Long Lesbian Poems
Long Lesbian Poems. Below are the most popular long Lesbian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lesbian poems by poem length and keyword.
RAIN FALLING
Jealous, i am against a nature
for it spends more time with my lover.
when it comes, it touches all parts of my lover
that i am yet to touch.
Greedy, stingy and a thief.
It start with a wind, its twin,
which gripes through my lover's cloth
hugging million of times, feeling her breast
feeling her hair, kissing her lips.
Greedy, stingy and a thief.
When falling, it sends its voice as thunder
talking to my lover
deceiving her to lose my voice within her hearing
talking to her with deep and loud voice
Greedy, stingy and a thief.
I sued you, nature to court
you bribed the judges
by falling and touching their bodies,
breast, and .
I lost my case
Greedy, stingy and a thief,
you gay and lesbian
bribing both the gentlemen
and gentlemen in skirt
at the bench.
I beseech you as nature
look for another lover in the universe
but not mine
Fall in North, for there, they lack your presence
and they pray for your arrival
fall in the desert
for there they lack your presence
and they pray for your arrival
as a king, saviour and Lord.
LUCKY-8
I started to adore her in a coaching class of eight.
Overwhelmed with her pultrichude in elegance.
Her charisma charmed me just on first glance.
Blazing beauty as paragon almost perfect right.
She was in discomfort keeping herself apart.
She was a lesbian, fact flashed on revelation.
For boys, she had never felt any attraction.
But still I can’t forget, she stole my heart.
07/11/18
'Rhyme Time 5' Lucky-8 contest by Laura Loo
Second Place
August 2018 Premiere Contest by Brian Strand
My poetry represents,efficiency,creativity,connectivity,productivity,reality,and spiritual transformation! Poetry Soup can only be produced by a poet of a unique sort! The tools of a poet lives in every sort or kind of a woman or a man: We all have these tools at hand:Some just do not understand!These tools reside in my friends ,and my enemies too! I extract these tools from them to realize who they are ,and who I am,and can be and who is who? My poetry represents efficiency,productivity,life,and re-birth,and being born again,and speaks of the animate,and the inanimate,fiction,and reality,as we travel on the road to eternity!My poetry speaks of love ,war,hate,emotions,envy,jealously,freedom,slavery,fun,and play,and speaks about morning,noon,night ,and day! My poetry speaks about what is seen ,and not seen,and what vibes really feel like,and what type of vibes,are bad,and the vibes that are right!!!My poetry speaks about bits and bytes,and these things effect our everyday life.My poetry speaks about what makes the stars in the sky gleam! My poetry speaks about us and them. My poetry speaks about lgbt,straight,bi-sexual,gay,trans-sexual,lesbian women and ,our human rights as women and men! My poetry speaks about the stars in the sky,and why we as people live and die,as we travel on the road to eternity,where we all reach our destiny! My poetry speaks about why we as people tell the truth,and tell a lie!!!My poetry speaks about why people sing a song,and praise "The Lord God Almighty"all day and all night long!My poetry speaks about how "Jesus Christ"is "The Only Begotten Son"of "The Living God"that came to save all of mankind from going to "Hell",and be able to live again,while being in "The Spirit"at the very end"!That is why we call "Jesus Christ ";Christ! My poetry speaks to give happiness in life:That cannot be wrong: That can only be right! My poetry speaks to give "ALL GLORY"to"GOD"!!!!!!! That is the only reason that "MY POETRY CAN SPEAK!!!
My disillusionment with organized religion
came as a result of my realization of its
ambivalent nature.
Church clothes clothe hidden judgement;
secrets ingrained in button downs,
sinners treated like cash cows,
and knees sore from repeated attempts at repentance.
You were not like that.
Though you suffered the stings of persecution's arrows,
your humanity,
the morality you possess from the altered reality we commune in,
was ever more human than the prized proprietors of the pulpit.
Our lives entail getting used to
the ground moving underneath our feet,
for we are immune to inertia, my love.
Hold me once more as you journey onward into fragile memory.
Goodbye Bible Camp Girlfriend, goodbye.
Nirvana is a handsome, gray writing spider. She kneels on the outside of her web. She opens up her legs and reveals a slim, female arachnid's, similar to a woman's.
"Interpret me," she coos. She takes her feelers in her womb and licks herself.
Moments later, our legs collide, and we're both moaning. The feeling was rough with a lesbian sense of bliss. Snakes and spiders would agree; the thought of the dirty voice inside my head began to rumble. It was the voice of Jiminy Cricket. Don't forget to FLOSS them gum-vipers, she screamed, swinishly...
Her jaws were now down there, licking. I, in turn, licked the lobe earnestly with precision and vanity.
Have you ever seen the l mouth of a ladybug or a transgenderbender? Yeah, I did them all, I gulped.
The vampire was feasting, feasting on the wrath of man-- the vampire known as the Antichrist and Count Dracula...
Grant me sunrise, cruel warden
Would you deny me that which makes us human?
What violent hatred grips your heart
To demean and dehumanize so freely and purely
How is it that you dream, violent warden
To so easily reveal your true intention
But sing it so cruelly under the guise of love?
Do we see the sky the same?
Sing unto me, dark warden
Describe the face of the Jesus you worship
His deeds, His mother's love, how must they seem
For our messiahs must clearly be different
Do you hear me cry, silent warden
Calling your name in this brilliant cell
Much further beyond any childhood dream possible
Yet shackled so much tighter
What does Jesus mean to you?
Does whispering His name sear your skin?
Does taking His name in vain merely mean to speak it?
How do your actions reflect His?
Do you remember His rage?
As He scattered the Pharisees in anger
Do you stand among them?
As He weeps for His children?
We're all looking at the same sky
A rainbow defiantly cutting across the endless clouds
Be it safety from flood or neighbor
His promise remains the same
I believe in Jesus' love
For his children, straight, lesbian, gay, bi, trans, *****, intersex, ace, beyond
For the One who gave all for his flock
How deep does your love lie?
I fall in love with people fast.
Not men. Usually women. And no, I am not a lesbian.
But we have more in common.
And I fall in love with children, even faster.
Believing their stories, and their eyes.
Believing in them before they believe in themselves.
I fall in love with people fast.
Even the ones on the street I never talk to.
Sometimes we do not have to even make eye contact.
I see them and I instantly adore them.
Maybe their plaid shirt, or their waitress pins.
A toddler’s shrill voice.
I fall in love with people fast.
Instantly and fully in love.
It might be their giggle.
It might be the baby fit they are having to get that candy bar.
It might be the flirtatious way they are looking at their date.
I fall in love with people fast, and I am ever so glad to do it.
(Hardly anything is known about Sappho, but no-one seriously
doubts her greatness as a poet. She lived on the Greek island
of Lesbos (hence “Lesbian”) in the seventh century BC. All that
has survived of her work is a scattering of scraps, but even this
meagre evidence establishes her as one of the foremost poets
of all time.)
I.
Waking at dawn,
with lilac boats of cloud
threading through heaven's
cool aquamarine
like afterthoughts of night,
I yearn to sing of you
as prettily as I can,
to do you honour, Atthis,
and give pleasure to our friends.
Dawn crept into our room
in her sandals of gold
and, stooping over the bed,
kissed me free of sleep's lax bonds.
This life of ours is brief, Atthis,
so let us love without restraint.
We, two vermillion hyacinths,
lending our grace to a mountain path,
should blaze before
some shepherd, unknowing,
treads us underfoot
till all of us that remains
is a red stain in the sand.
It is a short flight
from dawn to night,
but do not despair, my love.
We will bestow it yet
with a thousand beauties.
I love everything that
caresses me. I love the hot wind
redolent of wild thyme,
and the strong, gentle hand
of the sun on my breasts.
I love the honesty of mountain water
and the gorgeous bloom
which freshens the gnarled gorse,
surprising him with happiness.
And yes, I love you too, Atthis,
with buttercups in your hair.
Definition: programmed cell death/cellular suicide
in an attempt to remedy damaged components,
neatly shrinking and dismantling damaged parts.
A cognitive dissonant conscious
exists at a crossroads.
My mind fractures at the mere thought
of going back into the closet of deferred romantic pursuits,
even if hiding can ensure survival.
My dilemma encapsulates the quintessential concept of coming out.
Taking a step out of closeted comfortability
opens up the avenue for external toxicity,
while retreating into latent potential is
unintentional self-immolation.
i see the way you look at him,
holding his hand,
kissing him,
and i see you’ve been cursed.
cursed to love a man you never truly loved,
cursed to lose the girl who gave you butterflies.
if you were a boy,
you said, so many years ago,
i think i’d want to kiss you.
so unsure of yourself in your sentences
out of fear of being cursed with a life sentence
damnation, you said.
but how could a love so sweet be so wrong.
how cruel for a sixteen year old girl to hear these words,
i cut my hair,
i bound my chest,
i made myself a reflection of who the world wanted,
in order for us to be together.
i waited for you.
but time did not wait for us, my dear,
your parents laughed when you brought me home to meet them,
then their laughs turned to violence
when they saw us
said we were cursed,
laying with the devil
they turned your bright green eyes into
swollen shades of blues and purples.
now, nearly twenty years later,
i see you with him,
saccharine smiles,
absorbing his touch
like a reluctant sponge.
heartbreak is not nearly strong enough a word for this kind of pain.
my love,
we were never cursed,
the world was.