Long Matte Poems
Long Matte Poems. Below are the most popular long Matte by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Matte poems by poem length and keyword.
Lavender clung to Grammy like a familiar blessing,
a soft aura rising from her walk-in closet~
that kingdom of faux furs and pearlized buttons
where dresses hung like quiet stories waiting to be told.
I sat beside her at her dressing table,
watching the slow choreography of her bronze-brown hair
as she brushed it into its practiced sweep,
each stroke a reminder of the elegance she carried
long after her hand-model days had faded from magazines.
She tore two sheets of paper poudre,
handing one to me as if passing down a secret rite.
“Gently,” she said, and I followed her movements,
feeling the powder lift whatever childhood dust remained
from my ten-year-old cheeks, leaving them soft, matte, new.
Foundation, rouge, a whisper of plum on her lips~
then her porcelain hands folded mine inside them,
their warmth steady, their touch feather light.
“You’re a lady now,” she said; in that moment, I believed her~
believed I was becoming her lady-in-waiting,
one beautiful enough to be part of her gracious royalty.
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
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bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
White chalks.. on the glossy blackboard.
Black and White. .all matte and bored.
Technicolour scribbles. ..the world explored.
Vivacious markers...splashes the white board.
The aura of colors..the magical power.
Light mesmerising...the dull in cower.
Crayons and lipsticks..palettes of brush.
Vintage memories..in bookshelves flush.
Color of sun..darkens in shade.
Color of leaves..wither and fade.
Color of spring...never overstayed.
Color of life. .greys. .betrayed.
Reflections shimmer... the glass of solitude.
A kaleidoscope heart... colors in multitude.
Chameleon thoughts...in silence argues.
A 'Colorblind Dreamscape'...
the mind imbues.
8th September 2018.
Colored Memories Poetry Contest
sponsored by Craig Cornish
Through the night's veil, in whispers, I moved my steps along,
Somewhere, a light within the darkness, sparked a straight and fiery throng,
The secret of time, always hidden beneath pointless reprimands,
A rebirth of hopes destroyed by the pride of ancient commands.
Never was I loved for who I am, without others in sight,
For the wild thought that I live, an echo in the void so bright,
I was forbidden to reach out toward my own horizon's glare,
Life woven in shades of achievements and bitter failures bare.
In the daylight with a clear brow, I was asked to shine,
To assure the world that I am a warrior, amongst successful kind,
Joy was mine only when the fruits of labor showed their face,
And fortune spun capriciously, dancing on fate's matte base.
Suddenly, the heavens opened, and a freedom unseen burst,
Hitting the cage, with unfettered wings, in the air, I thrust,
I wrenched myself from self-imposed chains, a tacitly accepted servitude,
The rage of recognizing my own power, from the dungeon I elude.
A key I found, furtive, hidden in simplicity's code cracked wide,
It was to look deep into myself first, to dare towards truth with stride,
My eyes entered the soul, not to merely skim the surface,
Not to sit on the edge while the profound heart of life does throb and pace.
Towards the essence that knows no bounds, the heart of 'now' in eternity,
I drank from the profound enigma and embraced my own odyssey,
I came to know the language of infinity, with my being's fiber in tune,
Alchemical essences blending, in a cosmic symphony immune.
I carry in my heart the universe, a cosmos of stars and times,
Not confined by matter, I wander free through feelings and through primes,
I live in every fragment of life, not just man, but in thought and flower,
My measure is not form or face, but the essence of creation's power.
Without the forms or names that separate, without distinctions that estrange,
For a moment, I transform, into the universe, in every cell that stands the watch.
Standing at the edge of differences, I extract an unseen strength,
Enveloped in the mystery of this force, a world is born in every heart.
A Propitiation of Blue Tears
On this highway to where the skies bleed blue tears into vases;
on ornate buttresses they sit and saturate us,
they cry and douse us,
they contract, expand, release….up from the bowels,
out into the time continuum, wetting the things
below in layers of satin and matte finishes.
They converge with the sand motions
prone to time signals,
they bend to the forces of beeftime,
finding dazzling hours lost in the haunted bunkers
where dead reptiles find savage grace and a fork.
Foraging through time files,
scratching out a dirt-bath patch,
switching-up the game,
ratcheting a firm grip,
delighting in a geyser-water soda drink,
we looked and saw high peaks
belching snow through ejaculations of ice and methane, you who were with me at Orange Grove
that whistling foggy night,
the high forging time,
like an eating bear in the muck.
The withal that composes an early humanoid,
assembles an adroit package equipped to message
the night skies of its dominion.
Oh this highway, to where the skies
have no answer for the frostbite or the death of the sun;
we are not equipped to handle such a client,
the skin is gone,
and the seedy highway is coughing up yellow blood.
Gather up the detritus of illusions,
rustle up a repast for the “El Rey”,
sweep the streets into asphalt rolls,
spread the skies blue tears over the mantle of this space, where the sacrificial ogress dines on her own offal, offering up a propitiation,
to the Milky Way’s highway of stars.
Sea Glass 7-11-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sea Glass
On strands and shoals, waves of rolling tides,
Neither pro nor biased,
Tumble castoff vessels, emptied of purpose,
Into scattered shards of sharp amber remnants
Piercing tender soles.
Bits of blue and green edges,
Rub up against mica’s pearls,
Refined by fool’s gold -
Brokenness in metamorphosis
By stoic tidal pulses
And lurching tide’s undulations.
Discarded gypsies from bonfire’s passions
Laughter, nostalgia and desolate strolls
Gestating in a matte chrysalis,
Life’s thesaurus honed into shapeless dregs
By gritty fingers rising
From the cold fire of the abyssal plains.
Pain in the ass devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.
Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication
among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...
in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,
cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition
chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...
I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... tushy
regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption
personally legislating
getting behind abrogation
replacing said bum fanny
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in uterus, U.S.A, tuckus,
He walks in to check me out —
next-door saloon’s whisper: a pretty European girl,
ripe for display, perfect arm-trophy
like the cattle he skins for millions.
Another charity case to flash along his Hermes belt —
Clemence: supple, matte, bull-calf leather.
Starched jeans, custom hat —
wealth folded into casualness,
the quiet arrogance of ranchers who think money makes them invisible.
I examine him before he breathes —
he hasn’t dressed himself; he’s orchestrated.
Groomed, clean cut, pressed jeans, pearl-snap cuffs,
Patek Philippe ticking like a heartbeat of power.
Understated money, soft yet sharp,
as if I am the dumb immigrant,
too small to notice the stakes.
Then he speaks.
Checkbook-white teeth.
Voice bubbling like sewage
spilled into silk.
Brags of twenty-dollar-a-day labor,
guest-worker visas abused,
passports stolen like children’s toys
to keep them tethered, trapped, silent.
He offers a smile —
asks me out, as if I were another acquisition,
another trophy to polish in his golden cage.
I imagine tearing him from existence,
ripping him into a private hell
where bile is his only language,
his teeth rot, his Patek stops —
a perfect, lyrical justice.
But I am human.
Immigrant.
Poor.
I still carry a soul.
And a little white lie: I have someone.
He climbs into his premium trim truck
and drives himself forever out of my world.
I sigh, as miles peel him from my reality—
the ghost he cannot buy, cannot tame, cannot erase.
—Blackout.
\ rewind \\
9pm,
my messy curls sizzled
as chemicals
flow down the drain—
raven,
to matte purple.
Each strand a minute
I forced
straight
with smoldering iron.
>> glitch
1am,
Hair unraveled
against the shuddering wall
The taste of heated whiskey
falt
er ing
from our lips
Rusty red smudged
on neon-lit chins—
He muttered, “Your hair looks better at night.”
I replied—
—Blackout,
(sigh)
\ rewind ?
Just now … crisscrossed sky lanterns
fog the walls of a withering foliage,
like hushed matte from dusk’s greenery
Pouring balm on a requiem in need of shade,
while in her veins drip… a constant gush
as meshed twigs still interlace on leafy ribs
Immersed in the ardor of their moments,
one fragrant orchid and musky trunk…inseparable,
bound together by affectionate, yet lost stars.
With slight acceptance this rooted love will always
meld despite tree of life faintly drooping;
...in clinched angle, she lays on his buried grass
until dim twilight shuts off.
For Broken Wing’s Entwined Contest
2/12/2016