Long Pores Poems
Long Pores Poems. Below are the most popular long Pores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pores poems by poem length and keyword.
She.
Serenity’s relief adheres to alabaster sleep from the rivers own pale fruit.
There is majesty in the tides annihilation that polishes cheek and lip.
A smile as slight as sanctity anoints reflections saturated, ineffable.
Not even her amused sediment mask could locate her distant shore.
She.
A blink gives birth to locked gaze that gorges itself upon the unblemished.
Possession thickens the surging blood that flows only for the unknowable.
He cannot resuscitate, cannot embrace what has drowned, drifted.
So, she holds him while he presses plaster to eye, mouth, and nose.
She.
Preserving fleeting pores that gape beneath the thunder of the adoring gaze.
Seraphic visage is captured and crafted with his heartbroken perpetuity.
Confessions of devotion wash up on empty banks and sink into blackened silt.
Lonely as a legend she leaves him and walks silently into deaths duplication.
With your slight, your spirit shines splendidly.
Ought to never seal the pores on your skin.
They have a lot to do with your personality.
As I would bet it, you are as yet a dazzling sin.
In each case, I am fully mindful of my failure.
On the predominant side of your heart's corridor.
In any case, light can trudge through.
Each break was equipped with a drum blew.
I'm ready to perceive who you indeed are.
You are lovely in your present state.
Therefore, looking for refuge isn't bizarre.
My enticing heart was split by a scroll slate.
I embrace you, not your shortcoming.
In each view, you're as yet my bearing.
Written: September 30, 2021
Oh, shower me with your lyrical prose.
Set it to reach my pores—life is on scale of rose
Send me the light of a thousand stars.
An eerie enigma lies below—what induced scars?
Assuaging the senses with that charm.
As royalty in a red silk gown—my heart is warm.
Being lonesome is not a permanent state
Despite what the body may lead us to hate,
We are on a road that leads to nowhere
Yet, it provides continuous rebirth to bear
All we have are our words and memory
Friends and trip peers, heart as gentle be
Feeling lonely is only a state of mind
This is a factor one can cherish or find.
The vastness of the sky is still there.
A steady display of how we fit and share.
Written: May 24, 2023
They unearthed him from the Delta dust/ Do Fletch, a name whispered on the wind, in a rusted tone/
Born and bred in NOLA's humid heart, A city sculpted by sorrow, torn apart, then rebuilt from the start/
Do Fletch not a singer, not an artist, not a star in the sky, but a conduit, a vessel, for the blues to cry/
His voice, a Mississippi moan, rising slow and thick, like the river itself, carrying history/ He didn't sing the blues, he bled them onto the stage/
Each note is a memory, etched deep in a man's age. Pain poured from his pores, a vintage Bourbon stain/
Every tremor in his throat, a forgotten hurricane/ He sang of levees broken, promises betrayed/
of rent past due, and his future slowly fading away/
He sang of love lost in the back alleys and grime, of the weight of generations pressing down on his time/
His voice, a deep-telling blues, the kind that crawls under your skin, A symphony of sorrow, a chorus of what might have been/
He didn't offer hope, he didn't offer light, He offered truth, raw and unflinching, in the dead of the night/
So listen close, to the ghost in his gravelly tone/
Do Fletch, rediscovered, no longer alone/
Let his pain be a reminder, a lesson learned in hard sorrow, that the blues ain't dead, just waiting to rise again/
Nuff said/
Fever and Chills
History writes itself
invisible pens find surfaces unknown
private life
public life
fever and chills sleep together
heaving corrosive air
from colorless lungs
hearing but their own moans
their own cries of ecstasy
how loud
how soft
From boardroom
to bedroom
clinging to manufactured essence
flesh bleeds with century's plague
ignoring contagion's history past
nurturing instead
weed gardens of delusional orchid and rose
These darkened windows aloft
where seductive airs of passion molt
fail to hide the pores of covetous fantasy
gluttony's vaporous hydration
ready to flake
While all about
Ether's wake delivers
sirens and horns
delivering ambition's twisted celebration of death
one less emergency burden
one more dodging of tragedy's awareness
the One-Percenters' plunder
destined to erode
like sand castles knowing little of ebb's inevitable tide
How courageous for some
To incandesce amidst shallow atmospheres
even as infirmity goes unnoticed by those
embracing fleeting moments
momentarily exchanging covers enfolding profit reports
for the silk and satin kind
king size queen size
makes no difference
For these of duplicitous breath
life becomes but a fool's gold enlaced treadmill
unquenchable thirst crossing windblown lips
insatiable and voracious spoils
body upon body
The sickness passes its virulent infection
its waste-basket poisons
from all too anxious glad-hands
offering but copper-nickel-dime pilings
greed's weed defoliation of flowered chameleon hope
trickling downward
battling updrafts of street despair
as sidewalk survivors reach skyward
embracing the floating pocket change tearfully
As misery rages below
this citadel high above
protects blind-weary subjects
behind penthouse glass
sitting together
sipping cognac
turning up the Bang & Olufsen
reading sonnets they know nothing of
awaiting the recurring sirens and horns
Like children beneath pup tents of fantasy
they scurry close
securing their panic
denying the dark
Yet
They too will one day know virulence
and await their own
fever and chills
Heavy guilt, a bundle packed with fears
Feelings black and filthy,
Sinking through my pores, the shame
Remorse burning dewy tears
Over my dreams, coloring every wish
In murkiest seas of doubting,
Sent by the despairing, the hungry,
The desolate heart who cannot see
Beyond the tears, the fears, the years
Poured out in me…
Bruising my dreams, burning away my light
So it reflects only the silence,
Longsuffering and weary as the night
Who can’t see beyond the black
To glistening moon and stars, reflecting
What we’ll not regret, the beautiful in a song
Soaring beyond the trees, in tones
Of gentle, breathing…
Words meant for only those who see
He is more than light – He is more than breath.
He is healing and love – He is a sign from above
That, whatever might come…
God has already won – just see what He has done
Believe in His only Son…
See what is to come – love, love and more love
Because He is the One who silences the dark,
Creates joy inside the heart,
And destroys every doubt – He is the One
Who taught me the meaning of love
He is the ONE who took away my guilt
And taught me – I was meant to become
Far better than I’d every expected I could,
Far brighter than I’d every anticipated,
Far more faithful than I’d ever imagined.
Thanks to the One I love – I know the meaning of LOVE
That lifted that burden, that bundle of worry
And replaced it with a gentling warmth that is guiding me
Into His presence, where I’ll always experience His blessing!
Tainted Blood
They lost me because I loved them enough to let them go, If you love something, set it free; if it returns, it’s yours. Or perhaps they wanted to have their cake and eat it too.
As poets, we often shy away from lines like these, Odium-filled phrases that don’t necessarily mean failure. A failed relationship doesn’t imply personal failure, But rather a problem—either created by us or our partner.
Let’s list the problems:
Lack of capital
Lack of patience
A weak man seeking rescue from a strong woman
And the list goes on, each issue a thorn in the heart. The pain fades after the first heartbreak, Yet trust and love become elusive.
I knew I would lose them—the scent of tainted blood wafted from their pores as they drew near. So, I stopped the kisses, the intimacy, and then came the unwarranted jealousy, the emotional hurt of rejection.
We see them for what they are, and sometimes, that’s enough to set us free.
Gentle is the growl of the distant traffic.
The heat of the vanishing night
Tumbles through the wide inviting window
As summer's last hoorah cascades
A tsunami of over-ripe heat
Across the surface of the dusty duvet
Where I lie
To suck the resistant moisture
From my pores
And simultaneously steal my sleep
The wild creatures are subdued.
Lucid thoughts crowd into
The sleepless void like
A second unwelcome visitor.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Want to wrestle me into the world..
I reach for the ropes with hopes of
A friendly hand, to tag me back
Into the realm of unreality..
Gentle is the growl of the distant traffic.
Jinjagoliath
10th September 2023
4am
What becomes of a world of war?
The world is crowded, lonely, happy and sad
Bored I am of life I am bored
Whisperings of life hint it is stressed
The strait between hope and despair
Forthwith bears an obscure seclusion
A menace seeping through the pores of gladness
What is deprived but a hope that's deferred?
To live again is as sure as to die
To die is as certain as to live
How live the man of what kills him?
He obviously kills what keeps him alive
There's no goodness in the dead
You only live alive to forge ahead
Fall down flat, bounce back up
You fall deceased, but not back up
Next to the senile mind of wisdom I learn
The juvenile meddles unashamedly with the root of serious evils
I behold aloof as the young cruelly earns
The black and gray seek an escape from life's tempest
My fingers are a boat,
Navigating the river of your skin.
Through the bog & long blades of grass,
I picked for you a bush of roses.
In the hopes of making you smile,
Wandering away with thoughts of you.
The kind of peace brought soon
as I see your face.
Though the sun has yet to rise
I’ve sunk down in the pores of your skin.
Searching for the best flowers I can find.
Day after day
Night after night.
I’ve dived & I’ve sunk
Curious of what I’ll find,
At times I didn’t want to leave.
My fingers free to roam the curves
Of your body with nothing to tie them down.
Your body a wave gentle & smooth,
Guiding me to where I sought
In mind body & spirit.
Through the bog & long blades of grass.
I placed all the flowers I found in your heart.
Wild & free
Tomorrow, I’ll return to do the same
To watch the sunrise of your cheeks