Long Penetrated Poems
Long Penetrated Poems. Below are the most popular long Penetrated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Penetrated poems by poem length and keyword.
These thoughts will follow
whenever the soldiers go...
to be with them into the battlefield,
reciting the shortest prayer
to protect them as a shield
in moments of uncertainty and fear!
A heart penetrated by sorrow
shares their belief deeply,
there will be many anxieties
appearing on their undistracted
and unyielding faces sunk in darkness,
so that they must never relent or show
weakness when their lives are threatened
and troubled by the unmerciful enemy!
This mind pervaded by horror and grief
struggles with the thought of death,
why must one give one's precious life
and free those oppressed by tyrants?
And would this life be enough to relieve
the direful desperation of horrific visions,
simply by knowing that there's someone
out there willing to join them in their fight...
despite the horrible pounding in their chest:
whenever the soldiers go to achieve their quest?
November gray, predator's prey
Spark of the day stretched away
The month of gloom
For so long....don't stay!
Though time would fly
Yet it's preferential
Cause August slipped away
And September as well
And so has gone the month of fall
But November isn't gonna be so small
Open to debate? Just wait and see y'all
Time would paralyze me
With no other option rather than to recall
Those words serpent and epoch of reticence
penetrated by reminiscence
avert glancing at that glance
exposing mirages of happiness to stay
As it was running away
Cause here it is....
November gray, predator's prey
The month of gloom
For so long....Don't Stay
Yet, futile all the prayers are
The month of gloom
Will Stay
Will Stay
Will Stay
I want to save you. I want to pull you from that ledge and pry that bottle from your hands. I will destroy that needle that you have buried in your veins time and time again. Let me put my arms around you and protect you from all the evil that has penetrated this world. Your happiness is my catalyst, your joy my delight. My heart aches for you when you are hurting and I know that you are right now. Can I help? Can I be there for you to talk you through it, or just listen to you vent? I will sit silently with you while you decide if you even care to converse. I will walk beside you in quiet places or take the lead if you prefer. I will follow, or remain behind should you choose to walk alone. When you are ready, I can help you devise a plan of action or encourage your ideas.
Here is my shoulder to cry on, my ear to lend and my heart to comfort you. Feel free to let me in. I can keep your secret for I have many that I have never revealed, simply because I was asked not to. I'm here for you day or night. Try me. I am your friend- you just don't know it yet.
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
Held tight to the asagai as I penetrated beastly jungles of Africa, for I knew my vow worthed every torturing and conscious idleling enccounterings...
Eternal and fatal squashing of flesh and bones with the thought that she plunged far than worse physical pain, even soul threatening scenarios couldn't dust an inch of my destination perspective, for I took an oath to present myself irrespective of blood chasing and soul drifting experience stood before my life ...
For I was an african princess which stood in the far reach of my undivided attention, there by my pulse side and africa was where my repetoires headed to habit, for thy heart treasured my living days.
#Poetic_Ink
THE UNKNOWN
Unbeknownst to you , you touched the deepest recesses of my heart,
such a long time ago, and it seems so far away.
You are the oil that penetrated these old and rusted hinges -
making it possible, to open, once again, the steely doors of my heart.
For what has been a life time, I thought - never again, love to feel, love to experience,
love to express, or to let in the life and light of Love's forces, Love's energies.
All of this happened in the blink of an eye - you cared not to see,
you cared not to hear, you did not want to know.
Blindness now reigns supreme - lost is that beautiful dream.
Nothing but harsh words, words of indifference - a spirit so mean
comes at me in forceful waves, permeating every scene
that you and I - upon life's stage - play out our parts,
in costumes, life's experiences have fashioned for us,
that we - on our journey - have tailored in defence of our soul.
You where the key my Dear, - not ever wanting to be - for fear.
You opened the lock, turned back the clock, opened my heart for me,
and a world - lost for so long - I believed I'd never again see.
Now it all is being destroyed, it is crumbling, soon to be all gone,
and you contend, believe it was all - I who made it go wrong,
caring not to see, wanting not to hear the dirges that have become my song.
Now you want me to let it all go, now you no longer want me to carry on.
Oh how I wanted to undress my heart, my spirit, my soul, all my dreams,
lay them before - naked, free, new born - your eyes ( nothing to hide ).
This I did for you, you did not want to see, you shot them down, them you denied,
told me I was not your friend, told me I did not love you,
told me you only had two friends, Christina, and Randy.
This left me with no place to go - what more is there for me to do ?
Except remember - for me you will always be as sweet as candy,
even though we know, Sweetness, without care - will decay the very fiber -
rot the teeth, that poison the system, contributes to diabetes, that can kill - that's her -
if not one's body, - of experience - the essence of one's spirit, of one's soul.
This - I am sure - like me, many have come - all to well - to know.
The solution, - if nothing comes back to you - is to let it go.
B.J."A" 2
May 15th 2009
It haunts me,
that I never got
to see your eyes
I remember my hand
on your chest,
(a memories
strangeness that
never wanes and
the reverence, for
me, never dims)
watching your body
as a gentle lift,
in each breathe
clasped hands
to sleep, holding
onto moments
soft cries of dreams
penetrated a veil,
separating you
from the future
for three days you
dwelt among us,
gifting us presence
of your grace
we made treasures
of minutes,
in Milli seconds
for a thousand years
my spirit will mourn
and every eve
I look to the night,
as each sparkling
light reminds me
of you
still, it haunts me
I never felt
your gaze
so, in my skies,
I paint a star
next to another
pretending they light
your eyes
and on the face
of the moon
I am sketching,
my effigy of grief
Rains made the nature so clean,
Shadow of clouds made it more green.
The layers of clouds darken the sky.
Sunrays are restrained to pass by.
The layers are dense and thick.
But, somewhere they are weak.
Like a poor man's torn blanket,
Cannot stop sun to peep through it.
Penetrated by a few sun-rays,
Bright lines are drawn in greys,
Like silver magical stick of a fairy
Showering boon of life and merry.
Roam your vision in the clouds.
Let your imagination come out.
Can you see a sheep or a deer?
Faces of crocodiles may appear.
It's only the cloudy sky, I must say,
You can stare with naked eyes in mid-day.
As soon as the season is not rainy,
You can't do so when sun is shiny.
When she looked at him,
She knows it is not just the room that is hot,
But her whole body is in heat.
He slowly undressed her,
His eyes penetrated her soul.
Teasing her body,
Filling her with hunger and desires.
How could such a Greek god
Choose her over all the beautiful women?
Blows still her mind.
His touch is gentle but also strong,
When he pulled her by her hair backward,
Passionately kiss her, all resistance crumbles.
Cooling her body with his breath.
How could she not want more?
She begs him, with her moans.
Pleads to him not to stop.
She is dying inside for his touch.
Her hunger takes over,
She wants him to fill her up,
Gives her everything he got.
Taking her on the Ferris wheel,
Where she wants to stay on top.
High on adrenaline and testosterone,
Until they both cry out,
From passion and exhaustion.
Collapse down to earth.
Cuddling,
Resting,
Until the next round.
Memorial Day
Kevin Davis 2026
A Tribute to Warrant Officer Don — Friend, Remembered
Don was born in Moline, Illinois on June 9, 1950, the son of Donald and Leone, and brother to Sharon, Margaret, and Lawrence. His childhood unfolded first in the Peoria area, where he and his siblings grew up in the rhythms of Midwestern life. At seventeen, he moved with his family to New Lenox, Illinois, finishing high school at Lincoln-Way Central — a young man already carrying the quiet steadiness that others would come to rely on.
After graduation, Don chose a path of service. He entered the U.S. Army to become a combat helicopter pilot, training first at Fort Wolters in Texas and then at Fort Rucker in Alabama. There he earned his place as a Warrant Officer and took his seat in the aircraft that would define his calling — the UH-1H Huey.
After a brief return home, Don deployed to the Republic of South Vietnam. He arrived on March 3, 1970, assigned to B Troop, 7th Squadron, 1st Cavalry, part of the 1st Aviation Brigade. He was twenty years old.
On May 25, 1970 — Memorial Day — Don was serving as the pilot in the right seat of a Command and Control helicopter near Nui Coto Mountain, south of Chi Lang in the Mekong Delta. Fifty-five days into his tour, a single .51 caliber round pierced the right door, penetrated the armor, and took his life. He died doing the work he had trained for, in service to his crew, his unit, and his country.
He was brought home to Swan Lake Memory Gardens in Peoria, Illinois, where his family laid him to rest.
Today, Don’s name is engraved on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., Panel 10W, Line 98 — a permanent place among those who gave everything.
But beyond the wall, beyond the dates, beyond the uniform, Don is remembered because you remember him. Because he was your friend. Because the people who knew him carry his story forward. Because a life lived with courage and loyalty leaves a mark that time cannot erase.
This is how he stays alive in the world — through memory, through honor, through the love of those who still speak his name.