Long Makeup Poems
Long Makeup Poems. Below are the most popular long Makeup by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Makeup poems by poem length and keyword.
The creepy clown's out on the street.
He's wandering around.
You see him through your window blinds;
his feet upon the ground.
He comes in close to question you;
with makeup looking sad.
Then bows his head in full disgrace
to frighten you a tad.
He'll back off slow to catch his breath,
then once again he'll pace.
Then move in like a jungle cat
to keep you in your place.
It's then you dial the 911
for cops will come in time.
To put an end to circumstance
and treat it as a crime.
For which the cops come swiftly to.
Some twenty two or more.
Their guns all drawn as quickly at
this clown in total horror.
With shots being fired to save the day
This clown should learn his fate.
His horn held up in self defense.
The sound a bit too late.
Honk!
THE JESTER
Jester jingles
with madcap medusa-bells,
dressed in melodic-motley uniform.
A sea of foamy frills
frame the famed renaissance storyteller,
a creature feature
of phantasm for frightened children.
His ghost-white face
with comedic war paint.
Highly educated,
acts the fool,
preaching to the pompadour.
Folly finds the frolicking ear
of the entertained king,
even at the news of sinking ships.
The king’s delighted,
as balls lollygag around his throne room,
and pins dance before his eyes.
Mesmerized, hypnotized,
spirals spry and smiling.
Claps his cacophonous hands.
The puppet court amplifies the sound.
The buffoon’s very wise,
buried behind his makeup.
His strings
control the crown.
Royally screws the court
with tasteless remarks
and they bow over in laughter.
In the backroom formulates his investment plan.
Jester jingles,
of drama and lies,
of liberties and surprise.
8/3/2017
Kai Neumann’s Jester Contest
1st Place
Softly she whispers
Afraid to wake him
Better to let sleeping dogs lie
Her eyes speak
Of deep fear that resides in her soul
Quickly she packs just enough
To leave, to escape, to be free
"Don't speak. Be very quiet".
She whispers to the little boy
Such a cute boy-he looks just like him
Maybe there's a chance for him
To grow up and be a better man
No ugly words, no anger, no hitting
Out the door and down the street
They wait for the bus
Mother and child
Alone in a cold blue world
She clutches his hand and weeps
Makeup can no longer hide the bruises
"Mommy where are we going?"
"Away, far far away"
"Will Daddy Come?"
"No."
She drops the empty bottle
Of sleeping pills into the trash bin
And lifts the boy to her
Kissing his chill cheek as they enter the bus
"Daddy's in Dreamland now."
Rosy cheeks, pink lipstick
She looked enchanting
Beautiful like a fairy
Enamored, he wanted to marry her
He was wealthy, she gladly accepted
Soon he realized without makeup
She was ordinary
Her most time spend in front of mirror,
beauty parlour
She was costly, egoistic and adamant
He regretted his decision
But endured her
Within few years,
she died of skin cancer
One day, he saw a woman
serving an old, ailing person on road
He helped her and fell in love with her
She was not beautiful outside,
but had a lovely heart
Always serving others
Blissful vibrations surrounded her
He proposed her
She laid one condition
I want to serve other's,
He agreed wholeheartedly
He sold his business, bungalow
Shifted to a small house
That's enough for both she said
With his money and hard work
Both set out spreading happiness
More they gave
More donations poured in
The joy of watching someone happy
The smile and gratefulness in their face
Gave them boundless joy
They lived happily till death
using body and mind to serve others
They lived a rosy life full of joy
07.09.2021
For:
Constance La France, "R'' Contest, New or Old
For the maneuvered inducement of compulsive being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette of color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon furtively cocooned
paints the shifting façade of deceptiion.
In the ostensible enactment of life’s amazing drama,
performance perfected in one-act play,
and with the obsession of passion ostensible,
gilding the consequence crafted by metamorphic alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another,
is an axiomatic designed drive.
Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade
on the visage of the virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the real rendering of shape rinsed with primal hue
of the unaltered distinctive disposition it embodied once.
The spasm of contrived perception splits the mirror,
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence
scatter as discarded debris abandoned.
Metamorphosis creates the deluding creature,
an alien in its own transformed domain,
completes the contrasting paradigm of illusive shape shift.
Oh, indecency what ruin you have sown!
Once, this world trembled before the Almighty,
once, men and women clothed themselves in honor,
but now, nakedness is the new beauty,
Extravagant is their new god
and shame parades without restraint.
A battle rages man against woman, woman against man,
not for righteousness, not for truth,
but for dominance in a game already lost to sin.
The music of our downfall hums in the streets,
where demons hum the chorus of our very destruction.
perversion is called “art,” and holiness is mocked.
You came in a mask, deceit wrapped in silk and gold
they call it fashion, God calls it abomination.
In the name of music, we pervert our minds with worldly tunes
In the name of trends, we strip our souls bare.
Skirts, keep getting shorter, Wigs, Strings that barely cling,
breasts laid out as decorations, lashes
pants hanging low, ripped jeans, baggy clothes
Is it beauty, or is it bondage?
For God calls it abomination
How have we become so blind?
Women, have you not heard?
"Do not be a stumbling block to your brother."
Yet you unveil yourselves to tempt,
to draw eyes, to incite lust
but he who looks and desires U,
has already sinned with you.
Women, you crown yourselves in gold,
adorning your necks, your ears, nose, your fingers,
as though Jezebel were your queen.
As though darkness and light have fellowship.
Jewelry, makeup, the painting of the flesh—
do you not know? The Lord is your Maker!
Yet you say, Let me alter His design,
let me please the eyes of men instead.
I'm sitting in the scissors
my own emotional drama
An all-night staging on the podium
Poor audience
trauma, loss and wordless pain
My release of emotional tension
Costumes, makeup,
sound and special effects
The spectators will experience
a dramatic tragedy
There is a leak in the water hose,
salty tears
Behind the mask,
imbalance in black bile
When emotions are linked to the heart
and not the head
Occasionally,
sea worms come to the surface
But, I ensures that the feet
have a secure anchorage
Dare to spin the wave
Freud would rejoice, I'm sure
The definition of learning
is in fact a relatively lasting change
07/12/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
2nd place in the contest
The Heart’s True Smile
— A Poem of 50 Verses —
A smile may curve upon the face,
But deeper still lies truer grace.
When born not just from lips alone,
A smile finds life in heart and bone.
It glows beyond the skin's embrace,
It lights the soul, it warms the space.
No jewel, no gold, nor silken thread
Can match the light a heart has shed.
Through sorrow’s storm or joy’s bright flame,
The heartfelt smile remains the same.
It's more than muscle, more than skin,
It's truth that radiates within.
When kindness flows and love is near,
A smile sincere is crystal clear.
It speaks in silence, calms with grace,
A universe within one face.
Not taught by books, nor trained in schools,
It's shaped by love and golden rules.
It tells a tale without a word,
More deeply felt than heard or stirred.
It needs no script, it needs no stage,
It melts away the hardest rage.
A balm for wounds the eyes can't see,
A bridge from you across to me.
In quiet rooms or crowded halls,
Its gentle presence softly calls.
It lifts the weak, inspires the strong,
Reminds us all where we belong.
A stranger's smile, when pure and bright,
Can change the course of someone’s night.
And when the heart is whole and true,
Its smile can make the skies more blue.
No artist paints with such finesse
As hearts that shine through tenderness.
A mirror to the soul inside,
Where laughter, love, and hope abide.
It doesn’t age, it doesn’t fade,
It's beauty that can’t be unmade.
It needs no makeup, mask, or guise,
It gleams within the humblest eyes.
It's whispered prayer, it's silent song,
A light that leads the lost along.
In every culture, every land,
A heartfelt smile we understand.
It is the thread that weaves us near,
A gift that says, "I'm with you here."
So let your smile from heart be free,
A beacon bright for all to see.
For in that curve of joy and grace,
The world becomes a kinder place.
I mentioned I am thankful for my house, my friends and how important they are to me…
Today I’d like to add how I’m thankful for my family.
I’m thankful for my parents, my brothers, my children, my grandchildren…my wife…
I’m thankful they have miraculously found their way into my life.
There are some people who mistakenly think the traditional family has been disbanded…but as for me…I like to think…its definition has expanded.
Divorce brought our two families together…and though at times it can be complicated…
when our two families joined…a new family was created.
It’s not the ‘traditional’ family we were brought up thinking of…
but it’s a family, like every family…built on trust and fueled by love.
Consistent…unconditional love…which is not always as easy as it sounds…
but it is what makes the family flourish…what makes the world go round.
If this type of love and caring a family comprises…
then it stands to reason…families…can come in many shapes and sizes.
Parents can be together, divorced, single, young, old…even the same sex too
which means families can be traditional, untraditional, extended and come in different hues.
I think as time marches ever onward…the definition of family will always be changing
never constant in its makeup…but constantly rearranging.
To those of you who think the family is dead and no longer the way your God designed it…What if the family is thriving and your God just redefined it?
I am thankful for my family today…for their love and all the things their love can do…
and I know tomorrow…whatever my family looks like…I’ll be thankful for that too.
Perhaps, one day, we won’t care what a family looks like…
what parents we’re assigned…
which makes me wonder if, all along, that wasn’t part of God’s design.
Calm cooling breeze
Taste of wetness;
Coming rain
~~~~~~~~~
Weekend stay
Home movie marathon;
Makeup treats
~~~~~~~~~
Pet dog circles
Runs round barking;
Mad freedom sings
~~~~~~~~~
Small people here
Body contact flings;
***** child talk
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper highlight
Another tragedy;
Far yet near
~~~~~~~~~
I sit here
Waiting on words;
Dry well showing
~~~~~~~~~
The write words
Puzzling long scene;
Verse void piques
~~~~~~~~~
Word after word
Nothing to say;
Impact drowns
~~~~~~~~~
Old man limps
Bad left knee;
Painful strides
~~~~~~~~~
Sensuous maiden
Beauty confronts;
Hungry eyes follow
~~~~~~~~~
Humble origins
Fleshy windfall;
Emergent light
~~~~~~~~~
Sexy speaks
Fragrant distraction;
Wild allure
~~~~~~~~~
Blank paper page
Ink cursive words;
Plunder verse lines
~~~~~~~~~
Contract blank
Arguments sum;
Willing signature
~~~~~~~~~
Brand new book
Void to fill;
Finesse stakes
~~~~~~~~~
Car park story
Assorted brands loiter;
Business meeting
~~~~~~~~~
Fenugreek brew
Good to go;
Yellowish swirls
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
12 June 2016
Singapore