Long Squeeze Poems
Long Squeeze Poems. Below are the most popular long Squeeze by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squeeze poems by poem length and keyword.
24/7 round the clock coronavirus (COVID-19) coverage
Strong armed marshall law decrees
(at a buoy good gull... lance)
across airwaves blare
constant detrimental exhortation
buzzfeeding populace analogous
to pollination instinctively
wrought courtesy bumblebees
to help combat
mortal pandemic disease
explaining governmental freeze
industries shuttered just ask jeeves
who will corroborate
deadly symptoms characterized
by severe chills inducing knocked knees
stricken unfortunate victim
beseeches with plaintive pleas
as their feverish body temperature
surpasses bajillion degrees
innoculation looms closer on horizon
as fatigued learned scientists squeeze
every detail how coronavirus (COVID-19)
transmitted, disseminated, contracted...
moost definite deadly germs spread,
when one and/or individual doth sneeze,
meanwhile palliative care workers seize
every opportunity to appease
tortured souls (suffering
worse fate than death),
plus plumb depths how said microbes'
molecular and/or atomic biochemical keys
activate, integrate, propagate...
painstaking labor to scrutinize and tease
burning midnight oil exhaustive energies
altruistic individuals ofttimes sustaining
their weary lovely bones
with crackers and cheese
moost likely forgoing adequate sustenance
also robbing sleep slowly
transforming them into zombies
apropos trailing appellation
describing unnaturally surreal spooky
haunting spectre as people
perish in twos and threes
mystery if initial epicenter
pinpointed among Chinese,
or perpetrated (my hunch) perhaps by aliens
slightly resembling infinitesimal
peace loving groovy hippies
pervasive during nineteen sixties.
Quarantine a dolt
Matthew Scott Harris got nowhere to bolt!
My shower last Saturday
Brought throbbing pain to my day
The soap made me slip
Got bruised on my hip
My ribs might be cracked they say
It hurts when I breathe or sneeze
Or if you give me a squeeze
The good times are gone
And so is the fun
My life’s no longer a breeze
The pain is constantly there
Even when I comb my hair
Hygiene’s getting tough
So is “other” stuff
I’ve become a hairy bear
I wince with the jabbing pain
It’s sure to drive me insane
I can’t sit or stand
Need a helping hand
My bathroom trips are a drain!
My ribs reminds me of you
For no matter what I do
Your smile pokes me here
Your touch jabs me there
But your pain’s sweet.... through and through
Under the Lampshades
You are hurriedly racing your crazy Cadillac,
looking to squeeze in more time at the yoga salon,
and have a relaxing conversation under a set of palm trees out back,
with sandwiches of desire mixed with sardines and mustard;
this person you are racing to is the one
who knows the right buttons to push.
Is it time for another epoch of stranded conveniences,
required by society as solemnly as a funeral with no body?
We know there is a hidden pain not felt,
not until a rain of shredding years find their progressions captured,
inside old rooms down hallways of musty time,
with apparitions of giggling girls walking back and forth,
looking for aroused embraces in the burning night,
Come with me now, is there no time for lazy hours under lampshades,
after we gather up red nectarines at the Uptown faire?
We can gaze at the old faces and wonder if they knew anything.
But inside this 1956 Cadillac we all knew where the flashlights were hidden,
And we all knew where the silver keys to the pink hearse were located.
Shh, don’t make a sound! Try not to make a clamor within these green tiles.
There are witch hazel bottles half full in the medicine cabinets, and
There are asbestos catchings in the dry rot, and ancient cobwebs made of beard,
Collapsing here with us in this dead basement of cement and lost whispers.
Shhh, she is tiptoeing down the creaky steps now wearing brown skin;
My breath is taken away as with all spirits ascending upward face-first.
You rang…illumination of bittersweet passion.
My facial vitality warmed by the welcoming awakening.
My eyes become as stars linked together with humanity
The balm of a new day.
At day’s end
the jigsaw of twilight, jolted by the multitudinous explosion
of magenta, violet and crimson. I squeeze my love’s hand.
An euphoric inhale of impending rest; not inert but fullness.
Coloriffic breast to lie upon. Seeping hues choose all of us
in its reveal. Do we choose to look up or close the shades?
Do we then complain, we’ve no beauty in our pain?
Be jolted by twilight, not champagne nor caffeinated seeds.
Come alive as the night tucks you in, serene. Sense
God’s presence in your storm - His riveting resonance.
It is the storm that we brave when there is no sight to see.
But that of your beauty that I strive for when I live this life in despair.
It is there my heart soars is where the eagle is.
Way up yonder in the blue skies of heavens grace.
There my soul laids deep in a love of wonders and maze.
That of an angel to which darkens my door steps.
Not with death does she bring but that of my heart she holds there.
It is with love I have lost myself as I search to find again.
But there you shine a light brighter then the moon itself.
As I see a star shine through them cloudy days.
Just knowing you are there and we share the greatest thing of all.
And that is the love of two hearts desire.
That it is there I breathe the air of my breath as my love is that of an undying one.
As you squeeze my heart to which you hold and keeps me pushing for more.
As I find myself loving you more with the words that cut so deeply.
It is there it bleeds for you and the way you care for one.
That it isn't just your beauty I crave but that of your love I so desire to have.
That of an angel with so much love that I have fallen to one knee and prayed.
For God to give my heart with sweet love of devotion and you never to leave my side until
our dyeing day.
For there you have my heart, so be careful not to squeeze too hard.
Because it is fragile and doesn't take much to shatter.
As I can just feel your hands laid upon my chest as every beat it feels you are there.
With great love I send a kiss to you that it may hit you square on the lips.
But with that of a gentle but soft touch it carries a love so true and dear.
For it is there my world is bright and snow lay.
As I have found a snow angel of heaven best but with love and beauty she portrays.
March month comforter
over-selling relief
in quilted layers of change
her blue flush of tears
takes on a restless hue
when flooding news scatters
when winter's white edges zig zag to ruin
in blustery days that will shift to neon
in a squeeze of expectation
when blowing winds a springtime brings
buds of vain advantage
growth on the brink of open
a cameo appearance
that hope will ripen onto
Poem written January 9/2022
(Revised January 24/22)
I stand naked by the mirror
Looking at myself
I look like ummm
Something off a dusty shelf
My ribs stick out
You could play them like a harp
And my eyes bulge out my head
Like a half squeezed Chihuahua pup
My legs they call them lucky
They like two fighting swords
I have the knack of amusing people
With them I even won awards
Now my wife is a total contrast
She’s short, fat and round
It takes me three hours to spread the fake tan
But she still comes out unevenly browned
Just the other day I thought
She threw the duvet over me
But when I opened one eye
I saw it was a crusty bikini
I love to watch her dressing
It makes me shake at the knees
I feel like grabbing a handful of ripples
And give them a gentle squeeze
Driving the car is a challenge
Her ripples stop me changing the gear
And when we walk down the street
We look like a shield with a skinny spear
But to her I’m her half finished pepperoni
To me she’s my fluffy bread bun
We always do things together
I’m telling you, we have so much fun
And now I would like to announce
The arrival of baby number seven
We may seem like the oddest couple
But it’s a match made in heaven.
Working Long Hours
Glasses long since full
Relaxed mist evokes wooing words
Yet conversation and atmosphere still are dull.
The four on stools-not vagrants and not lords
The common face of easing pain
They sit and smoke, smiles shown
As if to verify the swelling in their veins
Night closes, we leave completely alone
Picture on Hand
I, placed in precarious positions
Do put there you too
Opposite
Apart and Difference; acceptable,
in equation. Of sun and moon yet,
not so. For absence troubles me.
The Prestigious Lawyer and his Car on Vacation
A forest of trees
A graveyard of innocence
(which ones to cut)
A quick grip and a lotta squeeze
A little water to fuel the rinse
kiss of rose
I have not felt the kiss of rose
Since more a year has passed
Have not time to touch the stars
Having only slow scenic rides
Across the river beaming
Radiantly
On wooden beams
I cry for love
Since more a year has passed
Over
The fisherman’s eyes slowly roll
Across the bounty less communities
A shark to swim far from shore
A shadow-child, to hide
The silently forsaken lurk
Heart bleeds; communication still
Slow to form rivers
Home
Hang me on a sullen Sunday drive
When daddy holds his handkerchief high above my head
I jump squealing with delight
Fear
Forever spinning linen cloth
Little pieces... Not ever!
Held I scissors in hand
Seemed rusted hard to move.
Upon sale only... Cut... and worn!
Ray
Slow starlit regressions
Sudden swirls regret
Raymond run, Friend
White sting in face... heart!
Unblemished cloth unlikely veil
Grand Parent
Mixture of granite and quartz
Braving summer sunshine and arctic snow
Little pieces lay in organized communities
Time has transformed you to a masterpiece
Mother
Beauty like the night time breeze
Softly rustling tree leaves
Perhaps when this tree is grown
I’ll be able to appreciate all the love you’ve shown
~STRIP TEASE~ Featuring:) SKAT
Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
---
Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums,
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen,
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact,
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
By this old desk,
I sit and wait;
In swift thought flash,
New verse now plate.
Words in deep flow,
Thoughts from clear heart;
Mind floods bold show,
Rhymes now jumpstart.
Think upon feel,
Feel between thoughts;
Watch magic heal,
Wordplay tells lots.
I keep still here,
Let verse emerge;
Anchor deep cheer,
Squeeze oozing surge.
Seize thought-form light,
No need for stress;
Words conjure bright,
In swift express.
I need not try,
Watch words now tell;
Deep sigh moves cry,
Voice soul cast spell.
I simply start,
Wait upon feel;
Words can frame art,
Rhymes come to heal.
Each day I sit,
Watch ample flow;
See how soul fits,
Breeze lovely show.
Why do I write?
Verse and lines squeeze,
Cheer primes fine cites,
Sync with heart's breeze.
Leon Enriquez
14 September 2017
Singapore