Long Obsession Poems
Long Obsession Poems. Below are the most popular long Obsession by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Obsession poems by poem length and keyword.
Imagine your imagination soar in flight
Turning blue sipping the open sky bright
Turning green soaking the verdant forest
Turning crimson sucking clouds at sunset.
Imagination is painting transient
On the canvas of fantasy latent.
Imagine your imagination fly in the wind
Chasing designed butterflies like a child
Chasing the shifting mirage in the desert
Chasing the rainbow colors in life inert.
Imagination is potent inspiration
Motivates the minds of creation.
Imagine your imagination morph in passion
Becoming an imposer of ardent obsession
Becoming fleeting daydream of fragile entity
Becoming alien to the essence of reality.
Imagination is freedom of mind
The agonized life needs to find.
December 26, 2017.
They put me together like some heavy crane.
Stuffed my head with blueprints and legal jargon—telling me exactly what a useful life was supposed to look like.
I was meant to be a hub.
A big anchor holding the town down, shifting weight hand to hand.
Then the money moved.
The market slipped off to some other coast. Left me right here. Just a dead-end saltwater slot.
A lifetime of training turned into dead data—like old grease drying up in an empty engine bay.
Go take a look at the barge rotting by the pier.
Nobody gives a damn about the tonnage it was built to haul.
The tide rewrote the cargo list.
Where the coal used to sit, it’s just moss now. A wet, green carpet eating the rivets.
A heavy machine turned into an accidental garden.
You look down and see a rusted chunk of iron in the mud.
But inside? It’s a slow, choking panic.
Knowing you are ready. Knowing you can do the work (and knowing you’re completely unneeded).
It’s a quiet sort of violence. Hosting weeds when you were built to cross an ocean.
The market has a blind obsession for unweathered steel.
They’ll dump seasoned cargo space any day just to get that glossy, fresh-paint look of youth.
They catch a glimpse of the silver on my frame and assume the hull is shot.
They skip right past the grit inside the rust.
The kind of mileage that rides out the exact same storms that flip the new guys over.
A unique kind of love
My love for you is unique to me;
Nobody else could love you the way I do.
I love you more than any other man could,
But your only reply is “Who are you?”
And not in a good way, like “Hello! Who are You!?”
But “Hell no. Get away. Who the Hell are you?”
My love is an obsession and needs a woman to fill the void,
Because without love I am nothing but a lost little boy.
My love is all encompassing; it blinds me from life,
Because life is pointless without love so I want to die.
Depression sets in for another long night;
Another night alone, another love is not in sight.
Dreaming of love once more, my heart beats slowly.
It used to beat fast when I would meet a beautiful woman,
But I guess by now, you know the rest of the story…
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
When I put myself in the reader’s shoes,
My mind it unlocks my heart becomes fused,
So many paths are written about,
Some with emotional pain, fear and doubt,
Some just admire love and the rain,
Some people’s words are written in vain,
Whatever the journey I can jump right in,
Words have no boundary’s they start where my eyes begin,
Echoes of sadness transfer through to my chest,
Welding the pieces of alone and depressed,
Confusion and clutter glued to their verses,
Lyrics and styles some blessings and some curses,
Some intellectually murder expression,
While others navigate me through lust and obsession,
Some make declarations, oaths and pledges,
Language can break through all previous wedges,
Others can take me back to long ago,
During wars of succession that troubled them so,
Drifters and seekers,
My fellow poets are speakers,
Unraveling time,
By a single rhyme,
Just like the lyrics of King David,
Heartache and trouble can leave some jaded,
But when others can take that journey with you again,
All from a poets notebook and pen,
The past comes alive and the present becomes real,
Dirt roads aren’t as scary and soldiers finally heal,
Our souls become one by the words we do speak,
So take time to read another persons week,
For their lessons may be the energy that saves some youth,
Their story’s may be the emotion that engrave in your heart truth,
Take a moment to walk through someone else's mind,
There is no telling what you will find.
By: Sabina Nicole
Now I am certain of nothing
But your existence, in chaotic disbelief.
The scurry of feet patter down the path
Of the avenue & city blocks downtown.
As beautiful as you are dangerous,
Now open to the world around you.
A fiery ship intentionally dragging it’s
Anchor in obsession.
Not knowing how or when to stop.
The smog of smoke eases its way down.
We all were told to evacuate.
What is this place?
What is this promise made anew?
Some days are better than others,
The stars blend in with the search lights.
At times it’s hard to tell which is which.
I stand in both shock & awe.
It looks like the sky has split open,
The closest I’ll ever get to the sun
Not knowing how, or when to stop
You’ve always been familiar to me
Scales interspersed my skin, enrobed my flesh, hardened it, within a mesh. I come close to kiss you, but it binds me still, and you walk away, and I hobble up the hill. One foot follows the other=feigns, I must catch you before it wanes. The fog between us has grown so dense, and my body with it all so tense, my steps slow down yours speeding=out of my sight, now. What immense fright...
I falter on my knees, near to naught, nigh to my knife, and I cut me, and the blood runs so rife, a gate opens but I don't recall I have its keys, but it doesn't end my life.
I clenched my teeth and pulled each foul flake from underneath, and freed myself but now I seek=her until she's meek, until she's weak...
I walk with my chest up, then I see her clear, I walk toward her, and her voice I hear, “I've come for you my precious dear”, I said as I smiled from ear to ear. I held her mere but she flailed from fear. Then she froze in fear. And I sank my fangs in her,
as I dropped a single tear.
The curtain was drawn, when she tried to leave
The compelling words he said, started the play
“I will not allow it”, he did say
His words were what he meant that day
He stalked her thereafter, so she could not have a life
He even rigged a TV to blow up on her
He sent people to follow her to always watch
He would not allow anyone to have her
Calculating his every move, day by day
Due to this, he landed in jail for some time
Even then, stalking her with the phone
Sending someone he knew to disrupt her life more
Until, she literally had to move
He was obsessed with having things in order
An x-marine with guns and a rigid routine
She had become another item of his obsession
No longer a person, running for her life
Cops told her she needed to buy a gun
Upon his release, she always kept watch
To look over her shoulder, as to when …
He may show up one future day
When she would have to pursue justice
All over again, just to stay alive
To escape the play in his book ….
--- That would not end ---
Heidi Sands
11/7/17
Placed 2nd in The Stalker Contest.
It was insanely challenging to arrive there, realities hindered me
from grabbing a marvellous opportunity!
but after I took a glance at the breathtaking artwork -
I was awestruck! this is unique beyond imagination!
there was no turning back! I was obsessed!
Problems were endless..
a new foreign country with rigid rules,
culture unfamiliar, language insufficient, restricted movement,
and most importantly - insurmountable concern about safety..
But I was undaunted!
a rare art which has come down for hundreds of years - so delicate and intricate!
there was no question of giving up...
even if I had to overcome innumerable hurdles!
What are those hurdles compared to what will shine like scintillating stars as my treasure forever?
and perhaps will be an unforgettable legacy for my family for generations!
Those exquisite beauties are tiny, but they are marvels!
Searched frantically for paints, beads, crystals, laces everywhere!
My passionate self ignored all obstacles for days and months,
(with butterflies in my stomach).
At last...my unwavering persistence rewarded me with unparalleled results....
defying all odds, I created an array of rare artwork -
my pride, my passion ~ the showcase of my obsession!
As addicted as she was, she knew her love for him was madness
Searching her soul, she wondered why he held her power
She could not help this insane obsession, relinquishing herself
She was as helpless as a Luna moth flying into his scorching light
Searching her soul, she wondered why he held her power
Flitting and fluttering his handsome ways toward other women
She was as helpless as a Luna moth flying into his scorching light
They were evidently remnants of a love affair from another lifetime
Flitting and fluttering his handsome ways toward other women
She could not help this insane obsession, relinquishing herself
They were evidently remnants of a love affair from another lifetime
As addicted as she was, she knew her love for him was madness
I wish I liked coloring books
For my hobby might be cheaper,
but it is not for I adore creating on canvases
and painting them with acrylic paints.
My nine year old granddaughter
started this obsession by begging me to paint with her.
I did not want to “waste” a canvas that day.
Six years later I have five hundred canvases,
none wasted. Each full of my cartoon women.
Soldier women, warrior women, pirate women,
witches, faeries, hippies, angels, dancers, singers,
moms, little girls, Native Americans, black women,
brown women, beige women, pink women
I have filled my rooms with neon colors, and black lights.
My creations smile from every corner of my home.
I took down the family photos and replaced them
with my cartoon women. It is more than a hobby.
It is my obsession.