Long Lisa Poems
Long Lisa Poems. Below are the most popular long Lisa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lisa poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s Friday night and a group of us, the ‘university summer fellows’ (Quinn, Jammie, Monique, Lisa and I) are going groovin’. Quinn, a Harvard man (we’ve shed our jaundiced opinions of him), assured us he knows the Boston bar scene. We’re going to test that.
We told him we wanted to sway to whimsical beats and chase vivid, neon lights across dance floors, like a bunch of cats - till the hours get wee.
Quin's plan is for us to pop-in the “touristy” places, like ‘the Havana Club’, ‘the Manray club’, ‘Garage Boston’ and ‘The Grand’, we’re so 111. As usual, Charles is our party mom, escort and driver.
When Peter and I were in Saint-Tropez, earlier this summer, there were beach clothes - dresses, skirts and men's shirts - where they’d woven micro-LEDs into the flowered, dry-wick, fabrics. I think the effect is amazing, friday, and joyous. I got two skirts for everyone (all of my roommates). Tonight Lisa and I are wearing a couple of them.
Funny. I’ve mentioned it before, but Lisa‘s an audrey. Her school friends and roommates are all used to it, we’ve been exposed, we have built up immunity. But Quinn’s a newbie, when Lisa came into the living room, LED glittered and lookin-right, he was literally stunned. He froze, for a microsecond, his face went blank and his fingers wiggled, as if disconnected from his overloaded central nervous system.
“OMG! Jammie said, having just turned around, “holla at ya brooke!,” he declared, shaking his head in admiration. “Umm mmm,” he added.
“I’m sure.” Lisa said, starting to transfer things from her everyday bag to her glittery clutch, the girl cannot accept a compliment. Quinn, coming out of it, cleared his throat.
We’re ready. Let Friday night begin!
.
.
Webster: Jaundiced = “influenced by feelings of distaste, or hostility.”
slang..
pop-in = drop in, visit
audrey = an absolutely stunning girl
lookin-right = dolled-up, dressed to the nines
111 = excited
party mom = the sober person on a bar hop or party.
friday = fun, fun, fun
holla at ya = respect
brooke = beautiful
I lifted you into my heart
But one arm was missing
As single wing and one handed
I carried you inside
All the while, you pointing at
My lost absent limb…
You told me you’d love me
If I could find that one misplaced part
The part that would then
Make me whole
I looked into tomorrow
And searched through the past
But my arm had reached out
For something beyond my ability to see
I could still feel the numbing sensation
Of pain
Where the arm had previously
Been attached
The vibration of loss
Now prosthetic for all that was severed
You pitied my deformity as I hid
My eyes
As best I could with only one hand
Telling me the fault was mine
For always reaching beyond what I
Could know or see…
And with your final stroke of malice
You left me further disabled
Climbing back outside a wish I knew
Was never to be mine…
When you left you found the old world
Different than the one you thought you knew
A desert of frozen stone with a black sky now
Surrounded the stillness of your abandoned love…
As you hesitated to turn around and
Reenter my world
The one that just a moment ago you had
Admonished and left for good
A lone arm reached out and closed the door
Behind you
Leaving you abandoned in a sea of loneliness
And despair
—to love no more
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)
Dedicated To Lisa Wynn in the next AOP.
funky burning smelling aromas with the sorrowful tears of yonder years, where the mountains overshadowed the chimney smoke rising on the streets and open planse
my Mona Lisa darling my passion inflamed and ignited by you smile.
I'm sorry for causing your tears to fall my heart is broken because of your sadness
my Naomi lover confidant friend and wife my forgiveness plea resounds across the seas my everything I need and more.my Naomi my breath of sunshine I'm sorry for breaking your heart and hearting the one that you love. the burning smelling aromas that fills the sky is my guide to healing this heart I'm sorry for breaking your heart my lovely Naomi my plea resounds across the Sky's I'm sorry for being a fool but I know we will be together again my lover confidant friend and wife through All our struggles our love overcame all obstacles. my love my heart is broken because of your sadness I cannot live without you please accept my plea and together we can fly with our love into realms. your tears has altered my vision. I love you my Naomi lover and wife
Let's wax poetic - wax on..
We’re in for it
When we enter
the insubstantial country of love
That secret theater, in an invisible mansion of moods
it’s a resort that houses its share of speechless monologues and sore disappointments, all lovers know that, but there are infinite discoveries too—secret, intimate delights and sensual confidences.
Ok, wax off.
My horoscope this morning said, “any tension you’re experiencing now is just part of the process.”
Peter (my bf), flew in last night. When we’re separated too long, remembering him, remembering us, can at times, seem like a memory exercise and I find myself wondering if I’m wasting my bikini years on a handshake deal. Then we’re reunited and bam, I’m reminded why it’s a ‘dub-u, dub’ again.
He’s a delectation—in a Christmas bauble kind of way—shiny and dangerous because I want to touch him—but not be loud or showy about it. Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister) whispered to me, when I was getting some ice, “You watch him with the too-still poise of a cat about to strike.” I smiled at the complement because I love cats.
Every once in a while I’ll pinch him, to make sure he’s real. “Oww! Stop that!
“What?!” I ask, pulling back as if innocently confused.
I got him a room at the Marriott Essex House. It’s 400 feet down W59th from Lisa’s building entrance to the front door of his hotel. I measured it off, with urgent steps—then I helped him unpack. We unpacked a lot.
Later, we joined Dave and Lisa for a Christmas light tour—Manhattan’s flexing its wow-factor for us.
I didn’t get to sit on Santas lap this year, I’m a little old for that,
but I did get what I wanted most—I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot.
It’s not quite Christmas yet, but thanks, Santa.
Merry Christmas - Happy Hanukkah - Merry Kwanzaa - Happy Festivas!
.
.
Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Same Songs by Kelly Jones
.
.
Two days until Christmas.. how ‘bout some Christmas playlists?
www.daweb.us/xmas/
.
dub-u, dub = a big win
From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.
We were five I use to draw you rose scented flowers
using an ordinary led pencil. Youth! The world was ours.
Seven! I know that was the first time I saw you blush.
I whispered a song for you so no one else would hear.
Oh when we were nine! The potato sack race. I entered with Lisa.
You gave me that look. Oh that look! And you left without a word.
At eleven years old I had my "magic wink". "A Magic Wink" you'd
say sarcastically. How it made you giggle to make fun of it.
It was at thirteen we decided to burn the gym floor with our moves.
Our first dance. You stole my breath. Emptied the room of oxygen.
Fifteen...we started running and my God we ran and ran...
our shoe prints dug into the concrete. It was then I knew. Forever.
Then suddenly at seventeen in the slip of time you left, dissapeared.
Stunned! I slept through the next two years even in the full light of day.
At nineteen I swam an endless pool but even the chlorine couldn't
clear your scent from my memory as my spirit filled out hard as steel.
Was it on my twenty first birthday you showed up? You showed up
tried to hug me hello. Silent! Cold! I turned and walked away.
Was I still twenty one when I apologized for that day. When you asked
for an explanation. I recited false words but we both knew. Hurt for hurt.
Then at twenty five we still had issues to work out. I asked you bluntly
why you cut me loose in the prime of our youth. You my first and only.
I asked the question that burned in my gut. Without words your eyes spoke.
You were still in love with me. There was only me. I your first and only.
Finally our lips met to never part again. Left to wonder why, I accept our
lives without an answer. My love was that. Why would I have let you go?
Older than old now. One last time you leave. Death makes this choice.
Alone again I remember how I never knew why once you left.
Not everything is explained or understood,
like music by a one arm man playing a violin.
I sport my blank stare. Naked is the body of life.
Mystery sings blind the song of the lark!
and I...
i think of you.
March 29 2015
Armand
After the dreary, dismal cold days of winter,
Bogged down by mounds of snow,
Chicago, the indomitable city,
Dogged by ears-flapping, bone-chilling winds,
Emerges like a blooming flower
Fostering liveliness, sensuality,
Gaiety and grandiose funfair.
Hot, sizzling and sassy summer aside;
Invigorating spring first arrives and
Jogging along the Lakefront trail or
Kicking a soda can down the Magnificent Mile,
Life finally emerges from its winter cocoon.
Mona Lisa smiles and bright eyes fleeting by,
Night life promises a charm of its own with
Outdoor patios where cooing lovers linger,
Pandering to fans of performing arts and swanky music.
Quotidian lives turn into jostling horseplay,
Ravishing beds of fragrant shrubs adorn the sidewalks.
Spring in Chicago is vivaciously volatile,
Temperature, as it rises, so does people's spirits,
Under the shadows of imposing skyline or
Viewing the serpentine Lake Shore Drive up from
Willis Tower's Skydeck, Chicago appears, oh,
Xtra beautiful – A spring's paradise!
Yellow magnolias, richly painted and sweetly fragrant,
Zestfully vying with vibrant clusters of tulips.
~"A Spring Abecedarian" Contest by Shadow Hamilton
~02/19/2015
Let me tell you a story……..
Nothing new under the sun really.
Happened many times.
Autumn flourished and Christmas was near.
Hark, the bells tolled.
The womanizer discovered love.
Too late.
For now she died much too quick.
Friends rally round.
Especially Lisa, his illegitimate daughter.
All in vain. For now his love is dead.
A year passed.
He stood near a window
as fluffy snow fell gently.
He looked at that set of seashells,
An ivory box and inside his old watch
which she gave him as mementos.
Outside raucous seagulls flew,
a harbinger of further devastating storms.
Yet the worst tempest was in his heart.
Tears fell profusely.
But time flies.
Rapturous Spring is in full swing.
Tranquillity reigns in his heart.
All the family drift
On the boat on the languid lake.
Lisa happy to be with her father,
And his new wife.
He holds his own child with care
Will it be the end of his womanizing?
A white swan glides near.
Euphoric tranquillity reigns.
16 April 2022
Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Burnt by love my soul is singed with pain ..
Wish it would rain
Embers of the past keep licking me like fire
nothing can quench the anger that is raging inside
when a woman has been cheated on and stepped on
there is no place to hide...
Destruction becomes her new path and deceit becomes mate
she smiles her ruby lips, Mona Lisa pact induced
deep inside are raging demons of revenge
I find him by the lake peacefully building a Stonehenge
I invite him to come home but he says,
" I rather be alone "
so I sit and stew beneath the hot sun
isn't it sad when love goes awry,
and you find yourself sitting, with a smoking gun !
Flowers affirm my constant love for you.
Sweetheart, prepare to receive these
from January to December:
carnation, violets
daffodils, daisies
hawthorns, roses
buttercups, gladiolus
aster, marigold
chrysanthemum, hollies...
Never will I let oblivion
vanquish my vow*...
So help me, God.
( A https://www.pinterest.com/pin/578431145904755821/ and 40 words)
*Ecclesiastes 5:5 Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow and not pay.
July 29, 2022
2nd place, "Short verse inspired by pictures" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Lisa YY; judged on 8/9/2022.
Mona Lisa has worn that mystical smile on her mug for over 500 years!
Who is this mysterious lady who at us from The Louvre benignly peers?
She had to sit for over four years for the artist to capture that simple pose.
Who she is and what's behind that smile, only Leonardo DaVinci knows!
She ain't the most beautiful woman to come down the pike but what the heck.
Since her genesis in 1503 she wasn't treated all that well during her dicey trek!
She's been mutilated, stolen a time or two and graced Napoleon's sleeping place.
All the while she's borne it with grace with that inane smile upon her face!
Some have said that she's the widowed Duchess of Milan, Isabella of Aragon.
Others have sworn that she's Mona Lisa Gherardini and so it goes on and on!
Signore DaVinci left no specific clues as to the name of this mysterious dame!
Through the centuries men have scratched their skulls trying to seek her name!
Was that frozen smile upon her face to hide teeth that were crooked and stained?
Or was her pose such that her posterior and sacroiliac were slightly strained?
Perhaps her compressed smile implied to Leonardo, "Hurry up and git 'er done!
You're payin' minimum wage and fella, posin' fer posterity ain't all that fun!"
Now hung upon the wall of The Louvre she's worth millions and millions of bucks.
Not bad for an unknown woman from who knows where, but here's the crux:
That beatific smile upon the homely face of Mona Lisa that Leonardo created,
And what she's smiling for will always be debated and pondered unabated!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Tied for 3d Place in Carolyn Devonshire's "Unsolved Mysteries" Contest - Jul 2011