Long Heightens Poems
Long Heightens Poems. Below are the most popular long Heightens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heightens poems by poem length and keyword.
Far out on Neptune's briny sea,
my hammock holding still
while the ship slowly rocks side to side,
tired and lonely, I close my eyes.
In this darkness I can hear
the constant lapping of the waves
against my ship's hull from bow to stern
and imagine the breeze's gentleness
as it caresses each delicate drop
before it splashes back to its home in the sea.
In this quasi-conscious state of being
My attention is drawn to an aroma so sweet
it reminds me of vanilla or, maybe, jasmine
rooted in a desert hillside mingling
with the cleanness of a Spring rain.
Am I really smelling this
or is my heart playing with my mind?
I am now imagining my arms
wrapping around your body,
breathing in your essences
after my tall ship returns to port.
How many days and hours will that be?
The sea is my home and I know it well,
but am cruising in unfamiliar waters
whose depths, denizens and perils
have yet to be discovered and charted.
With fair winds and a forgiving tide,
how fast can we go?
Is there such a thing as sailing too fast?
How many knots can that be?
Every moment ticking by creates another knot;
one that ties itself inside of me.
Sleep is not forthcoming;
I stir, my breathing heightens,
I slip out of my hammock
and my steps bring me to the deck
where I longingly look out over those ripples
separating me from you.
Surrounded by the pitch black of night I'm enheartened
by the moon's beams dancing like water nymphs
on the milky crest of every wave
filling my eyes with sensuous beauty.
My heart feels warm and vibrant now
and I turn my gaze upon that splendid orb
slowly spanning midnight's sky,
for somehow I know across this expanse of ocean,
you are looking at it too.
I continue my journey into the darkness,
chasing the moon to be closer to you.
Tonight, standing on this cold forlorn deck,
I wish I could reach up into the heavens,
pluck that chromish gem from the sky,
and give it to you to hold forever.
Back in my hammock I think and wonder,
when this ship, again, drops anchor in port,
will you be at dockside waiting for me?
When my sails are relaxed,
my jib tied down resting in its place,
and I finally set these seadog's legs upon the shore,
will you be there?
I am but a lonely sailor
looking for your outstretched arms
to guide my heart into a safe harbor...
copyright2000acb
Scene I: When It Began
It is a soft-lit evening, my luscious lips ready, blood…sweat… red,
As I wonder just what can excite this insanely wacko head
Much blissful scenes, sounds and songs entertain these curling toes
Smeared makeup, made up again, green mess of hair that flows
When I hear from the other room, a sound quite like a groan,
A deep voice full of chocolate wonder, like a dog…I follow the bone…
Meandering through the hallway, the sounds become ah- thunderous
Till I reach the slightly open door, my eyes search in wanderlust…
And there he is, sitting upright, like a bloom resisting the wilt of winter,
His eyes glued on sumptuous words of worlds I could only dream to enter
A hood over his sexy head, his voice rises like crazed incense,
Then I realize why this winter cannot dare to stop such resistance
He is gazing upon wondrous words, his eyes in tears, lit with glee
I beg for him to look my way…give some of this stimulation to me...
Slowly….inevitably…I make my way to his side
Gazing where his eyes are glued, anxious to be part of the ride
And what I see changes my life forever…verses for longing touch
The oak tree grows, I’m blooming…I’m salivating so much
I take a seat beside him as he utters sweet ecstasy
Swelling ever more tightly, I grow more desperate at his mercy
He guides me into this realm I have never known as long as I have breathed
Now as I wallow in these words… they moisten and arouse each sense deceived
My imagination heightens, my provoked senses he discovers,
I’m anxious to explore this realm with him which now he uncovers
Guided swiftly to his masterful breaths and intentioned exhalations
I forget all past endeavors, all pleasure-based revelations
This is all I need now…. I have exactly what I desire
Just let me rise into the skies and take my place dear sire
What is this happiness I do feel, my growth is all but beginning
Enlightening…enlivening…. Writing in painful pleasure…winning
Don’t stop those eyes from meeting with her word
Don’t let the others in with this- who cares if we’re absurd
We are flying like cocks, winning pride from growing wings
Rising voices…raising flocks… never stopping for simple things
We’re beyond happy baby… for that I am certain…
I am ready on the stage….
Just waiting for you…
To pull that curtain….
"Thoughts of a Sexual Nature"
Vivid thoughts of you,
in your birthday suit.
Sprawled on my living room floor,
anxiously you wait
for what you came here for.
Long toned legs,
a rippled mid-section.
I want to hear you beg,
you caused this ********.
Incense burn!!
Sex on the Beach
heightens the mood.
I allude,
to a massage.
A mental mirage,
a dream.
Vivid thoughts accrue,
as I knead your birthday suit.
skin like a rare passion fruit,
and I'm working for your nectar.
You're my aperitif,
and I have a sweet tooth
for your vermouth.
_________________________________________________________
Strumming your neck,
my tongue is the pick.
Hearing you moan lightly, "Oh your so thick."
So eager was the lass,
for me to.... hose down her fire.
You see, the blaze I intensified.
I knew her desires.
Slow down I pleaded,
hasten your pace!
We have all night baby,
and first base is my face.
I had overdosed on her Vermouth.
She poured without a care!
Enveloped in lusts rapture,
it was, to soon to conclude.
Ambiance is important, so I'll set the mood.
Red lights, mirrored headboard
& playing softly in the background,
a love songs
interlude!!!
_________________________________________________________
Soft moist lips lick you're ear
whispering words of delight
pursuing my plight for your might,
my tongue rolls down your neck
peck on peck,
as my goal unfolds
kissing chest nipples
your dimples of gold
tanned bronze like a god,
excitement,
ecstasy
extension to explode,
the ride enhances as liftoff begins
tastier than sins,
searing flesh on flesh emotions
enmesh juices of love in thrombosis,
in oceanic osmosis,
as we fall...
spent ...
content ...
in orgasmic opulence.....
"This is a collaboration written by three different poets... Starting with Me...
Samuel Brooks has the middle section, and Linda Marie Bariana concludes...
This turned out well and I am sure all of you will agree..
Jared Pickett---Asavvy1
Samuel Brooks----ChocolateWoW-------------------------1/27/2010
Linda Marie Bariana------Sweetheart
She flinches, shudders as chains tug at her flesh
The ruthless slave trader and rapist whispers to the auctioneer
And instinctively she knows that it is her turn to be sold.
The noise heightens, her eyes focus on a kind face in the crowd.
A well dressed man with a curly mustache wearing a black a top hat
His expensive suit quite obvious as he moves deliberately through the crowd
He approaches the platform and takes the slave trader aside
As the bidders become raucous, jostling and argument ensue
Her eyes trail the well dressed man with the curly mustache
As he haggles with the ruthless slave trader
Again, looking up towards the sky once more, she day dreams
Her Mama had been sold some time ago, never to be seen again.
And as she recalls the soft murmuring words of comfort
Tears fall easily from ebony eyes rolling down her face.
Then she heard a voice whisper, “Don’t cry.” “Don’t cry, Heddie”.
I am here. I am with you. And wherever you go, I will go with you.
The road will be treacherous and mighty long. This road will be hard, the
Journey, long. Yet you will be resilient. You will endure and you will be strong!
Today, I bring you a gift for all your days and beyond. The gift of song!
May your soul find rest when you sing. In joy or sorrow, trials and trouble, worship
And praise, you will sing and your spirit will ascend to God’s throne of grace.”
In that moment the chains that shackled hands and feet fell loudly onto the block
(That was the beginning of a new life for Heddie. The well dressed man with
The kind eyes rescued Heddie and the others that day. As the story about her great
Grand mother is told to her grandchildren sitting at her feet, they all realize that the blessing
which was given eons ago as Heddie stood on the auction block at twelve had been passed
forward to the present generation. They are the descendants of Heddie and the well dressed
gentleman who had moved to upstate New York where he married Heddie and gave the
slaves their freedom.)
This is written in celebration of "Black History" Month and in collaboration with Jimmy
Matthew Anderson
Form:
Surgery waiting room clocks move very slowly.
Pages in the books people brought with them are read over and over again without the reader ever knowing what it is they read. Magazines are picked up and put down again without being opened. Windows are looked out of without the view outside ever being seen.
And, the clock hardly moves.
If fish could be described as pacing back and forth, that is what the angelfish in the oversized aquarium appear to be doing. People sit in one chair, get up, walk around and sit in another chair, as if that one will bring them better results. Bathrooms are entered and exited and the faces reflected in the mirrors within look more worried than the person looking at the reflection had hoped to see.
And, the clock has barely moved.
Hands that are seldom held are being held by friends and family. Hugs that are seldom shared are being freely distributed. Vending machines are being stared at for minutes at a time, but items are seldom purchased.
And, the clock remains the same.
Each new person that enters the room attracts every eyeball wondering if that person’s loved one is in better or worse shape than the one they are waiting on. Then, the eyes return to the page that has been read fifty times; the magazine that remains unopened; or the window that looks out to an unseen scene. Cell phones ring. Strangers learn the story of other strangers through one sided phone conversations.
And, the clock appears to have stalled.
As surgeons enter the room, everyone listens for their name to be called. You watch other families converse with the doctor, gather their belongings and relocate to other rooms with slow moving clocks.
Once you hear your name, your anxiety heightens and you learn the status of your loved one. You gather your belongings to sit vigil by your patient’s side to be there when they awake. Upon leaving the room, you glance one last time at the waiting room clock and notice it has skipped ahead seven hours.
You leave the few remaining anxious strangers behind and hope to never have to see that surgery waiting room clock ever again.
I saw her there….A little girl, a baby really… so sad, so alone. How very much I
wished to go to her, to comfort her and to hold her against my cold dead flesh.
Yes….I am capable of compassion. I am even capable of love, although I do not give
it freely. Standing there, I seem but a shadow to the mortals that come and go…yet
this child ….this object of innocence seems to perceive me….seems to know who I
am. She speaks to the darkness where I stand watching her, how very perceptive
she was. Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation…. Yes… the song from
Phantom of the Opera. The songs of that story are very appropriate when
considering the events….She told me of her hopes, dreams, fears, confiding in me as
a child normally would to a parent. When she was hurt, whether a scraped knee or
a scraped heart, it was me, the shadow that heard of it. Her “parents”, and I use
the word ironically, had no time for her. To them, she was a duty, an encumbrance,
but I discovered I treasured every moment that was shared with me. The nights
come and go. The weeks become months, become years and this girl grows. Pretty
becomes lovely becomes beautiful. The child that trusted the shadow in the corner
as a confidant grows into a young woman, and I realize I love her, and I always
have. Sing once again with me, our strange duet….And so once when her heart was
torn, and she felt she was dying inside, I could not stop myself…I sang to her. The
child that I felt in my heart as my daughter had always known I was real…but this
was a confirmation. I sang…softly to this beautiful child. I sang of darkness and of
love. Of the love of a father for a daughter….but also that of lovers, for I am no
mortal man, and the love of my heart cannot be categorized as others do. She froze
unmoving, listening not only with her ears, but also with her spirit to the songs of
my heart….of my soul. A blackness so profound that others would be repelled, yet
she found a soft warmth there that comforted and entranced her. She found then a
magical realm within my songs.
Form:
Eradicated, exquisite, hypocritical, and divine
Given your own heart --- but not given your own mind
Slaving through this lifetime to just rush to the next
Disqualified, degraded, and generation-hexed
Unintelligent, psycho, and deranged
When you open your eyes --- your life has already changed
The flashes of your past speed by under the midnight sky
Stagnant, secluded, and your life on a constant "standby"
Running from the thoughts that erupt out of your brain
Until before you know it, you're dead and your body lies crumbled in vain
The life you were meant to lead has definitely gotten away from you
Rushing through your life --- set off without a clue
Shocked and sinister your body's in pieces
Your spirit dwindles off --- and your life simply ceases
Born with a name, a face, and a voice
Just someone else's solution --- isn't another's method of choice
Always fighting, always frontin', always running from your life
Tearing and shredding through your DNA --- life's composite knife
We all just co-exist under the heightens of this moon
Raging and bubbling and on the verge of starting a monsoon
The emotions you display, will manifest itself as a storm
After the destruction of the storms --- your life it's about to transform
Gathering a team --- preparing for the worse
Losing everything together --- nobody gets to reimburse
Learning the stuff in school, they want your kids to learn
To silence and quiet all of the bottled-up unconcern
The greed of the people of this country within
Forcing you to remember and relive the first, original sin
I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me what you need
For the negativity inside your veins has done nothing to you but mislead
The mission you surround yourself --- the "so-called" box from within
Like everything from the beginning was fake possessions --- fake heart & fake skin
You're a barbie in a world, transformed by boxes of rocks
Millions of stopped galaxies --- millions of broken clocks
My anxiety is something I live with, each and everyday,
most days I forget I have it because it's become normality,
some days are better than others, then some aren't so great,
then the days where it's really bad where I just want to hide away.
When it actually started, i'm not really sure,
thinking back as far as I can I think it was when I was a child,
I use to have these strange feelings, each day when I came home from school,
as I got closer to home my heart would beating faster too.
There are three kinds of attacks I get, only one can I control,
the other two can sometime take me off to another into world,
to caught up in emotions, as all the feelings build up inside,
understanding my triggers now is going to my my next fight.
The first one isn't to bad fleeting thoughts here and there,
feel a little bit anxious but I tell myself there nothing to fear.
being a little anxious sometimes I'm quick to snap,
but I know when I'm in this stage because I can put my self in check.
The second one I can cope sometimes like the one I having now,
been going anxiously up and down for almost six hours.
I don't like people annoying me, because I get over anxious real fast,
A lot of the time I sit in silence just trying to ride it out.
The last one I really hate, this is when I lose the plot,
disillusioned by paranoia and fears, this one I cant stop.
when I hit that state my life becomes a misery,
I try my best to describe exactly how it feels to me:
Someones got my lungs trying to strangle me to death,
feels like I'm having a heart attack, gasping for breath,
room is starting to spin as the wall's start closing in,
feeling claustrophobic and itchy with in my own skin.
Trying to shake it off only heightens it, by 10,
then I could be off on another planet, speaking Latin,
nothing makes sense, drifting in and out of reality,
this is how my anxiety can sometimes effect me.
M.Mahauariki © 2012
Comforts on a stranger's lips
That whisper kinship,
As strength returns to frail thought,
Their wisdom heightens the spirit
Daily reminders that the world
Is all connected
The birds in flight so unified
Crowds smiling in venerable sync
When sung in harmonies,
There is a faith that songs
On the mouths of all creatures,
Belong
And to Belong,
How weak I become to Belong,
In a home that is as harmonic
As a flock in flight—a song to sing!
2.10.2020
Note: Made it to the 10th poem of my February series 'Weak Spots'—I sincerely hope you've been enjoying the poetry thus far...
I was talking to a friend before posting this one, about how sometimes we may not think what we have created is good— but in someone else's eyes it could be a masterpiece. It all depends on perspective, I suppose. So, starting out with this poem, I felt it was pretty weak—yeah—ironic I know...
However, looking back at it...tweaking the words a little —and being reminded that everyone thinks differently, I can now say I love what I have created. I am so proud of how far I've come...
...and in all your journeys...your passions and pursuits...if you are not, you should be proud too—if what you have done or made is good or bad. For what really defines what is good and bad? Sometimes our own minds are not good focal points to come to those conclusions. Often we are critics to ourselves before we are friends... At least I fall into that hole—I don't know about you guys.
Also...being or feeling weak once in a while is not a bad thing... I titled my romantic series 'Weak Spots' because I believe that the things that make me feel weak are valuable and notable...and often beautiful.
Anyway, rant over...press on! And again...thank you for reading.
We walked the beach one moonlit night
Our lunar orb shone down so bright
Darkened shadows consumed the land
This night we walked hand in hand
The summers breeze was fading away
As night birds glided in hidden display
Chromed crests topped the gentle waves
As a calmness carries their path paved
To a secluded dune we sit down and admire
The days beauty from it's morning transpire
As we enter a new day on natures sands
To be here at midnight we never planned
On our backs we lie and look to the night sky
In our minds we know why, we are here and lie
Companionship, relationship and our love dictates
That on this moonlit night, we are soul mates
Although it is dark I see her ebony curls
Just one of her beauties that makes my heart swirl
We turn and face as our lips gently meet
My hands through her hair as our kissing repeats
On the sands of our time we caress each other
Our naked flesh bare as we lovingly smother
Undulations of delight in capturing clutch
Receptive and pert by our sensuous touch
Adjoined we are, two hearts beating as one
As a chorus of silence, our loving whispers begin
Through the sighs, we whisper I love you
As our kissing heightens below the dark cobalt blues
Our bodies become frenzied as our loving emotion blooms
Naked as birth in natures front room
Joyous cries of delight drift on the sands
We share our excitement as we started, holding hands
Breathless sighs resonate in our space
Under the lunar light in our special place
Absorbing our loving time, spooned we lie
Two in love under a diamond crested night sky
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-11.php