Long Groped Poems
Long Groped Poems. Below are the most popular long Groped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Groped poems by poem length and keyword.
I groped and stumbled through the years and woke up early morning groggy, hurting.? I peeked out the window and saw the sky bright, sun smiling.? I brightened and borrowed a smile and, for once, lit up my face.? My eyes winked like a star in a dark sky; kept smiling through the day.? It tasted nice, radiating light and love.? You can't rewrite the past, nor erase the furrows on the once smooth face.? Overwrite it with the future that has a hope, and meet your desire.? You'll soon retire and count among the past.? I understand that God created us in His image and likeness.? So, borrow from Him.? He doesn't recall our past nor rewrite it; but overwrites it with love--blessing and a future.? So will I!? So do I!? Life's frilled with frown, day and night trail the sun in his course. The sun ever shines, though clouds may dip with a frown!? Ever smilee, though thunder may roll and grumble! Eyes on golden rays at dusk, though storm may howl and splash the sky with dust!? Two constants rule life on earth: light and love.? God's both...? and you, too!
Celestine S.? Ikwuamaesi
(21/01/2018)
The huge sky overseeing the emerald and bluish earth...
wouldn't be the only sky in our incredibly diverse Universe,
if limited sight weren't the obstacle to the awesome images that surprise couldn't conceal;
but many more galaxies hiding their splendid suns and planets,,
are still unknown and Man, overtaken by such a magnificence, expresses
himself in more atheistic ways not to compromise his own foolishness!
If we declare faith non-existent, cupidity can become our fetish...
filling us with more rampant pride to enforce its hypocritical seal!
More universes, like ours, lay dormant in their stillness,
" And will life be found on them? " is a question too inconclusive
that we can only answer by being so compellingly delusive;
more universes await the discoveries of the intelligent mind,
to lay out their awsomeness and beauty to discard the thought of finding life,
impelling us to preserve ours, not to destroy it by valiance or insanity!
Search history's events, are we capable of pursuing happiness...
without conquering and proclaiming our power with mighty armies?
In ancient days, they created unrealistic gods and goddesses...
not conceiving that the Supreme One wasn't a god in human form,
but rather the Invisible One, who often scolded them for their wickedness;
so in stone and marble they continued to sculpture divine faces
that the common people hailed and worshipped, and would they refuse
to obey their tyrant's wishes: their worthless lives would be taken...
and did Paul, the follower of Christ, go back to that cult so perverse?
We know, from the Holy Scriptures, he was converted and put down his sword...
More universes more magnificent than this one,
can be discovered and inhabited if they are livable;
and scientists are working hard along with astronauts to accomplish our dream,
and who isn't excited and show interest to take a voyage into the outer space?
Navigators ventured on perilous seas to attest that their concept was solid and real;
we, with more sophisticated computer science, are groped by the unthinkable!
Persuaded or not, discouraged or doubtful, researches must continue at our expense;
and what if we were successful, wouldn't everyone be taken by shock?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
It’s Saturday morning, and even though it’s Thanksgiving break, Lisa and I are in her bedroom, in NYC, studying.
“Ok,” Lisa stops, looks up and says, “give me a 5ex symbol.”
“I.. I don’t have one on me.” I say, apologetically.
“NAME one.” she clarifies.
“Are there “5ex symbols” anymore?” I say, with air-quotes, “Who’s “Marilyn Monroe” today -Kim Kardashian - oooo - or Kendall Jenner?”
“I read Emily Ratajkowski refer to herself as a 5ex symbol the other day.” Lisa says.
“Is that the model that said she was groped at a photo-shoot?” I ask, as I google her.
“Yeah,” Lesa nods, “but it was a music video shoot.”
“Do you think I could model?” I ask, as I pose vampingly. “Be unflinchingly honest.” I request.
“Hhmmmm,” she considers, framing me in a finger rectangle pretend camera. “You’re like Marilyn Monroe,” she says, “in a training bra.” *We burst out laughing*
“Back to the subject,” Lisa says, “name a guy you think of as a 5ex symbol.”
“Humphrey Bogart!“ I say.
“Humphrey Bogart?? No!” she rejects him, wrinkling her nose, “too old-timey and dead, besides, he was a MOVIE star - come ON, a real one - SAY!”
Michael Gandolfini!” I offer.
“??Michael Gandolfini??” she says, sounding stumped as her fingers google him.
*I make a dreamy “mmmm,” yummy sound.
“Oh, my GOD,” she says, and looks up for confirmation. “Humphrey Bogart and Michael Gandolfini - HONESTLY, you have the WEIRDEST taste!”
I was shocked, “No, seriously, don’t you think Michael looks kind of soft, cute and.. LUVable?”
She groans, “You’re going to marry an ugly man someday - aren’t you?” She pronounces, shaking her head.
“AM NOT!” I responded, throwing a pillow at her head (a pillow fight ensues).
A Mystic’s Verse, I Will Listen
I roamed plains, prairies, climbed peaks.
I fell into seas, slept and dreamed in valleys.
I groped about, lost in darker veins.
I rode a white mare into burning light.
I crept endless roads of loss,
Trying all the angles,
Having only a touch of vague friends.
Never simple. Not easy. No foundation
Before I asked for you to come
To touch my soul. To surround. To capture,
To pervade.
In the absolute. To expect
To hear your voice, which by faith
Of a knowing I would...I did. Believe.
On a hot, June night, laying out flat
Back on the dusty floor. Secluded.
I did not see the hovering dove. But, I heard,
Not to my outer ears.
To my fully inner receiving. Undeniably you.
Greater than an intuition. An expanding
Of the soul to total revealed being —
In communion with the message;
In surrender to the creator of love;
Bringing an ecstasy.
Of the Promises. Of all possibilities.
Of those visions of the prophets. Full messages.
No more roaming. Tho altogether freed.
A rose brushed onto my life. And
Words sent to comfort, to grip, to secure.
Made a witness. Called a daughter...
Hearing the calls to her soul.
Alleluia! Lord be praised!
Bless us, every one.
—————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger1/17/2021
Thanks be to God
I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when I got out of my bed…
and as my hands groped around feeling for them…Asia popped into my head.
Asia was a beautiful, blind Autistic student I had many years ago…one I tried desperately to reach…which, thankfully, also left me open to all she had to teach.
Asia lived in the world she was born into…the world her fate designed…
she taught me I had to enter into her world before I could welcome her into mine.
Asia talked to herself incessantly…she had this running conversation going on inside her head…and it appeared this running conversation was way more interesting than anything I did or said.
One day I got this bright idea…I sat down and listened to the conversations in her head…then I began repeating…everything she said.
I remember the first time I did this…Asia paused, smiled then slowly swayed her head…
and when her head brushed up against my shoulder, “Is that you Yerman.” She said.
When I told her it was me who without being invited had encroached upon her space…she reached her hand up gently and began to feel my face.
She didn’t care what color my skin was, my age, my weight, my sex…these things she could not see…she only cared that, through the magic of her hands, she was beginning to recognize me.
From that moment on whenever I sat next to her…in the glow of her smile I’d bask…
and when I started repeating what she said…”Is that You, Yerman” she’d ask.
Then she’d feel my face and laugh…sometimes, I think she laughed a bit too much…which made me wonder if my face which I thought handsome in the mirror…
wasn’t as handsome to the touch.
And this was how we taught each other…with my eyes I helped, a little, to set Asia free
and in her blindness she taught me…you don’t need eyes to see.
Perhaps when it comes to getting along…being blind to our differences is the key…
Perhaps closing our eyes and opening our hearts is the best way for us to see.
When I finally found my glasses, and my blurriness had cleared…
for what it’s worth…
The first thing I did was close my eyes
and wish we had more Asias on this Earth.
At 7 she is at her father’s mercy
She will be shown no mercy
A life with absolutely no love
She will be like a lonely dove
Sitting in the nest
Doing her best
She will never taste true love
She will never be as free as a dove
Being groped and touched by her dad
Is a life that is so very sad
She vows to protect her siblings
To them her father will not do such things
At 10 years old her father takes her virginity
She is stubborn not to lose her dignity
She will protect her siblings with her life
Even if it means she must use a knife.
All these years mom’s way
Was to stay out of the way.
She can’t believe her mom’s way
Soon she will have her day.
At 15 she decides this must stop
She tells her father that this must stop
She threatens him with much harm
He says she will not go through with harm
He corners her in her room
She promises him doom and gloom
He scoffs at her
And threatens her
She hid the gun in her bed
and that is where he is being led
fear strikes him as he sees the gun
knowing she will not use it for fun.
He knows she will use the gun
And definitely not for fun
He begs for her to forgive him,
but she shuns him
He tries to grab the gun
She steps back and shoots him, not for fun
He lies on the floor
She gently walks out the room and closes the door
Baptism in the Back Room
In the darkness with the window cracked a little,
Allowing benign air into the back room, where a
Naked couple sits huddled, breathing in the cool breeze with
Mahler music streaming out of two black speakers,
As a single candle flickers on the shelf above the needle.
You said you waited a long time for it to happen to you,
And you said you wanted it to occur on a Sunday night.
I sat close to you shivering a little and asked why on a Sunday.
You smiled and said it was something between you and God.
I replied that I understood even though I did not understand.
Why would a 19 year old brunette beauty want to lose it on a Sunday?
You said it had to do with being angry with Jesus, and I said “Fine.”
Your bronze breasts were the first eyes I saw that comatose night,
As Mahler once again took up the baton to conduct his 5th.
I took you to the beige floor atop the shag empire with determined cadences,
And I felt as if there were nosey eyes staring through myriad holes in the walls,
As we groped behind a locked door seeking the pleasures of the blood,
The window in the back room cracked a little, and you said,
"Thank you Jesus."
The borg reached out calling Mr. Ed.
He opened the eyes of his wired covered head…
and he groped me… sent a strobe to probe me
in my mind. I stood watching polite and in kind
wondering if he knows who I am…
To pick a brane that waves to man
is to ride inside the soul of a woman.
He opened the door to my forbiddens…
He fondled my unmentionables
....and found my hiddens.
A trail he left like a beast in my beauty
I wonder if he knew I was dancing slowly
”...LowQ.tis… you’re old school….”
Remember the day when I was wired too?
Since then there’s been a change
I have remote control right over a range
Of infinity… oh! Collective memory?
Strange arrangement of destiny?
I was bord… so I changed the Uni.Verse. ;)
Do you know where you are?
Form:
When you placed your hands on the littles ones thigh,
When they saw your shadow in stead of theirs,
When they glanced up at you, adoration and want radiating from their eyes,
There goes your rotten mind misinterpreting that,
Oh how could the little one know that your heart rested a lewd demon,
When you offered them a place to seat,
Your laps feel like steel,
But the little one doesn't complain,
You have the kindest heart for bearing their weight,
When your hot breath behind their neck make them shudder,
Your eyes crinkled, the game just got easier,
The little one felt a bulge underneath her skirt,
Did the kind man have a rock in his pocket? She wondered,
Oh if she could see how lust filled your gaze, she would flee,
Your evil hands ventured far deep, beyond her thighs you were destined to be,
The little one gasped,
Her little head turning so her innocent eyes could see yours,
You saw as tears welled up in her eyes,
Her quivering lips and face full of plea made you retreat,
"Ruin her, ruin her, the devil's murmur you began to hear"
Your face turned dark,
Your evil hands on her supple skin groped all it could feel,
The little one trembled and plead,
The burns she felt were too much for one being,
All she wanted was a seat at the beginning,
Your grunts and groans were like a thousand stones pounding her ear drums,
You made the loudest moan and it came to an end,
Oh how you ruined God's beloved.
broad shoulders, six foot three
Rolex, Stacey Adams
suit by Armani
and she said yes
soft spoken, warm hands
piercing eyes, a Harvard degree
business law
and she said yes, yes
a dance
to Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
witty, charming, a nightcap
and she said yes, yes, yes
Mercedes Benz, Pacific Ocean
gated community, ten thousand square feet
pool, sauna, jacuzzi
and she said yes, yes, yes, yes
John Coltrane caressed the ears
Dom Perignon the bloodstream
kissed with the eyes, then the lips
and she said yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
wait, wait
grabbed her, cursed her, rippped her dress
slapped her, groped her, pinned her
mounted her, took her
and she cried no, no, no, no, no–no