Long Siamese Poems
Long Siamese Poems. Below are the most popular long Siamese by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Siamese poems by poem length and keyword.
So Blue, what have you been doing since my last interview with you?
Well, I still hang out (or should I say “up”) with Sky. And I’m down with oceans, rivers, lakes and seas.
However, Sky sometimes meets up with Black or Gray. That’s when I need to get away from Sky!
Well, where do you really like to be most of the time?
Gosh, that’s just difficult to say. I’m in so many bodies of water (which by the way are not these days always clear to see). I miss when I was crystal Blue in water all around the world. Anyway, I love that I get to surround the creatures of the ocean. I’m in so many things, I simply can’t choose a favorite.
Well, tell me some of your favorites then.
I enjoy being a Bluebell although I can’t ring. Humans have made plastic and metal bells of blue. Then I get to ding-a-ling. I really love to shine in stones like sapphire or of aquamarine. As a Siamese Fighting fish, I simply can’t be beat. And when as a blue jay I am on the wing, you can hear how beautifully I sing. As a peacock I feel very proud, and when I’m a blueberry, people just eat me up!
Wow, you are a part of so many things. Maybe you are Mother Nature’s favorite color.
I think perhaps I am. You could even say that I’m like God because I’m in so many places at the same time, and I’m even in some people’s eyes.
I wonder why all the colors like you are able to be in so many places at the same time just as God is said to be. What do you think, Blue?
I suppose it’s because we are a reflection of God Himself. Personally I think I am one of God’s favorite colors. Do you like me the best of creation’s colors?
Yes, I think you are really cool. I even put you in my eyes as contact lenses when I want my eye color to pop! And what’s more, you symbolize many things: freedom, imagination, the wild blue yonder, sensitivity, inspiration, and loyalty, for example.
Well, I really enjoy being called True Blue, so loyalty is big with me. However, with all the contamination these days, I am feeling really Blue, and I do not mean that in a good way.
Yep, for people you can sometimes be quite an unwanted emotion! But at the same time, many of us like to listen to you as Blues music. Keep your chin up, Blue and we’ll catch you later.
Listen to my words and desire me my sun-ripened lady
For I will be as magniloquent and indiscreet
as a biblical poet
The sculpting of your Siamese contour
pours into my empty cup like apricot brandy
I filled the night's chalice with knots of desire
and it satisfied me deeper than mere friction
Aphrodite has kissed your firm twins
As a cluster from the vineyards of Glen-Eden
on a sun-drenched September afternoon
Secretory perfumes from your pubic stubble
And gardenia from your thick locks
so fragrant I see their scent
I take them in them with every sense engorged
SELAH
When I make you moan and frown
you stare vertically through closed eyes
Then drunkenly mutter, “I cum”
When I breach your lips, north and south in unison
we give birth to the child of incandescence
She has your raven eyes.
I look into them and I see the light of Aioue
Her aura is primal, fleeting, and beyond intoxication
We become one flesh in the eyes of the cosmos
I see you my love, my friend!
These words are meant for one who is brooding for loves
They who walk with heaven beneath their feet
live under the shade of authenticity
Walk with me under the cloak of shadows
CHAIYYA
At this moment your honeyed cream remains on my palate
When I showed you how we French kiss
yes those are the moments!
Bedeviled nectars are not devilish, but imbibed in the shade
Nay, they are turned rancid only by the manufactured light
that casts the shadow from our cloak
Therefore, no one shall judge our chamberings
When we are not together I wax
For me the duplicity is hard
but I cannot live without pleasures!
I savor the darkness as per the design of the ancients
who learned to love and to invent pleasures
They are familial ghosts from a region in my belly
and we commune
SELAH
The inclinations I have toward paramours
has been buried so deeply
that I cannot locate from whence they come
In the balance between propriety and abandon
I have chosen what is in front of me
I will be reminded of my choices
when we walk again
I don’t know if I love you
because I hate that word
Maybe someday I’ll invent a better one
My beautiful little doxy
I cannot nor would not sponge away
the scent of your existence from my mind
nor the music of your moans from my ears
I'm late to the
Meeting on purpose.
My back left paw
Needed 10 or 12
More licks.
Another write-up
Headed my way.
So what?
None of us can
Write or read anyway.
The Society is not
What it used to be.
The Calicos hog the floor.
Between coughing
Up hair balls
They espouse on
Innovative scratching posts
And the hidden
Benefits of sour milk.
Siamese are the worst, though.
Not saying a word. Just
Glaring about in creepy pairs.
"We are Siamese if you please DON'T."
I'm having a blast on my own,
Sitting in this tipped-over
Garbage can in my cozy-dark alley
Enjoying my Heathcliff strip.
Classic. Garfield's overwritten.
Heathcliff's real. My old friend,
Iglesias, a true Burmese,
Says he met the real Heathcliff
Back in '85. I call Bull-litter.
Ah geez,
They're rawring for me now,
Cuz it's my birthday
And they made
Some sort of parfait
Fulla old bananas
And moldy raisins.
So if I'm a total no-show
They're all gonna be
Hissed off.
I better get going.
Thanks for listening
To my PurrCast.
Don't forget to
Lick and subscribe.
Down by Hope Street where the frangipanis bask,
And the Goddess of Love has put up her tent,
Lives a lady with fire in her eyes and cats in her kitchen.
Oh of course I will tell you she's an angel if you ask,
And her magic lies in the making of enchantment,
Why then do dark clouds cover my silent sun?
We will sing together and dance in a fury of touch,
Like the wind does when a storm comes passed,
We will laugh and joke and taste wine in gentle sips,
And that won't matter much,
Because as you might have guessed,
Love has taken me and kissed me on the lips.
Time has curled up on her couch like a Siamese cat,
Yet she still loves mangoes and a foot massage at night,
Perhaps God finally got it right,
When he touched her finger and tipped his hat,
And she walked out into the light,
Why then do dark cobwebs trap me in fright?
By the sea of blue and the grass so green,
She will lay her head on my shoulder and hum,
And all the dark clouds will drift away,
The cobwebs will vanish forever,
In the dark I will find my way,
And finally..finally...finally,
The bells repeating in my brain will cease,
And I will be able to breathe again.
Oh lady of Hope Street dance for me once more,
Before the candles in my lonely church are lit,
Come with me and sway upon the dance floor,
And I will read a poem and gently massage your soul,
And the red fire of enchantment will burn forever more.
My Uncles’ Hands Were Strong…
My uncles’ hands were strong:
fathering children they never had.
My uncles’ hands were strong;
yet gentle like the chiseled hands
of Michelangelo’s Pieta:
strong saintly shooting hands
that touched tender souls with gentleness
only undying love could give.
On their bent backs
rose a Siamese nation
of oppressors and the oppressed:
a Janus nation whose face reflected
mockery of its supposed democracy.
My uncles’ hands were strong;
strong like steel hammers and anvils:
strong fisted hands breaking chattel chains.
Yes, my uncles’ hands were strong:
and the strong men just keep coming on…!
It's the first week with my new pet/roommate
I've met him once before and he seemed like someone I can live with
I will say though, he does need to control himself sometimes
Last night he climbed into bed with me
Not only did he climb in bed with me,
but he also slept on the only pillow as well
I let him pet me because it helps him fall asleep
I just wish he would close the door when he goes to the bathroom
That smell, dang- it's enough to make my tail stand up
But hey, all-in-all he's a great pet
He feeds me in the morning, afternoon, and night!
When we go for walks...
I get to poop on that nasty neighbor's lawn- "Sweet"
I love my new pet!
I call him- "Ruff, ruff, ruff Ruff, ruff Ruff"
Don't ask me what he calls me,
Because he speaks in some kind of gibberish
I wonder if he knows what I'm saying
Okay sorry, here he comes,
time to act stupid again-
"Ruff, ruff, ruff ... Ruff, ruff ... ruff"
Now to lick him, and get me one of those awful tasting treats
that were probably made from the buttholes and insides
of some kind of wild Siamese two-tongued, five-toed sloths
Whose mom was a cross between a one-eyed cow and a cross-eyed cyclops
Well, enough barking for tonight
I hope my pet can shut off that darn television before he goes to bed
And- "GIVE ME BACK MY PILLOW"
I love my new pet
I do my best to train him
It's a little ruff
As Siamese cat frightens the pygmy jerboa rat,
So too humans under fate or destiny's habitat;
I am chained; grab-hooked; the master-link is held by someone,
Like a stray dog, I am pulled; dragged; by everyone outdone...!
I am unquenchable; thirsty; my ponds are troubled, yet,
Though this has been against my wish, my tongue I cannot wet;
God too plays the determiner, like monkey puppeteer;
Hypnotizes the beings he's created; like snake-charmer...!
How must I live? How many days? How should I, at last die?
In death-bed or death, grave or interment, how must I lie?
When should my soul, like earthly water-drop evaporate?
When and where should, it, with the pure spirit incorporate...?
It should, anyhow, be born-again though it does not will,
Does habitat-destruction, the death human beings, kill?
Midst ocean of life-cycle forced beings feel, within, ill,
Could anyone, his or her existence, freely choose still...?
17 August 2022
In the sadness of our happiness
I'm flattened on a wave.
A violent violet rises upon its descent.
Shady poetry in a surging heat
While dolphins rest jumping off my
Tuna-slick knees.
I could use a chapter title, if you please?
No, I am not Siamese.
The weakness for ice cold couplet lemonade stands,
Stands to reason, we drive on like raisins that can drive
Only to gag on the old lolly.
The cracker doesn't even want a Polly.
Not at this point.
So sick of points.
But more sick of no point.
Let's just communicate in indiscriminate gurgles.
Not a fan?
My sister said the same thing.
KP: With embellishment aborted,
sidewalk and street talk wail from paper.
Tears vividly seen because cursive one's don't wipe away.
An intrinsic institution allergic to plagiarized allegiance,
we're born and bred to bleed blue from womb, and the wound.
Traits of our soul incarcerated in a pen case
presenting selfies that speak volume without an impediment.
Lingual masseuses with mischief marinating, depending on
which taste of epic we prefer.
We write to pulverize color barriers because underneath the shell
tethered laughter is majority. Lumen repair technicians
dimming differences, a cultural mend from cultured men
adjoined through their pen.
Siamese artistes with an umbilical transporting manna from our
third eye to feed the famine.
Brother of mine, break bread with your pen
RL: I too do not wish to embellish
So I place my ear upon the sidewalk of discovery
For I wish to hear the colour of your steps
Our souls are meant to breathe upon paper
The fibres of the papyrus bleed into our convoluted minds
as we give of our panicked moments
Ours is a calmed darkness
A mimicking hope
Yesterday flows over tomorrowed possibilities
as we attempt to rewrite answers to those questions never asked
Differences float above our commonality
So we choose to dive below the surface
For beneath our papered skin resides the hearts of free men
Paper converted by pen becomes flesh
The bond of brotherhood
Tethered between minds
Transported beyond societies perceived differences
For we choose to anoint our spirits in blue ink!
Thanks Keith for joining me in this creative adventure.
It is a pleasure to write with such a talented writer.
Written by: Keith Papyrus & Richard Lamoureux
September 25, 2015
There is an issue we both must face
And it's not that from you I would replace
I'm not being rude or out of place
But I need to have my personal space
I appreciate you find me attractive
It really makes my ego soar high
But from you I really need to be subtracted
You get so close I am starting to be shy
A little distance now and then
Of course we can be friends
But I insist and with haste
Give me my personal space
You sit so close to me we're Siamese twins
You pat my head so much my hair has thin
When we walk our legs almost entwine
When we talk I feel like a mime
You should know I do carry a can of mace
I do admire you for your great taste
My patience I can no longer pace
So spread out, I need my personal space.