Long Flared Poems
Long Flared Poems. Below are the most popular long Flared by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flared poems by poem length and keyword.
Warning - Mature.
Sweet night, a blanket made from scented space - holds this would-be poet in its arms.
Tightly - yet with care. Caring - yet with passion. Smiles her heart. Trembles her dreams. Hides them silverine in moments indescribable. Night caresses her spirit with unspoken thoughts, echoing from places foreign to her understanding.
From time taken by liberties, he waits, stubbled chin resting in broad cupped palm. He longs for her. Needs in the flame of passion's roar to fly that time long laid in stone.
Clouds drift. Days flee. Eons wreak weather to endless confusion. Creatures fall within time. Fossils lie crushed in their past. Ocean drowns land. Land erupts from water. Breathing rents the air. One step. A second. Knees buckle. She waits in her wondering why and what.
Hidden within cloud where the highest mountains touch the sky, the man sits. Alone, he is, wrapped in silence. He groans, wanting. Weeps. Prays to the gods, calls to the elements. Weeps more.
A sound, gentle, soft said, drifts space. Man hears. Wonders. Frowns. Understands. Wanting becomes pain. He groans. He moans. He laughs! Somewhere, she sleeps!
A rippled breath gasps my palm,
floats 'tween fingers flexed,
darts space behind my ear, laughs my neck
caressing thoughts I've not yet dreamed..
what language now,
what meanings, what delight,
pray tell?
you touch me with a hint of
honeyed power -
oh sybarite -
wrap me in heat so high I sizzle in my sleep..
look me.. sheet rushed aside I wait,
I moan, I sigh
to float 'tween fingers formed too much,
intentions still unsure but now.. oh now..
you lean forward
closer..
closer..
inhaling deeply..
sensing my gender
sighing -
sighing yet more
until..
temptation dared
and passion flared
I soar, I fly,
thereby -
thereby
however perceived
evol becomes reality
turned inside out upon its cap of what you will
emotions motion..
tumble in
turn and
turnabout,
spinning words, knitting language into shape..
explorers of such subjects
binding heart to hope and - yes
exotic inamorati all,
lie bed or floor or chair or shore
let loose that secret word
that spell - that lost civility
from A past where and when
when
one word
once found
once felt
once shared
was is forever..
love
There’s many a tale that spreads across the night
when the sun o’er the plains yields to campfire light.
Tales about cowboys, who once roamed the plains,
scratching a living using their rope and reins
A few were happy when it came time to tell,
but many of them were just sadder than hell
Cause most of them ended with some poor old soul
lying all alone in a forgotten hole
There's a story I recall about a man,
that made his way north from the wide Rio Grande
Arlie he was called by those that new him best
folks round the Rockin Bar J just called him Tex
When the punchin’ all played out Tex left his home
in search of somewhere with enough space to roam
He found Montana where mountains scraped the sky
with enough space where he could live right or die
Tex knew a few summers and could feel his age
whenever Montana snows covered the sage
He felt time too quickly closing in on him
his hearing was fading, and his sight was dim
Round the bunks they told of a stallion named Ghost
catchin’ him would give a man the right to boast
They said that horse can’t be caught by any man
so all through the winter Tex worked on a plan
Tex had studied that hoss and knew he was smart
the cunning of a fox with want in his heart
There wasn’t a horse that could match his pace
Tex knew he won't beat him in a flat out race
Summer had run long, this one hotter than most
Tex laid his plan to get that horse they called Ghost
With hellfire in his eyes and his nostrils flared
Ghost come down from the mountain lookin’ for mares
Now Old Tex was ready to play out his plan
he’d strung out three horses across the grassland
Twenty miles apart those geldings stood ready
for an eighty mile stretch Tex could ride steady
Tex spotted Ghost silhouetted 'gainst the sun
that horse stomped and glared then took off in a run
Ghost was in the lead and Tex brought up the back
but Tex’d studied his foe and knew where he'd track
Towards Rattlesnake Butte that stallion did run
was heading straight into that bright morning sun
'cross dried grass and sage Ghost never skipped a beat
Fast as a Chinook through that Montana heat
Ghost was fast and Tex saw him pulling ahead
but they’d reached the exchange and Tex mounted Red
Red was sure footed and as fast as the breeze
and he started closing up that gap with ease
War Horse by Steven Cooke
Taken from Cloven fields,
Where skylark and Grouse Linger.
Into the bowels of a troopship,
No scent of Morning Dew, No Bird song
Only sweat and urine,
And the distant sounds of war.
No light, no grass of home, only the whip.
For he is bound for Flanders field.
His rider glorious in his regalia, sword in hand.
He was his master now, and the horse’s salvation.
Kindness, a quiet word, an apple, their bond complete.
His last feed, bathed in a red sun,
Which hovered above the morning mist hiding yesterday’s sin.
For this is the place where death is king and reason is lost
This day, where man throws sacrifice to the gods,
Like so much sour grain, crushed, and discarded.
To blow away into the winds of time,
Recorded by nations into the ledgers of loss,
For now it is time
The lines gather, then the slow trot, their proud heads, restrained,
Their mouths foaming on the bit,
These beasts of burden knowing no fear,
A site worthy of Valhalla
Their Trust, in man, galloping where heroes dare not go
Onward, onward, they gallop,
Row on row into the fog, No grass here,
Only mud, and wire,
Waiting for the days cull.
This place, Mans ultimate betrayal,
Onward, Onward, Nostril’s flared, Eyes wide,
steam rising from his Flanks,
Every muscle, straining for the next stride.
Then the Stumble, a moment’s recovery,
Blood pours from his proud neck, then the ground.
His head rose, a hand strokes his brow, the last kindness,
A wavered shot ushers his life away, like so many before,
No one will weep for you my War horse,
No letter home,
They’ll be No mention in dispatches, No Memorial
For you are just an animal,
Sacrificed on the altar of man, left to rot in Flanders field.
But for those precious minutes, he was more than man,
This day, of all days, he kept his bond, did not flinch,
Though death was all around,
Galloped blindly through the death rattle of the guns, face on,
No retreat, Onward, Onward,
The magnificence of the horse, No equal, never forget,
For it is the shame of a nation, a sin of mankind,
To undo the hand of god.
No glory here, only an empty cup left on the altar of insanity
Taken From Cloven Fields,
Where the Skylark and Grouse Linger
For I will weep for you,
My noble friend,
My War Horse, You Magnificent Beast.
Form:
A decade of growth and decadent boom
People didn't mention the debt elephant in the room
It was the charge of the bull
Many pockets were full
The search for a higher return was the motivational pull.
But whilst stocks and shares rocked and flared
Investors held their breath in shock and fear
They seemed to forget that markets go up and markets go down
Because as long as uncertainty shows up, the cycle goes round
But to be fair the times were good, and returns seemed sure
The earnings of many corporations, continued to soar
The zeitgeist was the age of prosperity, profit and greed
It wasn't the time to question sustainability or question the need
Many financial advisers advised that it was the right way to go
"You should take advantage now, while all these rates of interest are low"
So many consumers took out mortgages, that they just couldn't afford
Including the 'sub prime', with bad credit, and of course the poor
But let's not forget, that the consumer went along, and played ball
Creatures of habit responding to the mating call, that beckoned us all
Deposits levels came down, loan-to-value went up
House prices bubbled and brimmed and we all drank from the cup.
Now the banks merged all of these mortgages together in lumps
Sold them as safe bets to investors, who were taken for chumps
Then the US housing market crashed
Now comes the the consequences
Unsurprisingly mortgage repayments started to slump
So called safe investments soon became worthless as junk
Families who had homes repossessed now facing the funk
Securitisation of mortgages now seemed so dumb
Regulators appeared powerless, dozing and numb
Lehman Brothers collapsed. America sneezed
The world became infected. Financial markets siezed
Governments and Central Banks now stepped into the fray
To prop up a system, that should have been reconfigured that day
Many banks were bailed; too big to fail.
The bankers who were at the wheel, too big to jail.
The humble tax payer was forced to post the cash
And many years later many banks still owe this cash
So the world was saved but here's the 'but'
The pubic purse was utilised, to escape the rut
Now all society must pay the price; take a hit to the gut
And suffer the pain, of historic public services cuts.
Mike Concise © 2015
www.mikeconcise.com
2025.05.13
Today, not as any other days,
When I always was the first arrived at this place,
Waiting for the piano to be available,
For me to clean and press on the keyboard,
To break the sound of silence
Of the well lighted open space.
Not far away, there was a chimney
Covered under a huge cone,
They were the centre place's icons.
Some of the personnel of this Centre,
Like the security guards, the cleaner,
The maintenance workers, the new train station constructors,
The goods deliveries staff and the train commuters,
They rushed and walked pass me.
Few stopped to pay me compliments.
Lately, I could not play the piano well.
There was one other reason
But I preferred not to mention.
Have I cheesed off with the piano?
Or was I fed up with the same old songs,
Played in the last 10 months.
Lately, my memory failed me badly,
I could not play new songs at all.
Normally, I was able to remember
How the music went
After listening to them over and over again,
But, now I could not do that any more.
My emotional pain supposed to settle by now,
But some how, it flared up again
When I saw him on the Mothers' day evening.
I was sure why he was there,
What a painful excuse for him.
Once a year to show your appreciation to a person,
Who carried you inside her womb,
Especially in his case,
A single mother to raise four young children.
Also according to his descriptions,
His mother was the slowest person in the world
When learning and understanding new things.
It hurt me when hearing those words.
The way he perceived his mother,
As a person who has low IQ and not intelligent.
To me, he appeared to be a very handsome,
Fit, strong and wise mature person.
Then why he remained being unattached.
After three decades of adulthood.
Well, it was because he was too picky.
I was not suitable for him, not even as a friend,
After all, I met only 66.66% of his requirements.
We had same level of intelligent,
Shared lot of common interest,
Strongly believed in healthiness,
Had 90% of the same passion
And point of view in life.
If that was not good enough in friendship
Then I had no idea what it should be.
Good luck to him in soul mates searching,
Good luck to him in finding a soul mate with chemistry,
Last but not, in finding a partner in life and having a family.
Mosquitoes Please Beware
With an audible snort of disgust,
I pushed back this chair of mine...
In my head, I angrily exclaimed...
Oh, no! Mosquitoes, they are at it again..
Dreaded mosquitoes, they make my life miserable..
Incessant buzzing and painful bites are inseparable...
I bent forward and low in this chair,
Swept my eagle eyes left and right...
Hoping to sight that obnoxious insect...
Daring it to fly into my area of sight...
Both my palms are opened and poised for action,
Eyes radar sighted onto the insect's flying position...
With the patience of Job from the Old Testament...
I waited patiently, eyes peeled and ears well tuned..
Where is that buzz, the flying sounds I know so well...
There! Out of the corner of my eye, I spied its flight...
I trained beady eyes hungrily on its ziggedy flight...
There is no way it is getting out of my sight...
In my mind I relish the thought of squishing this insect...
Slapping it dead within my palms is only the first step...
Mentally I drool as I imagined my feelings when I get to crush...
This nasty insect which is about to meet its doom in a rush...
A little closer, my lovely six legged friend with gossamer wings...
I'm sorry but I am the Maker your trouble making brings you in...
Smash! What an almighty clap of my palms in your honour...
My palms, they sting, they smart but that does not matter....
I opened my palms in jubilation, I have taken drastic action...
But what is this, both my open palms they are in spotless condition...
Woe is me! My almighty slap, that mother of all slaps, was in vain...
By some miscarriage of justice, this mosquito escapes to torment again...
Here it comes, gossamer wings blurring as it flies shrilly into sight...
Daring me, challenging me, inviting me to again kill it in its merry flight...
Involuntarily, my nostrils flared as again I snorted my disgust...
Bent over in my chair, crouched low as once again I lay in wait...
Fervently I uttered a silent prayer of deliverance from this flying evil...
As once again with the patience of Job I waited to pulverish this evil...
Fly hither, fly thither, fly merrily, fly unerringly into my sight if your dare...
Better warn your brethen, bloodthirsty fiends they are, please BEWARE!
The day began with a shouting match between a cowpoke and his horse.
It became so heated and continued all day until they both became hoarse.
Old Dan maintained that the cowpoke was so obese it caused his back to sag!
The cowpoke dug in his spurs and called Old Dan a "Naggy Nag"!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"You cinch the saddle so tight I can hardly breathe", Old Dan declared.
"Then you ride me in the dust of the Drag with my nostrils flared"!
"Yer as lazy and stubborn as an old army mule"!, the cowpoke replied.
"At calf ropin' time you let me down...even old milk cows out-run you"! he cried.
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"Neigh! Neigh! Stop jabbin' me with them spurs!
I'm gonna' buck you off even though I am yers!
You ride me hard and nary a word of praise do I get"!
"If'n you keep on that whinny-whinin' I'll trade you fer a mule yet!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"You can't even throw a loop on a cow you so-and-so,
And you need a lot more practice usin' that old lasso!
When you do git one I stand and hold the rope still...
Even though your chance of throwin' him are oh so nil"!
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
"I can rope 'em and throw 'em and brand 'em too,
If I only got a little more help from you!
Oh, you know I'm just spoutin' about that army mule..."
"Well, I know you aint that much of a fool".
NEIGH! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... NAY!
As the cowpoke pulled the saddle off Old Dan that night,
He took an apple from his pocket and gave him a bite.
"I'll be gettin' you some better food and some new shoes too,
Just to show you I wanna' make it up to you".
NYEIGH! THIS IS MORE OF WHAT FRIENDS SHOULD SAY... YEA!
Old Dan got a little teary eyed when this he heard,
Bowed his head...then nuzzled up the cowpoke without a word.
There never was another day between them with this kind of discourse,
Peace again, between the cowpoke and Old Dan, his horse.
Co-written by: Robert L. Hinshaw and Dan Cwiak for Duet Contest
written 12/20 - 12/25/15
Nearly ten o'clock, Capitol Hill, inside the SCIF (specially designed for classified purpose): House Intelligence Committee chairman Adam Schiff was hosting an esoteric hearing featuring a deposition with Defense Department official Laura Cooper as part of Impeachment Inquiry into Dotard Trumpery. Suddenly a fit of ruckus flared up from the outside, increasingly nearer and clearer, then followed a string of desultory sounds of pounding upstairs. What's up? What happened outside? Over the puzzlement of those present, Schiff roughly learned about this supervention from a subordinate's brief report. He signed nothing perturbable and said: "It's the Gofers of Payolas that are crapping and monkeying around there. But do not panick! 'cause they're exactly aiming at the witness and me. Of course, the witness shall be put under rigorous protection, yet the rest may just stay here and sit tight." Then he turned face to Cooper: "Ms cooper, let me call over several robust escorts to ensure your personal safety." Cooper, remaining unruffled all the time, delivered to Schiff not just an assuaging declination but her deontic assertiveness: "Never overestimate those cowards. For most of them, the best way to varnish their guilty conscience is to howl loud, the best way to compensate their courage privation is to bluff big. What brings me here are the respect of law and truth, the loyalty to oath and duty, the faith in nonpartisan justice. But what brings them here? The blind deference to bosses, the obsessive wariness of watchdogs, or the browbeating practice against opponents? Just go your usual way, and go free of their distraction." "Oh, great! your frankness and bravery!" Exclaimed Schiff, getting up to seek to contact Dem House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Right on cue, a few barged in, clamoring that the hearing lacks transparency and picking out electronic devices for its livestream with later nearly a dozen more joining them straggly. Although the hearing had to come to a halt due to the gofers' brazen violation of security rules, the present ambience scarcely turned tense, just plunged into weird vibes of twisting steadfast normalcy toward a kind of peculiar hocus-pocus that had continually sprung up from a handful of hopped-up harlequins who were hell-bent on hamming it up.
Form:
between new nightmares
and day dreams
of a better life
lay reality resurfaced
tight with taut brutality
unspeakable thoughts drift
down through time's flash
triggered not there
not then
but now and here
her mind digs through fear
as she sinks
slight form down
crisp skirt's rustle sound
folds with her
to ground
and she says to herself
I will lay here
in this hollow
it fits the curve of my spine
holds the shape
of my hips
and the grass padded earth
cups itself a little
around my waist
hugs me
till I sleep
I am still alive
I am dead
to the world
tar roads
pavements
are too hard
concrete
cannot hold me
the same way
they resist my shape
press flatness
hard
against me
leave me sore
unrested
complaints unheard
where may I sleep
With fragrance
of grass and earth
maybe
in a garden
a cultured space
thoughts arouse
aroma once known
from those past
yet still present
places
so pleasant
maybe then
I will fall into dreams
of painless light
sunshine will soothe
I will feel bright
flame red flowers
in free fall
Will not burn
as they engulf me
float from arms
branches
blue sky stretched
they will caress me
in potpourri perfume
memories mock
her senses
she yearns to block
their burn
when I sleep
I'll not smell
petrol fumes
flared up
I will not hear
the shudder of bodies
breaking down the door
I will forget
the screams
eardrums pierced
my own
I will not feel
my body burn
in hell hound fire
twisted hatred
from ordinary mothers
fathers sisters sons
bizarre beliefs
turned my skin
from brown silk smooth
to outlandish patches
pink and brown
how will I
become
familiar
with who I am
now
she falls asleep
dreams
of sunshine
tree shadow dappled
nature cradles her
in dark and light
she breathes low
drum sounds
bring her back
there
next to eyes
awakening
her fingers
delicate drummers
play the earth
With firm tips
tap tapping
a well known song
her long gone
mother's lullaby
hush my child
hush now
don't cry
sleep sweet
against my heart
hush now
hear the beats
of my love
for you
hush now
so angels
do not sigh
hum drum
hum drum
hum drum
she starts to cry
Posted:15-12-2018
Note: "Sister" poem to "thin skinned"
Isn't it funny how much things change
Isn't it funny how much we crave the things
that never turn out right
like how for 11 years
we crave growing older, growing up
to finally realizing
there's these sets of rules and stupid handbooks
we have to read and follow
read and obey
How did they conceal it so well from us
internet videos and tv screens?
Good to know...
But one thing I've known to never change
no matter how combative I became
no matter how many tempers flared and we became unaware
no matter how the passing of time
kept us further and further apart
Juliet, I've always had you at my side
Juliet, You were always the one to pick me up
Juliet, somehow you always found a way
to see something better in me
when all I saw in my self were battle scars
and a pile of dust
Juliet, Juliet
how do you do it
stay so cheerful and optimistic
Juliet, Juliet
how do you smile so often and say it's okay
I'm just the lover
I guess I'll never understand
just doomed to wonder
Juliet, Juliet
We have said Forever and Always
Always and Forever
I'm never taking it back
but Juliet, Juliet
I don't know if I'll ever say it
when your hands are within mine
but Juliet, Juliet
I can't promise anything
or leave anything behind
I'm behind schedule in my plans
and what I hoped to accomplished
I've been stuck in a rut
since the last time
I said, 'Hey I'm on my way'
Juliet, Juliet
I'm tangled up in you
and my eyes speak to you everyday
that I love you
No matter what
it will never change or fade
just promise me, promise me
in acoustics or in a calm gentle tone
say that you feel the same
I don't know what I'm trying to say
guess I'm swept up in the emotion
of hitting rock bottom again
for I remember everytime
you force a laugh from my voice
force a smile upon my lips
and then I turn out fine for awhile
until your face disappears from my gaze
then square one comes back to be my home
Oh well, it happens
well only to me...
anyway I just wanted to say thank you
for always staying with me
for always just being you
for always looking as gorgeous as you do
I don't know...I don't know
but these words know it for me
Thank you
Always and Forever
Forever and Always