Long Shakily Poems

Long Shakily Poems. Below are the most popular long Shakily by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shakily poems by poem length and keyword.


Anna and the French Kiss

As I wandered about the lush lawn
In the gazing ball I glimpsed
A breath-taking young woman with a touch of innocence
In her soulful, violet eyes.

I was mesmerized by her beauty
And I had to look up to see that this vision was real.
I did so slowly, and found her gazing a bit boldly
Straight into my very soul.

When she was sure she had bewitched me,
She slowly turned and walked down the garden path
Knowing that I would follow, meek as a lamb
Into her lair.

Into a secret garden she led me,
This girl with the violet eyes and beautiful thick hair
Which she started to unpin and let fall,
Cascading down her back like a waterfall of shining waves.

When we reached the center of the garden,
She turned and waited for me
To come close enough to see the rise and fall of
Her beautiful breasts, corseted to their full advantage.

Though they were lovely, it was the eyes that held me.
She ran a light finger along my lips then pressed it to her own.
It was then I noticed the fullness of her mouth, lips slightly parted
And silently beckoning me to join my lips with hers.

And so I did, and the kiss that ensued was
Warm, and sensuous, and became urgent as it continued.
I felt her tongue and tasted her sweet breath and thought
I might faint at the passion that coursed like lightning through my body.
And without notice, it ended, and I opened my eyes
And found myself standing along in the garden
My very body still on fire with the electricity
Of that kiss.

In a daze, I stumbled back toward the party,
And upon seeing my unsteadiness, my host
Invited me into the manor to cool myself
Out of the heat of the sun.

As we walked through the massive doors,
I glanced up, and over the enormous marble mantle
Was a portrait of the girl with the large violet eyes,
And the cascade of dark hair, and the lips I still felt upon my own.

I asked my host shakily, “Who is that”?
He replied with a shudder that she was Anna,
His betrothed, who had been lost on the sea
And had never been recovered.

Years later I wonder, was she ghost or spirit,
Was she there that only I could see?
The passion, the taste of her lips,
Still electrifies my body and soul as I dream of Anna’s French kiss.

Written 8.22.21


Tristesse D'Ares

He rides his horse of thunder,
A pride like there's no other,
He is my rain to my blazing fire,
My weakness, my heart's desire.

I tried to run but I can't; wanting to flee from his embrace,
yet here I am finding myself in his firm grasp again.
His eyes foretells the story his mouth couldn't utter,
His outpouring tears succumbs me like no other.

'Don't go' you say. 'You're my strength and beloved,
I couldn't live without thee by my side',
I shook my tears away, pretending not to care.
I asked "Thou does not weary my Ares? Thou does not ware?"

So I say please stop I've had enough
There isn't always a battle when it comes to love,
You're not a knight but my lover
So put down your sword and take off thy armor.

'No I can't' you cry in vain and shakily spiel,
'My life's a burden, a mess of chaos, feeling surreal;
You're my peace haven; my nirvana in the desert,
So please don't leave you're making my heart hurt".

"I left my parents to go on battles and wars,
but I stood with you, gave you my world and the stars,
Things that made me live my life and gave me virtue,
Is my sword,my shield, my armor and especially you."

"People came, people left, I pretended to be deaf,
Pretended not to hear their loud footsteps,
But you my beloved, I couldn't pretend at all,
Without you, because you are my greatest downfall".

"The Almighty may take away my sight, my strength, my power,
But I will stay battling chaos with my sword and you my lover,
I can't live without fighting my dear and I even more in your absence,
Sadly, I couldn't do it together with you and my seeking for vengeance."

This knight right here in front of me, was before a homeless being,
His heart belonged to battles and wars, no family was caring,
His mind full of burdens and problems and groans of pain,
He was a sad sad sad person till he met me, that day.

But then his gaze came knocking at my door
Something no one has ever done before
I didn't see it coming nor am I prepared
To set the sails to a sea I was unaware.

And I ask please stop it's not enough
For you to just give me one single drop,
You're not in war, you're not a knight,
When you're in my arms, give up the fight.

If People Think

I asked a scientist to make an olive's leaf,
So green with its juices,
Smelling spring and sweat from gatherers hands.
He answered that he couldn't.
I asked him to make the light of the sun,
Reflecting its warmth in morning's appearance.
To make a sun enslavor of the sea,
Of breathing trees and eyes,
The eyes of those who stare its dream.
He answered that he couldn't.
And when I asked to form the air of dawn,
So heroic, sympathy air on faces of those
Seeking the dew,
On mainsails following the wind,
He answered that he couldn't.
How could ever human hands, so shakily and small
Give birth to miracles, when their lines
Consist of a hidden mystery delved from ages unsure?
Where human says 'I can't',
Nature raises and rules among Glory and Triamph.
If people think that they live with power and safety,
In houses they built with tractors and iron muscles,
How could they live when road will be their only home?
When they will be forced to run to mountains
And lie down on stones and windfalls 
How oh how could they live?
If people think that they eat because they cook
Aseptic food in their high-teck kitchens,
How could they eat when a slice of bread will be
All they have?
If people think that they can adjust their warmth
By pressing a single button,
How could they feel warm and enlighted
If the Sun won't raise, if darkness fills the air?
When people think that there is nothing they can't do,
Replete with egoism, relying on their hands and their brightness,
A huge laugh is coming from the sky.
Because they forget that when all is gone,
Floated down the stream,
Only God can stay still, unbreakable and wise,
Smiling at their ignorance that they own life.
And if they can't be satisfied with theirselves,
How could they embrace others 
When time force them to be united?
Creatures excesses with passions and ambition
They want to change their roles and become
Gods in the place of the One.
Yet, their hands are so weak to carry world's weight
And their minds so human to judge fairly and amiably
The sins of us all.

Sleeping Kate -Extended Version-

-I love the simplicity of the old one. But this extended version is special, I think...-


Caskets unmade 
Naked bodies sprawled in waste
Yellow, white and pale brown skins all in one
Emaciated fear lingering in the pale eyes

Spines tingle at the crunch of excessive skeletons
Grimy boots unmercifully stomp

Nostrils used to the stench
Ready or not, embracing the ash
Afraid to express
Afraid to breathe
Unable to stop the grief

Colder eyes than the dead themselves look on
They are bored, it seems
Untainted by the sound of groans
Unmoved by the crack of weak spines
Spineless themselves, these guards even smile
Frozen, blue eyes iced with a sneer
Black, demonic pupils steadied overtime
The corpses reflected in their transparent gloss

Teeth grind

A young boy picks up a dried hip bone
Small, calloused fingers clutch the last of his father
The eternal frowned mouth is caked with drool, tears and muck
Hair whitened as if ghosts have stolen his youth
This bone is jagged and worn
Once used by force as a bowl for his insect-infested meal
Shakily given to Her—the last She would eat
Before the officials watched Her slowly starve 
Today the bone will be used as a shovel—his final labor
Last effort for closure

The boy knows they are all looking
Both the enemy and the oppressed unified
All experiencing, all watching
He simply knows that overtime,
Tears of hope will decompose the hardest of hearts

And the boy drives his shovel into the hard ground
Pounding away at the chilled, blood-stained soil
Drowning out the groans with his own cries
Flooding the dryness with his sorrows
Breaking up the surface to bury Sleeping Kate

Sleeping Kate showed the officers
The skeleton she built out of bone fragments
Sleeping Kate told them we were all the same inside
With this truth, she died
With their guilt, they continued life
They tried. . .

The officers tried to bury Sleeping Kate
But Sleeping Kate is always alive,
Building skeletons in their minds. . .

With the Tide

The frigid metal against skin,
	My desperate ending without sin.
I hold it tight, poised over my wrist,
	I want to stop, but the knife insists.
Salty tears running down my cheeks,
	I apply pressure to the end I seek.
I feel the tip straining against my arm,
	Strangely enough, I feel little alarm.
I cannot think straight, like I am possessed,
	My slowness and unwilling, I do detest.
As I feel the point, slowly about to break through,
	The phones shrill ringing counters, and I’m frantic, what to do?
I’m finally able to release the knife,
	You, on the other end, just saved my life.
I pick up shakily, and put on a front,
	Secretly thanking God the knife was so blunt.
The one who has saved me, is the only I trust,
	I know I shall tell her, my heart says I must.
But I cannot, I don’t, and we talk senselessly now,
	Her oblivion doesn’t bother me, I’ll tell her, I vow.
Too hard for speaking, this much I know,
	Later we text, and I tell her slow.
I know that she’s crying, I’ll bet she’s a wreck,
	I make sure that she knows, she saved my neck. 
Talking for hours, her mind surprisingly clear,
	Then I recall, years ago, she’d had been here.
She stands solid, somewhere between frantic and fervor,
	No matter what I say, I can’t seem to unnerve her.
Every other line, or so it seems,
	We love you, we need you, those choice words teem.
I’m relieved I told her, this girl, my best friend,
	To my swirling head, I know she will tend.
She keeps saying it will pass, the evil feelings that be,
	It won’t I say solidly, how can she have such faith, in me? 
This girl makes me promise, in the dark of the night,
	I will not do a thing, I don’t put up a fight.
Because I’m feeling feeble, and I’m feeling drained,
	I know she’s there, shaking, that her expression is pained.
But for now, I feel nothing, so empty inside,
	She’s protecting me, holding me, getting me off this ride.

		In the swirl of it all, I can do nothing, but go with the tide.
Form: Rhyme


With the Tide

The frigid metal against skin,
	My desperate ending without sin.
I hold it tight, poised over my wrist,
	I want to stop, but the knife insists.
Salty tears running down my cheeks,
	I apply pressure to the end I seek.
I feel the tip straining against my arm,
	Strangely enough, I feel little alarm.
I cannot think straight, like I am possessed,
	My slowness and unwilling, I do detest.
As I feel the point, slowly about to break through,
	The phones shrill ringing counters, and I’m frantic, what to do?
I’m finally able to release the knife,
	You, on the other end, just saved my life.
I pick up shakily, and put on a front,
	Secretly thanking God the knife was so blunt.
The one who has saved me, is the only I trust,
	I know I shall tell her, my heart says I must.
But I cannot, I don’t, and we talk senselessly now,
	Her oblivion doesn’t bother me, I’ll tell her, I vow.
Too hard for speaking, this much I know,
	Later we text, and I tell her slow.
I know that she’s crying, I’ll bet she’s a wreck,
	I make sure that she knows, she saved my neck. 
Talking for hours, her mind surprisingly clear,
	Then I recall, years ago, she’d had been here.
She stands solid, somewhere between frantic and fervor,
	No matter what I say, I can’t seem to unnerve her.
Every other line, or so it seems,
	We love you, we need you, those choice words teem.
I’m relieved I told her, this girl, my best friend,
	To my swirling head, I know she will tend.
She keeps saying it will pass, the evil feelings that be,
	It won’t I say solidly, how can she have such faith, in me? 
This girl makes me promise, in the dark of the night,
	I will not do a thing, I don’t put up a fight.
Because I’m feeling feeble, and I’m feeling drained,
	I know she’s there, shaking, that her expression is pained.
But for now, I feel nothing, so empty inside,
	She’s protecting me, holding me, getting me off this ride.

		In the swirl of it all, I can do nothing, but go with the tide.
Form:

The Echo returns not 07-03-25

It’s a cold December afternoon,
Four-thirty, and already dusk is upon us.
We walk side by side, like since forever,
Up the slight incline that takes us to the top of the road,
Shoes scuffling on the tarmac pavement.
Our voices chatter excitedly about the end of term and Christmas,
Each a sentient echo to the other.
Jokes, debates, and questions whizz around the air,
A zephyr of amity.

The streetlamps turn on suddenly,
Bright orange sodium bulbs of fire—
Fire that advances so slowly,
Like a curtain being drawn closed
At the end of the final scene.
Slowly, things began to change.
I no longer waited in the mornings,
And you, after school.
Oblivious, two pairs of squeaking shoes become one,
And we stopped being each other’s echo.
Looking back, I cannot explain why I didn’t do more,
Why I didn’t say more,
Except maybe I was too selfish.

It’s a cold December night;
The bleak winter darkness seems to have swallowed the world,
With not a crumb left.
I sit here, not because I love long nights,
But because I find it hard to dissolve my loneliness in daylight,
Because no matter how much I write in these pages,
I cannot keep you a moment longer.
Time has passed, and you have gone,
Like a popped balloon whose air returns to the vast world alone,
With no chance to meet again.
So let this poem be just a tribute to us:

Look at the butterfly, how it shakily flies,
Drifting beneath sunlit skies
In this cold season.
Look at the crescent moon,
How it steals the daytime bloom
And hides it in a starry tomb.
Listen to the autumn leaves,
How they whisper mournfully as the wind flees,
A tale of time that painfully grieves.
Listen to the winter snow,
How it comes and it goes,
How it hides the sobbing beneath its glow. 

I call out again, but this time,
The only thing that meets my ears
Is my own voice.
Nevertheless I hope somewhere, you will hear me and remember
Us.
© Shane Zhao  Create an image from this poem.

Black Cloaked Man


In one ghost whisper of a town,
the mourning sunset had bloodshot eyes
A tombstone place that was
	long shadow 
past it’s boomtown prime
Withering eureka hope       fills the short cups
of the abandoned mine folk
Whiskey tears takes a canary desperado gulp
Purgatory waiting  ~  Gut rot 
has all the suicidal time in the world
to stomach more wasted dreams

On this dying twilight night,
	a bad moon is darkly rising ...
as the half-empty 
		saloon 
	doors 
swing

During visitation of a short desert weep,
	               a 6-foot four 
twin emerald glow     mysteriously
steps out of the downpour

A black-cloaked man,
with twelve lead fingernails,
was tapping a cold metal dirge melody
		       as he walked in
Taking up space for two,
the raven-haired man said to no one in particular,
Death was his sidearm friend 

After ordering the strongest bottle
from a shakily, weak-handed bartend ...
the tall, dark-clothed man
saw gambling courage    slowly     returning
in the pale faces of the paying patrons

Green hue greed shone in the mirror reflection — 
his baleful, beryl stare saw that avarice look before
Plenty of bottom card dealt undertaker action
was coming ... coffin photos taken of a bloody floor

Midnight was always the best time 
for quick draw ire killings
When drunken surfeit hearts had a belly full
of wanton violence feelings

Losing was the spark
	  that lit the firewater spillings
Scarlet darkness overshadowed
		the cemetery sob kneelings

Cloaked in the mantle of a soul reaper,
the blackness of a red bullet hole
         was a grim reminder
to those witnessing the terrifying departure
		         of slow hand ... 
	  cheating, widow purse keepers — 
That a dozen toasts for the living
always were closing-of-the-eye cheaper
Form: Epic

Stars and Strife - Part 1

Across the table they held their gaze, his eyes knew where they belonged

No music was playing in the room, yet they heard their lover's song

He held her hand a little firmer, gave a smile, let slip a tear

The moment was approaching that for year's the two had feared

Her love for him never faltered, her fidelity was pure

Something he had never felt to question, of that he was always sure

Across her heart in ink, she had the signature of his name

And in return with her own name, he had done the same

She asked if he still remembered how this love long ago began

Baby he responded, never forget who is you're man

Close you're mind to our surroundings, to the people who stand around

Focus my Queen upon me, on this perfect love we found

I'm sorry she told him shakily, I failed you in the end

No my girl he answered her, you were my only friend

It's almost time for me to go, tomorrow the morn rises without my life

My one regret my precious girl, you never became my wife

His tears fell more forcefully, yet he tried to keep composure

His strength was the last and final gift, the one thing he could leave her

Look upon the stars tonight, see past the moon so blue

The veil of death shall be lifted, that I may gaze down upon you

The Officer's called time, the visit now was done

The two lover's who had fought so hard, in hours' become just one

She kissed him as her teardrops fell and merged with his

The last time she would see him, but he had a final wish

He grabbed her wrist urgently and asked please remember me

In the light, in the dark, walk beside of me

Always I'll remember, and to the sky at night I'll wait

May the heaven grant us leniency, that God let's me see your face
Form: Rhyme

Rest In Peace, Year of Survival

Far away in a distant land
Where nobody knew my name
I carved out a throne of ice
And buried myself in the womb of winter

The Reaper held my hand
And the other held piles of pills
I shakily held onto hope
As she healed from her own attempt

A honeybee died weakly in my hand
While I stared at the setting sun
I buried it and my fears
In an unmarked grave

I awoke in the doctor's arms
My attempted death left me frail
The honeybee slept peacefully
As its bunkmate came to strangle me

As I burned my last memories of the Reaper
The sun shone on my back again
A wounded Devil Survivor on a March
Having a title made me feel stronger

The Reaper blotted out the sun
And her aura fooled me into believing
A bitter soda and rum
Embraced me and kept me warm

I embraced my role as a Hermit
As she flew away to quench her lust
The unforgiving summer sun drenched me in sweat
As I began to detox in the heat

I embraced my role as the second place prize
And offered my seed as greedily as she demanded it
And as I returned to my throne of ice
I found it completely melted

Apollo himself couldn't give me the strength
I needed to fight every challenger
I dropped my sword and scabbard
And left my throne room to the dogs

The universe was setting up
To repeat itself in a grand reboot
I doped up in any way I could
To ensure hitting the bottom didn't kill me

The Sun and Moon shone on my broken body
As the Reaper's last traces burnt in the light
Still alive but numb as could be
I began my Detox Reboot

Withdrawal symptoms wrack my sleeping frame
But I'm more alive than I've been in years
As snow clouds form over my broken castle
I prepare to craft a new throne
© Derek Chos  Create an image from this poem.

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