Long Fizzed Poems
Long Fizzed Poems. Below are the most popular long Fizzed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fizzed poems by poem length and keyword.
For there was the place
Under an angelic moon sky
There was the face
Of love and at me it smiled
The evening did chill
The wind from the north
But eyes that burned life filled me with warmth
A smile for which to live, a smile for which to die.
For there was the moment
When a boy changed into a man
There was this electricity
That fizzed at the touch of her hand
There was the love
That I knew was my life
Beauty beyond reason
My heart which was screaming
There was the reason
I knew love when she smiled
There was the reason
I knew love at first sight
To me she’s eternal
Everything wrong somehow became right
She is my reason
She is my life
She is the meaning
She is my wife.
I remember the first day well,
with your glorious bright red hair you burst into the room
like a struck match,and everyone's face lit up.
Model, comedienne, everyone's favourite Auntie, crush,
paramour in dreams, happiness in stilettos, all bundled into one
like a Swiss Army Knife.
Watching you smile was like opening a Christmas present,
and when you laughed, it fizzed and popped like party wine.
When you boarded my bus, akin to some lovesick schoolboy
I'd cross my fingers
and wish and wish that you'd sit with me,
and when you did, though I sat still, my whole insides went 'HOORAY!!'.
From Reiki healing to old Hollywood musicals,
whatever you spoke of
I was held rapt.
You could read the ingredients off the back of a tin of curry
and you would still enchant me.
I'm sure that the moment you were conceived, the Good Lord,
like a bomb disposal expert,
cut the wires marked 'sadness', and you emerged not with a cry,
but a giggle.
If you were any lovelier, you would have exploded,
and the whole town would have been covered
in a thick, gooey layer of lovely.
What a magnificent disaster that would have been.
Instead, you were taken cruelly-
Cancer isn't fussy whose friends it takes,
and on the clearest days my sunshine seems dimmer now.
Grief that soaks like cold rain only lessened by gratitude in having known you.
Just wish we'd crossed paths sooner.
Or I could live my life backwards.
Miss you x
Gaynor Wadsworth R.I.P 2017
For contest 'I wish I knew you when you were young',
sponsor Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
To ourselves alone both had the place
and we dropped to our knees face to face
so close our breath mingled
our nerves and skin tingled
no credit card would fit through the space
her eyes wide in anticipation
her chest heaved with such expectation
a look pleading, needy
my face just plain greedy
hand thrust down with no hesitation
layers torn off I fell back and stared
for this I had been quite unprepared
with reckless abandon
she just left my hand on
as the moment passed by that we shared
oh so gently her weight did she shift
leaning backwards to let my hand lift
as I fizzed from the thrill
of the new hammer drill
she bought me Christmas day as a gift.
November 5th, 2015
Braced to fight tough for triumph
Stockpiled testosterone
Fizzed bicarb in her bloodstream
Sucked bitterness alone
Flooded home, battle surmounted
Safeguard marshy roost
Maladvised maveric trudged pond
Stacking bags of no use
Swirling water swarmed by spiders
Fear erased from register
Starless, deserted street industrial
Duty lead dim endeavour
Depth defiantly rejected her efforts
Scream's echoing ignorant
Yelled "help" at selected emptiness
Six months pregnant Sigrid
Fortfied ego, throat sore, exhausted
Dry in her fortress upstairs
Concede agitated bruises encumber
Defences laid dull despairs
31st March
Dependence is not defeat
Taken sideways, swept as a web strung spider
Sand sugar legged staggered specimen lured by weightless
Drifters soon to be lifted by unruly tide's violent
Fears ditched for the squall enthrall of ocean fizzed caress
Bolstered by booming blue brew, cork floated
Swell surmounts without pattern or rationale, contankerous
Bobbed from below, five foot heads promoted
Bounced jack in boxes sprung from rolling realm rapturous
By tide's untimed tumult, sea steamed unite
Sapphire stew participants simmer, softening vegetables
Drawn to next wily wave, crest conquer delight
Drag of salt soaked slow motion moon cascade incredible
Roaring turquoise rise, crumb humans crafted
Into toys at mercy of lapis lazuli, control's essential revoke
Track formation, tremor with desirous laughter
Brought to cool commotion by compulsion utterly unspoke
26th September
- For Ace -
We have scarce put our lips
to a drink of sparkle,
through years of wishes that
fizzed, only to fizzle.
No cork missile has exclaimed
into our ceiling’s muted white,
trailing bottled-up yearnings
a triumph has given flight.
Rarely has a foam-clad genie
danced high with a splash of hair,
sprung by a sudden silver lining
from her golden-necked lair.
But why should we not toast
so many years of quiet bliss,
anoint so much unsung labor
with the frisky nectar’s kiss?
Why should our small victories
not be awash in shiny amber,
when we’ve held fast to purpose
against darkest days’ temper?
Why, my dear, do we mourn
lost plots of grander scope,
but not raise high the twinkles
to the courage of saner hope?
Before this life we’ve shared
joins yesterday’s relics,
let’s drink till we’re tipsy to
our ordinary heroics.
I wasn't ready for it when it hit.
Pathetic, self-absorbed, wallowing in grief,
plaiting the threads of self-disgust and wit,
I toyed with tragic sonnets for relief.
The night was hot. The cleft of Guadalin
crammed air, weighed down with jasmine, hard to breathe,
like musk in tall clay jars. I heard a skein
of song. It rose. It swirled. It dipped and writhed.
There, at my window, I was held, transfixed.
It was the ancient song of blood and soil.
That wailing voice was stinging, bitter - but was mixed
with darker tremelos which fizzed and boiled,
then sank again. It almost seemed the shock
of that shrill voice, embodiment of pain,
had stunned guitarist's hand. His rhythmic knock
reminded me of coffins in the rain.
Voluptuous and frightening at one time,
mellifluous and jarring, fresh yet rotten,
the music was both guttural and sublime:
my puerile self-obsession was forgotten!
Wrested from my writing by a drone
which signified that I was not alone
in its black and yellow jumper it had come
fat and furry, bigger than my thumb
it cruised around the room in lazy eights
before it worked itself into a state
against the window wings fizzed on the glass
as fruitlessly it struggled to get past
annoyed at every corner on inspection
too close to even see it's own reflection
the outside world all plainly in it's sight
but out of reach, no this cannot be right
it thought “the flowers in the garden I can see
but cannot fly to them- how can this bee?”
I pitied this paradox of aviation
for being in a desperate situation
it's compound eyes with panoramic view
blind to the neighbouring window it flew through.
“ I feel your pane” I told the frame inspector
too knackered now to gather any nectar
and went and fetched a beaker and some card
then scooped it up, released it in the yard.
We, too, in life in lazy circles go
until whatever circumstances throw
leaves us adrift, no chance of some release
we thrash round for solutions, have no peace
take on our problems close up, face to face
instead of stepping back and giving space
so we may then take in the wider view
the answer is nearby what we should do
so stop banging your head and then you'll see
you won't need glass and card.
Unlike the bee.
It was kind of late,
the town had gone to sleep
while some had woke up real early.
Nothing bustled, nothing moved quickly,
the moon had faded into a dark graveyard.
Micky's was open,
blue and yellow neon
fizzed static in the dewy dark.
She was not young
but she looked good in cowboy boots.
He had not shaved
but he looked almost sober
in his stained denim shirt.
They both held a bottle of JD
at the cash-out counter.
However, cupid was out of luck
for they wanted a drink
more than each other.
Still and all,
they would meet again
under a new sleepwalking star,
both holding handcuffed hands,
drunk at the back
of a cops patrol car.
It was a younger time,
a clunky age
a dial-up decade.
Not knowing why
or why he should not,
he sent out needy signals
into the vast unseen
seeking worlds
populated with only females.
Many were drawn into his orbit
many failed to respond.
Eventually a divorced lady from
the fabled city of Doncaster
seemed willing
to be drawn into his net.
Sensual seeds were planted
in a garden they both watered.
It was love; it was true.
By an enveloped voyaging
they exchanged
photographs taken years earlier.
For hours, a muted
disappointment fizzed and spun
around a digital cosmos;
both grew distant,
together they dialed-out,
sending new rockets of desire
unto more invisible
yet detectable applicants.