Long Lusciousness Poems

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


Premium Member Optimistic Orange

Overjoyed at the prospects
Pumpkins orange and ripe
Totally ready dot the field 
Intermingled with weeds
Mature ready to be eaten
Ickle one, not a few
Summer nurtured the crop
Turned the field into apricot
Iconism for his optimism
Captured in that glorious lantern 

Open door to new adventure
Reaping the harvest of gratitude
Another aroma allspice in pumpkin cake 
Nacarat lusciousness in nutmeg spiced pie
Gift of God and of the garden
Enjoy optimistic orange 

Ickle(British) slang for little
Iconism-representation or semblance
Nacarat-orange-red

Written: March 04, 2016
Inspired by Silent One's Contest: United Color/Optimistic Orange
Form: Acrostic


Premium Member Petals - Silence of Heartbeats

Devotion floats in the
silence of heartbeats -
only lovers savor and devour.

I crawled to her
like a caterpillar.
Cradling in her cocoon -
her vision transformed
me into a butterfly.

She is a love -
for whom
I've left behind
a trail of petals -
to roam within her
eternal evergreen Eden. 

In florescent fragility
of her femininity. 
I'm an introvert in
her extroverted flower garden. 

Her sunflower smile, highlights her
delightful dahlia dimples.
Sensations of her satin skin are
smoother than vanilla orchids.

Aromatic aura unfurls like honeysuckle,
wrapping around my emotions.
Her ethereal jasmine scent,
seduces me speechless.

Lost in her evocative lobelia eyes,
desire drinks from the cup of lust,
flowing like a fountain towards the
lusciousness of her red lily lips -

would they be sinful to kiss?

I am a drop of rain,
resting upon her petal.
Craving to be a bee
suckling nectar from pink 
blossoms of her bosoms.

May the quill of my pen,
forever dip in the juices of her ink. 
So, I can cultivate within
her flourishing fields - 
forever.

Silent One
11 July 2020

This poem was partly inspired by Vijay Pandit's poem 
called Garden of Beauty.  Thanks for the inspiration!
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Vanier Parkway

You trail the parkway with your grace  
Lusciousness of weeping willows
Gentle breeze with sways and billows

Surreal beyond commonplace  
Lavish greens beckon and entice
With promises of paradise

You reach out in a strong embrace 
Seductive alluring sultry
Hypnotic brush of artistry

Much how a mermaid would enlace
Take our breath away with her charm
So coyly beguile and disarm

And to reverie you give chase
Somersetting and minuetting
in this most idyllic setting   

You trail the parkway with your grace  
Surreal beyond the commonplace  
You reach out in a strong embrace 
Much how a mermaid would enlace
And to reverie you give chase 



AP: 3rd place 2020

Submitted on June 15, 2018 for contest NEW CONSTANZA sponsored by EMILE PINET  -  RANKED 4TH
Form: Rhyme

She Is

She is a beauty,
She is a dream,
All who know her are privileged to rub shoulders with her, 
Some are flooded with dreams of spending just a fraction of a second with her, 
Basking under the ambiance of her presence.

She is a force to be reckoned with
A bag of the rarest dynamite.
From the curves and corners of her body
To the lusciousness of her features 
She is captivating 
A creature created like no other.

Those that try to understand her 
Are driven to a further state of confusion,
Her beauty screams out loud, 
But yet again it is subtle.
She oozes flamboyance 
Every detail meticulously placed;
She is imperfect in the most perfect way, 
Fiercely sexy, and incredibly cute at the same time..
SHE IS...

L.N Ngema

Premium Member Yellow

"Nature’s sermon laced with bouquet lusciousness of colors and fragrance unfolds spiritual inspiration." Quote by poet  

Lingering lazy moon
A luster on the eve of June
Plays a peace-making tune
As butterfly wings soon 
Emerge from its cocoon.

Yellow bumblebees prefer to dine
And promenade upon fine 
Yellow black-eyed Susan vine.
Zigzagging playfully always align 
Sweet flora ambrosia most divine. 

Wakeful dawn first breath light
Fluttering bird’s wings flight
Under breaking clouds height. 
Good-bye! Good-bye out of sight
Natures harmony and rhythm plight.
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Oyster Girl

We met over oysters and scallops in the French Quarter
of a mismatched ether.

She sent pictures - her in a mirror, beside a mirror,
partly hidden by a mirror, naked under glass
(I still have that one).
She liked to reflect and be reflected.
I admired her self-regard, her low-minded succulence,
Her high-handed high-heeled slipperiness.

Raw fresh oysters and Dom Perignon for breakfast and lunch.
Scallops seared in butter on a crostini and a
Sauvignon Blanc for supper.
This minimalist diet kept her svelte, prim, and of course
most improper.  I thought of her as a swim without a swimmer,
splashes of her revealing her lovely lips, and they were indeed
lovely,

red but not scarlet more a sea anemone rouge
as it fades to a pink laced coral.
The camera may garnish but it cannot hide
that kind of salty lusciousness
caught fresh every morning.

I likened her to a glistening slickness to be sipped or guzzled
Her words slipped through you like Gaelic eels.
Her neck undulated as a dolphins caress
as she swallowed her catch and zoomed.

I confess to an occasional shame-faced queasiness;
and then oyster and scallops are best consumed
over the internet where too much of them
cannot sour the stomach or tease you softly
with a squirmy aftertaste.

Yet I still imagine her in a mirror again
her teeth as pearly as pearls, yet snip-snip sharp
and as pointy as stiletto’s rent through a fished-up
filet of heart.

Premium Member Red Poppy

Red poppies, 
Is it safe to walk across your chattel?

Shadows pace your blood-red opium lusciousness. 
You're charismatic pulsating red hue,
Intoxicating under the rising dawn 
And quiet golden yellow honey. 

Are they asleep? 
Or, 
Are they heaving the dead 
From the shadow of battle? 

Shadows hunt your sweetness, 
Drifting beyond rest in empty silence. 
You don't let them go; 
You drag them off 
In your undertow 
Relieving their pain, 
Dulling their senses.

         Red poppies, 
                Is it safe to walk across your chattel?


4/14/2020
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member I'M Not Real

I’m not real….
I’m a woman woven from wonder’s imagination
Ethereal….the cotton candy of a dream
the glow and sparkle of a stream
the luxuriant lusciousness of cream
the sparkle that scintillates the surreal
the smooth softness of silky feel
But I’m not real…

I’m the sparkle left of angel dust
the fair fairy in fiction’s feast 
the tantalizing temptation tease
the benevolence of balmy breeze
Oh….
But, I’m not real

I’m not real…
You catch only glimpses of me
in what I want to reveal
What I want to conceal
I’m not real….
but when you read
those little rhymes
and poetry lines
Those emotions that you feel?
Those?
Yes! 
Those are real….

Eileen Manassian

Premium Member Precious Petal

From all the precious petals,
adorning my flower garden -
I choose only you.

In silent serene ambience,
your splendour is visible,
through an innocent grandeur.

Captivated by your tender satin aura,
I desire for each blossom to embrace me -
to be caressed by your lusciousness.

But resentful weeds bark like dogs,
their envious eyes deviously praying -
for storms to expose your delicateness. 

I know gusts will arrive and abduct you.
Powerless, I will watch you float away -
but I know you will return, you always do

even if it is just temporary.

Sunday Simple Musings
Silent One
12 April 2020
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

A Coastal Reverie

When the droplets of rain revive
the hardened soil of thirsty April,
we will spend a holiday like that never was.
Perhaps our backs will be titillated by
white sands, crystal clear,
found by the coastal water villas
of the beautiful Maldives.
We will feel it then, coupled with the scent
of a turquoise sea.
Or, beside the rocky islands of Langkawi,
we will rest our soft feet, wet
among the foamy waves of the Andaman Sea.
I know you cannot bear the stench
of beer, but...
we can explore things unknown;
taste the pungent texture of South Asian Carlsberg.
For I heard there is something sweet
in the experience of viewing the sunset—
the crimson fading into the waves,
where vision blurs before the eyes
with tipsy jubilance.
A soft tastebud hankering for fresh barbecue,
or savouring the salt-laden air;
pleasures of a foreign soil,
fused with a native love enkindled.
And when darkness perches upon the coastal hue,
and twilight filters the harsh beauty of Chenang,
the sun will dim away,
but love will grow stronger—
for the light of love is ever-present.
Then we might drift into the lusciousness
of nature, or let our minds wander...
through the city lights,
through the warmth of brightly lit eateries.
Peace and joy—and yes, you heard it right—
peace and joy...
cradled in vibrant love.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace