Long Rendezvous Poems
Long Rendezvous Poems. Below are the most popular long Rendezvous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rendezvous poems by poem length and keyword.
"The moment all this happens - it will then be a wonderful world"
~ The Poet~
The Moment:
a butterfly alights its cocoon,
the sun rendezvous with the moon
appears a congenial smile
rapture begins to beguile
a delight sparks a memory
it adorns earth, a crystal gemmary
lavender bliss permeates the air
succulent honeysuckle everywhere
tyrants cease to exist
dissention is covered with loving mist
in empathy a teardrop sorrowfully falls
for help the loneliest heart calls
whales have no need to lament
killing whales no longer an event
a cure is found
the deaf hear a sound
true love is sworn
luscious blueberries adorn
happiness is everyone’s duty.
all bestowed with beauty
a healthy baby is born
The rich are humble
The wise fail to stumble
God is pleased
all suffering is eased
all weapons melt
true contentment is felt
splendor isn’t just for some
we live to the beat of one drum
trivial tribulations fade
positive thoughts invade.
violence is negated
respect for all is appreciated
shattered hearts mend
pure doctrine He will send
generosity becomes law
there’s kindness evermore
endeavor always reaps reward
our Lord we elevate toward
when all fears subside
understanding is nationwide
peace resumes her sway
all wars cease come what may
The moment these words can truly be unfurled:
Then we can say What a wonderful world.
Love of Literature
Upon the nightstand rests my favorite book,
I beckon her to bed to have a look.
Anxious anticipation flutters in my chest,
As the day's worries and woes, are laid to rest.
Tenderly, I take her in my hands,
Caressing her cover, she knows my plans.
Lightly yielding as we take our place,
Willing and submissive, with gentle grace.
She's a beauty, in her soft subtle veil,
Gently, my fingers trace her textures, an ardent braille.
I know her body—every peak, every valley, a touch sublime,
Tracing her contours, along the edge, then down her spine.
Pulse quickening, eager mind,
Awaiting the adventure that lies inside.
With delicate fingers, I find my bookmark,
With heightened anticipation,
I spread her pages apart.
An intoxicating aroma fills the night air,
A sweet, savory bouquet, found in classic books so rare.
From the outer page, my finger glides,
All the way across, till I'm just inside.
With a soft, tender touch, I navigate the crease,
Gently pushing outward, tensions released.
With attentive focus, all the way down to the end,
Traversing to the other side, to start again.
Her soft, thin pages, a silky, delicate skin,
A gripping story, further drawing me in.
With the flick of my tongue, I wet my fingertip,
And turn the page with a single finger flip.
Chapter 3, it's just her and me.
Enchanted by her sultry love story,
Hopelessly entangled in her romantic glory.
Page after page, we're intimately engaged,
With kinks and cramps, our positions changed.
Playful paragraphs in passionate positions—
Quite the literary expedition.
Steamy, sensual sentences scintillate the senses,
Trembled? Or trembling? Lost all track of tenses.
Her sensual story, passionate and deep,
Inviting me in further, tonight we do not sleep.
Captivated by every line, savoring every word, I take my time.
Two souls entwined, one rhythm and one rhyme.
Dawn's rays through the window gently creep,
With a sigh, I slowly close the book, softly she weeps.
"Rest assured, my darling, you'll be alright,
For I'll see you again, another rendezvous tonight."
Of all my cherished tomes, she'll always be first,
My love of literature, an unquenchable thirst.
You can put lipstick on that pig if you want but it’ll still stink up the sty,
You can put wings on a penguin but that bird won’t learn to fly.
You can tell me all the stories you want and swear that they aren’t lies,
But you cannot change the truths I’ve seen with these tearful eyes.
I saw you steal a kiss from him when you thought you were alone.
I hear you from the other room whispering on the phone.
I’ve seen the love letters you thought were hid from this other man,
How you continue to deny these truths I cannot understand.
You can put lipstick on that pig if you want but it’ll still stink up the sty,
You can put wings on a penguin but that bird won’t learn to fly.
You can tell me all the stories you want and swear that they aren’t lies,
But you cannot change the truths I’ve seen with these tearful eyes.
I know that you two rendezvous when you say you’ve things to do.
I know each time you’ve been over there; I smell his cologne in your hair.
I know you think of him at nights lying here next to me,
“How do you know these things”, you ask, well Honey it’s real easy.
You can put lipstick on that pig if you want but it’ll still stink up the sty,
You can put wings on a penguin but that bird won’t learn to fly.
You can tell me all the stories you want and swear that they aren’t lies,
But you cannot change the truths I’ve seen with these tearful eyes.
For twenty years I’ve been true to you through the thickness and the thin,
And I believe you’ve been true to me until this guy waltzed in.
As much as it hurts to realize that you really like this guy,
It hurts much more each day you explore new ways to weave your lie.
So tell the truth then cut him loose and Honey we’ll survive,
But I won’t stay another day living in this lie
You can put lipstick on that pig if you want but it’ll still stink up the sty,
You can put wings on a penguin but that bird won’t learn to fly.
You can tell me all the stories you want and swear that they aren’t lies,
But you cannot change the truths I’ve seen with these tearful eyes.
Psychoanalysis
Vanity and ecstasy overwhelm the minds of people
Who gloat with conceit and display
Pompous arrogance as they parade themselves
Before the public as chosen vessels for behavioural
Rewards, determined by themselves as acceptable
To indulge in the belittling of others!
This defines their existence as noble in cause.
When they, the elite, rendezvous with fate
And perceive themselves to be unique,
Superior beings segregated from those
Who are weak-minded and susceptible
To interpretations and suggestions;
Who have no reason to exist, nor possess
Finesse attributes, and cannot be distinguished
From the herd mentality by the intellectual process
Of their egotistic minds—or so they think!
This precarious attitude can be judgmental
And dissociating; it invites dismal consequences.
Out of touch with reality and full of themselves,
They gallivant through branches in the tree of knowledge
And haphazardly arrive at false conclusions.
Based on a biased perception of the world
That only they can understand as rational,
It gives credence to psychoanalysis.
Sound familiar? And so you hope
Others will be hoodwinked by your antics
Into believing you are nonchalant when,
In actuality, you are stressed out and nervous
To be discovered as introverted.
You will not acquiesce to truthful criticism.
It is a depraved mind that derives pleasure
From the dissection of another.
He would visit the wharf of the pond very often
Peace and joy writ large on his lips and eyes
He would whistle a tune to call the shoal of fish
From inside the water as well as from his heart
The clouds got intimate with the flirting sunlight
Like a comfortable poem the shoals appeared
In three or four groups they would come up to
He would look like gleefully chatting with them
In wonder would look on the tales in the reeds
Shadows of tall palms played hide and seek
He would feed them as if they were his children
Sometimes he just talked on with no motivation
Their movement would raise ripples in the pond
Inside would pulsate an impressionist painting
The euphoria in water would erase and redraw
Clouds in loud colours would go down the water
And would watch in wonder the blue rendezvous
He shed the foliage of his unquenched passion
Into the mother water that with a purple comfort
Would convert them in the lotus of his heartbeat
Country folks remarked he must have been a fish
In his previous birth in a very deep pool or lake
No, others would say, an angel accompanied him
In his surreal bridge of love for the water and soil
The mahogany at the roadside would smile a little
He would write so well his poem inside the water
Where human and piscine tongues would meet
Time halted a while in the warm breasts of geese
As the sessions came to an end he would depart
Sweet and salty sweat-drops would wet his shirt
_______________________________________
14 March 2017
Skin that glows like a shining opal
And the essence of your scent,
Delicate as blossoms
Just as sweet as the narcissus in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your soft deep voice
And leaps like a gazelle at the whisper of you saying my name
The evening ascends on great eagle’s wing.
Where I am calmed by your love note that I carry in my heart
While waiting for twilight and your arrival
I am filled with hope that I may still your fears
As my green eyes meet your brown eyes once again see your smile.
In the hushed fading light, I listen for your footsteps.
My heated heart beats rapidly inside
I wait in the crystal moonlight for our secret rendezvous
Where we may dance as one, heart to soul, in search of the glorious, delicate, sensual wings of love.
Using the same section on here, "Love Poem Generator" plus some editing and fixing.
Through Their Eyes (originally "Just Desserts for Rats")
Still touching the hilt of the sword, she declares,
“No fencing for HIM at the end of the month. His pastime is so bloody boring!”
The mouse in her house regards her with cockiness from underneath a chair.
“Yeah, BEN, my FRIEND, I’m talking to YOU.” She returns the mouse's stare.
“And you sure do make a racket at night down here on this kitchen flooring!”
The ashes she flicks from her cigarette fall soundlessly to the tiles.
She casually leafs through a travel brochure, then looks over at “Ben.”
“Yeah, that husband of mine sure thought he could fool me,
but he’ll never try that again.”
She fixes her gaze on Ben’s beady eyes; then back on the pages and smiles.
The names of rendezvous spots of her husband she’d got
from a slime ball she’d hired to sleuth.
“He did a good job, that big tub of lard. Yes, I do have to give him that,
but he sure knew how to give me the creeps with his body all sweaty and fat.”
She puts some milk on sweet rice in a bowl. “I only wanted the truth.
Cat got your tongue? Too bad there’s no cat. I’d love to see you swallowed.”
The mouse doesn’t flinch.
Now she looks down at a pile of the sleuth’s photographs.
“This first batch of photos wasn’t so hot.” She turns to the rodent and laughs.
“But this second group. . . .Every cent was well-spent
to have that bastard followed!”
She puts the rice pudding with milk on the floor near a form centered there
and stoops as she pours from a bottle marked “poison”
its contents into the bowl. Leaning down by the shape on the floor,
she says, “Soon you‘ll have Ben‘s company.”
And then to the mouse: “ Come here, little rat, come eat till you’re full.”
Then grabbing her bags pre-packed for Australia,
she kicks at the corpse on the floor so carefully centered -
kicks right at the spot where, by her hand, the sword so easily entered.
Written 8/18/2012
I dreamed I saw a train traveling
far out on the horizon,
faster than time could tell.
It was headed my way
as if it knew me
intimately, very well.
I stood mesmerized
by this fast fleeting
midnight machine of steel.
Waiting for some sign
of slowing down
I might begin to feel.
And yet it kept on rolling
like a marble set free
from all bounds.
Steadily, readily
headed my way
yet silently, void of sound.
I thought that mighty engine
should at least
let out a roar.
A screaming sound
of timelessness
That one cannot ignore.
I thought it should reveal
it's reason for being
here at all.
"Why are you invading my life (I asked)
and making me feel so small?"
But still, the silence was deafening
while all alone
inside my skin,
I knew the monster train
felt strangely,
like a long, lost, forgotten friend.
As it kept right on a' comin'
like a boulder
falling fast.
I knew I could not dodge my fate
of a rendezvous
at last.
And I sensed some kind connection
between the Engineer
and I
even though he would not slow down
his magic
carpet ride.
Until it finally hit me
like lightning
from above,
leaving me wide awake
and wondering, was this a train
full of Love?
I met friends at ten o'clock for our rendezvous
so we could attend a Halloween party at the zoo.
What weird costumes and sights came into view!
Three wrinkled witches were stirring a bubbly brew.
One of them offered us eyeballs of newts to chew.
"Oh," I replied. "I think I'll pass on trying the stew."
That hag cursed at me like a nagging old shrew.
We walked down a dark road called, Goblin Avenue
when over our heads, twenty vampire bats flew.
Zombies drooled near us while standing in a queue
as if waiting in that line so they could use the loo!
On we ventured, until I stepped in a pile of goo
that turned out to be bloody guts on my shoe.
I was getting frustrated, and about to cry, "Oh, Pooh!"
because my Frankenstein mask had lost a neck screw
but I was able to fix it with a dab of crazy glue.
We passed people dancing while practicing voodoo,
chanting mysterious words that sounded like hoodoo.
They transformed a slithering snake into a kangaroo
who charged at us to fight, using moves of Kung Fu.
This place was creepy and everything was cuckoo.
We ran until we could hide behind an elephant statue.
Thought we'd be safe there until it started to spew
yucky stuff from its trunk that smelled like mildew.
Good gosh, we stunk. So, now what should we do?
Searched for an exit, but where it was we had no clue
Just then we were assaulted by a screaming cockatoo!
Then we were surrounded by ghosts, shouting, "BOO!"
and heard the hungry howling of a werewolf, a lougarou.
Somehow we escaped from that horrendous hullabaloo!
October 19, 2021
Halloween Monorhyme Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
The (former) Double Life Of Matthew Scott Harris
Dove finch he following iniquitous
licentious, lecherous longing
extinguished quite
some years ago,
when eldest daughter
stopped being polite
actually she ceased - might
tee angry talking heads
to this papa for months, whose
only asks prays foe praise,
and who doth newt
wish to ignite
animosity from any beloved fan,
whose critical judgement
toward my errant friskiness,
aye snuffed out light
and accepts dues
against prickly don'ts,
and opted to risk broad
casting general height
full actions, which attestation
spiritedly burst asunder
blitzing Lenovo external
screen within minutes bite
mutt hung lest
censorious replies pillory
this sensitive chap
I merely uncorked
irrepressible facet
(asian iron maiden
strangle choke hold)
forced these words
to help give hollow explain
nations of this nada
so shiny white knight
philanderer (juiced now cum
ming clean) by night just
an oon din
aery in Das scribe
bubble during -
the day until...zee...
wife found me absent - yee
(ping, and sowing, thee
rather desiccated oats)
celibacy playing tree
men dose impetus tryst,
viz midlife crisis spree
from sleeping quarters re:
at 724 West Rail
road Avenue, pre
planned within
the basement nee
tricked out as cellar quasi
pent house suite for me
comfortable sleep
ping accommodations,
pleasing this wander
lusting NON GMO lee
burr teen, sans mat,
(and also Scottish Matt)
tress atop boxspring key
ping stockpiles of prurient frilly
laced female lingerie, je
nais se quois, no matter
escapade usual lee
took place in pitch black dark
accouterments singularly, solely,
and strictly necessitated,
arousing, coaxing, and
exciting libido asper
one barenaked lady for
yours truly, whereat
aye do blatantly
confess flute'n glute'n guilt free
to concocting, hat
ching, and orchestrating
profligate secrete
rendezvous aspirations
toward sordid man of la
cherry munch ching Lothario
(a combination Casanova,
Don Juan) wannabe.