Long Pursed Poems
Long Pursed Poems. Below are the most popular long Pursed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pursed poems by poem length and keyword.
Attraction free verse
I see you there, across the aisle, in the second carriage on the train.
Perched on the edge of your seat, as if in eager anticipation, crushingly not for me.
Your eyes, like emeralds, a stark contrast to your jettison orange hair that melts a sunset.
Though our eyes don't meet and you sift through pages of a book with boundless charisma, I deeply urge you to look so intently, so warmly, into my face with the same zeal.
Your brow is creased but with intrigue not doubt.
Your ears pricked sharply as though you can hear my very breath, so I find myself gasping in and slowing breathing out through pursed lips.
How quaint or how ackward if he were to glance at me now.
But no, he is intent from his defined jawline to his broad forehead solely indebted to one thing, and that is not me.
His cheeks are dabbed in red as though the cold had kissed them.
Maybe he's a country boy with the hills in his veins.
But the way he dresses may hold some conclusions.
A tweed jacket and a tartan scarf, Scottish, no he can't be.
His lips are too refined, his stubble too tame.
Maybe he is from the south with a country estate.
Playing polo on an evening and riding horseback into the rolling sunset of the English hills.
Nigh I can not tell, but he is a man wrapped in mystery.
He brings wells of butterflies from the pits of my stomach and traps my voice in the furthest depths of my chest.
He makes my mind limp, overcome with an avalanche of emotion, only capable to think solely of one thing, him.
I am miss marple though ready for the challenge.
But first I need to let his eyes meet mine so that sweet sympthony can begin.
Oh, what am I thinking?
I, with my messy bun drawn to one side and my dress arching up my right leg and bags from a long day's work sunken under my eyes.
But I do have a smile, a friendly gesture to meet this intrigue that is male.
And hope, most likely in vain but still hope, that he looks past my meager appearance and sees a soul as deeply in twined in mystery that he would seek to be my sherlock.
Attraction
13.01.2020
You will just have to teach yourself
one poor female victim at a time
for kissing is a dangerous occupation
for adolescents and virgins.
Angles and shapes have to be factored in
at lightning speed
before the plunge is undertaken.
The neck must be adjusted to height and
the trajectory of the pursed lips meet
as a natural occurrence
like two butterfly wings
brushing each other in flight.
On first dates
short-sighted rhino clashes
must be avoided at all cost.
Noses and teeth
will always get in the way somehow
just a fact.
In time, with much trial and error
the young will get the hang of it
and it's rather nice
in an often sloppy sort of way.
Eventually tongues are employed
in strange animalistic tasks
that they were never designed for
but in the heat of the moment
eating is often mistaken for kissing.
Go forth confidently then
you young men, but always remember
"though a kiss might be gentle
and oh so elemental
diamonds are a girl's best friend."
"Dealing a Deeper Darker Crimson"
Dealing a deeper darker crimson velvet kiss
Lips bleed criminal and cut deep
on caged tongues whispering a love missed
Vanilla dreams
Black pods of slippery evanescence peeled back
to reveal salt stinging words devoid of traps
which you welcome open and arched
between the tumultuous sanguine
flippant, shuffling slow decks
Dealing a deeper darker Crimson
Velvet Kiss
Mocking silent deranged voyeurs
their prosecution solitary and vexed
they sit red-eyed, suddenly ancient, with pursed lips
In the Sea of Her, life is kept;
you feel through her rolling waves,
On your shore, she is met
your ego cast aside
your worth naked
Dealing a deeper darker Crimson Velvet Kiss
Lips bleed criminal and cut deep
on caged tongues whispering a love missed
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"How Soon is Now", The Smiths
https://youtu.be/nX8ZAXFpoJY
Lyrics/ https://genius.com/The-smiths-how-soon-is-now-lyrics
"From where dreams are woven
Bending sound, dredging the ocean, lost in my circle
Here am I, flashing no colour
Tall in this room overlooking the ocean
Here are we, one magical movement from Kether to Malkuth
There are you, you drive like a demon from station to station"
David Bowie
It was just a thought
perhaps a well-embedded fear
that tomorrow would never be here.
Was it yesterday you smiled
pursed lips holding back the joy
buried in the discovery of girl meets boy?
For all the dreams of youth,
there was but a single truth,
endless love and the promise of a dream
that moment of today's forever
joining you and me.
What if it was never meant to be
and these are only memories stolen by a thief
and the reality of this present is
that never a tomorrow comes;
if it's true,
forgive me then
as I hold on tight to this now
rather than that when.
Contest: Choose A Line 3
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Contest Judged: June 7th, 2025 5:24:00 PM
Placement: Second
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°`
"The clouds parted
like the pursed lips of desire".
Rains then poured out
like held-back tears of anger,
shedding emotions from the sky
like a recently heartbroken damsel.
The raindrops beat on the rusty roof—
a drum that only children could dance to.
But they danced not in the house,
but right there on the streets
where they stripped to their underpants,
and some even totally naked.
They danced, ran, sang, and even swam
in the puddles formed by the rain’s sorrow.
The rain cared not.
It poured like hot fluid in a container
with built-up, overwhelming anger,
warning parents to tell their children
to stop daring its wrath, now like wildfire —
getting out of control and ready to destroy.
An hour later,
the rain was already fulfilling its promise
of destruction and causing sorrows—
it pulled roofs off,
made cars swim
to faraway water bodies
that turned them to ships
that only ghosts could ride in.
And when the sky fell silent,
a hush drowned the streets.
No more laughter. No more song.
Only memory lingered —
of dancing feet and naked joy,
and a silence too loud to bear.
Poem 4
Olive Rabedew
1895-1911
Trudy and I both knew
Both knew and experienced
The voracious vertigo of secret love.
Homework was done together
In the soft lamplight
Of crisp autumn nights.
Plaid ginghams were sewn together
In the wilting afternoon sunlight
Of long forgotten summer days.
Hand-held strolls were surreptitiously taken
In the forbidden fields, and
In the concealed canyons.
Pursed caresses were exchanged
In the innocent dooryards, and
In the curious kitchens
Behind closed oaken doors.
But our Lord decreed in 1911
That our love would desist.
That our intense times together
Would terminate for eternity.
Trudy dearest, let it be known now:
True love is a blossoming tree
Which yields many kinds of fruit.
Our harvest together then,
Is our legacy, Our last
And final stand for freedom.
When the blue hydrangea wakes and blooms,
The whispers of beautiful, abused souls jumps over the moon.
Oh, its just so endearingly beautiful, isn't it?
To see a faint beauty, so sad yet true.
I guess, perhaps you may say...
The hue is blue.
I talked with a stranger in the cafe today,
I ventured to discuss the beauty of the blue,
but she said 'no way!'
'Sadness is the only path to that play.'
Filled with confusion,
I tilt my head,
Perhaps I have the innocence and the naivety of a child,
That the beauty of one loved thing,
I left misread.
Is she right or am I wrong?
Did I fervor such a bad thing for so long?
Anyways I said so,
'Then why do we let the beauty in sadness echo?'
'If sadness weren't to be admired, why don't we let it go?'
The lady's lips pursed to a frown,
Saying 'Oh sweet summer child, don't let the admiration in you forego.'
With that she left,
Leaving me consume my thoughts,
Carrying the weight of my instability furthermore.
Time passed by,
I've grown all now and more,
And now I realised;
I wasn't really wrong.
The blue may fill us with darkness, but so what?
The haunting beauty still fills the air,
So, why shall we feel nothing but despair?
Now readers, I must leave you be,
For appreciating all beauty in others,
Is a task in life we must learn and succeed.
It is a field composed of four times more stones than grass
with a spectacular traditional residency, making its habitat almost homogenous
is this global historic street light, shinning with well spread beams.
Through its inventions of western theories of tragedy and comedy,
major mathematical principles, histiography and western literature,
political science, the Olympics and western philosophy.
All well capped by the majestic influence from its creation of democracy.
Setting up as passengers of a flight travel to the past,
the suppressed heavily added to the density of its people.
Waving with an open hand and fingers well extended
hits the mind with similar intensity to telling an irish “smell ya ma”.
The puff of breath through pursed lips and the shade of blue
stand in mythical beliefs of protection against evil.
The unbelievable stamina of the Hoplite soldiers
all sum up the beautiful historic landmark of a nation
once defined by thousands of different quarreling colonies.
The leading producer of sea sponges
with its ships more than twice as much as its continental fleets
and a global accolade of accumulating archaeological Museums.
Despite being heavily wounded by financial meltdown;
and still drinking from the deadly taste of its black soup
its highlighted prominence in history, mathematics and philosophy
together with the cultural swag of its first world features
attract yearly interested sight-seekers much more than its inhabitants
which is an enough statement, to the testament of its global charm.
In the mouth of muted madness,
sits teeth ready to devour
any word that arises
Its inflated ego is like a belly never
full always hungering for more
Clamoring for a meal as the hours
pass, it opened doors
that can never be closed
The monster rose from their incantations
sown on fertile grounds
during witching hours
Who knew those words held all
that power to create & destroy?
An unholy matrimony of energies synergized
and employed for battle,
manifest to the surprise of many
Thinly disguised excitement covered
pursed lips as they
ready for underworlds kiss
The merging of the 2 brings both heaven
& hell to its knees
as bride and groom 2 be
Things were never the same after they
opened that door designed
for pain,
as something else was ushered in
causing the world & plans to change
They say youth is but momentary,
An emotional journey, a fleeting mirage,
Where uncharted waters are a treat not a foil
Tempered only by fates willful barrage.
But as time marches on and life settles in
with a rhythm well known and rehearsed,
A mixture of joy, tedium and tears
To the beat of our life we're soon versed.
The rest is a blur of dates and events
Where memories bloom and then fade,
Countless seasons merge into one
As the years rush by on parade.
Then one day we awake from the stupor that was,
Look in the mirror intrigued yet resigned,
Gazing intently at the reflection so stark
Bewildered at lines so defined.
Yet there's a glimmer of light in our eyes,
A developing smile on lips pursed so long,
Older and weathered well may we be,
But we're finally free if a little less strong.
To those that say youth is an absolute
Once lost never regained,
That notion insidious and barely skin deep,
For we know it’s the mind where youth is ordained.
So let this new chapter blossom and thrive
As we commence our journey anew,
Untethered from work and most burdens of life
We embrace simple joys to our spirit renew.