Long Loose Poems
Long Loose Poems. Below are the most popular long Loose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loose poems by poem length and keyword.
Spring
It is Spring!
The tiny plants wave hello
From the loose brown earth,
As they journey upward in search of the sun.
It is Spring!
The air is heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and new roses.
As the clouds play tag across a bright blue sky;
The gentle breezes tickle dance on my cheeks.
It is Spring!
And my eyes are assaulted with color.
As the Azaleas march in neat formation;
Down the streets and driveways of our little town.
It is Spring!
An angry Momma Blue-Jay dive-bombs my puppy,
While her silly mate searches for twigs among the leaves;
A brown squirrel hurls insults from a tall pine tree.
It is Spring!
The Earth awakens to the music of it’s creator.
And for just a moment if we pause to look,
We’ll see a glimpse of Heaven and what the earth was meant to be.
There goes my heart.
Once sealed now open like the mouth of a volcano.
My souls’ strings pulled out from their place of refuge.
My soul thriving to breathe from your mere presence.
My hand exploring every fore of your delicate body.
My hands aching, yet trying not to touch the hollow of your strong neck.
I’m short of breath; I don’t know what it is.
Could it be the fear of letting my heart loose?
Or it’s the sweet smell of your hair, the feeling of your skin next to mine.
There goes my heart.
The edges of my mouth curve…into a smile; a smile of bitter sweet defeat.
I can’t fight it; my heart is a mask of intense emotions.
I trace the edges of your lips; I just have to engrave the feeling in my soul.
My mind is at ease, the air around me silent yet so soothing.
I’m scared.
I don’t want this moment to pass, I’m so intent.
I don’t want to miss a sigh from the depth of your soul.
There goes my heart.
I try to keep a lock on it.
But I dare myself; I have to win this race.
Although it’s reaching its futile end.
It’s almost over.
I’m speechless.
I don’t understand it, I don’t want to.
Why could something so beautiful come to end?
I don’t care either way.
Those once pure moments will be gone.
I don’t mind.
There goes my heart.
I think…"let it go”.
I look into his eyes; they are a pool of mixed emotions.
But we both know it’s for the best.
I trace every bit of his face; kiss his eyes, his nose… I have to remember it.
I love him, I know.
I look into his eyes again, smile and slowly drift to sleep; thinking.
There goes my heart.
I don’t mind anymore.
It wouldn’t make a difference either way.
I know it will be safe, it will soar above clouds.
Enjoy the last moments of pure bliss.
And then come back to me in one piece.
It’s in good hands, I know.
There goes my heart.
(C) Herzel Poshiwa
Posting this first poem for me was quite nerve wrecking because it was one of the first poems I had ever written.
You have always blazed your own trail
Getting up when ever you did fail
Went your own way
Even today
You walk on your own
When hope has flown
Careful of the battles you choose
Life is so easy loose
Blazing your own trail
You have put yourself through hell
Easy to tell
Your mind sometimes seems to fight you all day
Still, you never took the easy way
Avoiding life
The strife
The everyday headache of following the crowd
So loud
Running to and fro
Never sure of where it is they go
Making your way
Through each day
Unsure of what to say
Knowing the fight in your mind
But your heart is still kind
Causes you to be left behind
So often you look around
Sights that has no sound
Your way to nowhere
What is right or wrong, is not always fair
Your heart leads you this way
Nowhere to stay
You can't be molded like clay
The difference between who you want to be
And in the mirror, who it is you see
Nothing ever comes free
But as you make your way
Through each day
As you walk through your own hell
While blazing your own trail
Something happens to you
All them hard times become the glue
Better than you wanted to be
Is this new person you see
Stronger for those little test
So many nights so little rest
As the Phoenix surviving the fire
Lifting yourself so much higher
Beyond your own desire
As you blaze this trail
You emerge from the deep well
In which you fell
So long ago
Tomorrow will show
This is who you were meant to be
Wait and see
Scratching at reality
as it bites
the head from time
Struggling yawns at insipid dawns
relevance bends and breaks
Front to ???q
uck says the f
defend the loose errs
Keep has been kept
Defy imagine nations
Diction orders the nary
Words twist into swords
lest we test the letters or just be settlers
Take my open hand
no hope and nowhere to land
control and condone the remotest controlled
Rolled and rocked
To a beat that doesn't follow
too morrow worms and tow two moor
Thin king or is it just an ink thing
any one an inkling
Can't follow then don't
Pb is led
All that glitters is not Au
Looking for Ag in the lining
Dread dead add ad a
Live lived veiled deviled and reviled
Knew knew new
Sympathy grows closer with an e
all of us junkies
made from drugs
electron bursts
in dreams of unknown hues
as i walk in deaths corroding shoes
I wasn't there again today
wonder what the man on the stair had to say
IN GOOD CONSCIENCE
Heavily tread, are those small fractious steps
On the stairs to my own peace of mind
The sound of transgressions that I'd rather forget
is the pounding of a most clamorous kind
The dialogue I'm having, within my own self
drums on the door of the closed minded truth
I try to rewrite scripts, shoving back on the shelf
But the turbulence shakes them loose
No matter, how buried, how deep I will hide them
My conscience can shovel them out
That child inside me, denies what was done then
But can't deafen the voices that shout
I profess to regret many sins I've committed
The most difficult task is one of admitting
__________________________________
Revised 4/6/13__
__________________________________
(Original Poem....Diminished Hexaverse)
MY CONSCIENCE
heavy on the stairs
the sound of my thoughts-
my own voice resounds
and pounds on my door
of solitary
the dialogue
within myself
never perjured
is translucent
I profess
to launder
past regrets
if stains
can be
cleansed
_____________
2/14/11
___________________________________________________________
Both poems submitted for Roy Jerden's Contest: "Makeover"
Carl Denham, you have done a dirty deed.
You brought that big gorilla to New York out of greed.
That "eighth wonder of the world" would make you money.
However, what he did certainly was not funny.
Kong broke loose from his chains during the show.
He fled the theater, and off he would go.
With him, he carried pretty Ann Darrow.
Kong quickly headed for the Empire State Building.
Along the way, that huge ape did his thing.
He wrecked a train, and plenty of people he was killing.
As he climbed that building, he caused trouble to say the least.
It took a lot of airplanes to shoot down that beast.
There was a lot of relief after that gorilla was dead.
Denham, get this into your incredibly dense head:
Having that ape in this city was not considered fun.
Don't you dare go back to Africa to get another one!
Based on the 1933 film "King Kong"
No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!
No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.
Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!
Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?
Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!
Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:
Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)
Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."
Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplets, love, sun, sad, unique, separation, angels, body, soul, mrburdu
A frame in the hall
scans every face it passes;
backed with silver skin
nothing lingers long enough
to show, what's best forgotten.
A transparent film
holds a blue wren on a wire,
clouds over a hill,
a view of reality
sharp, stark, crisp, and suspended.
Mist gathers as drips
specked on cold surfaces,
for fingers to trace
the dots of obscurity
into pathways through the blur.
Rain pitter-pats, splats
to streak, slowly down as tears
running through the pane,
each scene being rearranged
drop by drop, one at a time.
Panes defamed as stained
are brightened with light's spectrum,
revealing colors
ruby, green, gold and amber
spilled as shimmers on the floor.
A mirrored ball spins,
shedding bright colored spots,
on smiling faces,
dazzling bright in crowd eyes
with stars that can't forget why.
Beyond the breakers
one white sail slips from the day
into folded haze
an old brass tube gathers
what the horizon lets loose.
A fortune-teller
with a crystal sphere held tight
in hands cupped with hope-
watches as misty clouds swirl
to penny farthing fortunes.
These twain eyes of glass
show fragments of perception
none are wholly true-
yet, we reach for our glasses
to reshape our perspective.
Straining to see stars
we bring a dark tube to eyes
between bare branches
to reveal some more of what,
the glass wants to give, our way.
Les Bijoux (The Jewels)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
My lover nude and knowing my heart's whims
Wore nothing more than a few bright-flashing gems;
Her art was saving men despite their sins;
She ruled like harem girls crowned with diadems!
She danced for me with a gay but mocking air,
My world of stone and metal sparking bright;
I discovered in her the rapture of everything fair;
Nay, an excess of joy where the spirit and flesh unite!
Naked she lay and offered herself to me,
Parting her legs and smiling receptively,
As gentle and yet profound as the rising sea,
Till her surging tide encountered my cliff, abruptly.
A tigress tamed, her eyes met mine, intent ...
Intent on lust, content to purr and please!
Her breath, both languid and lascivious, lent
An odd charm to her metamorphoses.
Her limbs, her loins, her abdomen, her thighs,
Oiled alabaster, sinuous as a swan,
Writhed pale before my calm clairvoyant eyes;
Like clustered grapes her breasts and belly shone.
Skilled in more spells than evil imps can muster,
To break the peace which had possessed my heart,
She flashed her crystal rocks’ hypnotic luster
Till my quietude was shattered, blown apart.
Her waist awrithe, her breasts enormously
Out-thrust, and yet ... and yet, somehow, still coy ...
As if stout haunches of Antiope
Had been grafted to a boy ...
The room grew dark, the lamp had flickered out.
Mute firelight, alone, lit each glowing stud;
Each time the fire sighed, as if in doubt,
It steeped her pale, rouged flesh in pools of blood.
This translation has been adopted by **** and escort websites!
The Perfect Courtesan
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire, for the courtesans
She received me into her cavities,
indulging my darkest depravities
with such trembling longing, I felt her need ...
Such was the dalliance to which we agreed—
she, my high rider;
I, her wild steed.
She surrendered her all and revealed to me—
the willing handmaiden, delighted to please,
the Perfect Courtesan of Ecstasy.
Snow draped folds like loose Cashmere curtains cover the evergreen boughs
pining for the lengthening days of each succeeding sunrise,
reticent to see the cold of night fall once again on the lonely landscape.
In this fallow world of darkness quiet is the norm, hushed silence,
nothingness, invading the shadows that fall ominously across the reaching branches
giving a sense of preternatural sleep to each living creature, each plant,
inhabiting the frigid winter's lonely, desolate abode.
Surreptitiously, the awakening begins, slowly and without notice,
Cyclamen hidden deep in the forest break free from their frozen bed of bounteous soil
oblivious to the naked dreaming deciduous trees that surround them.
Malaise broken, they reach their softly painted petals to the warmth of the sun
in perfect unison dancing the Danse Macabre to remind winter of its inevitable demise.
Narcissus will soon send forth his papery white blossoms to mock the
glow of the radiant gleen of the melting frost.
Summer still distantly drowsing cares not for the struggle of life born
out on frozen winter days and Autumn is but a memory now glowering in its
ostentatious robes of leafy brilliance; though, the
nor'easter may yet blow, just look and you'll see the signs, Spring is coming soon.
03/23/17