Long Kissed Poems

Long Kissed Poems. Below are the most popular long Kissed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kissed poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Whose Memories Are These

Whose voices, whose memories are these
That warble in trees, exalting my breeze
Applauding the daybreak's cerulean grin
Where amber ocher designs are floating in

Is that your echo from the cobalt blue sky
Wondering aloud about dawn's tepid sigh
As the morning evoked destiny's knowhow
And birdsongs lauded the blessings of now

When rays of romance in day's golden start
Painted my vistas, charming your heart
A smile you adorned on the saddles of arc
Reminiscent of the past, igniting my spark

I recognize the appeal your passions reveal
In intimate presence that meadows feel--
From way back when in allure of moonlight
Sensuous lips we kissed of an indelible night

Though it was love, it was never expressed
And those feelings afire never got blessed 
So they arise to voice what could have been
Augmenting the dialogue of battles within

April 21, 2019
Poem of the week for the week beginning 4/28/2019
Placed 2nd:What was left unsaid contest by Line Gauthier
HM: Your choice (5) contest by Brian Strand
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Bang Tidy

Beyond the wildest dreams 
From the dark side 
of the moon 
I am no longer rich 
In love 

Like the six million dollar man 
My circuits explode 
I do not have to shine outwardly 
In a dimension of my own 

Slipping of into another world 
Like a spaceship 
landing on the moon 
With a monkey 
hanging from a tree 

His tail wrapped 
around the branch 
The branch broke 
At the trees joint 
Falling down 

The cow jumped 
over the moon 
Away with the fairies 
to another land 

You would not believe it 
Under a mushroom 
hiding there 
My head spinning 

Around with love 
You found me there 
You kissed the frog 
The fairytale began

Premium Member Hill Trekking Exhilaration

hill so kissed by clouds
invites trekking adventure
while apex beckons…

welcoming summit
quenches thirst with waterfalls
thus enthralling heart… 

midst thick canopies
muddy trails lead along rocks
as trees waft cool breeze…

soaring toward crest
surmounting hilly challenge
victor’s faith ascends…

hill* top grand delight
makes me thank God’s might.

*Psalm 68:16 Why leap ye, ye high hills? this is the hill which God desireth to dwell in; yea, the LORD will dwell in it for ever.

March 15, 2023
1st place, "Haiku Sonnet" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joanna Daniel; judged on 6/12/2023
Form: Other

Premium Member therapy

I’m taking control, making changes.
Some for the worst, others for the best.
I don’t like to evade or retreat.
My secrets are inconsequential.
I’m taking things into my own hands
- I kissed my therapist. On the lips.
Life is but a game of ‘Smash or pass’
and I hate waiting for ice cream.
“I like the way you move,” he said, “I like your skin.”
“It’s what people notice first” I admitted, “want to see it?”
Or maybe I dreamed that - I dream about him, sometimes. *shrug*
I think the helpless, astringent, professional intimacy fires me.
I want him to ask me about my jerkwater sex life, he has a concomitant
passport, but he never does. Isn’t that important - what about Freud?
What do you think you inherited from your parents? He asked.
“What a question!” I observed, “You mean genetically?”
“Come on,” he prompted, and I thought for a long minute.
“I have my mother’s impatience, her drive to succeed
and her thick blonde hair that seems to dry instantly.”
He nodded, indicating he liked where I was going.
“I have my father’s eyes, his flashing temper and flat chest.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he wanted me to stay serious.
“Then there’s my Stepfather (Step), he taught me humor,
patience and self-control - oh, and how to drive.”
He sucked on his pencil eraser and nodded.
He always blurs the line between performance and approval.
.
.
Songs for this:
Secrets (Your Fire) by Magdalena Bay
The Spot by Your Smith

Premium Member Horse of the Highlands

Lost was I amidst the Scottish highlands
          The evening sky was blushing heaven-kissed
               Hilltops pierced the dusky fog like islands
     As soft a horse came swimming thru the mist

Pausing to consider its intentions
          I stood there hypnotized and still as death
               Thus its beauty quelled my apprehensions
     And naught there was but magic in its breath

Like the grand Bucephalus he gestured
          Nodding with his head for me to follow
               With the trails deep in the brume and vestured
     Held no greater hopes until the morrow

Building in my gut were pangs of hunger
          Outside the hopes of finding further aid
               Sixty and not getting any younger
     My future hinged on choices to be made

Little left to lose I started hiking
          Just steps behind the stallion as he led
               Even in the dark his hide was striking
     His color white as sheets and purely bred

On we walked for miles through the night, dim
          Until I spied some farm lights further on
               Stopping to remember him and thank him
     But searching through the darkness ... he was gone.






~ 1st Place ~  in the "Some Paradise Where Horses Go" Poetry Contest, Michelle Faulkner, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 4th Place ~  in the "Eight Words Challenge - 24 Lines Maximum" Poetry Contest, Robert Haigh, Judge & Sponsor.

( Ten syllables/line, counted at HowManySyllables.com, no cliche's, via cliche' tool at PoetrySoup.com )
Form: Rhyme


Loving You Is Blissful - My Darling Hubby

Again a small poem guys dedicated to my Darling hubby.. 
                          wrote by Mrs.Madhavi

 Loving You is Blissful - My Darling Hubby 

 Twilighting glow of the sky..
 Wanna fly so high..

 Sparkling amidst the million stars..
 chosen the crazy pal and so life is excellently par.. 

 As like the blossom were kissed by soft rain..
 Your arrival in life diminished all my pains..
 
 God has entwined me..with my emarald diamonite gem..
 Enlightening new vistas in life as like your next aim.. 

 At an astounding pace time flew..
 But When i didn‘t see you..I feel like..Life is been dew..

 Your divine presence in life rejuvenates me..
 Every tick of my heartbeat resonating wit your‘s or whatever it will be..

 Your innumerable naughtiness made me silly..
 But yep, your beautifying nature had an fragrance in life like lilly..

 As like snow crested the nestled mountains..
 You cuddled my persona..like a sip of fountains..

 Being With you, Life is euphorically elated..
 Full of high spirit and delighted..

 Thanks for being accompanying me my theist..

 Your admirer with lots n lots of Love:
 Madhavi
© Maddy Sp  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Ode To An Orphan

i. Storm

darkness is a shade
stirring shadows afraid
then the zigzag plunges
agitating the cross
again and again sawing a thin line
blackberry wine
the brew of an angry soak
a curtain torn from top to bottom
the thunder ripping
high priest covers his ears
lest the truth storm in
unwanted like an orphan

 ii. Orphan

six feet under
with no mother nor father
a Ukranian wonder
curls and crown
become somebody’s daughter
no frown
shovel pats down the blunder

iii. Grave

this grave circumstance 
shown the door
He stands and knocks
her chance
America an amusement park
the plane her first ride
she’s beside
herself with excitement, a spark
in her step

iv. First Steps

she will take her first steps
the moon will watch
desiring the test soil
she’d have kissed it
with her wit
how many reps
strengthen the catch
watch out world
she belongs

10/14/2020
Form: Ode

The Fog Story

(5/24/12)

The fog moved slowly across the ground
Like a cat on the prowl.
Everything was as quiet as can be
Not even a rustle in the trees.

Out of the mist she walked slowly towards me
Her eyes was the only thing that I could see.
They glowed like lanterns in the night
My heart jumped - my mind took flight.

So many thoughts going thru my head
Am I alive or am I dead?
What is this that I am seeing
Or is my mind playing tricks
And having me believe it.

As she came closer she started to take
An hour glass shape , and all dressed
Up in black pants , blouse , boots
And black cape.
Was I to die ? Was this my fate?

Her eyes black as her outfit and hypnotic
As can be , and the softness of her voice
Capturing me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” she said
I looked at her eyes then bowed my head.
She was the most beautiful woman that 
I had ever seen or ever met 
But something about her that I couldn’t 
Figure out yet.

Then the thought came to me “ vampire diary”.
I knew that this was only a movie , and no such
Thing exists . “but” -   what if ?
I did not hear her heels as she walked up to me
And her eyes as big as can be, taking full control of me.
I felt my body go limp as I lost my self in her eyes
Then she licked her lips, and I felt I was paralyzed.

She took my face in her hands and kissed me OH SO TENDERLY
And in her arms was where I wanted to be.
Her lips like the taste of wine warming my every being
This was all that I was seeing.

She unbuttoned my shirt and started kissing my chest
Then I felt her climb up to my neck.
Her breath so hot that it sent chills down my spine
To last me till the ends of time.

She kissed me again and her tongue went deep inside
To a point that I wanted to cry,
She pulled away then looked at me
And opened her mouth very wide

AND THEN IT HAPPENED !  I woke up !

             Ha Ha  hope you liked the ending.
© Louis Rams  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

the cake shop

The Cake Shop
There was a small cake shop near the bath-house
If I had money, I would go in there for a coffee and a cake
the girl behind the counter smiled; I fell under her spell
and my heart beating too fast made me dizzy
Her name was Berta, the loveliest thing on earth
I must invite her out for a walk in the park.
She closed her shop at five, borrowed my brother`s tie, and used his aftershave. Alas, outside the shop stood
 a man tall and handsome 
I walked by and into a deep shadow.
When she came out, they kissed and walked hand in hand
down the road, she said something, and he laughed.
Devastated, I sank to the ground and bitterly cried
how stupid, the burning shame, I couldn`t go into her shop again,  told him about me when she laughed
I found another place where an old lady of thirty served
 I felt at ease with her; we laughed and often kissed
But life is not sweet chocolate, as I had to work with no education
I joined the merchant navy, a place for poor boys who didn`t want to work in factories and left dreams behind. Or did I?
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

Racism in the Vatican

Woe to you… whitewashed tombs!
You glitter in gold vestments,
swing incense in marble cathedrals,
chant Latin like sacred thunder—
but your silence
is louder than the bells of Rome.

Tell me, O Holy See,
why must the holiest of seats
remain the coldest to change?

Where is the Pope with skin kissed by the sun?
Where is the Cardinal whose accent echoes Kilimanjaro,
whose spirit dances with the Ganges,
whose roots pulse from the Andes to Soweto?

Are we not also made in God’s image?

Your pulpits once whispered prayers—
now they echo with centuries of chains.
You spoke of Christ’s body, broken for us,
yet broke the backs of those
whose only sin was a different shade of skin.

You sold blessings to slave traders.
You baptized ships
that dragged our ancestors into the Atlantic grave.
You placed your cross on their bodies—
but never in their suffering.

And now we sit in your pews.
We kneel beside you.
We chant your hymns.
But we are ghosts
in your white cathedrals.

The black priest walks in shadow.
The Asian bishop stands in silence.
They serve, but are never seen.
They preach, but are rarely heard.
They are welcomed—
but not embraced.

You tell us Jesus is white,
blue-eyed and blond like your artists’ dreams—
yet he was born under a Middle Eastern sun.
You gave us Abraham and Jacob
but erased Shaka, Nefertiti, and Ashoka.
How can we see God in ourselves
if every image looks like you?

O Vatican,
you cannot hide behind stained glass forever.
The truth seeps through like sunlight—
slow, persistent, blinding.

We are not bitter.
We are broken.
We are not rebellious.
We are awakening.
And with every tear we shed in silence,
a pillar of your sanctuary begins to tremble.

This is not hate.
This is heartbreak.

The Body of Christ is global.
And every limb matters.
You cannot proclaim unity
while exiling our identity.

The day is near
when the roof shall split—
and the wind shall carry the voices of the forgotten
into your chambers of power.

We do not wish to destroy you.
We long to redeem you.
But redemption will not come
until you cleanse your heart
as much as your altar.

Remember: The Church is not white.
It is every child of God
crying for justice.

Even from within your own walls.

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