Long Ooze Poems
Long Ooze Poems. Below are the most popular long Ooze by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ooze poems by poem length and keyword.
The sidewalks sweat on August nights
Typewriter pounds as city heats
A neon sheen imbues the blight
Alone I smoke with soul contrite
An ashtray's blush, belies discrete
The sidewalks sweat on August nights
An earring left at passion’s height
Rewinds the yearn of lust replete
A neon sheen imbues the blight
Impaled I bleed this city's spite
In brooding mirth I ooze conceit
The sidewalks sweat on August nights
An airline ticket beckons flight
With whispered lies of comforts sweet
A neon sheen imbues the blight
It’s here I glean the rage to write
Extracting marrow from the street
The sidewalks sweat on August nights
A neon sheen imbues the blight
Chopped III Contest
Including:
A typewriter
An ashtray full of cigarette butts (some with lipstick on them)
A single gold earring
An airline ticket (new or used)
09 Dec 2014
ARROWS & TOMORROW
We sow
It grow
With hoe?
God knows
It shows
We pose
Hell rose
So low
Shooting arrows
Bleeding rose
Bloody nose
Oh no!
My marrow
Ahhhw!!!
Pain, slow,
This arrow
Body hollow
Drill holes
Full bowls
Bleeding holes
Eyes close
Arms froze
To toes
Death ooze
Overdose
Like booze
Too close
Need coals.
Its cold.
Don't go!
SAY NO!!
NEVER SORROW
HOPE TOMORROW
Float solo
Like Jack-Sparrow
Saw tomorrow
Now arose!
Everything goes
Away in-tows
Hole enclose
Heal loopholes
Life
I choose,
Because
HE lives
I CAN
Face tomorrow.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2015
Eulogies penned in gold ink
Words engraved on granites
Images made into sculptures
Praises made into songs
None would ever be sufficient
Sufficient enough to tell how Wonderful you are
Got a heart filled with love immeasurable
Got words of tenderness
Eyes lit with passion unending
Mind of positivity and hope
Veins filled with burning fire to excel
Most Optimistic being o ever met.
Your breath ooze love and emotions
Warm and so comforting
Your embrace strangles my fear
And your smile melts away my travails
Whenever you say I'd be fine
I feel fine from that point on
Angel of our days
Blessings of this generation
Short hands filled with strength of thousands
Cute legs loaded with push to succeed
Little shoulder, yet can hold your head for succor
You're fearfully and wonderfully made
I celebrate you on this special day
This might come a bit late for sure
You're never forgotten and never shall be
Happy birthday to this lady that gave love a different meaning
You know my stand about you
You know my dream about your tomorrow
We shall live to see it fulfilled
Happy birthday darling
The hope and solution of tomorrow
????????????
He awakes
two full hours
later than usual.
Well his dreams
disturbed his sleep
several times just before dawn
and he awoke to a safe place
where everything gradually made sense.
And the cat came in
fell asleep on his legs.
Samuel is grateful to the cat
for crediting him with humanity,
believing that cats have
a way of honoring those
fundamentally good, at least not harmful.
Samuel is sorry to miss
the early morning hours.
The satisfying
part of the day will abruptly end
as sources of irritation soon
begin filtering through his life.
But the sun is gleaming in the Winter sky.
The trees seem supernaturally tall,
dark lines of the branches,
nude branches like bones
ooze upward and outward
through unsystematic pathways in space.
He wonders how the trees
choose the holes in space through which
the branches expand.
They are amoeba like,
protoplasm squirts up
through invisible narrow channels in the air.
we are here but wish to be elsewhere
not in space but in orientation
as presence self-aware
vibrant in the void of cessation
what we seek is in timeless time received
though intent takes time to crystallise
so with wayward ego aggrieved
we resist magnetism that seeks to rise
we wished to know the truth so were shown
eternal light beyond space and time
but one with oneness we are alone
whilst on earth we dance to bliss beat’s chime
the flavour of our muse we ourselves choose
but descent does involve separation
so oh hermit let love ooze
that each breath intake is a celebration
Word sketch and stretch
As if to say
Feel batch and match
Hedge well this day
A lone foray
I come to know
To spice this day
Flesh thoughts that grow
Words on the verge
Succinct with ooze
Speed on odd urge
To go with booze
A touch tells all
As rhymes of voice
Discrete with call
Now transcend noise
Fruit in due time
Such curvy lines
That cluster mimes
Curious and fine
Wordplay comes fast
To unleash more
From first to last
In deeper cores
Poise fashions tight
To mellow mood
Reap crystal sight
In all things good
Seek fresh wordplay
In simple pain
As joy now stays
in moments slain
Sift sacred space
Where wisdom knows
To honour grace
As true light shows
Leon Enriquez
23 August 2018
Singapore
When we say, ‘I am’, our hand goes to the heart,
signalling it represents seat of our soul,
which drenched in God’s love deems no one as apart.
To open the heart is our very first goal,
without which in truth soul’s life quest cannot start
but the problem is, ego is in control
and so animal instincts as yet prevail,
with thoughts orbiting dark desires that assail.
The heart is all love and love employs no force,
so it’s only by free will that we can choose,
to make our touch gentle and change our life’s course,
heeding voice of conscience, repaying our dues,
atoning in silence and feeling remorse,
praying like a child till love begins to ooze.
Heart is the centre of our chakras seven;
God dwells deep within, so take it as heaven.
In the quagmire ooze of daily trudge,
where the mire of monotony
clings cold, congealed in sorrow,
it takes only a spark of inspiration,
to transform an ordinary morsel
into a shimmering taste of sheer joy.
Echoes that entices, suffices.
I carry my sample bag handy,
stocked with my pet peeves in reverse.
Tiny things that you take time
to notice, and create space for,
that bring gemstones of joy shining:
The smell of rain, with storm's first drops.
The wispy waft of coffee, freshly brewed.
A rare bird sighted or heard, out of season.
A few chords of a beloved song.
Warm socks from the dryer.
A wink, glace, a tiny half-backed smile.
First touch of warm hands.
Fresh bread from the oven.
Noticing my things I placed in extraordinary ways.
A doodle scribbled on my notepad
Inspiring word or phrases recorded.
Doing things at half-speed, to spool like honey.
In all these little ways on long days
these echoes entice, suffice.
I think something's lacking!
I travel from place A to B
And what do I see?
A lot of heat and dust
All greenery gone to rust
And cracked landscapes proudly brag
Of wrinkles on a wizened hag!
Yes! Something's definitely lacking!
Sweat-strewn foreheads glisten bright
Sticky shirts and blouses seem that much tight
The only wetness that one gets to see
Is the acrid ooze from you and me.
Again, I feel that something's lacking.
It is the voodoo in the air
A shimmering haze of heat despair.
Like zombies all are beasts and men
Looking skywards, asking "When?"
Oh yes, I know what's lacking -
It is the sweet rain-laden breeze
Which freshen's all and greens the trees
Which smooths the land, breathes life afresh
Oh! The blessed Rain to ease Summer's stress!
Form:
If I had sinuosity I would ooze into corners
Touching them as gentle as a first kiss,
In a non-hurtful loving way, not tearing wallpaper
Or making a dent or flicking off paint.
I would slither my mercurial self around people’s conversations,
Silently, stealthily, meandering my melting body into a quiet place,
Observing them unperturbed. If I had sinuosity I would wind myself
Into the unbeknownst inclusion of the unobserved.
I would soon understand all of the misunderstandings, and I would try to help.
But people would be afraid of my slithering ways, so they would not listen.
I would be serpent-like, and feared, if I had sinuosity.