Long Glamour Poems
Long Glamour Poems. Below are the most popular long Glamour by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glamour poems by poem length and keyword.
In the day time!
in the day time, she said:
yes in the freakin day.
Twenty six limos
one chef, a full staff
bouncers, a bartender and people glamour.
we are gonna honor with trophies
peoples who needez-ah recognition.
when the sun begins to set that when they'll go out to the arena and shine as athlete's.
Under the stars where the celebrities will
do their thing.
It's what separates stars from the audience. Getting it right so
that those who admire can sit and see
and be apart of the spectacle.
it's what makes all the hard work worth it.
In the day time Baby!
Canter's presence is requested
to entertain the entertainers,
their I'll sing to an adoring few!
And shall dine with the men of Rasslin
and in the evening
I'll sit at ringside as guest!
Strumpets and Trumpets
to serenade an adoring following.
Peeplez All over the World
Peeplez of Peeplez
Glamour and Valored
Whoo: the specticaul!
Grab my Robe I'm in ah mood!
Days and Night's
Baby the parties
all Night Long!
Chauffeur take me to the bridge!
their we gonna hook up
with the ensemble gonna party!
like only we can do-it!
All Night Long!
Looking forward to dating
and mating
Grab my robe and sing along
with the Strong dong of
All Night Long!
Here is a reimagining of the girl in the ash, where the magic is a curse and the palace is a tomb.
The Cinder—Witch
The hearth is the only heart this house possesses,
A pulsing throat of soot and orange glare.
She kneels within the grease and grey distressed,
With spiders braided in her tangled hair.
The sisters' laughter scrapes like rusted hinges,
High in the rooms where sunlight dares to creep,
While down below, the frost-nipped shadow fringes
The cellar stones where eyeless rodents sleep
Then came the Godmother
But she didn't drift on wings of gossamer light,
But stepped from corners where the damp rot grows.
A thing of crooked lath and moth-wing white,
With needles hidden in her velvet clothes.
"A Carriage," hissed the crone, her fingers twitching,
As pumpkin rinds began to swell and split,
Not into gold, but membranes, wet and itching,
A ribcage forged of vine and garden grit.
The horses were not stallions, but the vermin,
Stretched long and screaming, fused by ancient debt.
Their coats were slick as peeled and bloody ermine,
Their eyes like blackest beads of frozen sweat.
"The gown is yours," the shadow–woman whispered,
And stitched the silk directly to her skin
The needles bit; the girl's own breathing fissure,
As bone and bodice pinned the spirit in.
The Midnight Rule
The ballroom smelled of lilies and decay,
A velvet trap for prince's sleek and blind.
She danced on glass that sliced the floor away,
Leaving a trail of crimson salt behind.
But when the clock struck twelve, the glamour curdled,
The silk began to shrink and turn to shroud.
The pumpkin-beast back to the soil hurtled,
And Cinders shrieked–but not a sound was loud.
For in the attick now, she sits and waits,
The glass is fused into her blackened heel.
The house is hungry; it has locked the gates,
And shadows are the only warmth she'll feel.
The Prince still wanders, searching for the bride,
But who would seek a girl made out of ash?
The one who keeps the cellar-beast inside,
Behind the door, beneath the whip-crack lash.
Colours of love oozing from my chore of heart
to paint pretty picture of my beloved
as permanent and not letting that apart :
Throughout my life the imprint will be saved.
Love to colour you with emotive brush
Not fading out but glowing glistening strong
Bubbling blood is flooding, passion to rush.
Romance rippling rolling to last life long.
Dreamy desires to decor our amour
Colourful blossoms of love in cluster.
Our life running in gorgeous glamour.
Didn't notice colour of love losing luster.
Had firm faith to write colourful love story
but my colours got date of expiry.
The whiteness is blue, and wet, and fluffy to the eye,
Even when it is not.
It brings hot sweet cocoa and warm mittens into the memory,
Twinkling with glitz, glamour, and frost,
Icicle magic, dazzling your eyes.
The air so cold, it brings tears to your face,
The whiteness is blue, faerie-magic-like, not here every day.
Snow falls daintily at first, then she picks up speed,
as there is no stopping her.
She glistens as she waits for you to test her
snow-ball-ability.
Is she wet enough to roll? She brings out childhood memories
faster than most. You remember chasing your cousins, making
snow angels, snow forts, and snow men.
As far as your eye can see, the land is magic, blanketed now,
with a glamour you can only get with snow and frost.
A reverence she commands, you feel instantly,
not felt during any other season.
The glitz, the glamour, the frost, rhinestone twinkles on a
sea of white, dazzling your eyes out.
Chatoyant: Having a changeable luster. A chatoyant stone or gemstone, such as the cat's-eye.
Cynosure: Something or someone who is the centre of attention.
Demure: shy and modest
Glamour: defined as the elegant, exciting or attractive quality that makes someone or something seem special or desirable.
Ineffable: too overwhelming to be expressed or described in words; inexpressible
Ingénue: A naive, innocent girl or young woman
Lissome: Moving or able to move with grace and ease; lithe and graceful
Mellifluous: something musical, melodious or pleasant to hear
Panacea: A remedy for all diseases, evils, or difficulties; a cure-all
Sempiternal: Enduring forever; eternal
Long ago in a far away land lived a woman who
had style and "glamor". No longer was she "demur"
she possessed so much confidence. She was
the "cenynosure" for all the men in her small village"
This beauty had came along way. She was a orphan
at a young age and went through" ineffable" things
to hard to express. One day she was given "panacea"
and her life changed instanstanly.
She became a lovely creature with "chatoyant" eyes".
Not a trace of the" ingenue" woman she once was.
Men were spellbound by her"melliflous" voice and
her" lissome walk.
I never tire of this touching tale because this
amazing woman was my great, great grandmother.
Alexis Y
5-15-16
Author's note this tale is pure fiction. Just my spin on
Silent One's Challenge.
The moon is full and white, and chill, this night,
it cascades past my open window sill,
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.
The armoire's oblong shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed.
A nightmare gallops through an open door,
a Pooka black as coal with eyes that bled.
Its jaw agape and gore froths from his maw,
as it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat, a bird-like caw,
he dips down for me to mount, and I am led.
Upon this demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to belay this foul glamour.
Pray, I know, I feel it, I sense it
The intuition which is mightier than my wit
Tweets it to my mind
And I just trust it
As it holds the same power
As a walking stick would, to a blind,
Pray, i just know that about me
And about all the others you do ponder!
See, you do care solely to see that which you choose
The bright smile which makes us all lovelier than a rose
The glamour which bids us all to fly high on ecstatic clouds
And of course, the cause for which we do sound our bells loud!
And I just know, that, behind your gentle facet
You do let unfold, about us, a doomed ballet!
Why, does it even matter
If we are lovers or mere philosophers?
Does it be a cause of bother
As to bring up a tsunami in your flowing river?
Pray, know that the world is made of difference of all sorts
Know that to judge others is a virus easily caught
Know that you can be immune to such an infection
All it requires is to be able to muster up, in you, an introspection!
See the world as it is, a revolving mess upon its own confusion
See yourself as a particle of dust, made of mysterious concoction
See your being as being devoid of meaning
For the life you live is a lie,
Meant someday to be treated as would be an abortion!
Upon it, souls tread, carrying dutifully their own burden
Even if they know that their existence remains as that of the fly
Fickle and uncertainly driven
So much that easily and without warning
They do become, faced with Death, downfallen!
Why, in such a world, tell me, brother or sister
Tell me,
Is it worth wasting your time lost in hatred
Or lost in creating a judgemental corner
Where you do spit out your rancour
Causing you to feel, about yourself, illbred?
Tell me,
Pray, is it not better
To smile, so totally intoxicated
By the birth of stars in your own essence,
To love, so totally moved
By the warmth you feel
When you do share this essence
And to hold each and everyone
In a bond as strong as steel?
4th Dec 2017
For Contest Judgmental People And Haters
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
WELCOME AUTUMN
Sunny scorching show of summer season
now to drop curtain with storms and rainfall.
Cerulean sky to exult meeting clear horizon.
Yellow leaves from deciduous trees ready to fall
Dry dying leaves leaving tree on appear of Fall.
Fresh flush on abloom flower and foliage
Flocks of egrets on firmament looking nicest
Hesitant lovers at last decided to get engaged.
Full Moon reminds season to harvest.
Choice of mellow pumpkins is the best.
Camellia starting in late Summer
on amazing Autumn in classy cluster
gaily glazes in grace glory glamour.
All blossoms glitter in glossy luster.
Autumn in fire-glow glistening gesture.
Arid summer heat: Autumn to overcome
Torn pieces of white cloud float flaunt fly.
Earth rejoices fantastic Fall to welcome.
Silky sunshine adorn blue bright sky.
Darling! Open outdoor romance we'll try.
08/30/18
'Autumn' Contest by Francine Roberts
Pablo...according to me (Part 1b, continuation/finish from Part 1a)
Re Pablo Picasso printmaking exhibition at Bellagio Hotel's Fine Art Gallery.
(7) Photo - PP's living room (by David Douglas Duncan), Summer '57, Villa La California Cannes
I'm glad I'm not the only one who breeds mess, industry, libation, and managed chaos in the quest for genius. He found it. I'm still looking.
(8) Figure (oil/canvas, zinc plate, litho)
Helluva way to capture the lady and her virtues. I've never seen nipples and nostrils so exquisite and interchangeable.
(9) Woman with a Chignon and Yellow Hat
Wife (his) in all her glamour. I imagine the hand on the face is gesturing, "Pablo, finish up, the trash won't take itself out".
(10) Jacqueline with a Multicolored Straw Hat (series from carved linoleum, staged in colors, details and vibrance)
So we start with faint silhouette and baseline virtue, homage to woman as the world's foundation. Then follow to add glow (yellow), fire (red), mood (periwinkle), passion (purple), and beauty (full blown spectrum). Oh, women, you of hues incomprehensible and indestructible to man.
(11) The Two Nudes (his take on Goya's "La Maja desnuda" and Manet's "Le Dejeuner Sur l'herbe")
New muse, old muse. Threesome fantasy. It's getting hot in here, so take off all our clothes. What? One loses steam. Oh no! The other falls asleep. Darn, bitches! Rosie, it's all yours tonight.
(12) Reclining Woman Reading
She's skimming through "Fifty Shades of Pablo". Chapter 12, "Brushes and Booty Calls: How a Flick of the Wrist Seals the Next Tryst".
(13) Photo - DDD again, July '57 (same Cannes villa), PP in his studio looking at "Head" work in progress
Deep contemplation. 42 days until NFL Opening Day. I need to kill time. Hey, Jacqueline, any PBRs in the fridge?!
(8/1/15)
Orioles, blue jays, blackbirds, and red robins all sing
robustly to tangelo sun, as meadows and woods ring.
All through spring and summer gloss, as roses glisten,
Nature's noonday, jade heartbeats, cause all to listen!
Glittering gold on green lakes-an afternoon of amber,
Exotic trills rise, in quiet hours of persimmon glamour.
Saffron songs swell in the orange peel, blossom fields,
entrancing them into a dark orange dance of the hills.
Rivoli's hummingbird hums, in a purple and teal coat
even donned in green and brown, in marigold soaked.
Nightingale croons plaintive, florid, butterscotch arias,
and there is revelry of roses, in far, marmalade areas!
Day is so long for rufous hummingbird, in fiery plumes,
Enriching hot, lime spaces, with apricot, droning tunes.