Long Propinquity Poems
Long Propinquity Poems. Below are the most popular long Propinquity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Propinquity poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: February 10, 2024
____________________________________
Endless void of shades
A soft wave hides truths
Nestled in an ethereal cover
A celestial riddle sighed.
Ethereal hues glide gracefully
And fly through the night sky
Fetching felidomancy and felicity.
A subtle veil shows toughness
It sets off under a night cloak
Artly arranged apparatus
Whispering tales of sadness
Dwelling in a fugacious abyss
A world engulfed in sorrow.
In gloaming, a gossamer glint
A lambent sparkle of hope
Heat harbinger harbor halcyon huddle.
A burst of light will imbue dawn
Above the waves, it gleams.
Such divine, rending stillness
A comely beacon of guidance
Darkness yields to light
The veil of mystery slowly lifts
Admiring the allure of shadows
The lure lies within its depths
Start to enter a hidden world.
Abyss of desultory darkness
Yet, it conceals tales.
Hidden diaphanous wonders
A special propinquity site
Grace the power of the night
Embrace the concealed radiance.
Mysteries inure redolent gaze
Uncover cosmic serendipity
Peel away layers, one by one
Eying surreptitious splodge of wonga.
Gloom has wisdom and mystery
A timeless vision on a canvas
Possibilities are endless epiphany
An elixir of enchantment
Let's venture into the unknown.
Written: March 2nd, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wingbeats on warm whisper wavelength
wasteland, waves of wasabi writhe
with wilting, whimpering, witless wring
whirls and willows whimsically wave.
Emerald pride waves over meadows,
Venetian Barcarole flails and whizz
viridian desires dance onto dales,
Eurydice weeps lost love in auric tears
Dawn draws dwindle, damp dimples.
Of flickering flowers and floating stars
Orpheus, the poet in paint-stained palms
portrays the paradoxes in love,
a roar of zeal and salty air in a blue sky
love stings, even endless moons
In ablaze that seldom strikes
Elysium ethereal elixir of souls.
With such spongy, slippery strokes
soothing serenade in early spring
Thunder rumbles, but cannot shatter
love of Orpheus and Eurydice
Destiny is etched in their stride
as wingless wisps prose sang and swam
Moon loops conflate with wispy vowels
pride is a cornerstone of identity
egos hold a shield of protection
love embraces all they cherish
paired potency, pelt a pound planet.
Akin to operas, rehearsed by singers
their spoof spirals higher in stride
a syzygy of stars in a mellifluous oasis
nurturing nemesis crystals
soar in silky, springy ischemic swings
fetching felicity, as flurry fades
Ignore impulses, let time slip away
still in grip of quintessential propinquity
over a pyre, rainbow Ink swirls
with ethereal wingless, sanguine sighs,
sumptuous zeal stirs the lifeless,
springtide serenades sibyllic sweeps.
As wisteria, spring sequoia, and love slay
weave an aura in vow threads
once serendipity embraces karma
Scarlet moons bleed in a plum sky
still, sustains its sonorous scintilla
at the zenith of wistfulness, uncover bliss
loving endures the rumblings of thunder
hope in its darkest night, never fades
smoothly drifting on brisk wing beats
love is a fruit of tangerine tenacity
love lullaby ignited by stark infatuation.
Demesne
at Pergamon
stirred an epiphany.
The Aqueducts, Acropolis,
propinquity, Temple Dionysus,
Trajan Temple- all so magnificent.
Persian, Greek, and Roman wonders;
some standing, most lying...
erstwhile kingdoms,
all gone.
I viewed
and imagined
robust efflorescence
that once filled this bucolic place.
Dalliance here, much too ephemeral.
Damp ruins- yellow soil stirred petrichor.
Wild grass, broken art; redolent
grave serendipity...
wars...harbinger...
of loss.
March 20, 2016
~1st Place~
Contest: A Day In A Town
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 04/14/2016
Required words in order of appearance:
demesne, epiphany, propinquity, erstwhile, efflorescence, bucolic, dalliance, ephemeral, petrichor, redolent, serendipity, harbinger
Written: June 20, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the realm of words, where wonder weaves
A tapestry of dreams and beliefs
A poet seeks to paint a scene.
With words alike colors, vibrant, and keen.
Within this tapestry, we find a tale,
Of quintessential love that will never fail.
Two souls entwined in propinquity
Bound by a love that's pure and free.
In the realm of words, where passion lies,
Their love blooms beneath the starlit skies.
Their hearts beat in a pyrrhic dance.
A rhythm of love, a fleeting chance
The susurrous whispers of the wind,
Carry their love, a secret within.
As they walk hand in hand, hearts intertwined,
Their love, a melody, was forever aligned.
The tintinnabulation of their laughter was so sweet,
Echoes through the realm, love's symphony complete.
With each wafture of their tender embrace,
Their love illuminates, leaving no trace.
Yet in this realm of wonder and dreams,
There lingers a shadow—a woebegone theme.
For love's tapestry is not without strife,
And their hearts are tested in the realm of life.
But still, they hold on; their love never wanes.
Through the storms and the pains
They face the challenges hand in hand.
Their love is a fortress, eternally grand.
In the realm of words, where wonder weaves
Their love endures and never deceives.
For in this realm, where poets reside,
Their love is immortal, never denied.
In the tapestry of dreams, they remain,
Bound by love's thread, a never-ending chain.
Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.
Germaine Greer
In the orbit of nearness, where hearts align
Where synapse evolves into a cherished sign,
We descry ourselves in place and time.
Bound by a close and familial rhyme.
Physical wistfulness and togetherness,
Creates a suture of joy and tenderness,
The juxtaposition of souls, so intertwined,
An agnate is formed—a bond we designed.
Forbearance and awareness we share,
Through pluralism, the incongruity we bear
For in this world of kindreds and propinquity,
We embrace the grace of coexisting diversity.
In the tapestry of life's grand design,
We are threads woven together, divine.
Antithetical in thoughts, beliefs, and ways,
Yet united in love throughout our days.
A binding bond of kin and vicinity, a holy thread,
Connecting us all and filling us with widespread
Embracing our differences, celebrating each hue,
We find strength in unity in all that we do.
In the embrace of love and togetherness,
We find solace and happiness.
Consanguinity brings us close.
In this world, we are all kin, but adios.
So let us cherish this bond we share.
Embrace the beauty of being aware.
That is our kindred spirit and propinquity.
We find strength and unity.
For in the land of nearness, we are one,
Connected by love, forever bound, never undone.
Common lineage and flesh, a dance so divine,
Where hearts intertwine, creating a luminous shine,
In the realm of nearness, we find solace and peace.
A tapestry of togetherness, where love will cease.
Kinship and nearness, a symphony of souls,
Where angels are perched atop their poles,
1st place contest winner
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
Written: September 10, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Sumptuous whispers are carried by the breeze.
A sonorous tune that calms moods and puts me at ease.
Pristine opines were uttered in a lilting voice.
An idyllic source of felicity; gentle as a dove to rejoice.
As the full moon rises in the night sky's frame,
The amatory blaze roguish hearts aflame.
And wispy scrutiny, a perduring gaze,
Bathing all in an elixir of romantic haze.
With a brooding grace and a regal snare.
She captures hearts with her wistful stare.
In her propinquity, the stars, bow in hurrah
As she crafts the night with a sanguine awe
The sky, her canvas, a tapestry of dreams,
Her reign, a symphony of moonlit themes.
In the embrace of her nocturnal reign,
Lovers find solace in her melancholic refrain.
Her demure touch, a salve for the soul,
As she yarns magic, shaping souls whole.
And as the night gently swirls today,
The moon flings egress, fading away.
But the serendipity of her alluring fable glow
The river of eternity leads sturdy and flows.
If only to bask in the gentle glow of moonlight.
Abides a love that fugacious years cannot quite.
In idle, I am prone to the unintentional siren
yet with obligation, I can pretentiously delude
concealing the apprehension... and the desire
Remarkably discernible from a mere moment glimpse
in her ivory mask with tinges of light rose
looming unmistakably regardless how afar
Yet, I keep my distance; becoming too nervous
propinquity may induce "Untamed Attraction"
in defiance of the restraint that I impose
Amongst the mundane, I unwillingly exclude
in fear of displacing the facade over this ruse
all to hide my veracity from ridicule
Is it in timidity that I indulge this notion?
Incapable to go beyond being elusively platonic;
in favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon?
...
Alas, I bury any sentiment as a mere fantasy
to haunt me within my dreams; as I lay vulnerable.
In favor to the ethics upon which I've stood upon.
Written on 02/26/2017
Here are four survivors of a rocket that had crashed.
For a great distance, they had walked through rain that had splashed
so long, and so hard, that everything was turning white.
The downpour continued steadily through day and night.
“Does it ever stop raining on Venus?” one could ask.
A journey through the planet’s ceaseless rain is a task.
It requires the strongest earthmen to endure the rain;
a challenging test to withstand frustration and pain.
Venusian jungles are thick with vegetation.
Survival is usually of short duration.
The torrential downpour cuts through the trees and the land.
It is steady and so strong. A man can hardly stand.
It’s continual pelting of raindrops on his head.
It does not take long before most men wish they were dead.
On this planet, there is one thing that they would call home.
It is a round, yellow building known as a “sun dome”.
Inside, there’s a man-made plasma giving light and heat;
where it is dry and comfortable, with food to eat.
Thirty days and nights had passed since their space ship was downed.
They blindly tread through the rain until a dome was found.
However, inside, it was dark and cold with no sound.
Gashed holes in the ceiling proved there was no one around
Venusians attacked here and killed everybody.
These creatures were infamous for their savagery.
On the map, another dome was shown to be nearby.
Only a few kilometers away, it would lie.
They would leave in search of the next dome they hoped was near.
Their compass readings were off; their position not clear.
Suddenly, their ship with two dead crewmen would appear.
They had traveled in a circle, causing them great fear.
A dark, ominous, electrical cloud they would see,
spewing thousands of lightning bolts, a monstrosity.
This caused their compasses to show inaccuracy.
The group’s leader yelled “Everybody get down right now”,
but one man stayed up and tried to run away somehow.
He was struck by the lightning, and was burned quite badly.
Remains of this man were charred beyond identity.
The raging storm cost the crew another casualty.
The three remaining men continued on their journey,
blindly hoping a sun dome was in propinquity.
Based on the short story "The Long Rain" by Ray Bradbury
You can
drive your whole life
not look upon the face
of harbingers in spring wet earth.
Remembering the ephemeral warm
Mediterranean summers
clean Petrich or fresh rain
bucolic life
setting.
Yielding
a nostalgic
propinquity city's
efflorescence dress brick building.
The epiphany of an old church as
it sings the echoes of erstwhile.
Redolent warm feeling
Victorian
versed homes.
Yester
years fine brushstrokes.
Trees towering on the
outskirts of the demesne beauty
Unique, intertwined dalliance with the
farmed and the wild a wonderful
serendipity finds
quiet hunger
of life.
3/31/2016
The city's two-block business district consists of the original brick buildings built in the 1880s and 1890s
I use to work in the Oakland School. They have left the very small town the same, it's like walking into the past. It lays in a valley surrounded by mountains. A very old silo still stands where they use to burn the woodchips. Very beautiful old town.