Long On writing and words Poems
Long On writing and words Poems. Below are the most popular long On writing and words by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On writing and words poems by poem length and keyword.
Speak
to me
aloud
those
words
your
heart
has
just
found
as
your
voice
fills
my
ears
we
cojoin
and
create
forever
sounds
in me
a
unison
of feelings
an
intercourse
of minds
birthed
as a
child
imbilically
linked
forever
this
voice
memory
to
recall
at will
as
I
refresh
your
refrain
again
and
again
Hear me read my free
verse
A LABOUR OF LOVE @
http://youtu.be/GiD8JdYi-j
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While doing my daily internet loop
I read some poems at Poetry Soup
Some souls were bared
Emotions shared
By a wonderfully talented group
So many unknowns are gathered together
Brandishing their talents without a tether
Notable skills
From gifted quills
Flocking together like birds of a feather
Whether mundane or totally bizarre
Through words they express just who they are
Some young, some old
Some shy, some bold
Each as marvelous as a shooting star
To the nameless owners of this great site
Thank you for giving our poetry flight
No longer adrift
Because of your gift
You are the beacon that brings us to light
For the moment may I…
Be your everything can I
Look you in your eyes
Take your hand and caress
Your right & left cheek
Can I be the moment of
Passionate love when you kiss me
Can I be that tear of joy
You shed when your eyes slowly leak
Can I be your everything you’ve been
Searching for, your sunshine your
Moonlight, the feeling you get when
Were together and I’m holding you tight
And love all of a sudden seems so right
For the moment can I just gaze
At your beauty, and yeah
I’m your personal sex toy
So have your way and you use me
Let me be the feeling you
Get when your about to climax
The prayer you pray in your
Moment of fasting
Let me be your long kiss goodnight
The feeling you get when you miss me
When I leave your sight.
"Doth if not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?"
Close to my heart you came
When of you I learned of horror
How you were locked to tame
The depression trapped though error
In insane asylum
Years of electro shock treatment
Made her even more glum
Her writing helped with this ailment
Misdiagnose illness
How could those doctors make error
Despite works reflect giftedness
Janet Frame's poems "The Pocket Mirror"
Quote is from:
"The Passionate Reader To His Poet"
Written by:Richard Le Galliene
Contest: The Passionate Reader
Sponsor: Constance~My Dear Heart~
Janet Frame
A New Zealand Author
She left a foundation to help young writers..
I’ve started getting emails
That I cannot read a word of.
They’re written in a language
That perhaps I’ve never heard of.
The writing looks like Arabic,
Not in my realm of knowledge.
In high school I learned Spanish
And a little French in college.
I read some Hebrew haltingly,
But this is not related.
I wonder how to get
This enigma investigated.
For why is someone sending me
A message in a tongue
That’s alien to me and
Other emails it’s among?
I’m getting these from several names,
All sounding vaguely Persian.
To read one single word, I’d need
Rosetta Stone immersion.
I’m pretty sure this isn’t Spam,
But I wish they’d recede.
I’d rather open emails
With a message I can read!
I don't look like anybody else on the planet, you see...
I don't think and write as others do to hide pretense:
my aspiration is not to be someone else,
because a unique individual lives in me.
I had lots of friends in my teen years,
sadly, not a true one I could remember today
and that friend I found only in mother not others...
many regrets I have, but that bitterness has faded away.
I learned by watching, pondering, analyzing and comparing
vast differences in character, deed and action...
it was like seeing actors in a drama: each one expressing
their feelings, expecting a positive reaction.
Sometimes I see myself as a modern philosopher with definite
thoughts on logic and theories...and most certainly
not a Plato, Aristotle or Socrates, and as amazing as they were,
they would criticize and scold me with their harsh words of antiquity.
I sympathize with anyone who has suffered a loss:
it's the humanness that defines and completes me;
I am more patient than anybody who carries his cross,
because a unique individual lives in me.
Her writes are touching
They bring tears to your eyes
You can sense her fears
From the woman inside
Through the eyes of another
Saying " the time has come "
To begin the climb
Towards the sun
The other side
Under the moonlit sky
Suicide, feelings of
The questions, why?
Please forgive me
Today's the day
I'm finally free
No looking back for me, as I pray
It's now or never
Please remember me
My hidden thoughts
Will set me free
I have a dream
So far away
I believe it's time
Don't cry when you say
Goodbye
I wonder, I remember
Life is to short
On reflection
The above I abort
On the wings of an angel
I will travel one day
But until that time
This lost soul will stay
Dear Lord
Is there a heaven?
A little precious angel says
My family, love and faith
Will see me through my days
Having read a poets poems yesterday, i wrote this using the titles
to her sad, but heartfelt pieces
~ ~ And the ladies name is Colleen Bono ~ ~
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-4.php
Black russian; White russian If
you dare o0zing sex on the beach
strolls down mem~o~rized long
Island ice tea left me stranded on A
one night affair.
Impacted viberations through
bloody mary's vines quenching
her thrusting thirst for one more
blow~job If you pleaz!!! He Asks.
Convalescing bodies hit the floor
like A G-6 Screaming death
spathums roar....
His Pensive innercourse ; gave
her nothing but gin n' tonic
explossion of self desire on
slippery nipples and A ding o'
ling Rides the roller~coaster
fling.
He now must leave her
with wet dreams
of exotic pleassures......
She stops him for a moment
and asked just one more please
before you go! Good Sir.
He replies: no my lady
Thank~You and goodbye!!!
Drunken Master.... vixen.
At funerals, we listen as
The anecdotes are shared.
Some speakers prattle off the cuff
While others are prepared.
The congregation laughs when tales
Embody the deceased.
Those chortles let the tears subside
As tension is released.
As relatives and friends reflect,
Each listener may wonder,
What stories will be told of me
When I’ll be six feet under?
A life that lasted decades
Leaves a void, to some, immense;
Yet just a few examples
And that essence we condense.
The mourners may be left with wisps
Defining the departed,
Such quick-drawn sketches meant to soothe
The not-so-broken-hearted.
Vignettes can only say so much,
Though comfort they provide.
To those who count, there’s much more left
Than words, when someone’s died.
Raul Moreno
(a Poetry Dish)
4c. of God 1 sm. tsp. of talent
(23oz of chromosomes) pkg. Mom (23oz of chromosomes) pkg. Dad
¼ tsp. of my older brother ¼ of my other brother
2 c. of my sister 1 lb. of my surroundings
1 oz. of knowledge ½ c. of heart
½ c. Nature ½ c. Inspiration
3 c. Oklahoma 2 c. of my friends
(8oz.) of Pansy 1 pkg. Gracemont
¼ t. failure ¼ t. faith
A pinch of discipline A dash of hope
Mix contents together,
In a large bowl.
Top with family members,
Better if served cold.
Set and let cool,
And eat my poetry.
Without these ingredients,
There would be no me.
_______________________________________
An homage to everyone who has supported me,
believed in me, and applauded me.
Without them, I wouldn't do what I do!