Long Sm Poems
Long Sm Poems. Below are the most popular long Sm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sm poems by poem length and keyword.
This is always a very very difficult time of year for me. I get so dang depressed,
and yes the majority of that pain comes from being incarcerated. It is a very lonely place.
Christmas is actually my fav. time of year. It was also my momma's (Grandmomma) who
passed in 2007. Her memory glows brighter within my heart during Christmas. She raised
me from a babe to a man...Yes I was grandmas boy :) So I was extremely spoiled. When
she passed in "07 (while I was in here) Man it nearly killed me. Please read "For
Grandmomma" (I wrote about her and my loss). Anyway - Thank you to my best friend
Marty Owens, For making Christmas a little happier for me. I don't really have "family" only
(my 2 beautiful daughters Jasmine 11 yrs and Brianna 9 yrs.) Marty is all I have in my life.
It's a very lonely hard place to be in without "family" or "friends" Friends are so rare.
I'm talking genuine friends. So he introduced me to PS because of my raging passion for
writing. I've grown so attached to some of you! I'm surprised at the love I have for some of
you and I don't really know some of you. lol It's wierd, but love can be wierd sometimes.
So ...Charma many hugs and kisses! Carol B. who introduced a lot of people on PS to me.
Thank you! Lolita my friend until the end! Audrey my biggest fan, I'm here for you always!
Patricia A. woman you always make me smile. Simone my newest fan your comments
sometimes make me blush! lol Linda-Marie I loved my Christmas card and your
encouraging words...thank you..Lena...what can I say? There are cards I would like to get
out to some of you..send addresses sm and marty will get them to me via postal mail. I
would like to hear from you guys w/pics I too will send pics of me Merry Christmas XOXO's
Jimmy M. Anderson #0459587 P.O. Box 2405 Marion NC 28752
THE MAIDEN:
My little Juliette,
my hand floating over her back;
and her tiny hand with mine.
Now, we all sing songs to Capulet.
And they all pause;
they are enthralled.
Younger lads know their remedy;
no, not strong drink -
whatever you think.
But, like if the gleaming sun is her virginity;
that power of light is her affinity.
In the late hour,
I did inspire her,
in her bower,
her bosom to bloom and blossom.
I saw she and she me,
with a wide look of glee,
wild eyes and heartbeats of jubilee.
She was not toward I, nor I to her, persnickety.
We fell fast together, authentically.
THE CRONE:
That crone, witch and total %#&^%.
She made everything a hitch,
and brought today's sorrow,
and brings more curses the morrow.
Her. In The Brothel.
She is there in every hovel.
Her coiled brown hair,
that brings my passions to bare.
The desires all around us.
'Why does she bother' you ask?
Her nails pushing and rummaging
under my skin,
raking the hair of my arms.
I can smell her now.
Her soft perfumes.
And. Also.
It is night.
And so she wrapped me tight,
yet it was all hollow.
I wish I could forget it now.
THE GODDESS:
And there! The goddess in the pale moon,
she walks and talks and makes the willows swoon.
She walks and talks to me,
and causes romance to loom.
The way sunlight moves around her hair,
and the breezes that pushes against her form.
The gold of sunshine in the tall grasses,
where we did roam.
The Pixies sit up there,
over the brook.
In the trees, at night,
above her shoulders,
while the water laps moonlight.
The smell of pines and saplings,
and the colors,
glaring off the ice, and,
the never ending sheens of summer.
Her hand in mine.
S.M. Diamond
7/01/2019
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A rare good sou-L
at Mote-L Six
who smel-Led different.
Then she tell m-E
somebo-Dy took
her P-ink wallet.
dropped her O-ff
someplace d-Owntown
I kn-Ow about.
Next I had s-Ort
self-ctr-Olled and
my O-h fresh bills.
Gave same addres-S
like the la-St cab
ride S-aid. Same spot.
Story she h-Ad
was a b-Ag like
purse A-nd not hers.
When we avrr-Ived
I'm surpr-Ised, that's
her, sm-Iling there.
Lady beh-Ind
said out s-Ide Where'd,
you f-Ind it! Well?
I had to lo-Ok,
say, I kn-Ow her,
We're fr-Om Shanghai. (Ladies say to cabbie)
0n th1s br1ght early m0rn1ng, 1 s00n see
h0w l1fe's gr1m gl0w can s1gh such gl00m 1n me,
Th0ugh catb1rds s1ng w1th a s0ft ch1m1ng fl0w,
n0 t1m1d m00n w1ll 0utsh1ne my tableau.
N0 stark wh1n1ng s0unds 1n small plast1c r00ms,
wh0 sp1t b1nate c0de 1n 1ntr1gu1ng spumes,
kn0ws 1f 1t st1lls the l0ve 1ns1de 0f me
as d0 1r1s g0ld, 0r f1elds 0f l1ly.
0f l1fe's thr1lls, n0t 0ne mach1ne w1ll perce1ve,
(f0r, 1t 1s wr1t, that G0d m0lded th1s s0ul),
n0r gr1n w1th j0yful sm1les, l0ve 0r bel1eve,
when, n0w, w1th1n 0ur m1nds, l1fe 1s the g0al.
If ones and zeros come up with a sum,
I wonder... 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01000111 01101111 01100100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101100 01100111 01101111 01110010 01101001 01110100 01101000 01101101?
10/14/2018
Raul Moreno
(a Poetry Dish)
4c. of God 1 sm. tsp. of talent
(23oz of chromosomes) pkg. Mom (23oz of chromosomes) pkg. Dad
¼ tsp. of my older brother ¼ of my other brother
2 c. of my sister 1 lb. of my surroundings
1 oz. of knowledge ½ c. of heart
½ c. Nature ½ c. Inspiration
3 c. Oklahoma 2 c. of my friends
(8oz.) of Pansy 1 pkg. Gracemont
¼ t. failure ¼ t. faith
A pinch of discipline A dash of hope
Mix contents together,
In a large bowl.
Top with family members,
Better if served cold.
Set and let cool,
And eat my poetry.
Without these ingredients,
There would be no me.
_______________________________________
An homage to everyone who has supported me,
believed in me, and applauded me.
Without them, I wouldn't do what I do!
Absolute is her adorable attitude,
blessed and bestowed with a burning benignity,
city girl caught within life’s calamitousness,
darling to all that dare dote upon her. Naked!
Economize, be efficient, enthuse she must,
Fight! For her felicity. Feel! For those whom fall,
groping gouging with a grotesque gravitation,
hold on to her hospitable habitation!
Indurate through incest! Injured through inurement,
justice she seeks, a juvenile Judy no more,
kicked by society, knackered by its keepers,
laminated personalities lost in love!
Morning time! Brings the sunlight, the mist the misery,
Nymph nurtured by noble, just to serve motley men,
Org*sm Cried off, just an opaque memory,
primate pants, within the woodland glen!
Quaint in monthly quarantine, desire still to quell,
rebellious rivals, rustic, but youth on side,
sanctimonious salutations satisfy,
the test for technique, tediously still apply!
Unable to command usage. “Utensil spent”
Valuation decreasing via vulgar gent,
wise mind, weary body responds to the wanker,
xquisite flame soon xtinguish by the banker!
Yet she that lived in yonder past, youthfulness yielded,
zero hour approaches. “Erotic zone no more!”
because of censorships some words had to be removed or changed.
© Harry J Horsman 1993
Alliteration and Abecedarian poem
entered into A Poet Destroyers 004 contest
I
LORDSHIP defined, not feudal lords,
By a sermon: S.M. Lockridge, 1982 -
No copyright for songs birds sing
No initials on the lapels (YHVH we say,
With some of the best Hebrews who knew)
II
As Easter dawned today, I saw my poor art
On my wall. Huge rock in background,
One lonely tree, denuded, arm-like branches
Yet around the top, the few leaves circled
The would-be Head, the aura He's never without
III
We are shut in, according to national regulation
Country by country, Corona-influenced SHUTDOWN
So I write poems about my faith. this Jesus-Love
That resurrects inside a wisened Hindu heart
Myth? The very concept: God dying for my sinful part
IV
Jesus told men and cast-out women, the Image in them
Make us worth anything He paid at Calvary ("Daughter,"
He said to One with "issue of blood," her faith had healed her
Because she risked being killed ("Social distancing" was Law!)
By crawling, in Mark 5's crowd, to touch Jesus's tunic & POWER
V
I had no art supplies, coming here from America ...
USA vast, wonderful, frustrating ... suckled my Faith in Jesus
Miracle that endears her to me. Near University of Fort Hare
I made do: two crayons, new 2020 calendar backs, I drew a Cross
Now, Easter morning, lonely tree reminds me ... Trinity & Pentecost
Behold, how horribly the hungry Fire gapes at us
like a python, like a ravenous whale
and like the Bermuda Triangle.
How terribly the maddened Fire devours bricks and stones,
and drinks all the snow-hills like a tasty wine!
Like a demon, the Fire eats crunching the bones of Cain and
the skeleton of Lahab*, eats like the kernel of a palm
uprooting the blue eyes of Genghis.
Where are you running fast, o Man, like a bewildered horse?
O the lost horse, where are you going madly raising your tail?
Breaking down the wall of sight, behold, how horribly
the Fire gapes at us!
It is is such a fire which devours not only our body
but also our invisible soul. Like a rat,
it eats into the coconut of our heart bit by bit.
There is no Jesus more who will absorb all your sins in his cross.
There is no Gautama more who will play the flute of wisdom
sitting under the shade of the pee-pul tree.
There is no Krisna more who will pour down a cloud of love
into the thirsty eyes of Radha.
There is no Mohammad more who will save you running
from the clutch of the hungry Fire.
O Man, O Horse, O Bull,
There is no prophet more, keep it in your mind.
Keep in mind, there is no saviour more except a love-lorn poet.
* the enemy of prophet Mohammad(sm
Is this mask a permanant shade
on which a new world order being built
it does make me timid to step out
I miss the smell of raw earth of the first rain.
fear of the unseen always haunted me
now it's verified that fear is real
did some one plant it or just evolved
both ways, Covid just keep us distance apart .
it wasn't long that I felt 'me' not in queue
until the next door man died and exhumed in stealth
kids, wife , parents all had that hollow looks ,
of fear if the unseen has entered our house,
desperately searching stock of sanitizer ,
a random deeper breath around makes us shiver .
Many experts were born on SM on the subject
people accepting anything like gospel truth
the evil planners must have their ugly smiles
since they achieved what they willed,
confusion, fear, surrender and obedience.
it's power, control and money they aim.
2000 years before we saw the same
when the rich priestly clan frightened men
of sins , rituals and punishments
That was the time the Saviour was born,
to forgive , purify and reform .
Will He come again this second time now
or is there a long oppression before His arrival ?
FEAST OF BEAUTY
I thought humans don't eat humans
and bands don't break bands
But your beauty is eating me up - Cannibalism.
Sheer barbarism and "taboolism",
Not empathic and absolutely no sympathy,
Emotions running high for your posh of beauty
As my own desires are feasting on me - Autocannibalism
Just like a person being consumed by or**sm.
Miss Farhana Sait,
Your charm is a bait
That lures mankind into your paradise gate.
Set me in confinement,
multiplying multiple enjoyment;
Cocooned in your milky endowment.
If beauty were transactions and sold in zillions,
Yours would be priceless and raise common opinions.
Tiger doesn't eat Tiger when famish
Yet your looks feast on this Tiger in ambush.
All these models do is slay, slay & slay
But with the fangs of beauty & your outlay
You feast, feast & feast on your prey.
To survive your allure, this I pray.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhyme.
Copyright © October 1st, 2020.
#OnTheSpotPoetry #inspiredbyFarhana
#inspiredbybeauty
#beautyappreciation
#feastoftheeyes #feastofbeauty