Long Haltingly Poems
Long Haltingly Poems. Below are the most popular long Haltingly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Haltingly poems by poem length and keyword.
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
Tossing and turning after a heavy economic loss
The shock shattered my peace of nights
Hugging my pillow tight with unshed tears
The sorrowful thoughts trudged haltingly
To my grandma's antique sewing machine
Lying impassively in the cluttered store
Guilt shook me out of my sluggish memories
Over the dormant treasure dearly ignore
Up and about I barged into the basement
I carried it upstairs carefully with loaded adulation
Dusted and oiled my reborn ardency
Connoisseured my eyes with twinkling love
The art of neatly stitching hearts was taught
By granny silently as she held onto its handle
While the machine's needle and shuttle
Would treadle my ripped and torn today
Retrospecting over the many inheritances
Of love she left her favoured grandchild
A few stressed lines ironed out my brow
The silver forks to hold on to love
And the knives to cut out the wasted crusts
Her crocheted scarf for my winter warmth
When she saw her child had no such style
Amongst her voguish teenaged peers
A gold viking insignia with my initials embossed
Was loosely chained around my neck emblematising
Her overwhelming love must have oozed profusely
When she rocked me in her tender arms
Gazing fondly at the next in line to her posterity
Her marriage ring she gave on my wedding
Which the thieves much mistook for their right
Emptying stores of my sentimental potpourri
The wealth was stolen with rancour
But not my granny's fondness that was
Reigning still in the depth of my heart
I continue living with my antiques of love
The gold viking pendent had inadvertently
Slipped from the chain to a safer corner
The silvern cutlery smiles at the table
Smirking at the ignorant fools
For undervaluing their worth
The handle of the sewing machine
Moves at my command silently stitching
Nostalgic memories with empyreal pride
October 26, 2016
For Broken Wings
Old Jewellery or Just Old Things
Oh, such captivating concupiscence ...
I am lost to your thrall, your virtue's vassal
You are the perfect impish angel - raw sensuality, incarnate
You are hunger, insatiable and wry, and I your food
I watch you speak, breathe, speak ... phrases matter not
Chili pepper lips part to tempt me, as if in slow-motion
Plump, dewy, spicy-smooth, and salacious - fun-fruits, ripened
Unblemished sugar-cube teeth nip your lower lip and hold it
Mouth corners turn haltingly up in a vexing smile
Eyes sparkling, mischievous, coy, demure
Tugging like a lost puppy at my heart, spirit
Core, attending and rapt ... close, closer, closer still
Your eyes close, (mine stay open - I want to watch, NEED to)
Adoringly, I place a bent index under your mink-soft chin
Gently pull it up to mine ... the chilis part further
You release your sexy nip on them, mouth slowly opening
To the dance of a sweet, pink, bubble-gum quarry inside
It seeks mine out even before our mouths meet
Licks my lips as if ice cream, and they part to taste you
Tenderly, as if unknown, your soft blond tresses fall between
Mixing in our nectarous and esurient feast
Is there any candy yet as sweet ... as compelling and sublime??
Were it not for the life-sustaining needs of the human condition
Or the requirements of responsibility and motivation
I would lose myself - us - forever, in your clasp
In the exquisite, licentious, pure, and carnal enchantment
Of your consummate and delicious mouth
Locked away in the round-tower of your appetites
Slave to the flawless ecstasy that we create ...
With our love ... with our kiss.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Love Poems for Her (That Special Romantic Interest) Cash Prize" Poetry Contest, Team Poetry Soup, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Slave To Love" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
It’s a five-hour round trip,
What with the ferry, shuttle, a
Twenty-minute walk, sometimes the bus,
Just to see him for a couple of hours.
Sometimes he’s not doing well
Or is sleeping while I’m there.
It’s been such a long time!
First there was the back operation.
They said it went well, that soon I
Could see him in the recovery room.
But then he had the stroke!
Those weeks in intensive care
When they kept asking him
Every hour if he knew his name,
His birthday, his middle name,
The president, the year!
At least he could answer, if
Only haltingly. When the pain
Was dulled, he slept,
So lethargic it was scary!
He developed pneumonia,
Fluid around the lungs, too,
And had to have a drain,
Along with all the IVs,
And so many tests! EEGs,
X-rays, scans, ultrasounds,
Over and over again!
Finally, release to a room
Out of the ICU, but still tubes
And tests and more tests!
We sat by his bed, day after day,
Watching him sleep or trying
To engage him in conversation.
Putting his bed up, putting it down,
Getting nurses to reposition him,
Wetting his mouth with sponges,
Taking turns to get a break.
Then, after thirty-one days,
At last, to the rehab hospital!
Progress, pain, setbacks, complaints
(Who wouldn’t complain?)
At present he’s making small steps.
He is able to swallow all right,
So no more pureed food!
He can stand for a short time
In the standing frame,
A little longer this week than last!
The physical therapy is slow and
Sometimes discouraging,
Retraining those unused muscles.
Certainly it will be many weeks yet,
But now I can see a future when
He will come back home to us,
To me and to his beloved
Bernese Mountain Dog, Andy,
And his cats, Sweetie Pie and Sophie,
And he’ll be back to his old self again!
i step from the shower
i think of u
i wrap my wet hair in a towel
i wonder about u
i sit in my favorite chair in the middle of the night
everything looks as if its in slow motion
and my heartbeat is tripled and thudding
the echo of missing u
i smoke a cigarette and look at the inactive computer screen
i make my bed, i feed the cats and i dust the bedside table
i pick up a book, but i only manage three pages
my mind is wrapped aroung the idea of u
and its worse, i think
because i know u are out there in the world
wherever ur city sits
and u live and breathe there, while i am suffocating here
i slowly put on my makeup
hoping a few more minutes might give u the time to say "hello, i miss you too"
i need to work, and i need to fake that im okay
i take a final breath and hope my eyes wont betray me tonight
even while im taking off everything for them
im only hoping for a little something from you
even as i give them the sight of my body
i wish for u to have the feel of my heart in your hands
i struggle through the hours
minutes are quicksand that im stepping in
and every silent moment
is a knife in my chest, my throat, my gut
i haltingly lay my head onto a pillow as the sun comes up
and i dont want to close my eyes
because there u will be, waiting, and i will remember
every smile and laugh and word
i fall into restless sleep
theres nothing to calm my heart in these times
u are too far away
u are the only remedy
i dream
i think of u
i wake
i think of u
Each day in the lunch break he saw her,
Across the quadrangle, sat on the wall.
Her lunch box beside her, staring into space,
And no one in that crowded space,
Seemed to talk to her at all
Was it her own choice, that solitude?
Was she happier to be in isolation,
Or did it hurt her deep inside
Every day to be denied
The chance to join in other’s conversation?
So what was it that set her apart?
Why had she not been welcomed there?
Was she perhaps from the wrong side of town
Her skin too deep a shade of brown?
Or was it that they did not care?
On Friday, in the lunch break, he joined her.
“What’s in your sandwiches? Mine are cheese”
She shook her head, “Please look at me.
To understand I need to see
Your lips. And speak slowly please.”
They talked, albeit haltingly, throughout the break
Sharing sandwiches along the way.
He learnt from her about the curse
Of her silent universe
And the challenges she faced each day
And so they met up daily after that,
There on the quadrangle wall.
Oblivious to the crowd around,
He blocking out the buzz of sound.
They had no need of them at all
Soon he started learning signing
As their friendship grew and grew.
And as soon as he’d begun,
He taught himself an easy one.
It was the sign for I love you
I dream fragments of poetry,
my pen balanced in my hand,
journal opened to that page
already darkened
with blots of frustration,
asterisks for seemingly important ideas,
collections of words and phrases
intended for collage and inspiration,
pleas for clarity.
My poems appear haltingly,
in bits and pieces
written in several colors of ink,
each suited to the nature
of the several ideas that flit
through my paper mind:
vermillion extracted from cinnabar,
thinned with vodka for my good days;
palest sky-blue from the seed of the avocado
bathed in water and lye,
for those times when I know I can fly;
ocean-blue ultramarine
ground from lapis lazuli,
used carefully when I feel a need for absence;
brown leached from oak galls
steeped in acidic water,
yielding ink such that when employed,
dissolves the paper
beneath the words I have written,
leaving a lacework of poetry;
yellow from crushed petals of the marigold,
soaked in tears for when I am confused,
noir-black dipped from the depths
of my melancholy.
The final poems,
the ones I can live with,
come into focus
only after passage through
the fermentation of language
essential for developing notes
of flowers, stones, and juniper.
Only then are they shared.
The whole of my life is rather mundane, endured only until those few minutes gained; Yes, granted reprieve from this daily drudge, and allowed for the nonce, even if begrudged, to hold a feather,very sharp, to write with the tip. Slow and steady like a man taking sips…from the water of life after a long weary trip.
When all the gears are lubricated, operating efficiently, and the needs of the world weigh on someone else, the mechanism of creativity connects with the crenelated cog of self.
Dominoesk works cause my hand to haltingly write. Heart to mind, mind to body, body to hand, hand to quill…okay, so it's a keyboard, alright.
Emotion, like sand after a beach trip, pours forth from places usually dark, not seen, unlit.
Using that water of life and the sands of emotion, I build my castle with words and notions.
Intricate battlements, portcullis, bailey , and arrow loops. Protection from arrows of interruption, darts of responsibility, and soldiers of the Soup.
Until, Inevitably the drawbridge is breached, the end of my time finally reached.
Slowly I surrender my feather sword, in this messy, mixed metaphorical world.
The oven timer beeps and the phone rings, bringing me back to my life of mundane things.
In low tones we chatted
On the steps to her porch,
We talked of the decades
Since I’d carried her torch—
Of love we knew nothing
During young naïve years
Of kissing and fondling
‘Til I left her in tears,
For the navy enticed
With ships and adventure:
I sailed away keenly
Aware that I missed her,
Each ivory cloud roiling
I watched sculpt her face,
And the foam in ships’ wakes
Emulated her grace.
How her leer glowered down
With each floozy I’d bed;
Her glare did accost me
From the face that I wed.
But that marriage was fey,
On a short vine it died:
I had loved only once
So to find her I tried:
Thus we sat on those steps
Last night swapping stories,
We confessed of our lives,
Our failures and glories …
And the kiss that welled up
While lightning bugs popped,
Led haltingly bedside
Where our slack clothing dropped.
We then gripped and embraced
Through a torrent of mirth—
Time relented at last
And our love found rebirth.
October 22, 2016
1st place: Long Distance Love Contest/October 19, 2016
For 1st Place Only Poetry Contest
Laura Loo
INSTRUMENTAL INFATURATION
The piano man stopped playing when you walked in
And that’s when I heard the brass begin
The flautist was taken aback by your grin
And then I heard the voice of a violin
The drummer stumbled over his beat
As I bumbled over my feet
Then a sax and the trumpet came to meet
And suddenly the syncopation was complete
I heard the shrill of a single piccolo
Played sweetly and haltingly low
The mellowness of a melody began to flow
As the band put on a thrilling show
You were a bigger star than the guitar
As the bass and bassoon began to spar
The rhythm was hotter than steaming tar
As you and I made our way to the bar
Your sashay got an okay from the crowd
And the singer’s song was not too loud
Dancing with you made me so damned proud
Pride born of the beauty with which you are endowed
Suddenly the song was over and done
As you smiled brighter than the summer’s sun
The story of a song had, at once, been spun
And the entire band knew I love you more than anyone
© 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~