Long Sensation Poems
Long Sensation Poems. Below are the most popular long Sensation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sensation poems by poem length and keyword.
Chandrasekhar dreamed of gravity's might
Black holes drawing in even light
Skeptics laughed and he couldn't win.
Even England turned its back on him.
Galileo cried, “Come, look, you’ll see!”
But his peers said, “you're tricking me!
Your glass is cursed; your stars aren’t true
You’ll cast a spell on us; we won’t look through.”
Goddard thought rockets could fly
They said, “The man’s a fool to try.”
They found out he was right when Nazi rockets came,
A hard way for London to learn his name.
Julius Mayer said energy was conserved.
Skeptics thought he had lots of nerve.
His paper was scorned, his name dismissed—
He was dramatically right, so he makes this list.
Wegener thought Africa fit the American coast
He thought once they were joined, but his theory was toast
Geologists called him nasty names
Even an open mind couldn't accept such claims.
The Wrights were “Lying Brothers,” so described
But those who saw their planes in action had not lied.
Finally the Wrights moved to Europe, an overnight sensation
And they sold airplanes to many a nation.
This raises questions of what we believe
How truth can be lost, and hard to retrieve
Reality too simplified, wrong barriers that we find
It's so important to keep an open mind.
Strings ring with a harmonic hum,
getting more intense the harder i strum,
feelings stimulate the next note played,
a hand guided venture that has me in a daze.
In a world that is all mine!...
Believing in myself, its my time to shine!
Fingers dancing abroad a mahogany neck,
pinning strings down to have an affect,
of a groovy little jig from the center of my imagination,
giving everyone a cool tingly sensation.
The bodies move to the beat of my sound,
cheers going round and round.
This is my world with the walls made of waves,
Created from the pattern of my rhythm played.
I can sit for hours and strum away,
for this is what I live for in my simple day to day.
-Downed Jester
2015/03/02
Poetry
The mind's calligraphy
Unconscious Desires
Pens in unison setting the world wide on fire
Capturing the essence of the human struggle
when time seems to crawllllll slower than an aging slug
or fast forwards like a spinning mouse on the wheel
Loneliness......... like frigid toes losing their sensation in ice.
Feelings of lust.......... so thick in pleasure it makes your thighs quiver
Loss and bereavement..... so heavy it aches the soul much more than a piercing dagger could ever.
Overwhelming joy........ just like when you lept over that waterfall in Jamaica
Words, sensations, emotions, make us connected like long lost seperated twins
Poetry My Love, my muse, my safekeeping, my confident, and my verbal eternity.
you …
survey me intently ...
then wink, and walk over
leaving your circle of admirers in disbelief
smoldering manner (and skin) of a bombshell
prospect - differently indifferent
(a vestal view of heaven)
faultless form, lulling the room with your sway
smile dressed in coral bows, blossomed
I say hello ... (hello back)
then stumble like a bumbling boy over
the shape of your words …
locution, sound, meaning - adrift
lost to the roiling sweep of a new portent
and exotic sensation …
pounding heart thrums my bones
coursing fevered arteries …
thoughts, a dervish of combustible ideas
bewitched - transfixed and hungry
and no focus but those lips -
the dewy fruits that frame your lilt smile,
dancing hypnotically -
curling, closing, pouting, pursing …
toying with each other, (and my core)
o'er a glistening white chiclet expanse
speaking to me more of temptation and flavor
than whatever words may be forming
or whatever sounds may
hang tangled in the air between us …
intonations I can NOT hear
for sake of what has become my sole pursuit
my concupiscent crave, singular -
a purientaphrodisiac adventure
my perquisition, sublime
the pulpy press of …
your kiss.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Written: August 29, 2023
Voice Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Eve Roper
______________________________________________________________
The train whistles its song, ready to depart,
Embarking on a trip, with hope in every heart,
Passengers gather at the bustling station,
Anticipation rises, a pulsating sensation.
Beautiful ladies with elegance and grace,
Children with excitement on their faces,
Flowers in bloom, brilliant and bold hues,
Gifting a mother or lover grants eternal dews.
Sitting and standing, a crowd in motion,
Each with a purpose, a unique devotion,
Some engaged in the paper or conversing,
Others don't want the sights to be closing.
The sights are growing outside the window.
A swift panorama, ripe with tales innuendo.
Mountains and valleys, rivers and streams,
Nature's beauty, is like a painter's dreams.
The train chugs along, its rhythmic beat,
Carrying dreams, hopes, and memories sweet,
The station fades away, a blur in the distance,
Leaving behind chaos, noise, and coexistence.
Feeling the threat of unease,
I make myself known.
The approach not for understanding,
But for an ear that listens.
The smells of familiarity confine the space-
Not void of confusion,
However willingness leaves me tender.
The offering of both psyche,
And that of my ancestral nourishment.
The bitterness of words left behind;
For an immediate surprise-
Of sensation pleasant to the tongue.
This duality speaks-
Not of this kitchen, but of our bond.
A room for appetite, and an eager mind.
Form:
A sensation with ratings so high
Donald lulls the press who stand by
Even gods cower
In front of Trump Tower
Which will be our future Versailles
Author's note: We know that he really cares about all of us normal folks from his time spent working in agricultural fields and factories and his time spent living with the poor in Appalachia. This man has--through his selfless acts of charity--such as working with aids victims internationally and setting aside apartments for low income tenants in his buildings--shown just how much empathy and compassion he has. His concern for the lives of the ordinary has also been well documented by his friend and Nobel Peace Prize winner, Vladimir P. With such a stellar individual as commander-in-chief, what could possibly go wrong?
Much have I seen;
Much have I still to see
In terms of beauty
Especially the feminine beauty;
BUT in terms of your degree
I have never, really ever seen.
Your eyes are as sparkling as pearl
your lips as soft and succullent as shakepeare’s juliet
your eyes as charming as a fairy’s
your voice as metallic and soft as a nightingale’s
and your beauty as hypnotising as medusa’s eyes.
An inexplicable sensation has touched my core
and ablaze, my heart is now on,
because of such mesmerising beauty.
my heart desires your heart
to show the kindred souls that
for all times, you are mine.
When I look at your lips,
Coupled with those hips,
I longed to be hint if indeed am the one holding,
And kissings such succulent lips,
I like everything about you
I admire you
But most of all, I love you
because
YOU ARE THE BEST,
Hotkey is a game played on a keyboard,
All players in click sensation, typing fast
Through elation past even having to see.
Bits of binary pixel grinding trying...
To keep up with the speed of a mind,
Blind by a bliss of the Poet's best.Write.
Right! A duel of light in the keyboard, to mind
1 rhyme just Write! Into the light, never pausing
To see if the keys keep up.
A game I play that I call my puck.of lips
As I send my best kisses to the wind.
A game I named...
Hotkey ;Penned.
And again, stories are flying in the air
Crashing and smashing speeds of light
There, are tales of love both new and old,
Electric fights with bitters told and some fibs,
Notches in rhymes of time, and Acrostics!
Liquid dreams with screams of tomorrow
In the writes of the Fellow. Poets at the
Table, writing fables at the speed of lightening...
Envisioning visioning reason listen listening
Scribbling clicks into pixel lights...
That follow behind. The mind of a Poet.
A duel of light with this keyboard of mine.
~There Is Only~
~The Pen called Fun~
no scrap of wrestle left inside and the battle remains
the same each morning in and all night out of peace
rock bottom ground control on empty remote chance
that this too shall pass in lost resolve of moving on
getting out of bed leaves a struggle
pajamas drenched in sweat and tears of vacant promises
bottom with deep sores of apathy and motionless arrest
tied to inertia and its evil stagnant imposition on a ghost
in search of anything worthwhile to rescue from the bones
brushing teeth a swedge too hard to heed
darkness leaves a forlorn trace of self-negating shadows
curtains drawn at the interface of death apart from living
random rays of sunlight blind weary eyes that saw enough
contrast of mangy soullessness with manic delirious craze
one more thought too much to bear
the heroine can’t lick her oozing wounds at risk of drowning
ear drums burst from constant onslaught of crescendo’s call
the double bladed tongue of reason scrapes lips and excoriation
and yet reception is on auto pilot and the dial of feeling stuck
emotion hurts any sensation on repeat
multiple voices offer an affray of inconsequential shouting
accuse betray condense deceive reflect guilt anger angst and shame
who would not admire the brave courage to brace the screaming pain
to endure and tolerate the injustices abuse neglect and evil spiral
while the clasp of nothingness prevails
just then he gently wipes her brow and plants a tender patient kiss
one gesture of love contains more compassion than a hundred words
and quietly they suffer together the difference kindness can make
the greatest struggles never see the light of public dispensation
and she replies in whispers I love you too my dear friend
08th March 2021