Long Shaking Poems
Long Shaking Poems. Below are the most popular long Shaking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shaking poems by poem length and keyword.
This fact remains unaltered! He faced my intense gaze.
His fixed stare
On the love that flourished! I deeply cherish my beloved saint
He noticed my fury and fondness.
On my heart's fondness! This cause is consistently persistent,
It is always provoking.
Expanding intensified my unwavering stare.
His emotionless stare glares. Absolutely not, not every issue has been resolved. What? It has only grown more powerful! This fact remains unaltered! He faced my intense gaze. His fixed stare On the love that flourished! I deeply cherish my beloved saint He noticed my fury and fondness. On my heart's fondness! Just saying!
Thinking of him made my heart words tremble in the night watch twirl with
excellent clarity what is hidden must come to light to pass
when this my thoughts caused chills and fever!
He asked the Savior to heal my hurt my needs my saint he is a healer!
The healer then prayed for the chills of normal love and corrected my heart's thoughts graced and graze a kiss with his breathing upon my shaking body and waved my pain away Then as I was awoken as a sleeping beauty first kiss eyes opened! A dream it seemed awoke smiling refreshed and feeling well.
This cause is consistently persistent, It is always provoking.
Expanding increasingly more and more to the mystery!
I intensified my unwavering stare. His emotionless stare glares.
Not every issue has been resolved.
What? It has only grown more powerful! The fact remains unchanged!
He met my intense gaze. His fixed stare
On the love that grew!
On my beloved saint pour down blessing!
He observed my glare and affection.
On my heart's affection afflictions! This cause is always consistent,
Always a source of agitation.
Growing I intensified my fixed gaze. He intensified his deep gaze
His unfeeling stare glowers were there also. No, not everything is resolved. What is! God,s will be done Is what we want!
It has only grown stronger!
Lying in bed..
Warm blanket covering my entire body ..
An artic blast of cold air..
On a brisk cold winters day..
Body shivering..
Shaking uncontrollably
My heart yearns for you..
Broken promises and shattered dreams..
Disappointed I feel
I have awaited your return
Lovingly and patiently..
A mountain of promises ..
The two of us standing tall
Together as one..
Spend the rest of our lives together..
Til we both disengage from this life..
Promises...
Promises..
Broken, scattered, and shattered..
Turned into specks of nothingness..
Hopes and dreams of a future together
Which is merely an illusion..
Illusions followed by..
Delusions..
I have become delusional ..
Believing you shall return..
No longer shall we stand tall..
Together as one..
Now we both stand alone...
So alone on this frozen tundra..
Knowing that the frozen tundra will crack..
The cracks shall become broken..
Broken shattered, scattered, frozen, icy pieces..
Of a tundra..
Of dreams..
The two of us becoming one..
The frozen tundra had melted..
So we had melted along with the tundra..
.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She shuffles in, shaking snow from her coat,
a woman whose face has forgotten warmth.
Her fingers tremble around a torn lottery ticket~
hope folded into a square.
The man beside her watches,
then unzips his own jacket,
sliding it over her shoulders
without a word.
She stares, uncomprehending,
as if kindness were a language
she'd stopped translating years ago.
Outside, the streetlights flicker,
casting long shadows of strangers
who suddenly seem less strange.
The bus arrives, exhaling steam~
a sigh against the winter night.
Those Amazing Cats
Oh, those amazing cats with their smooth coats
They go uppity up up they go downdy, down down.
And they bounce around 'making the loop as they' pounce
here and there sometimes catching a mouse somewhere in the house
getting their exercise running back and forth until they need a long rest
They purr when they are happy getting hugs and comments
As they get stroked, they talk to their people once and awhile
and they never get poked rocking the boat only when they get soaked
shaking the water all over the place
They stand up and smile wanting a hug looking innocently cute
as they ask to be taken home then snooze on a lap all curled up
in a ball and the car pulls out then departs making someone happy
whose feeling blue- they are perfect companions, and they are really
wonderful roommates.
On one night,
is it because of a bewitched full moon?
while driving my rusty shaking junk car
I became Don Quixote de la Mancha
mounted on Rozinante holding a lance under the arm aslant,
and with a full gallop, dashing into the battle field, through the street where
the full moon was hanging thirty degree above the sky between forests eastward.
The trees standing both sides on the street
dyed by reddish-yellowish gray moonbeam in silhouette
were the windmill sails whirling their gigantic arms in air to assail me.
The red and green one-eyed giants
often met on the way eastward were the fat and ugly
demon-possessed skins of red wine that must have slain.
Flourishing lance to the right and left
while giving spurs to Rozinante again and again
to advance rapidly, I found myself in the middle
of enemy territory before becoming aware of it,
detouring annoying barricades, I was running through
the path between ramparts while ducking a shower of arrows,
came to the endless water front where disabled Rozinante fell.
When raging waves come and hit the breakwater
for the water cannot advance any further or is able to return,
the waves break up the hundreds and thousands of beads and
return to the bottomless water while flushing its silvery blue scales.
And when sprays of water that dived into the deepest sea
gush out from its bottom belching fire, it rises to the sky
and becomes a gigantic dragon and swallows the moon.
In the darkness where the dragon gathering dark clouds
after swallowing the moon the rain falls, the torrential rain
hits Mambrino’s helmet mercilessly.
Then, Don Quixote kneels to make the sign of the cross
while patting a breathless Rozinante lying on this desolated waterfront.
The cross he made falls on the sands,
the cross he made mourns while washing away in the water.
[Someday,
some may sing Don Quixote with the finest lute in hand.
Praise the gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha
with silvery voice in one accord, with unforgettably kind remarks:
the one who lived true life of knight is
Don Quixote de la Mancha
the knight of knights, the hero of heroes.]
NOTE: The Golf Road runs from east to west on north suburb of Chicago, and east (ends or starts) at Lake Michigan.
How bad can it get, don't ask me that question
I'm on the 97th floor terrified,
hanging from a window, gasping for breath
You want to know,
how bad it can get
On the phone to my wife, saying I love you please never forget
Bodies burst in the street below me, certain I am next
you still want to know,
how bad it can get,
My throat has just been cut, on some passenger jet
Leading my ladder up a stairwell to die, drenched in sweat
Your repeating that question,
how bad can it get
Searching through rubble, unsure if there's a fingertip left
Vaporised into nothing, just a photo for the bereft
Disturbing nightmares wake me, shaking and upset,
stop asking me,
how bad can it get
I go to Afghanistan, an IED rips open my chest
About to be beheaded in Iraq, as a warning to the west
Back on the 97th floor you ask me again,
how bad can it get
Do I agree with Guantánamo extraordinary rendition,
you bet
How about collateral damage, they posed no threat
Whatever it takes, this fate I'll never accept
I'm a civilian too, now I jump burning to death
This poem is to remember,
some have already forgotten
just how bad it can get
Originally written 09/05/2021
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
07/23/22
An old sweetheart of mine never believed
in daytime dreams, because they shattered
quickly and shaking her unconvinced head
silly words came out of her mouth admitting,
" Aren't fantasies unrealistic dreams...
when they appear more tempting
then a cake with irresistible frosting?
And while she cut it with careful fingers,
" The outside tasted very sweet,
but the inside looked kind of hard;
its whipped cream was soft and white,
its filling was solid and not much inviting! "
It's worse than a thriller too unconvincing and trite,
although to the novice novelist the tragic plot
appeared to be real with the small-minded bigot.
Comparing fantasies to a decorated cake
is a huge and unforgivable mistake,
the ingredients look fine and exquisite;
but who garnishes it may lack artistry
and gastronomic skills to create an extraordinary
delight not applauded by someone who's inquisitive
about what went into it before baking it,
and laying it down on the table it looks perfect.
Are we still pursuing hallucinating fantasies
that weave themselves into allusive dreams
that make others notice how disappointing
they are having put all our trust in them?
Is this an end to dreaming coming to grips
with a stark and naked reality never being
challenged by a mindless dreamer who causes an ahem
not realizing that he's in a dire state of optical illusions...
instead of being persuaded that nobody ever wins.
Community starts here
Under this tree of sprawling branches
With thighs pressed against sinuous gnarled roots,
Our heads nodding and shaking with whurring yellow leaves
Adorning our heads and fluttering off into the river beside us,
Only to stick to the dipping twigs of the tree in such cool August air,
Such a smoky light, community will start right here.
Community starts here
In this small over-crowded coffee shop,
with faces in late morning glow, as old friends reunite to
the clang of dishes and the sliding of porcelain
On faux-mahogany, elbow-elbow expressions brighten
from the whiteness of day: "I got a copy of my documentary on DVD
In my car that I can give you, if you like?"
"Oh really, well, okay..." This is the post-Sunday Mass air
Where light and love swirl as opportunity and re-emergence
And everything feels as natural as a breeze, with the fluttering of
Newsletters, roommates wanted ads, yoga lessons, and announcement
That a new spoken Word artist is arriving in town who's blind but has a dog and took the
bus from Ohio and reads his words like honey for angels,
This is where community starts.
Community starts here
On the playground of a hundred tumbling children
Screaming, tugging, jumping, laughing, crying, and dreaming.
Slow this time down and imagine them all 30-years-old with suits
And private thoughts and caged feelings and fully-fleshed with the
Citizen's kinetic energy to do right and wrong, good and bad,
Picture them as you, then picture how you're reflected in their eyes like
Revolving suns with times for dinner, and now flash back to the monkey bars,
Back to the open-souled shining young stars, here on their battleground,
in this galaxy of fun and terror our community finds it seedlings.
From the cafe to the riverbank,
From the playground to the People's Court of Whatever You Can Think Up,
Community starts everywhere,
Everywhere,
But my bathroom.
THE PURPLE BRUSISES ALWAYS SEEMS TO HURT LONGER THE PUNCH ITSELF THE TRAUMA OF THE BLOWS DOESN'T MATTER WHERE THE IMPACT THE PURPLE ONES HURT LONGER PERHAPS THIS IS WHY PURPLE WAS CHOSEN THE NATIONAL COLOR OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE VICTIMS I SURVIVED SEVERE DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND YES IT STINGS JUST LITTLE MORE ESPECIALLY THE SIDE BACK HAND ALWAYS OFF GUARD NO MATTER HOW TRAUMATIZED OR CAUTIOUS I WAS HE MANAGED TO LAND JUST ABOVE THE EYEBROW LANDING ON MY BROW NOT ONLY DID I HAVE A BLACK EYE A PAINFUL KNOT OVER MY EYE I JUST COULDN'T EXPLAIN AWAY EVERY PUNCH MADE MY LIPS TEMBLINGS LIKE I WAS FREEZING TO DEATH SHAKING STUND HE WAS CLIMB TREES OUTSIDE THE HOUSE DRESSED IN FULL FATIGUE BLACK TURTLENECK WATCHING ME LIKE I AM SPECIAL OPT GO INTO GROCERY STORE WHEN I WALK PASS ALL OF HIS WEIGHT WOULD KNOCK ME TO THE GROUND DAZED FRAIL 120 POUNDS I COULDN'T MORE MY JEANS TORN RIPPED BLOOD ON MY KNEES MY LIP TREMBLING HE ALSO ENJOYED HITTING ME BEHIND MY HEAD ONLY BECAUSE THERE WAS NO ROOM FOR NEW BRUISES HE SELECTED RIGHT ABOVE THE BRAIN STEM VERY EFFECTIVE WHEN COPS ARRIVED HE'D STAND THERE SAYING I DON'T SEE ANY BRUISES IT WAS FROM HIS ARMY DAYS BOXING IN A BERLIN PRISON HE WAS SO PROUD OF THIS TECHNIC MY HEAD SPINNING DAZED NO BRUISES ON THE BRAIN STEM WELL NOT WITH JUST THE NAKED EYE TORTURE SQUEEZING MY FINGERS ANKLES PRESSURE POINTS PARALYZING TO SAY THE LEASET TIMES WERE DIFFERENT MEN WERE THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE HOLD WOMEN WERE EQUIVALENT TO THE CHILDREN NOT HER HUSBAND DIDN'T MATTER IF SHE ATTENDED CLASSES HELD DOWN A JOB WOMEN WERE PROPERTY I SURVIVED THAT ORDEAL ONLY TO FIND HIS COPY CAT ABUSER EVEN WORSE HE WAITED UNTIL MY SEVERE TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY TO STRIKE HOW COULD I MISS THE SIGNS THAT STILL HAUNTS ME TODAY HE TARGETED THE ENTIRE FAMILY EVEN MY PETS PURPLE RIBBONS HUNG DURING OCTOBER THE MEMORIES OF BEING ABUSED LINGERS THE BRUSISES START OFF RED WATCHING THE BRUISE CHANGE COLORS RED BLACK AND BLUE PURPLE ALLOWS YOU TO SEE THE INSIDE OF THE WOUND YOU CRY A BIT SILENTLY WAITING FOR THE COLOR PURPLE TO DISSOLVE BACK INTO YOUR HEART REACHING OUT TO THE SPRING OF TAMPA BAY SAVED MY LIFE GAVE ME HOPE AS THOSE PURPLE BRUSISES BEGAN TO HEAL SO DID I GOD BLESS THE SPRING OF TAMPA BAY
Tying the knot,
I thought sowed my soul.
Making me a better man,
But I discovered the lack.
Learning how to respect one another.
Loving another at the cost of loving myself.
Unrequited pain, a new form of loneliness.
The body exposing it through night terrors.
Ending with a big bang.
I rebirthed being alone.
In darkness He did his magic.
Cementing my non-negotiables.
Yet again I stand with another.
Uncomfortable comfortable.
Both of us with a checkered past.
Trepidation with hands on the wheel.
Wiser with a touch of grayscale.
A new kind of love we embark.
Both of us have probed for faults.
Scared of what seems perfection.
I stand with her having shaking hands.
And a fearful smile from my past.
I look over to see her response.
For once trepidation turns to tranquil.
She reads me like a book.
Caring where no one has before.
Nurturing my every wince.
The chips are landing perfectly.