Long Gay Poems
Long Gay Poems. Below are the most popular long Gay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gay poems by poem length and keyword.
A bottle of wine,
A stranger’s smile,
A puff of smoke in the air,
The shiny white of a dandelion's hair.
Every ray of sun,
Every mess of fun,
Every breathless run,
Every pain and pleasure,
Moments of work and leisure.
Reminds me of u,
The way u speak,
Well, or u don't, cause u don't know what to say,
Still, somehow asking me to stay.
And I stay, not because of u,
Or ur beautiful eyes.
I stay cause I'll die
If we part... too apart.
And ur words leave my ears.
The day I forget ur laugh,
I'll forget my own,
And to u, my all is what I have shown.
But u shy away,
Like a plant in distress,
Like a prince swept in a castle of dread,
Like an escaping pirate, unable to say ahoy!
Still, u are my beautiful boy.
Tender, kind, caring,
Poets have wrote all abt.
But if Frost had ever laid eyes on you,
I'm sure his road would be pulled toward
The path u walk every day.
The trees ur eyes glaze upon
As u think ur,
And I'm sure,
Equally pretty thoughts.
Ur murky eyes, a clear window in ur heart,
Storm green with a cloud of brown,
Pulling me heart in a thunderstorm,
Yet lightly feeding me now.
I am not perfect, and u have seen me so.
But one thing ik,
And ik it for sure,
Someday I'll be in ur heart,
Purest of the pure.
What if you are an emerald empath
With the ability to feel cries or laughs
That are like energy with a spiritual path
That give insight unique to mental maths
You may be of one fuchsia faith or maybe not
But the soul is being bathed by another heart
A two spirited person not evil nor innocent
Feelings like a surgeon cutting from within
What if they were reborn and feel so confused
By memories so silver strong of another truth
You hear their heart breaking like glass so blue
No one can understand their pain except you
Chaos in my heart has nothing to do with faith
Not about which golden God you happen to pray
Not at all about if you’re ***** gay or straight
But can you be kind despite being inclined
To judge and walk away
Excerpts from the Journal of Dorian Gray
by Michael R. Burch
(These are verified excerpts from Oscar Wilde's "Journal of Dorian Gray")
It was not so much dream, as error;
I lay and felt the creeping terror
of what I had become take hold . . .
The moon watched, silent, palest gold;
the picture by the mantle watched;
the clock upon the mantle talked,
in halting voice, of minute things . . .
Twelve strokes like lashes and their stings
scored anthems to my loneliness,
but I have dreamed of what is best,
and I have promised to be good . . .
Dismembered limbs in vats of wood,
foul acids, and a strangled cry!
I did not care, I watched him die . . .
Each lovely rose has thorns we miss;
they prick our lips, should we once kiss
their mangled limbs, or think to clasp
their violent beauty. Dream, aghast,
the flower of my loveliness,
this ageless face (for who could guess?),
and I will kiss you when I rise . . .
The patterns of our lives comprise
strange portraits. Mine, I fear,
proved dear indeed . . . Adieu!
The knife’s for you.
Keywords/Tags: Oscar Wilde, portrait, Dorian Gay, journal, ageless, face, youthful, unchanging, rose, thorns, prick, vat, acid, acids, dismembered limbs, violent beauty, knife, old, age, evil, beauty, youth, horror, gothic
if only she knew how i thought about her
about the way she makes me smile
the way my heart swells inside
when i picture her walking down the aisle
i want her to see that she’s more than a friend
she’s suddenly become my whole life
i can’t imagine a future without her
i dream of becoming her wife
i wish that i could tell her
be open about how i feel
but i know that she’ll never feel the same
and our friendship could never heal
but her name has slowly merged with mine
i feel that our hearts have become one
i dream of stroking her blushing cheek
but i know that she’d be gone
i want to reach towards her hand
and hold it tight in mine
to gently kiss our entwined fingers
until between us there is no line
if only she could realise
she’s perfect in every way
and i only dream of holding her close
of becoming more than friends one day
Buying corporate profit tickets
to this June's PRIDE event
does not feel therapeutic,
where once lived public trauma.
Another annual rite
of well-bred socialization
political masturbation
with no flavor of resistance
to white-washed Capitalism's greed,
to straight Patriarchalism's need
to rapaciously breed
to gluttonously feed
on humble margins
of truly empowered
LeftBrain dominant humanity
not RightBrain depressed
demonically repressed
satanically oppressed
devilishly suppressed
Right supremely unimpressed
by deeply felt insanity
born a profanity
against Earth's Straight
White
MonoTheistic God
False idol
of patriotic
nationalistic pride
parades before
and lingers after
sins against EarthMother's uncapitalized
poor in spirited nature
Our planet's
traumatically wounded child,
x-rated
x-rayed
x-cised
by homophobic
feministphobic
Afrophobic toxins,
divinely inspired hate,
monotheistic vengeance-is-mine
militaristic fate.
This, and future, summers of inclusive love,
I would give away invitations to proud PASSION,
co-passion
compassion
compassionate integrity
passionate enquiry
of Left erect
correct cognition
greets Right flowing
enlightened growing
synergy glowing
sacred felt reconnecting
concelebrations
Of timeless
dipolar co-arising parades,
out-rageous raving displays
of globally spectral
spectacular
spiraling circular rainbows
of regenerating strings
and co-passionate things
Sacred hope promises
form ribboned resonant faith
for love
of EarthTribe's holy
co-emergent DNA diversity
deeply held
in silent summer whispers
Inviting year-round
and full
and sweaty wet PASSION plays
stories
narratives
epic songs,
starred night light
and lunar displays
Flowing Right
Left strength
universally full
uniting Color
Healthy polycultures
wealthy multicultures evoking
not revoking
compassionating
never mindlessly sedating
fully woke
out celebrating
Earth's PASSIONTribe.
I love flowers he told his mama,
Shh! She said, you know the llama!
The llama was the biggest gossip around.
She would soon have this admission all over town.
Leopards are not supposed to like flowers Mama said.
Admitting this might land you upside down on your head.
Worse, it might land you down in a gully, practically dead.
Do not tell anyone your feelings about this, his Mama said.
But mama, it is how I feel, the leopard replied.
How can I hold my feelings all down deep inside?
Just keep this one silent, until you get a bride.
I do not want one of those either, he promptly replied.
I am transgender, a soul untamed,
Seeking solace, my true self proclaimed.
In this journey, I've found my role,
Here's what I need to be made whole.
Acceptance, a beacon to light my way,
Embracing love, where judgment won't sway.
A mirror that reflects my inner grace,
To see myself, unburdened by the chase.
Understanding hearts, compassionate and kind,
A refuge where I can peace of mind find.
Words of affirmation, whispered in the air,
Affirming my existence, showing they care.
A world that dismantles oppressive walls,
Where equality reigns and prejudice falls.
Opportunities to thrive, without constraint,
For my dreams and talents, a fair playing paint.
Connection to a community, strong and tight,
Where unity blossoms, like stars in the night.
Courage to be vulnerable, without fear,
Knowing my truth is valued and held dear.
I am transgender, bold and unafraid,
Demanding respect, in every accolade.
With these elements, a tapestry untold,
I'll embrace my journey, and forever unfold.
Lucifer, To The Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch
Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.
Bring back a pretty
flower—
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.
There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: Hiroshima, Enola Gay, atomic bomb, explosion, mushroom cloud, Lucifer, Satan, Devil, chrysanthemum, sun, moon, voices, choices, World War II, war, death, violence, science, power, conflict
As The Rising Sun, The Dawn Came In Softly & Slowly;
&
So Did My Suffering.
Maybe Unexplained Or Unexpected Feelings;
Which Have Been Ignored;
A Sudden Melancholy Skulking In The Silence;
Awaiting The Arrival Of This Day.
The Days Have Regrettably Passed Since We Parted Ways;
About 4 Years Ago, & I Now Wonder If There Was Anything I Could Have Done;
I May Not Have Needed To Spend As Much Time In The Closet;
I Probably Need To Have Paid Closer Attention To How You Felt About Being Anonymous;
Or;
To Anything Else That Would Have Kept You By My Side;
I Am Sorely Missing You Right Now.
My Thoughts Are Hitting Barriers, & My Tears Are Falling Like Waterfalls;
All With Photographs Of You;
Including Your Wild Hairstyles;
Wild Kissing Technique;
All-Gleaming Beard;
Lovely Eyes;
Beautiful Voice;
Undetectable Abs;
&
Silly Smiles.
The Monotonous Music You Listened To In Your Place;
I Can Still Hear Them Playing In My Head From When I Visited;
I Still Occasionally Hear Them In My Brain;
Which Is Shocking, But I Genuinely Miss You & Those Awful Songs.
In Grandma's house it was always fun and gay,
It always was a sunny day,
Going through that old front door,
Grandma calling do you want some more,
Come and have a cup of tea,
Have a biscuit, no take three.
Grandpa is out by his pond.
Watching his goldfish of who he is very fond,
Auntie is there shelling peas,
And Grandma's made a cup of tea.
The Children are playing out the front,
Over in the woods there is a leopard hunt,
Uncle is watching from the step,
The coalman is due, but he's not here yet,
On Sunday Amy is due at three,
And Grandma's made a cup of tea.
Grandpa takes the dog for a walk,
Come on in Amy we can have a talk,
Come and sit down and we will light the fire,
And then we'll have a cup of tea.
In that home where we all were born,
It was always happy and never forlorn,
Now it has gone but in our minds we see,
All the family sitting and having tea.