Long Meets Poems
Long Meets Poems. Below are the most popular long Meets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Meets poems by poem length and keyword.
Window curtains in my room sway with the silent winds;
The cold smog crawls on the frozen garden covered with the mists.
I see everything slowly fades but the splendor around never chagrins.
Would it be romantic to stare at the fog in the middle of a secret tryst?
A cup of coffee would be a perfect match to savor this picturesque scene.
So I could finally wear my old-borrowed jacket; I wish this would persist.
The hazy trees in front of my cottage house seem to look like a Halloween.
But this soul contrarily feels different looking at this painted-gray minute.
It is frigidly aglow and mesmerizing where the murk meets the serene.
My pale nails and skin are freezing but not my riveted spirit;
I am awestruck with the cold season’s mystic beauty.
I wish I could lend my eyes to my sister so that she could see it.
I began a quest 15 years ago when I was more
than 2,000 miles away from the sites of inquiry.
I suspect that the expeditions of most people
do not look anything like my current expedition.
Theirs will most likely be filled with both excitement
and intrigue, taking them to places unknown, far and wide.
Mine, on the other hand, although focused within a hundred miles
of my present residence, meets the definition of an expedition.
Initially, I did not in the least consider my quest an expedition,
because it did not pertain to faraway places unknown or unseen.
But later, I realized that, indeed, it was a very real expedition.
Ground zero of my expedition were places I'd already been,
people I'd already seen and known, and a culture with which
I am well acquainted. From my perspective, there is a very
real and explorational beauty in reconnecting with yesterday.
In short, for example, two weeks ago, I revisited and became
reacquainted with people from my hometown with whom I had grown up.
They were just a few that I had not seen in more than 50 years; so long
ago as to be unrecognizable. They all had 'nicknames' like Wanke, Wewe,
and Big Buddy. When such names were reintroduced and brought to my attention, I immediately knew who they were. The emotions that I then experienced were overwhelming and so rich as to be treasured for a lifetime.
091723PS
J-ust let the cold chill fade,
E-venfall is already gone;
R-ainy night has passed by,
R-ising sun meets the dawn.
I-t's a beautiful Friday,
C-oal clouds don't gather;
A-nother morn starts to break, a sign of a fine weather.
E-arly light from above
L-ets the haze disappear;
A-fter shrouding the air,
M-ist is becoming clear.
P-roblems, trials, and pain
A-re part of our daily life;
R-eload with will to win
O-ver the sorrow and strife.
A-im so high without fear,
B-ring down the doubt;
A-llow your faith to fix things,
L-et the Lord bail you out.
O-n twenty-sixth day, the Lord has kept His promise;
S-econd month of the year, God hears all your pleas.
Be beyond belief
Calm cheer conceive
Apt autumn asks
Dance dying dusk
Glimpse glowing grace
Purpose primes pace
Hurl healthy haste
Touch tactile taste
Mind movement meets
Say something sweet
Bliss bearing blooms
Reach rapture rooms
Busy bee buzz
Free fleeting fuss
Lofty looks light
Signs sizzle sight
Notice nice nows
Play pesters plough
Bloom beyond brave
Know naughty knave
Love lives lovely
Live love lively
Reap rowdy rhymes
Taste touching times
Seek succinct sight
Live limpid light
Touch timely truth
Procure plain proof
Faith flavours flow
God gives grand glow
Hope heals hurts here
Design dream dear
Love lingers long
Sings surreal song
Brief blossoms bloom
Zesty zeal zooms
Leon Enriquez
01 August 2014
Singapore
A storm is brewing in my heart.
For years now I've been apart.
From any sort of intimate connection.
Where mind meets mind.
Hearts entwine... pure perfection.
A storm is brewing in my head.
Because of all the things he's said.
He's not afraid to read my mind.
Especially when I seem unkind.
A defence mechanism of mine.
A storm is brewing in my soul.
He's bringing flowers, so I'm told.
Admits he seeks someone to care for.
And be cared for in return.
Perhaps it's not too late to run?
A storm is brewing, where to turn?
I've been so long now on my own.
Is it doomed from the start?
Will my armour fall apart?
I'm scared of storms.
16/04/2016
Raw pain cries, from inside out.
The frozen nighttime rain continues
With a whispered willow’s throw;
Dangling verbs, wording their amusement.
Black sheath ever marching,
Grown to cover blankets, toys,
And sparkling noise
Provided for our elders, friends,
And not so much an enemy
Our mirrored image shown.
Breathe out our bequeathment
In prose-filled feelings blown.
Alone unable, without Cain,
To slow or stop again
The frozen nighttime rain
Candles high in worriment
Light the way of discontent
Seek the measured music
We may find down the stairs
Within the basement of our mind,
The cellar where we hide
Our nights alone, inside
The frozen nighttime rain
Who shares the beast on fire, temper flamed
Would calmness reign as visitors exclaimed,
Oh holy shhit, this is it !
This is what we meant to say
Each time we knelt to pray.
Oh buy my book, put on my play,
Make my movie, give me one more day
I am a two-timed couplet
Formed from clay
Demanding you awake to listen,
Every word I say.
Intent that you will stay
Cold and clammy surfacing,
Survived on stones and pebbles
Grain and gram and grin
A visitor descending in
The frozen nighttime rain
Two bi-folded wrestlers
Joined with ham hocks rocking
On the porch of your good reason;
Poaching egg-filled wisdom
Eaten by your victories,
In any given season.
You steal and bawl and creep and crawl;
Learn to draw your own damn blood,
Anything to stem the flood
Make a meal
That meets your satisfaction,
Merely a distraction
From what is real,
Erecting mental stop signs
For the handicapped with zeal,
Politically, in every way,
Offensive to our brain -
When visiting
The frozen nighttime rain.
-Society's view of the normal person is so far off that I am yet to meet a single person that has told me that they are this normal we speak of. Nobody meets the unwritten requirements of this conceptualized normality that we use so loosely. This normal is a powerful stipulation whose crutches enable negative judgments and justify cruelty. It is a unique opinion based illusion. As a matter of fact, it’s not evenreal.
Please break this chain. This is complete ******** and you know it! It takes one to know one and I know you're not..., normal. This is because you actually exist. Judgment driven, unspoken means of categorizing people into classifications based off of your opinion of their sanity…? News flash! Nobody knows your normal; nobody knows where their rank is upon your imaginary pedestal.
I would like to give you a moment to agree or disagree...
I would like to introduce myself in a manner that I would feel suits this occasion.
"Hi, I'm Chris.” I am a real person that lives in the real world.
I am far from this normal we speak of.
I feel that you can relate to me right now.
Open wide, chew on this…
“Hey Normal! I'm giving you to the count of three to speak up or forever hold your peace...
One...
Two...
Three!"
Patrolling the jungle, testosterone surging, muscles finely tuned
He stumbles upon Jane swimming naked, in an open lagoon
This handsome stallion stopped dead, beside waters edge
Me Tarzan, she just smiles, stepping out by thin hedge
Standing before her, beads of sweat glisten his well toned chest
Long mane of hair, ripped biceps, a specimen, alpha the best
Spellbound as she kisses, hush my baby just let it happen
Breathing heavily, in submission, Tarzan oozing passion
Dynamic forces at play, in virgin jungle, latency is being woken
Pheromones, endorphins, gushing rivers, packing implosions
Arboreal creatures gaze down, with perplexed trepidation
Positions below change, moans turn into exclamations
Her statuesque body, his athletic frame, create perfect recipes
Both out of control, relentless, inexorable pain, and ecstasy
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, Tarzan roars exultation
My God you beast! says Jane, an indirect translation
Not finished only getting started, she too is insatiable for more,
Naked in the wilderness, aesthetic bodies, primed to explore
With a Herculean physique, Tarzan’s pulse keeps on giving
Jane meets halfway, this goddess takes every collision
So marathons ensue, flesh upon flesh, tugging pushing delight
Lusting thrusting each other to a standstill, going until night
Tarzan swings her home, a safari campsite nestles nearby
Same time place tomorrow, you got a rematch big boy.
OH-EE-OH-EE-OH-EE-AW-EE-AW, triumphs with joy
By
David kavanagh
MAKE LOVE NOT WAR
I am walking the edges of what we were,
where memory meets the present,
and every step feels like a question
without an answer.
I move forward,
yet I am still here,
trapped between letting go
and holding tight,
between the ache of loss
and the pull of desire
that never truly fades.
Your face lingers in shadows,
in the quiet spaces of my day,
and I catch myself
reaching for something
that no longer exists.
Edges are strange things,
they teach you to balance,
to feel the weight of longing
without letting it tip you over.
I am learning to live
with the tension,
to let it shape me
without consuming me.
And still, when I close my eyes,
I taste the ghost of your lips,
the memory of your warmth,
and I wonder
if I will ever fully step away
or if desire
will always trace the lines of your absence,
drawing me back
to the edges
where love refuses to die.
My fantasy is to find a writing partner
The fantasy allows for a man or a woman
But you like short poetry (not too long)
You like free verse more than rhyme,
But you’re up for the challenge of a villanelle
My fantasy is to have a writing partner
Who connects with nature deeply
My partner has stories about birds and spiders
My partner loves geese at the park,
Deer in the field,
Bison at the gate,
And my deepest desire in my fantasy would be
That my writing partner wouldn’t dare eat animals
I have a fantasy that soon
One day, somehow, I find a writing partner
Maybe old, maybe young, maybe man, maybe woman
Who writes short, earthy poems,
Not silly ones,
No, not silly ones, even though we will laugh
And we will cry, and both of us are the best of listeners.
I can’t wait to hear your latest poem.
Sit here on my small couch in my kitchen,
Meet me in Google Meets and let's have a virtual writing den.
I’ve missed you since last week.
What did you write about? Yes, you go first.