Long Provocatively Poems
Long Provocatively Poems. Below are the most popular long Provocatively by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Provocatively poems by poem length and keyword.
I rejected love, when it rejected me,
“I will never love again,” that was my decree.
I declared war on it, as it had caused me pain,
With the thoughts of you, that drove me insane.
It’s perpetual flaunting, of my wants and desire,
As love laughs and watches me, walk the high wire.
Displaying false promises, in a package called you,
Provocatively reeling me in, with pitiful woo.
I strongly protest, loves lustful advances,
Humbling itself with offers, of empty chances.
“I am numb to love, and it is solely to blame.”
Alas, I fear it’s only a matter of time, before I fall in love again.
The evening clear, but moonless, with watchful eyes
Appear impenetrable through the city
Drawing attention to street lights rosiness
night out with my date
Giddy spirits, move on for one more sweet song
Swiftly dipping honey into our solo
Blaring base music beat flow down to our feet
we danced to the beat
The wind would blow alluring strands of our soul
Seductively weaving like a candle flame
It danced provocatively fondled the depth
left us contented
A breath, a rosy blushing dawn appearing
To slumber, under shadows of hidden walls
In whisper snores in unruffled engagement
we sleep until noon
7/18/2020
STRAND completely new (12) any theme any form' Contest Info
Sponsored by Brian Strand
NOT for Edward's contest just Brian's contest
I'm feeling judged still by what jury's found cold; in the courts of February
Tried to hide 'til July; warm feelings are just not meant to be temporary
I count my curses on one hand and my blessings on the other
Whichever fills up first; the latter will assuredly smother
The shadows always seem to know that light exposes the darkest holes
You can't get over it or crawl out from under it; within me no angel controls
But I'm willing to watch over you mimicking their heavenly roles
With its gift, I provocatively compose about the most wishful goals
Laying on this rusted bed of nails; made with the hammer of trite
In love, if there wasn't profound real pain, would it ever feel quite right?
BEING HUMAN BEINGS
Some people are evil.
Maliciously.
Some people create drama. Monstrosities..
Some people have ulterior motives. Intentionally.
Some people have remorse.
An apology.
Some people have profound words. Poetically.
Some people are tree huggers.
Organically.
Some people have no common sense. Stupidity.
Some people are real religious.
Spiritually.
Some people are inmature.
Mentalities.
Some people die in crashes.
Fatalities.
Some people are ignorant.
Their just to blind to see.
Some people have a sixth sense.
Let's call it telepathically.
Some people feel sorrow for others.
Some would call that Sympathy.
But when people understand sorrow for others.
It becomes empathy.
Some people are real chill. We'll say Copacetically.
Some people are plain fake. AKA...Artificially.
Some people are solid.
Its called Solidarity.
Some people are single.
Its called singularity.
Some people take their last breath.
They are put in a cemetary.
Some people save their breath and never speak.
Monastery.
Some people are tone deaf.
They have No melody.
Some people dress real risque.
In other words quite provocatively.
Some people rise above the rest. That's what i call Quintessentially.
BUT......ALL.... PEOPLE....
Should love.
Unconditionally.
Demonstrate peace.
Peacefully.
Work.
Systematically.
Live.
Longevity.
Laugh.
Uncontrollably.
Respect others.
Diplomatically.
Throw away the hate.
Practice racial equality.
If We do all those things,
then the world we live in,
could be in,
perfect harmony.
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
conveyed within
their small larger other worlds
notes upon notes, heady notes,
their subtle infractions
like music tinkling through
the brain bleeds, poets
and their otherworldly refrains,
naphthalene aired for old time’s sake
shaken out like clean crisp white sheets
billowing in the translucent lingerie breeze,
bedrocks shaken
the little flocks
small black murders flying
provocatively erratic stirred up
off the cobalt page
into an evocative
higher wider
elusive space
taken shockingly aback
where the heady blast
of Spirit of Hartshorn
shakes buried lover’s awake
to walk barefoot and naked
blindly in love
touching each other
through the long wet days
sugar-coated addictions
tall poppies crimson pimpernels
wading nubile through blades
of silver moon grass
licking their ankles and heels
raising their prim outskirts,
forbidden territories
within the rising mist,
the ever present,
like a breeze,
kisses their ripe
cherry orchards
unending hunger
satiated, all is manna
as they meander
through daze of
dusky dawn valleys
those garden of eden thighs,
the transparent,
slithering like hands
caressing treasure trunks
ivy leaves for plucking
further up above
the high waists
to touch what
wastes away, unheard,
what beats there,
where the crown sits
like some holy being
under its ribbed cage
red ripe like a seeded apple,
that place, just there, beating
singing some kind of hymn,
like a regulated anthem,
they're way up into their feels
like some devilish chase
like heaven's come
calling them away
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
some things are better
left unsaid
like this Magdalene,
K.I.S.S.
Candide Diderot. ‘24
My neighbor's orange pumpkin patch
seems so spooky and 'very scary' from my veranda.
A black cat cardboard cutout 'will still' give me a thrill
if provocatively poised perfectly still.
Kids love movies; oft dressing up as Rambo
or Robin Hood, complete with a gun or bow and arrow.
Halloween is a 'fright night' celebration for any age,
and bogeyman costumes are all the rage,
but if they give me the heebie-jeebies, I won't let them in.
(Verse)
09/03/2022
The A's Have It Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Cool Fact: Elvis Presley holds the record for the most platinum certificates issued by the RIAA, with 70. Elvis Presley's records spent a cumulative total of 1,155 weeks on the UK singles chart since his first hit Heartbreak Hotel released on May 11, 1956.
Everything went crazy when Elvis came upon the scene.
Ladies loved his sexy style; with controversy, he made history.
'Viva Las Vegas', one of his many films, put him up on the big screen.
In all the world, an icon and the King of Rock was he,
Shaking his Elvis pelvis so provocatively!
Perpetually has Elvis Presley’s huge estate
Remained one of the richest of celebrities we prize.
Even now, he’s the singer that most folks impersonate.
So handsome was this star with jet black hair and ice blue eyes.
‘Love Me Tender’ easily could make
Each and every young girl swoon.
Yesterday till today, still idolized, he died much too soon.
May 13, 2023
for The Elvis Presley Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
I have bought in boutiques
on Carnaby street,
stopped in stores galore
on the Champs-Élysées,
shopped 'til I dropped
on Madison Avenue,
and, what's more,
I've been seen to arrive,
fashionably late, on Rodeo Drive,
but one thing I hate,
and doubt I'll see, or there'll ever be,
as there's not much call,
for a linear row of shops downtown,
in a small Möbius strip mall.
Tho' Johann B. Listing (1808 – 1882),
rediscovered the non-orientable surface first,
Mr. August F.Möbius (1790 – 1868)
published his findings earlier and, well-versed,
Euclidean geometry taught he,
while, his wife, Dorothea, danced provocatively,
in pole position, at a nightclub naughty,
and, where out at night, on a fun day trip,
paying punters paid to ogle and view,
the ever-arousing Mrs. Möbius strip.
Stolen Glances
A thought, or maybe a far-off dream?
Is she half-awake or sleeping?
The atmosphere is reticent.
Her posture is provocatively alluring
Yet innocent; even the cat laps quietly.
There are other things in the room,
Insignificant and commonplace.
But obviously, it’s her legs;
With one foot on the floor
And the other spread on the footstool,
With her skirt lifted revealing her underwear;
As she relaxes, leaning back in a chair
With her arms raised; and fingers intertwined
As her hands rest upon her head
And her closed eyes revealing
That faraway gaze and satisfied look
On her face in an endearing pose
That glances steal at a moment’s notice.
That begs the question,
“Is she deep in thought
Or is she dreaming?
Is she sleeping, or not?”