Long Nightlife Poems
Long Nightlife Poems. Below are the most popular long Nightlife by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nightlife poems by poem length and keyword.
Berlin's lively nightlife
Bishop Ed lead to fall
Brother, useless servant
Bookstore selling tickets,
bigger bang for the buck
Bet on your last dollars
Beauty, Magic and Blues
14.10.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Pleiades 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Blues
3rd place in the contest
The Dance of... Dance of Dances 6-13-24
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Dance of Dances
Silk ribbons of ice melt into wellsprings
The dance conundrum breaths in fresh sunlight
On the breath of new buds flies crumpled wings
Widowed autumn shape shifts to starry nights.
Wearing fancies of each day’s longer light,
In waterfalls of fragrant floral veils,
Crimson partners with pale blooms in delight
Autumnal rumbas two step with green vales.
Adversary days of heat on cold plains
Sway into the rhythmic cycle’s dances,
Dreamy pas de deux of wax and wane
Unbroken circle. Eternal romance.
The season’s dance of dances swells with life.
Leaves the lyrics for new dawns and nightlife.
Can you grasp the thunder?
Can you hide its flashes from an overflowing river?
Can you pay your river Life a hideous win?
Can you call yourself a mercenary who is stained?
I want to tag you under the umbrella of twisted fame,
I want to hide you between the mischievous game,
I want you to quit the possession you adore the most,
Your appearance on every stage is just like a blissful ghost.
You want to attain prospectus fame,
Thunder is always a strikingly fanciful name.
You wish to call it by your name,
You want to dedicate yourself to a superficial aim.
Can your audience watch out for your audacity?
To you, the river is always an auction house of unbridled necessities.
To run from the light is to embrace the nightlife,
To live in the darkness is quite a harsh dive.
I want to present you a few drops of nectar from my sorcery,
Do you wish to call it your dazzling supremacy?
Do you want it to be the cockiness of a fleeting river?
You are nothing but a callow diver.
A heart asks, why he is in pain, why he is bloody
He doesn’t understand it, this life is cruel to him
His situation is incomprehensible; bad nothing
He feels like a despised beaten man; suffering
He is grieving, he laments, and deeply unhappy
He is missing, but nobody is looking for him
I know this heart, its beating looks like mine,
Yes, this heart is mine, live inside my desire
Nemesis, mortal, open life, death of selfish life
This is one heart, but not only one; few mind
Rhapsodic living, nightlife, and lots of wandering
Hmm, always wondering about himself and life
This heart asks why suffering and pain exist
This heart asks why hearts kill each other
This heart asks why are hearts so envious
Good questions, and there are so many more.
Evil things come from the human heart and will
Murders, envy, and frauds. Says the ancient wisdom.
Killer heart forget my heart!
If you don’t mind, get yours
Goodbye and do not ask…
This June when you walk down the aisle
For your high school graduation
You will start on your short vacation
You will finally have your degree
And now you will be finally free
You will now begin your new life
And start having a great nightlife
You have to be happy with no more classes
And now you can throw your books in the ashes
This will be the start of a new beginning
And you will never have to hear the school bells ringing
You always have to think about your goals
Because it's your life that you have to control
I know after graduation you will have a successful ending
You will now have that successful beginning
Just keep on dreaming and aim towards your goals
Where ever your life leads you
It doesn't matter what you decide to do
I will always be one of your biggest fan
And this family will always be here for you
I know you will always be on top of your game
So keep up the good work
I know you can do it
If you still need some motivations
I will send you the brownies you love
Remember I love you to my dying days
Love Grandpa
Awakening City
Early morning, still looking for the night, the light
Night city lights are the road signs. Road and shop
Lights. Oh, so friendly lights. I love them. It’s come
From my nightlife. Just walk, walk to the bus stop
Meantime, buy the lunch food in the non-stop shop
This is the morning. always. But every time different
Arriving at the bus stop takes twelve minutes. Gym
Morning walking, moving, oh, blood is circulating
Sun still sleeping, amazing dark the sky, oh, love of life
At the bus stop, people are waiting. Good morning! Smiles
Good to see these ladies and gentlemen again, again
And again in the morning, all the time. I love them
Everyone chooses a bus and goes to work. Actives
Yes. Hmm. Goodbye. All the best, see you tomorrow
Again and again in the morning. Good to see you again
I love you
Wake up
To see
You again
You are here
London is
A dynamic
Metropol
The city
Let’s sail away to Acapella,
A celebrity haunt owned by Penn and Teller.
I shall act as your prince, you’ll be Cinderella
When we’re sat on a beach in Acapella.
It’s not as sexy as Cannes or as dowdy as Rhyl
But their choirs and ensembles will give you a thrill,
Acapella compares well to old Casablanca,
As you will observe once we have dropped anchor.
Their libraries don’t hold any musical score,
Acoustic folk singers are considered a bore,
All keyboards and trombones were sold overseas
And whistles restricted to football referees.
So you won’t hear the bagpipes of Kenneth McKellar
Or repetitive bass notes plucked by Paul Weller.
Your voice will entrance all the ladies and fellas
Once we’ve moored in the harbour of Acapella’s.
There fishermen bring ashore haddock and bream
Having sung shanties as a well-rehearsed team,
The salty sea breeze gives their voices a rasp
And the youngest amongst them let out a gasp!
Melodic and manly, the crews ride the waves,
Proud of their seamanship, masters not slaves,
They heed the advice of their mothers and aunties
But rarely acknowledge the source of their shanties.
Once a solitary busker was found in a yacht
And by all accounts he deserved what he got,
He was forced down the plank at the tip of a sword
Then his vintage viola was flung overboard!
On the pier you’ll find orators and callers at bingo,
But no jukebox is pumping out John, Paul or Ringo.
Pop or rock music gives locals the creeps,
It’s no wonder that George’s guitar gently weeps.
So, if Customs Control takes your squeezebox or trumpet
Don’t seek compensation, you’ll just have to lump it;
Those instruments go to a processing plant
Because singers are welcome but musicians aren’t.
We shall seek out the nightlife in numerous bars
Where the locals all sing without playing guitars,
Dodge the Lambrettas in quaint cobbled alleys,
Then stride across hills and along peaceful valleys.
So, if you’re tired of concertos or singles by Queen
Book a cruise to a place where they’re considered obscene,
It’s a magical island owned by Penn and by Teller -
The remote principality of Acapella.
So let us sail forth across the briny
In a luxury yacht - well furnished and shiny
To where your vocal range will be valued quite highly,
And you won’t have to sit through Baba O’Riley.
Recalling the Essence of You
~~Remembering you~~
Remembering you, is a most simple task!It's in the rainbowed
bubbles of your arms, I that do bask!
No, absolutely, no, not once in a great while!
But in each splendid hour, yes, then, yes, I can!
I can, in the glimmer of our of past eyes, those are soft smiles.
I cannot forget how sweetly you read oe sung to me.
Nay, how blessed I was when you, in sweet memory, I clearly sing of thee!
Romantic, soft, ivory gardenia petals, bedecked my knees.
As we stared, at the still silvered moonlit, West Coast's fog, and the whispering
waves of the sea.
Supersonic slideshows of us, click softly, in my mind!
And nightlife, so mystically electric, which fluorescently flashes rainbow sounds, forevermore, fog-blessed and kind
You, forever smiles, in my mind?
~!.With fondest memorie of my late husband ~
1/23/2025
Became a sinner
Became guilty
I can’t remember my first sin. But I have a lot
But that is not my mistake. Life created mine
Satan drove me here. I am a sinner for this life
Satan created my life, my situations. Hunted
I am out of Hell. No home. I am a homeless
No home. I haven’t loved. Homeless of love
But lives. A wanderer. A demonic style. Life
I still, I will live this life. Never, never mind
It’s my blue kind. Of a loser, noble dark life
Now poor, I will be rich. If not, then the soul
But desire is my follower, light shadow, my life
Here is a cemetery, I love the walk there
I find my life, past life. I brought flowers
Flower to stone. To the grave. Oh, dead life
To time, living past. In soul, suffered. Style
My sins. Women, alcohol, nightlife. But style
My sins. Positive thinking, love. But no desire
My sins. Believing in life. Hell's bells, dead life
My sin is my human life, I am passed demon style
In the Hell hasn’t sinned. Not exist. No law. Just life
But here I haven’t a kind. I am alone. An alien life
I am not a human. I don’t want to be that. Just life
I am a blue, the space, the sky. Universe. A far
I do not doubt that here is a demonic love. Style
But I don’t do my demonic style here. Blocked desire
I love this life here. The Wembley Life. Glittering life
The home. Universal, this life, love, desire. The kind
This is my fortune. The saver. Wembley is life
Wembley is a life. Wembley is life. The style
Yeah. But get back to the original meaning
of life. Yeah. Hmm. I am a wanderer, living past
Walking in this city. It is good. Gives life
Yes. After these lines, I understand my life
Wembley saved my life
Wembley gave me a life
I enjoy this old demonic life
~ Remembering You~
Remembering you, is a most simple task!
It’s in the rainbowed bubbles of your arms,
I that do bask!
No, absolutely, no, not once in a great while!
But in each splendid hour, yes, then,yes I can
In the glimmer our of past eyes, those are soft smiless
I cannot forget how sweetly you sung to me!
Nay, how blessed I was when you, in sweet
memory, I clearly sing of thee!
Romantic, soft, ivory gardenia petals, bedecked my knees.
As we stared, at the stiill silvered moonlit, West Coast’s
fog, and the whispering waves of the sea.
Supersonic slide shows of us, click softly, in my mind!
And nightlife, so mystically electric, which fluorescently
flashing, I rainbow lights, forevermore, fog-blessed and kind!
~ With fondest memorie of my late husband ~
6/15/2024