Long Pillows Poems
Long Pillows Poems. Below are the most popular long Pillows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pillows poems by poem length and keyword.
JOYOUSLY, WE BE
Pillows, pillows, rainbow pillows everywhere
amidst this sea of pillows, two in lounging share--
capering aplenty, teasing, teasing thee.
Fun-filled laughter bubbles up, joyously, we be.
Fluffy, fluffy cotton knobs, wrap next to 'bods
Tuck so right in a hug, keep tight in the warmth.
Playing hard to get in merry-go-round zest.
Rock and roll, it drew smiles; rise and fall release sighs...
Teaser! Teaser, tease her! blushing freedom pairs!
Giddy music gentle lapping sound like chorale.
Closer, we become, touches twinkling like stars
in catch one's breath pause, our eyes interlace, comes we!
Pleaser! Pleaser, please him round the clock so light!
Do cuddle him lovingly and sing her a song,
between some brushes, he shall blow hushes
as when night and day strums, allow yin and yang rhumb.
© J. A. Fraser and O. E. Guillermo
Written November 17, 2014
.
I wish you could- live in my mind.
I mean in alot of ways you already do- live in my mind.
In my mind you are the calm before and during the storm.
You are appreciated over & over again.
You are dreamed over & cherished without worry.
In my mind you are the relief to every ache, every crevice that dares scream of pain.
Your touch, your feel is one that screams I need more.
And once that touch is satisfied I'll still have that urge.
The urge to reach out and grab you.
In my mind you are the reason I close my eyes.
Squinting tight picturing you there always.
A grin curved on your lips.
In my mind you are always and forever wrapped tight in my arms, my warm sufficing the need for blanket.
My nose tucked in the side of your neck.
My hand layed across your stomach and our toes relaxed without a single thing to do.
Lost in the current of sheets and pillows.
In my mind you are the ocean serene & calm.
The sky your favorite color purple.
The observation of everywhere we are is a dream away.
And you remain always in my mind
Repulsive Slumber
Down the basement,
not a single color of envy,
flat-lines, are standing still all around.
The stillness is suffocating,
everything coming my way.
Different from,
the morals,
of my old organize ways.
"Still Round The Corner There May Wait,
A New Road Or A Secret Gate." ~~J.R.R. Tolkien~~
In certainty!
Someone will help me dismantle this knowledge!!
A movement so loud that bleeds,
irritating metal in the open wide.
Time standing still
pushing,
tossing the dice.
Sleep walking in a slow pace,
paralyzed and lost in a smoky haze.
So blurred, my perception slips.
The concept is so untouchable,
Finding peace, I find the thrills,
I conquered.
Screaming! I wake up,
Tangible evidence, released.
Rough, pillows, invade me.
I follow my guts,
I finally found the right feelings...
Exhaling one final breath, I freeze it!
Avoiding the demons!
Impossible, slumberous visions,
entering the atmosphere ,
thickened, loud voices, ~ "WANT TO BE HEARD!"
Sliding into my slumber,
locked in one solid dream.
My slumber,
I lay so quietly,
Voiceless, still I feel.
So repulsive, still redeemable.
My slumber,
dry like black soap.
Stillborn, yet still breathing!
Stillborn, yet still moving!
Reaching for the ceiling,
and I try hard not to dream.
An empty pyramid, winding up to a new start.
Imperceptible pencils in my slumber, beneath me.
Now I am in wonder,
breaking my mind with this,
from all the solidness.
Only I can revolve around this light.
Taking hard cold metal,
stabbing it behind me.
My repulsive slumber.....
an ongoing punishment with dark fantasies.
by;p.d.
Dedicated to NIKKOS... poem *Elusive Dreams*
From a distance it's all the same
the same smile and hair
I can almost smell the cheap wine
emanating through the musky air
like when we first met.
Except crisp glass has replaced the plastic cups
and the floor is pillows under my heels.
When we locked eyes for the first time
since what was meant to be the end,
a sense of helplessness engulfed me
emotions that could only be tucked away in dreams
as if I was staring at the reflection of a new moon.
Inevitable.
Inescapable.
Even after everything, I knew
and you knew too.
A lot has changed between us
but the love stayed.
The velvet mouth of the theater opens,
and it swallows me whole.
I take my seat like it's my grand secret.
The lights bruise out.
Now it shows me what I'm hungry for.
Westerns come first—
dust coughing in the sun,
men shaped like fences and guns,
horses flinging thunder from their hooves.
Justice rides a long road and does not look back.
The sky is wide as a promise no one keeps.
Then the Rated-R rooms—
where shadows sweat and neon bleeds,
where kisses come with warning labels
and every body is a lit match.
The screen pulses like a heart you shouldn’t touch,
but do.
Romance steps in softly,
hand in hand with rain and violins.
Two souls circling like moths in lamplight,
learning the grammar of longing.
Even heartbreak wears perfume here.
Comedy kicks open the door,
throws popcorn at sorrow,
slips on its own shoes and survives.
Laughter peels the paint from my ribs.
For an hour, nothing can hurt me.
Drama brings the long stare—
families cracked like old plates,
truths whispered into pillows,
tears falling with the patience of clocks.
Thrillers tighten their fists around my pulse,
teach my breath to hide,
teach silence how to scream.
Horror lifts the mask,
shows me my own face in the dark,
dares me not to flinch.
Science fiction opens a new sky,
planets like blue coins in black water,
machines that dream of us,
time folded like a letter.
Fantasy braids wings onto sorrow,
crowns the small and broken,
lets magic bloom where rules once lived.
Animation paints joy with bright bones,
animals speaking better than people,
colors that refuse to grow old.
And when the credits crawl like silver ants,
I rise blinking, stitched back together—
full of gun-smoke sunsets,
neon kisses,
tears, jokes, monsters, stars—
carrying a hundred lives
in my coat pockets.
My head has known a thousand rests;
it has floated on feathered softness,
and silk curlicued with a silken tress;
been prickled by the grass of a meadow,
under a hung menagerie of clouds.
Into rumpled sheets of sand it has pressed,
and the sleepy valleys of maidens’ breasts.
On cold concrete pavement it has lain,
my senses by a drunken torpor slain.
It has been stood up by sleep,
on origami pillows made with coats,
the rugged terrains of sofa arms,
on bony cushions fashioned with my palms,
and gold threads needled into coats of arms.
My head has known a thousand rests,
but never the rapture of a dreamless nap,
till I laid it in the sweetness of your lap.
New Orleans is for night walkers
Ghost watchers, voodoo challengers
Sleep walkers carrying wine bottles
inside crumpled brown paper bags
Bourbon Street is ready for you.
I am here on a whim, finding my real self
My soul self that has been dead for two years
The one I left in Detroit one summer eve.
I linger in a white bed with fluffy pillows,
more than I deserve but less than I expected.
I am alone, for finding myself is encumbered enough
Without an audience or company. Smirk Smirk.
I have signed up for a midnight ghost walk but my age is calling.
I want a nap and it is only eight thirty.
I am pathetic now.
I used to be fun loving and creative and daring.
Now I am sluggish, sloth-like, a turtle walker.
I would slow them down; I reach for the phone to call
But it is up high and I am down here.
Holding a sign that says drink me, but the magic potion is up there too.
Higher than I can reach.
I try to scream but nothing comes out.
What kind of a dream is this anyway?
A pink rabbit wearing a red fez sashays past me.
Is this a rabbit hole then?
I lay in silence in a cold dark room on a shredded mattress.
Torn sheets, flat pillows, and springs portrude from inside stabbing me in the back.
Deafening gunfire from the streets below, and the chatter from passersby leave an
uncomfortable nervousness.
A flickering light from across the street luminates my chipped and smoked stained walls with
a neon glow.
Veins overload my pupils, a blood red covers the once vibrant lens.
My eyelids heavy causing stressful headaches.
I can't sleep!!
I feel as though I'm choking, my chest imploding. I find it hard to breathe!
Clouds have formed in my head, an acidic rain dribbles down my forehead.
My temperatures hotter than the sun, mouth dry like the Sahara.
No wonder I can't sleep!!!!
:JP}
i fear that i become the love i once afraid to get
the affection i had left behind—
the roses i gave in
without any expected return
because a gained respect for them
is a disgrace of my own
i had to beg for answers to be answered unsure of
an explanation i didn't even know if the question
i had asked, or just another curiosity that i'd think of,
you're maybe enlightened i feel this way
a cry of prayers, silent scream in pillows
"please, hear my agony. i am begging to be truthful to love"
for only if could sell my soul, i am six deep under of what you're standing on.
i wish i did that, anyways
i had regrets about how my innocence ate me whole
that even my heart became blind when i told her to heal
but then hurt someone else's soul,
God, rest thy soul,
i was fearfully and wonderfully made
but i made me to love fearful to them.
We hid in the cottonwood tree’s magic treehouse.
Spying on our neighbors.
Laughter rang out occasionally from the windows of some of their houses.
We clutched our stomachs and laughed.
Mr. Pete gave his wife a big hug at their house.
We all went, Oh, yucky!
We were eleven, and loved the height of our tree mansion.
Feeling like detectives, or FBI agents.
Eleven is such a magical time.
We used to haul all kinds of pillows up there.
It was my reading nook. On reading days, I was
off with pirates, or Pippi Longstocking, and we
were on the sea, which I had never seen
in real life,
but imagined
was quite
wonderful.
You can never get 11
back, so please enjoy it!