Long Fixated Poems

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


Premium Member A Picnic With Pablo Neruda

Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll

On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering

We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling

Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright

Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume

We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink

Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon

Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.

Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains

“I love you…I love you”

Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze

I fall upon my knees

My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free

“I love you…I love you…I love you”
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Dancing Lesson

Like most kids growing up, we liked music and sports.
Lots of us learned how to play ball and participate in various kinds of competitive sports. Lots of us also enjoyed listening to the music.  Many of us even learned how to dance a step or two; some became really good at it.  A few of us never learned to dance at all.  I was among ‘the few’ who never learned how to dance.

I remember trying to learn to dance sometime between the age of 12 or 13.  Yes, it was the very first time I ever danced with a girl, and she was the one who tried to teach me how.  It was not a boy-girl type of friendship because she was at least three years my senior.  She just took the time with a little boy who became interested in learning how to dance.


Although I was a complete failure at it, she did her best to teach me.  But I must say that those few dancing moments were very happy ones that became fixated in my memory.

It’s been more than 50 years ago, but as we go through life, we learn to treasure some of those special moments.   I don’t know what ever happened to my volunteer dancing instructor name Mary, or even if she remembers that little boy’s slow dance with her.   But if I should ever see Mary again, I’ll be sure to inform her that it wasn’t her fault that I never learned dance.  cj 10062007 PS
Form: Narrative

On the First On the Vest

October 1, 1-
960: a logic game
Seasoned with deceits.

October 1, 1-
960: When our freedom
Swallowed us, captive.

October 1, 1-
960: When the white folks
Left our Land with our freedom.

October 1, 1960:
Mercury of disgrace, Venus of captive. 
How long have we awaited
You to come and lay
With 'Us' In the glowing chamber. 
We fell for you. When dazed
With captive and a-thirst of 'Love'. 
But you arrived with a gourd
And emptied on us fiend.

October 1, 1960, 
Though not your fault, 
But the wailing infant's, 
Who despised the breast milk, 
When her teeth were milk still. 
Regarding her request
She was given a meat, 
Though warned by her mother
Not to agitate for the folly act. 
But she graciously enjambed her
Milk-teeth to the meat and it
Broke her teeth and wouldn't paved
For succeeding germination.

October 1, 1960:
Now her mother mocked 
Her, weeping and gnashing her
Deteriorating blood-stained teeth.

And then i've we longed to
Chew(Be freed) but the lost teeth
Gets us fixated in indecision.

Yet, you can move on. 
If your inhabitants reconcile
With unity. Biafra ignorants, 
Southern jingoists, Eastern Sorcerers, 
Western manipulators:
        When a broom leaves his 
        Stead, any foe may get rid
        Of him. But when he retain
        His dignity among his folk. 
        Harm to him will be no harm.

October 1, 1-
960, Unite your folk
And your teeth will again grow. 
      17:09:28:11:25
Form: Haiku

Premium Member Am I In Heaven

Here she comes
Walking in with attitude 
Oh my… ya
She’s all mine 

Her flowing dark hair
Hips swaying oh my
My eyes fixated to her
A smile… dress in red lipstick 
It’s like I’ve been sent to heaven

What a beautiful heart
Beneath her perfect breast
Makes mine skip a beat 
So unbelievable 
Am I in heaven 

Her touch 
A slight touch against my skin
as her long legs step by my side
With her hither look 
Glancing back at me
Teasing me to follow her

A trail of silk lay on the ground
Her perfume hypnotizing 
Standing there with her long hair
Moonlight bathing her beauty
Her skin glistening before me
Am I in heaven

Premium Member Her Name Is Journey



You are destined to go places;
Preferably God-centered places
Reached via roads less traveled.

The few that blaze such God-centered 
Places are fixated and permeated
With a strong sense of purpose.

Moreover, when traveled, onlookers
And bystanders are quick to distract,
Which may cause traverlers to subtract,

Losing traction as well as losing
Sìght of their God given purpose.
But may you be ever focused, never
Slowed nor tempted to switch tracts.

May any who oppose you be the
Amunition that only recharges you.
May nothing said or done cause a discharge.
Your name is Journey. Full speed ahead!


Destiny Helper

You will help someone 
And someone will help you
We all need destiny helpers

Destiny’s position is clear
It wants to be fulfilled in your life!
It brings help so that your purpose can be fulfilled!
Wake up and be ready
Get fixated and captivated with your talents and skills
So that you can turn into a better you with
The encouragement of a destiny helper
Now is the time to learn a lesson
There will be a session in life that 
You will have a destiny helper which
You will need it in your life

Destiny helper
A keeper to your fulfillment
Chase your purpose
If you are in a daze
Raise your expectations
So that you never get bored!
Strike a chord with destiny and
Let your gift feed humanity even
If a river of darkness comes your way and
Remember, you belong to your purpose
Because you have a Destiny Helper!

Mark Frank

Copyright 2023
© Mark Frank  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sunsphere

Sunsphere
Sunsphere, purple to orange,
yellow in the middle,
setting at the rear.
Behind the wheel, gripping the steel,
Apollo, anxious, scans for falling flowers
along the roadside.
My petal scent
permeates the Lumina —
maroon in colour,
interior tone matching.
It is his ride,
our style.
I will never leave, even if we wreck
at breakneck speed.
I’ve got the need;
he’s got the deed.
My own Jimmy Dean —
flashing red and green,
amber
and lean,
colours of the scene,
of the chase.
The urban heart paces
its own race to the climax,
where it might end,
where it might dissolve away
in a state of perfect pink bliss.
The body’s calibrated systems all lined up
for twenty seconds of elation.
I tune the station.
He smiles at the recognition.
This song carried us along —
all the pit stops, all the speed bumps.
It first played eons past:
sweet sixteen, neon skies blast
green wonder overhead.
He was not there; we had not met.
A song that touched the loneliness inside.
I realized I was not like everyone else;
I excommunicated myself.
And when I found him, I denied this song existed.
It reminded me of that time before my heart enlisted
in the endless dream.
I pretended I had never experienced sadness.
I was in pure spirit —
not doctored by my own health
or chemistry.
I was strong,
untouched by the dirty empires.
But it was false.
I had already fallen in the mud.
Music was the rope
holding me close.
No one offered their arms,
no one offered their charms
to save me from dismay.
I clung to whole notes
and registers —
treble and bass.
I only had theory to seal my edges.
I was not restrained, not in feeling
nor in the larynx.
I was fixated on expression,
the lexicon of my wounded soul.
He smiles at the remembrance
as the song plays again —
not because the lyrics are happy
or because it calls back pleasant polaroids.
We are still here,
cohabiting the vessel of our escapade,
together,
rolling through the hills of sonic recollection.
And here, in the passenger seat of an old Chevy,
I can finally name my sorrow
I can let the tears rise
if they wanted to break the levy of my eyes —
forest-coloured iris —
if I had reason to cry
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Our Autobiography

finding ourselves here
awareness self-aware
ensouling form feeble 
sensory touch external
our lower mind stirring
found ego urges rising
oft against conscience 
throttling our innocence 
reinforcing this torture
veiling love hues subtler 
until we became dead
going where desires led
in cyclic joy and sorrow
fearful of the morrow
anchored in narrowness 
living in stuporousness 

over time we did realise
that love never does size
playful non-judgmental 
ever vibrant and amiable
aglow moment to moment 
in joy without abatement 
continuum heart centric
imbibing currents eclectic 
simply flowing like breeze
we embrace and release
when thoughts disappear
as waves of bliss spear
magically and osmotically 
vivifying form beauteously 
representing flow of life
devoid of ego borne strife

getting to this recognition 
we opt for polarity rotation
resting thought fragmented 
identity driven and limited
releasing flow of attention
in vibrant void of cessation 
wherein in childlike trust go
wherever winds of love blow
with no trace of expectation 
as also sense of anticipation 
welcoming offered surprise 
there being no ego to apprise
whereupon one with universe
aligned with the divine verse
thus in but not of this world
innate blissfulness unfurled 

choosing to abide in silence
we rekindle loving innocence 
as Gods essence boundless
ever entwined with oneness
this earth is our play centre
where in joy we may canter
mind body but an interface
being breathed by His grace
thus no doing need be done 
save exiting ego stagnation 
fixated not at any coordinate
tranquil in stillness sedate
melding head with our heart
with all one and none apart
is-ness of being-ness bliss
Gods hand continues to bless

05-March-2021
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Windy Gale

The wind is blowing,
Blowing strong and boisterous 
It's the wind of change
Tiffany truffles truncation.

Gale winds bowing to the
Prayer called by the Muezzin
The wind gauge is fixated
To the North's polarity.
Algorithms has altered its course.

All runing away from the curse
Of the dying whale marooned 
In the shallow waters of the lagoon
Sneaky slithering snakes
In the hub of damnation.
Dooms days gong sounding.

Gloomy reverberations all over,
Cheering jeers from the crowd.
Breeches from the leeches of Gbongbon.
Having been ditched by the es of Ab...

Orphaned by their loss 
Enters the blame game
Characterised by sore losers
Winner's have many friends
But woe to you if you are a loser
That is the nature of the game.
(Written on the 10th April, 2015)

CONFESSIONS OF A FLAWED HEART

It hurts to see you hurt; it breaks me to see you hurt because of me. I don’t like what’s going on, but how can I possibly stop it?
I am not perfect, not good enough for you, but I am trying. I want what’s best for you, but what I had in mind is not what seems to be best for you. I got my mind fixated on your life, fixated on fixing your flaws and nursing your traumas, but I had it all wrong.
I got myself confused about what’s best for you: leaving or staying. My problem is I got it all fixated on wanting to leave so you can be free and happy. I think I'm toxic because I take time to heal from events. All that’s in my mind is: Why her? What happened? Why on the day we had a fight? Will it happen again? But that’s not an excuse for my actions.
I am scared. You are the first one to see all of me, and you are yet to leave because of it. I fear not loving you and missing a chance to love and to be loved, and I regret it. I always fear endings because I am used to losing everything I love.
So please tell me, “How can I love you without pain, and how can I not love you without regretting it?”

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace