Long Soften Poems

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


Premium Member The Now Continuum

“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker 

The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
  drifting into the eventide of agony…

So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
  to veil visions of vanity,
  to mask mirrors of melancholy,
  to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…

Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini 
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in 
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the 
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
   opalescent quiescence…

O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
              of soundless rhythm…


Add It To the Others

The hurt builds inside, with no way to get free from within.
It’s havoc safely locked away, unable to wreak the divine chaos it so desires To spread like poison amongst cravings of unbridled fury.
To inflict on the soul that ignited this bitterness still left unspoken, 
Screaming on the inside, paint on my smile, and look happy for the camera.
Why is it my heart cannot abide the counsel of my mind?
I would not have this anger and thirst for destruction dwelling on my mind.
The shattered glass has fallen in shards by my feet, 
The leftover pieces of an emotion that doesn't fascinate me like it did before.
Always dancing out of my grasp, tempting me to seize what I cannot.
The illusions of my mind, the ones where I was loved, and I was happy, 
Begin to disintegrate around me, flour and water mix, then become a paste.
One small, with its fiction and fantasies, it weaves a giant web of deceit.
I tried so hard to make them see that love has a cruel cycle it follows,
Demanding devotion, with it's array of charms and sober unrealities. 
Impacts are worse on the naïve; truth becomes a chaos loosed in their souls.
The fright, shock leaves me standing alone not knowing where or who I am.
Bewildered, I wonder why I took this chance at potential annihilation, 
The fabrication of my life filled with the wreckage of my self-destruction,
My downfall closing in quickly, I can taste defeat, like bile in my mouth
The flavor burns as it fills my mouth, I spit, foul though it may be,
I have unwillingly endured exposure to harsh realities, I can take no more.
Seclusion begins to soften my still raw emotions so I examine them up close. 
Barriers stand on end, like a firewall, made of unyielding rocks and stones.
This time it will take more than charm and whit to break them down.
No big bad wolf to blow down my walls, strong in their assembly,
My refuge is sturdy, well built and formidable, and that is the way I need it.
Once again, I have restored my sanity, if only for the moment, and for now, 
I will watch the daily lives of those around me, unable to participate, again.
One day I will rejoin the world, but for now I will stay behind my walls,
I will watch from afar and dream of the time I was on the outside,
Even if only for a moment in time, I was there and I tasted the air out there.

Premium Member He Fills Me With Wonder

He silences the vulgar roar
Of loneliness and fear
He gentles all the stormy wars
Between sin and my spirit
He christens my heart’s kiss
With inspiration so tender
He sprinkles kindness, humility
All around my soul’s belief

He lingers on my spirit’s hope
With a vibrant hue of light
He brings a brilliant tone of grace
Pouring sprays of acceptance
He whispers promises to the heart
Who listens to His direction
He raises the stardust dreams
With a bold, clever embrace

He responds to all my prayers
With sincerity and generosity
He lifts the burdens that I carry
Nurturing my soul, my faith
He builds my heart’s greatest blessing
By giving guarantee of its sanction
He blends His wonder with discernment
Creating in me a heart full of awe

He quiets every shame or disgrace
With kindness so bright it vibrates
He breathes a desire into my soul
For the chance to know and love Him more
He secures my every prayer with promise
That He will always be there beside me
He heals my murkiest impressions
With a soothing warmth that comforts

He breaks through the hardness of my heart
To soften the feelings that I had lost
He makes me touch the absent reflections
With compassion that I had secreted within
He taught me that love was meant to be given
Through good or bad, it would fulfill me
He stirred my heart to listen through the stillness
That gave me a reason to believe His gift

He is the light, the love, the Son
The reason I am someone who can smile
With the delight of knowing One
Who brings my heart peace and my soul
The opportunity to listen, to believe
In Him, Jesus… the wonder of wonders
The light that shines down such love
It feels like this song must be sung!

Listen to the heart – reflect on Him with awe
He is the presence that will never forsake
He will always be there – just have faith
Listen to the heart – believe and receive
He is the answer to every fear, every tear
Simply look to Him and be blessed by His gift
Salvation of the soul who chooses to listen
With a heart that has been filled to the fullest
With a love that only Jesus can arouse in the spirit!

This love is a gift that keeps giving to the soul
Who knows that Jesus is the only way to find
The secret to life, love, hope, faith, grace… 
The path toward heaven where He awaits

Premium Member Motor Home News and Blues

An abode you can drive down a road is a trip,
but the learning curve’s steep. It’s a help to be rich,
strong, and good with your hands (for things often go wrong
that you will not expect). All support’s a trip too:
fun can stop for repairs - your transmission goes out
at some watering hole where you’re barely a guest.
A rebuilt one located takes days to arrive.
You’re hung out on a limb with relationships cash-
based, though credit cards help. With a vaporware smile
and some luck, a motel has a room you can wait.

At some point, you’ll be glad a towed car’s on your plate
for just parking a motor home can take a while.
Overnights on the streets of a city are rash,
but a grocery store parking lot helps one survive
for a night in a pinch. Cops uncalled, let you rest.
If you buy some supplies, it will give you more clout.
I am happy I bought mine though big trips were few.
A gas engine, no slide-outs, I stole for a song
in year slide-outs and diesel were salesmen’s fresh pitch.
But low tag fees, no property tax floats my ship!

Farms have Quonsets to soften Dakota through time,
hide from hail, sun, and blizzards, a part of the year.
Coach revives, as my residence, when I am there
with the usual hookups, propane, and TV.
But one April, the snow where it parks saw a drift
that eclipsed a man’s height more than corn grows (rains bless).
Weeks would pass till it melted, ground firmed, spring wheat drilled!
But the highways kept clear, a spot found I could park
where Missouri’s clear waters reflected cloud’s path,
and fish leaped as they struck hard and tasted hook’s bait.

I’m a poet who frequents cast lines till they rhyme
and replace my lost bait with a new thought as dear.
Souls and poems will bloom that we offer our care
though we see droughts occur and earth’s water’s not chi.
May some readers drift with me when words are a gift,
have a color they own that eclipses their dress.
Bait rejected? God bless! If you chow down, I’m thrilled.
Who would want to burn rubber alone in the dark?
With a transparent purpose, I don’t fear God’s wrath.
Pray rhymed sojourns bring respite, share love, and not hate.


Brian Johnston
12th of September in 2021
Poet’s Note:
A new metered poem that uses what I call ‘distant rhyme.’
Form: Rhyme

Manic By Design

Too fast! It hurts!
It travels at lightspeed!
Ruins calm. More than I need!
Help me please!
This monster brings me to my knees!
Wild eyed. Animal's panic.
No reason. Life is just Titanic.
Too much to see, need, read.
Copious substance.
Im a glutton when I feed.
I would give anything to be basic!
I would give anything to erase it!
This twisted mind is my gift.
Still it warps my heart.
Tears it bit by bit.
I feel it as physical pain.
Shakey hand searching in vain.
Sanity sand in cerebral hourglass.
Answer me! How long will this last?!
Broken record of my life.
Deathmarch tune of it's fife.
Calls me from slumber often.
Hoping in time it will soften.
Harsh assault on my senses.
God hated me enough to give this sentence.
I'll see him someday.
I have a few things to say.
Why was this spell cast upon me!?
Too much for any brain to see!
My central motor runs too fast!
How long can the hardrive last?!
Sometimes I think of my creator.
A hand deserving a slap!
Made a creature crave love and calm.
You loaded him with a confusing psalm.
Pulled from the inside out.
To many directions to account.
Sleeplesly I suffer at night!
I weep!...enduring the blight.
Panic stricken I'm too full!
Why can't my life be more dull?!
Why can't the thoughts be culled?!
Everything is overly mulled!
I just want to rest and find respite.
I'm too tired to put up a fight.
Give me slumber, its not fair!
Show me, god, that you even care!
I feel wind scattered.
Its never really mattered.
I sullenly sit completely shattered.
This is my life's chatter.
Often this feeling makes me feel crazy!
Respect me the truth! 
Why and for what did you design me!?
Answer me!
Where is the key!
You gave me this foreign map.
I can't read it!
My mind slips darkly,
And I dont even know how to bereave it.
So I stumble on.
Sanity taking hit after hit.
Either you're dead or you don't see.
Pretty lame product,
For such an exorbitant fee.
I guess it will run it's course.
My manic mind tortures 
with extraordinary force.
You left me again, on my own!
...........Maybe you're not there.
............You never answer the phone!
Maybe, I speak to the air.
I guess we all live and die...
having existed...
.......quite alone.

-Angel Fatale-
© Ryan Tyler  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Jealous, Jealous, Jealous

Jealous, Jealous, Jealous

The swiftness of the Vessa just killed me, 
That speed and the grandeur of the seat, 
The frame’s shine and the four wheels free, 
The maroon leather upholstery neat. 

The diagonal pattern on the seat and back, 
Which made diamond shapes all over, 
Reminded me of Pringles golf wear sack, 
That sportsmen buy, their goods designer. 

The prestige of owning one was immense, 
A Vessa with thin black joystick, gray box, 
Orange on/off button for your own sense, 
To use wisely to be the batteries’ prox. 

That privilege, that air that they all held,
Even made their severe disabilities trivial, 
Counted them as people who so gelled, 
With normality, the cool and the convivial. 

I couldn’t walk at all well, sore feet often, 
And in Primary Two asked of my physio, 
That she give me in order to cheer, soften, 
An electric wheelchair for my portfolio. 

I wasn’t asking for a Vessa, not at all, 
Just a Bec, ‘cos that could be anyone’s
They were blue, just for indoors, did stall, 
And there were some just sat there, tuns. 

My feet got sore and I was badly in pain, 
Because mum insisted on Clarks shoes, 
Old fashioned, hard, so I did complain, 
Ås I saw trainers that would fit my toes, 

My mum’s strict faith said no to sense, 
No to love and yes to abuse, I’d loose, 
So I explained to my physio, no nonsense, 
That Christianity meant my pain, choose. 

My mum thought trainers were worldly, 
Demonic, non-Christian, rough and sinful, 
But I didn’t know my credibility fully, 
And so my physio said no more mouthful. 

I knew it would’ve given me a life, 
A mouth, a mode that could let me talk, 
‘Cos I couldn’t talk and walk, my strife,
Together, simultaneously, talk and walk. 

So at school I was always jealous, 
Of those with a Vessa who got respect, 
From every staff member zealous, 
To enhance their freedom prospect. 

I got my Vessa at university, shiney, 
But I saw it rationally and with thought, 
Understood something had blatantly, 
Gone wrong, since it I’d only just bought. 

But I appreciated my Vessa so much, 
At Uni, no-one knew the status or fuss, 
That’d been attached to it, not to touch, 
At my special school, uh ha, for all of us.
Form: Quatrain

The Lady Flies From the Ocean To Return a River

In her slippery salmon swim
    And red streaked Crawdads chute
    Into her eddying pools
    To stare at her from beneath rocks.
    Whitewater rapids challenge men
    To stand against her torrential frame
    And face her, screaming out in pain
    Torturous centuries of ecstatic rain
    To be her solitary stone
    To stand against her all alone
    A true man to soften her cold soul.
    And who’ll be her Reigning Lord
    Echo her insanity
    To lover her shade and slippery slopes
    Crevices’ waiting, sharp inclines.
    Once a current in the sea
    So filled with green and mystery
    To her a man did rarely come
    Then, pulled up by curious shapes
    Like lambs, in white puffs she flew
    And traced her shadow cross the land
    Till the puffs released her soul
    In little flakes, gentle and slow
    For a time entombed in frozen snow.

    There men saw her as a sprite
    Reflected in her cage of white
    Men chased her form of watery light
    In dreams that came hard in the night
    Her body lucid, long and lean
    A cold corpse, frozen to the earth
    Blue hair, bent arm, frozen knee
    The sun took pity, broke the back
    Of the ice block and set her free
    So through high mountains, cliffs
    And rocks she trickled
    In a gathering streams, in rivulets
    Of tears, mouths open
    Her bosomed skin slipped as ice
    Pain built up the rage within
    And sorrow brought it to the light.
    Green – the color of fast and deep
    White – the foam that came in waves
    Along the long and joyous vein
    She spreads her long body
    Knee bent, her heavy breasts pinned
    Blasted, rippled by the wind
    She’s touched only by old earth’s hand
    Its gravity like a naked man
    Basking in her pools
    Her faces and belly ghosting him, a mirror.

    Watch her through the thickening trees
    Her body sliding toward the sea
    A torturous rape, a rapid ride
    For all who’ve hung upon her side
    Hearts pound, as she shrieks and sighs
    With each down stroke a demon dies
    Within the man who’s bourn the pain
    Endured her crushing fingers round
    Who’s felt the pound of her breasts soft
    Been beaten by her to the blood
    And awaits for centuries her cold flood.

The Askance Chapter 3 Part 6c

Your faith for the greater good has cease its dawning
Self-loathing in one’s destiny isn’t to be for your path’s bidding
So much more must you endure, am you to fully understand
Death to every a soul is a must for sacrifice to justly apprehend
Compassion, pity and even love must you learn to dispel
For these only belong the emotions of the weak to welcome Hell
Heed the need of my words should one day your mortal heart be soften
To be manipulated easily would be from the cause of these depressions
Therefore, I give to you this amulet, marking your destiny
Seek its true wisdom and in war will all simply be tranquility
Though this battle may have separated you from Alkaiya
Your fate is bound in time to meet her once more from afar
Return now my Knight, into The Ancients and face your fate
To truly be The Knight of the Word, lies a lifetime more to await”

{From whence he awoke, the amulet then lies in his hands
Where of power he sees in the amulet, might he seek to lend?
Without Alkaiya’s healing ability, he struggled onto his feet
Traveling through a day without aid from no one to seek
Though of the amulet on his neck, it withdrew but nothing more
Not of knowledge either for his near dying soul to call for
Till finally, onto an ageless tree he encountered to stumble upon
And into a dreamless dream he can only surrender and slumber Along}

“It was several days after before I am finally to see the light
What of miracles to have assisted me through those quiet nights?
And a single feather there lay beside from where I awoke
A finest of feather to once more assure there exist still of hope
Decidedly, I am to remain a while longer upon this sacred ground
To recover perhaps the lost of faith and of tranquility to be found
By the waterfall is where Ei-rian found thy loathing soul
A broken destiny in disguise, to finally learn of each destine role
Remember well, Knight of the Word… the cause of disruption
Nothing is ever the real truth beyond a mortal’s reason
And as for the amulet you behold, is imbue of my spirit
Should my aid be required, you are simply to will it
Of lives lost and found, of souls broken within
May tranquility come to you beyond The Ancient’s dream”
© Joel Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Midnight Summers Eve Kiss

My dreams were that of nothing but your kiss.
A lingering essence soothing frayed edges of my heart.
Heaven couldn’t breach the wonder of your touching
hands. They tickle memories invoked by the scent of your breath
against my cheek. This is but the taste I crave every night, every time
I feel days too long since you’ve returned the other half of my soul.

The awe and wonder will never cease, mated souls
Destiny declared to me, that our love and fated kiss
could bring forth in our lives eternities timeless 
bliss. I never knew that which seemed to be a heartless
world would provide a love that would become my very breath;
for surely I would die each night if I couldn’t wake and touch

your beautiful lips. For they are but the substance that touches
me to this world. They spew forth the nectar that feeds my soul.
With you I am Queen Nivea, crowned in baby’s breath
about my brow. A midnight summer's eve of magic kissing
the air about our pallet. In sleep I hear our heart
strings shimmering our own melodious melody of half time.

In you arms my slumber is light, every time
you nuzzle my nape, asleep yourself, your touch
stirs my blood from half doze to a stuttered heart
soaring reach. It's the dust of twilight that moves soul 
music through our heated blood. Your fluttered kisses
wafts into this hot dream to wake me with a fairies breath

riding my senses like white fire. Though our breathing
may be labored, this is not a frenzied moment, languish in time
and savor the bouquet of miracles brushing your moon kissed
back. Miracle that you are the only one who could soften my touch
from the warrior I tried to be. You alone brought life to a soulless
husk;  the balm and solvent that softened my calloused heart. 

Now fully aware I reach to find your heart
beat, and find it shuddering to the pace of my breath.
Caress the plane of my face and nape as our souls
unite. Whisper the language of lovers every time.
Just never stop this Shakespearean dream touched
eve, our very reality exist based on this kiss.

Though our hearts beat in all consuming time,
your the force of my breath. You are my grace touched
body of life, my soul, who feeds this void with a kiss.
Form: Sestina

Fluffy

My dear friend.

The first time we met,
as I held a door open for her stride,
I saw not the eye's image, not yet;
I glimpsed, outwardly, her beauty inside.

I did a double take at that smile,
heard her thanks and silently rejoiced;
her normal visage I saw, after a while,
and 'til now this thought I had not voiced.

We walked inside, and with so many others
we covered that room in song.
Unfamiliar, not yet in practice brothers,
nonetheless not a thing could any find wrong.

Music quickly became our bond,
leading to so much more.
Of her humor and spark, I am quite fond,
life near her never close to a bore.

With the clarinet she made art,
but too, just so with her hands;
the lady with the large heart
your attention her muse commands.

She's told me of despair complete,
of feeling all hope, at times, gone.
She found a way to fight, compete;
to win out to a new dawn.

Faint of heart, weak of gut,
none can accuse her of having been -
we've discussed disease, pain, smut,
her sensibilities speaking falsely of sin.

For in her I can detect none,
one just wanting to forgive, smile and laugh.
I often help her get the latter done,
both drinking deeply from friendship's carafe.

Once so long ago, for so short a time,
we were somewhat more than friends,
kisses and walks shared in a courtier's clime;
never been strained since - just the way life wends.

Then, thousands of miles apart,
we talked not quite so often;
then, difficulties pierced her heart,
my words the blows to soften.

Still she's suffering, sadly,
still she's stuck sorrowed;
yet some small slice of it I have to see gladly -
at least that it's my solace she's borrowed.

For she's recovering some of my sanity,
giving me that much more connection to home -
to the therein found sample of humanity
that's solemn upon seeing me roam.

Just today, she's helped me all anew,
drawing the weeping wolf, in exchange for this -
envisioning what will be my new tattoo,
a new mark on the flesh, to reminisce.

No matter what trials befall her in this life,
she simply must know that she's never alone;
during the tribulations and strife,
she just has to pick up the phone.

My dear friend.
Form: Rhyme

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