with grace at the age of seventy
To the right of the register towering above
The marble counter, the burnout teen dreams
Of welding underwater. A master of sparks
Under the pressure of the indomitable sea
Within his perspective the walls contort,
Xanax whispers in voices of an angel’s Hark
“They won’t know if the register’s short”
Behind the oven is the maestro of cheese and painted tomato
Luis whistles and sings ballads in the tongues of banda
Smiling at nothing with teeth all jagged and yellow
Welcoming all who wander with an “Ah mi amigo, ¿como estas?”
A jolly grin and laughing lungs lift a belly made of pizza dough
The oiled gears of a restaurant’s engine, fueled by cervezas
Joe rides into the shop he owns on his jet black Harley
To work with the line cooks in his leather steel toed boots
He was once Philly cop, and he may still be stuck in center city
He never lets his gun leave the secure embrace of his belt loop
Yet under such a Italian-American macho man brovato
Lies the soul of a tender soul that loves to cook for his community
Across the street, sunflowers raise their winter withered heads
The sizzling steak sandwiches sing in a chorus of cholesterol
The leather booths welcome anyone escaping the World’s dread
So come to Carmines, a source of solace for any and all
The blackboard waited stark and bare
As yet, there was no teacher there
A striding vision, took the chalk
You know… I recognised that walk
Miss Malone’s Dulcet tones
Sent a shudder through my bones
Her flowing hair with blonde highlights
Her mini skirt and fishnet tights
The way she stood with feet spread wide
And the purpose in her stride
I gave my mate a little nudge
His loving gaze just wouldn’t budge
I said, “Forget your lurid thoughts,
We’re barely out of schoolboy shorts.”
He nodded at her crimson lips
The wiggle in her swaying hips
I said, “You’re fourteen, feeling flirty,
That there teacher’s nigh on thirty!”
He said, “I’ve heard her name is Maisie,
She makes me feel all oops-a-daisy”
I said, “She’s glam, that much is true,
But truly, she ain’t right for you.”
It seemed he thought me quite remiss
And so I had to tell him this,
“She seems quite able in her job
But last week, Miss Malone… was Bob!”
Always doing something
plus I have opinions
Winning the war in Ukraine
pain I can’t explain
Saving for retirement
kayaking to the huckleberries across the River Styx
Kisses sweet or smell of
don’t pretend you don’t care
If you just watch the sky an hour each day you’ll never be ill
without plenty to say about everything you’ll get better right away
Disrobing and bathing, how big and dark the universe is
not that I accept their god
You get what you believe, a truly scary thought
man sees man in his mirror that is self-doubt
Contraceptives in place and pleasures today
drifting toward perpetual armageddon
Suffering and struggling toward vague goals
keeping your past functioning as a factor in the present
That irritating constant need to survive
prepare for a powerful anesthesia, irresistible chemical processes
Life goes on without a hiccup
you pays you money and you takes you chances
Some people go dancing in fishnet stockings
you’ll soon lose interest in wearing the cap of a fool
Your friends are the men you’ll want in your foxhole
the wound that never heals in the end is all you’ll feel
You’ll remove all your clothes, naked before the ladies
and if it comes to that, you’ll kill, on orders from whom?
Basic science and ancient arts
that must be what faith means
If, as they say, the cells of the body are replaced every seven years
fire makes earth into air, air makes earth into dust, water makes earth
into mud