Long Sough Poems
Long Sough Poems. Below are the most popular long Sough by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sough poems by poem length and keyword.
I wonder how it whips the zephyrs that flee
In a churlish yet blissful den
Throttling though the gushing of glee
And seized a million mirth like a wee ben?
I wonder how the flowers bloom
In a precise moment of a single day
Glaring it's beauty to the groom
Whom she pleased all the way?
I wonder how a tyke titillating
In a shallow way of enjoyment
As nobody could cling
Even for just a moment?
And how I wonder to a damsel in distress
Who trapped into peril
But a knight in shinin' armour caress
Rescuing decisively with a thrill?
I feel the zippy breeze of cold December
Creeping up to my veins the sensation
Why thee to remember,
Yuletide season with applause fascination?
Aristocrat, oh my dearly!
Amending my appetite of love
Trampled my primitive sanctuary
And animate me like a dove?
My glistening eyes on you
Gnawing the fear deep within
My coy heart sough,
You're my inspiration in this domain.
Amid the abyss that divides us
With your finicky type,
And vile manner you showed
I grope but a love without gyp.
As a college student I'm old enough
To spill out one word as I vow
You build me authentically tough
Tossing the allurements that sow.
Murmur of my voice you listen!
Come to my dale words of word
In my studies you are my inspiration
The Romeo that dispense my world.
Since my muse left me, I wonder how
Was a young crow born with a weird sough
Or maybe it’s fear that causes this outcry
Such unusual tones, I give a melancholy sigh
The dove's soft coo, still a gentle touch
Awakens me with the coos of hatched clutch
Morn’s promise fulfilled, a new dawn’s birth
As sun rays’ fingers, reach through cloudy mirth
Streaked skies, a canvas painted gray,
Reflecting the mood of this poet's day,
The world is awakened with a gentle start
How, oh how, could it mend my heart
That crow's weird voice, a haunting sound,
Echoes through, the morning's hallowed ground,
A reminder of what once was true,
A love that's lost, and a heart that's blue.
The dove's coo, a soothing melody,
A balm for my soul that's lost its harmony,
The sun's warm touch, a gentle breeze,
A comfort, that my heart can't seize.
which nights of lovers are we?
that these days are
restorations of days past
then we relate as people to be lovers
to be loved and in love that
we might see nights where we
create the necessities of tomorrow
for those we will procreate to have
then as now
those days are gone
gone forever and ever
might tomorrow they be stories
to tell the people
who will listen to them
then will she make strange those nights with others
that those who wish to control tomorrow will
side with these strangers
to separate and conquer a world that they wish to rule over
they stand in the dust and are clean
they have nothing but are rich
they read not are smart
they speak of things they know thing about and are wise
this is what musca told lepus
andorion listened and overheard.
he sough food and became rich with
gossip.
he shall spend his wealth
to make troubles for those he wishes to be opposed.
Around the Hills of Malvern now..Desecration takes place.'
Let me inform all how.' Where Elgars body has rested long
And Tolkien and Lewis did ramble in song.' all of these
Three historical giants, drew breath and inspiration none
Can deny it, seeds of thought in Lewis's mind grew into
Enchanted forests even braille did find it. And shared to
The world by many houses, published gems given to milions of children my imagination it rouses.' Gondor of
Middle earth from these hills Tolkien drew' its white walls
And turrets and hidden gardens shone through.' And Elgar twined the
Sough of its breeze.' The lambence of light in tones to
Please.' To refresh the spirits to inform the ears.' That grace
And beauty are to be played despite dread or fear.' In the face of
Hitler they were rehersed.' Indomitable riposte to wagners
Stuka played curse.' And now the enemy in different form
Under the cloak of green climate' snorts and paws cash
From rate payers is being put to miss-use..Same old trope
Of miss-infomation is now in use a commitie starved down
From twenty eight to six.!! Consolidating power the usual
Tricks.' Now two hundred new houses have been allowed
Concrete scars will be in situ where once fields were plowed.' Sacrilige plain in your face, ok'd by cronies yet
There is video trace.' I raise my eyes to Malverns hills I
Raise my pen, would it had quill.' I would despatch it to pierce the evil soul, of this cold committe let it be told.'
May litratures warriors get to the fire.' Email Malvern council the 'need is sore' let them know of the poets ire the
Revenge merits to be meted.' Justice must be requited.'
From beneath a veil,
A shroud itself hidden,
Anonymity It's masquerade.
Tired secrets languish,
Benighted by nature,
Emerald, to pale green and white, from jade.
A sough in the head,
Of their tepid maker,
Whispers nothing, wholly unaware.
Crafty camouflage,
For the crafter of secrets,
Who never knew they were there.
The irony aroma,
Stagnant blood without pressure,
Metallic, unmoved, unaffected.
Averse to sense,
Illusory marionette's,
Clear strings, turbid skeins undetected.
And the irony lies,
With an off thirst disguised,
By the growing pines of set minds thought unique.
And as trite as the urges,
Desperate purges,
Like mewls of the sheep seeking shade from critique.
The calling gull leaves her nest
her wild magic cleaves the nimbus.
An avian aerialist suspended aloft
she sails on tapered feathers of cirrus silk,
ruffled sea breeze ironed ‘neath her lustrous wings.
A wind witch, she defies and defines the w-i-n-d…
a weaver of worlds, knotting strings of stories as one wampum belt
in union with the sea’s connection to land and air.
She steals the sough from the surf and the sigh from my sinew;
my guide to a mindful haven. This nurture-maven
glides among bouquets of pink-peony-cumulus.
She; my blue-sky-muse in celebration!
She; my compass rose, mediates my meditation.
I unfurl fresh wings, a night-to-day tern, and claim my turn with the wind
no longer a granite stone asleep on sand. I soar
from the glacial-age strand and lift through fog.. brief my tryst
with mist. Eyes blessed by the crest of a humpback’s breach.
I distill myself, my will; a droplet, tear, a sphere free of guise.
An ascendant of moon-magnet tides yet a descendant
from stratus to stratum, I settle upon the cliffs along the coast
in union with my soul’s connection to body and breath.
In the cup of my hands I hold the sun and drink its yolk,
white-cap breakers below chant a soluble sonnet.
From my inner dark, a flint-spark flares as I find what I lost.
My heart, a wild cranberry, reborn from the womb of dawn.
I inhale the moment. Red clay cliffs, lifeblood, fire-skies merge.
Windswept pitch pines croon as I grow roots for my tabernacle,
cosmic beams stream through stained-glass-eyes.
The calling gull rests. A distant, silent witness to my quest.
My pulse a psalm as I emerge; a cathedral lit by sunrise.
Six steeple towers, cold as steel, drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
Coiled candle sticks! Their twisted wicks no longer 'lume the cracks
with dying flame, subdued and tame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
since deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.
Above! The dismal ditch of dusk reveals a velvet streak,
through which the winter’s wicked winds will sometimes weave and sneak,
and faraway a cable sways, a bridge clings hushed and bleak.
Thin shadows shift, like silver shafts, across the cruel moraine
reflecting white a wisp of light in ebon beads of bane
which casts a crooked smile across a faceless window pane.
Wan neon lights glow through the nights, through darkness sleek as slate,
while lanterns (hovered, high above, in lurid swinging gait),
haunt ballrooms, bars and bare bazaars, though no one's there to fete.
The souls who come with jagged tongue won't sing a silent psalm,
nor paint pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm,
nor yet redress the emptiness that shifting shades embalm –
they've seen, you see, life’s brevity, and face it with aplomb.
She hears herself
in the distance
confess to undying love.
So out of touch
with loyal love to self.
The unholy ghost of him
demystified in mid-urn.
He is neither near, nor far.
No grave in which to turn
in rage, even if he could.
So much was left behind
in dust to dust return to earth,
White lies, black lies
to grey ashes burnt.
The Love Demon left
a twisting paper trail
behind
his telling tales...
As he took leave for good
of all his human senses,
Truth time travels out of reach.
A senseless sough
of dying sounds
wreaths potpourri
memoirs of thoughts
that linger around...
Scented and impure.
Neither here nor there,
he left her at once.
Bloody sighs cut off words
reverse from throat -
backed out into a world
that didn't care.
And still she wonders why
she has to remember
the good times.
In silence.
And in the loud sounds
of betrayal,
She silently cries...
Again.
Aqua Marine September 2024.
Night Fantasies - As moonlight blankets us in passion
Crystallized moon beams
Fractured light of endless desire
Shimmer around you as our eyes meet
Beneath a canopy of hazy luminance
Pearl buttons glisten as fingers touch
Your smile grants permission
Leaving me breathless
Serenity of the night serenades
Our hearts beat in silent yearnings
Lips find your flesh pure
Your neck sweet of perfumed nectar
A sultry sigh floats wispily to the misty heavens
As we sit entwined neath barren branch silhouettes
Exploring each other amidst swirling winds
A foggy shroud lingers silently
Desolate this rendezvous, hidden hillside
Your dark cloak drapes me, floating quietly
Mysterious against this crushed velvet sky
As beauty falls like summer rain,
Drenching my sight with you
Entering the realm of my longings
A full moon stares down
Happily enchanted by our movements
As the slumbering horizon beckons
And still I gaze upward at your charm
“I love you” I sough, feeling every pulsation of affection
Blissfully seeking the depth of the evening
You peer down through hypnotic lashes
Harmonic moans sing in a sensual duet
Echoing through tree lined shadows
Increasing in tempo, you fall to my lips
Tongues dance to the melodic rapture
Fevered vibrations rhythmically sway
Clutching my arms, arching auras lift
Your hair like chocolate ribbons flowing
A shooting star trails your breathless sighs
Euphoric fuses ignite within, exploding
Illuminating your smile, your face
I rush to meet you, simultaneous sensations
Quivering stardust ecstasy shines
Collapsing into my loving arms
As moonlight blankets us in passion
Written for the Night Fantasies poetry contest
Inspired by the top photo on the contest page
Sponsored by Mystic Rose
Good Night Soupers
little
snake
…sough to give hugs…
but no one would accept:
although
his
heart
was
full
of
love
and
he
had
a
free
spirit
little
snake
hugs
were
not
to
b