Long Straps Poems
Long Straps Poems. Below are the most popular long Straps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Straps poems by poem length and keyword.
I feel unease, when trees creek so
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
As wind chimes chatter to and fro
From dusk till dawn my nerves do seize
(Alone with only mirrored thoughts)
When trees creek so, I feel unease
Strange things I see, when darkness falls
(Reflecting all that softly weep)
Soft shadows dancing down the halls
Translucent specters watching me
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
When darkness falls, strange things I see
At night alone, my thoughts do stray
(Exposing fears that silence reaps)
Splintered memories, barbed and splayed
So many voices – most my own
(A splintered plank, now blindly walked)
My thoughts do stray, at night alone
The white coats come, when daylight breaks
(The stillest slice of night cuts deep)
The blue pill helps reduce the shakes
First eyes are checked, then straps undone
(Alone with only mirrored thoughts)
When daylight breaks, the white coats come
David Mohn
Poem 1 – Alone at Night - 28 Feb 2014 (Swap Quatrain)
Poem 2 – Gloamings’s Razor – 09 Aug 2014 (Triolet)
Craig Cornish Intermingle Contest
The young generation shouts
“we don’t have a navel because we are descended from above.”
We have no way to measure their eccentric conduct
with an ordinary scale, they drink water from a toilet bowl,
they step on a wall to urinate face down and nibble their own flesh burnt under the scorching sun,
they shout mother down
who watches them worrisomely with great care;
they set against their father who reproves their mischievous behavior.
However, the sisters of those audacious rascals have navels,
they wear sleeveless slip-ons because they cannot afford
neither sleeves nor shoulder straps,
their lower garments are time worn jeans
the miners discarded,
its lower parts are gone above the knees
and holes here and there.
They stroll the shopping mall licking ice cream
swaying from left to right and right to left
exposing their navels. The rascals wowed
peeping at their navels, they jump out from the alleys
and admire their sisters’ graceful walking figure;
then, they say “if I have a navel,
I should have a home to return like the others,”
though they always assert uglier is fairer
and crooked is straight.
I suppose probably they have a body temperature
like all others, you and me.
BDSM Sensual
_________________________________
Straps and paddles too,
what's a girl to do
handcuffs to tie me up
shall we try something new?
I am in need of liquid libation,
but I was taught to please
I close my eyes and clench my thighs
down on bended knees.
Master is the name rightfully spoke,
With a capitalized letter first
to feel the thorn of a Masters scorn
is ultimately the worst.
Little slave you will learn,
you gave yourself to me
what's divine, is only mine
and one day soon you'll see.
We are taught to respect the Free,
and a Mistress is the same
she shows love, with rod and glove
on whomever she does reign.
But you put your trust into them,
because they're supposed to care
if they're good, they do as they should
and will treat you fair.
Sexy as the BDSM world might sound,
people live it day to day
what has begun, as only fun
might carry you away.
There is a world of Gor,
I have RP'd online
all their rules, and guilded tools
might not fit your design.
I have tried both worlds,
online it is safer to try
use your mind, it's your first time
just open up and fly.
It really can be sensual,
erotic more than ten
once introduced, I was seduced
into this world of sin.
Captivated by its freedom,
I had to take a break
but just one day, again I will play
in sinful fun, I will partake.
8/19/14- Jessica Thompson
Missirio Mannex Milton
" the best ever"
And
"The FargoCity Groove"
Stamble Prancer
Verses
" Mondaynight" Mr. Embry Chirro
And
The World Famous
Trimble " The Trubalyst" Stallfoux
Ended in a double d'q
When " Discuss " Mach Bissey interfered
Pummeling both members of both teams
With a folding chair.
"The master of the Simion Suouxpli "
Dizzy Kettlier Shumlaumb
Out wrested
Naff Daun Rico
In a 20 minute spectacle
Prettier Dungledant faced Theniss Love
In a one on one
Classic
Resulting in a pinfall
By Love at 37:59
"The Hilltop Heavyweight" and The Narrowminded Fool
Battled
Shines Cupid and Whatta Mann Warwick
In a Cattle Cove Strap match
Both teams agreed to wear the straps around the waist
It ended with the Hilltop Heavyweight splashing
Shine Cupid for the victory.
Big Basketball and Denzy Valintino
Provided the entertainment
In a fysta_fall submission match
Validation used a Doormens Clasp
To gain victory
World Champion
" Her Next Man" Oscar Hoowittiz
Faced
" The Grimmy Gritt"
Danny Bob Van Winkle
They grappled like amateurs
Until Grimmy started using
A lacker_side headlock
Which the World champion
Escaped with a side sulto
Followed by a crushing leg drip
That allowed the champion
To attempt a pin
At 22:22 Grimmy sought
Offense following
A failed clothesline attempt
In the corner caught the Champ off track
And was able to follow up
With a duplex
A regular duplex made
Grammy
The World Champion
The fans started cheering
Grimmy he grabbed the
Microphone
And started saying
"Stop liking me"!
Hand on the leather,
I held on for the bell,
Sure it was a winner.
I was riding so well,
But then the bull threw me;
Introduced me to the dirt.
Hell, I only broke my shoulder, mama,
How bad can it hurt?
No, I’m not sleeping.
I’m just resting my eyes.
Got that last nail hammered
Though it took me twelve tries.
It took me one dozen
‘cause I wasn’t too alert.
But I still got one good thumb, so mama,
How bad can it hurt?
Pass me the garlic salt,
The horseradish, too.
Need more habañero
In this hot pepper stew.
I’ll have the rock candy
Flaming brandy for dessert.
Don’t you worry ‘bout my ulcer, mama,
How bad can it hurt?
Walked into The Penny,
I was feelin’ all right.
Hadn’t drunk my first
Before I got in a fight.
I caught the backcountry
Sucker punch he slyly threw.
I only let him punch me once, and mama,
That didn’t hurt, too.
I know a woman
Who’s at war with the world.
Tell her that she’s cute,
It’s like the gauntlet’s been hurled.
She uses brass knuckles,
Straps, and buckles when she flirts.
Likes to kick me when I’m down, but mama,
How bad can it hurt?
Paint me a picture, darlin’,
Show me a sign.
Are ya really leavin’ me,
Or are ya still mine?
Ya got some hot bacon
Shakin’ underneath your skirt.
I’m gonna miss you when you go, but mama,
How bad can it hurt?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The conductor’s call lingers~
the train’s smoke and steam dissolve.
Somewhere, a suitcase clicks shut~
finality in the sound of leather straps.
Viewed through smudged glass,
the world blurs into watercolor:
gas stations with their winged signs,
a lone boy waving from a bicycle
that will rust by summer’s end.
We press our foreheads
to the glass, watching telephone poles
stutter past like film reel frames~
each one a flickering second
gone before we can name it.
We pass a field where horses
stand like forgotten statues.
Their shadows stretch long
across the stubble,
as if trying to catch us.
Walking towards the dining car
we pass a woman in a pillbox hat~
she folds her gloves into her lap,
staring at the ghost of her reflection
as it floats over picked cotton fields.
We smell burnt toast
and something sweet~
maybe pie.
Wearing a rumpled suit, a man
stirs sugar into his cup,
counting the spoon’s lazy circles
like a prayer..
Dusk arrives. Lamps flicker on,
casting long shadows
that stretch across the aisle
like memories too thin to hold.
Some rides never end.
They just grow quieter,
carriages emptying
until it’s only you
and the rhythm of the rails
counting down the miles,
remembering….
You may read the related memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/all_aboard_13601
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” - Khalil Gibran
I am a delicate deck of cards,
alabaster roots, tossed
across time’s yard
from foolish patterns
of poker promises,
like the days
when scorching summer
was an ace of solstices.
You’ll find my name
in numbers where
the perfumed forget-me-nots
in pressed pages slumber;
defined as the black hearted
queen of blood diamonds,
soaked in vintage
murdered lies-
fallen angels, singing
solitaire’s sorrowful sirens.
For I have long earned
the straps
within mystical corners,
crumpled, placed
to breathe in a crystal coffin
with no escape,
and no mourners.
Yet the moon subtly smiles-
at our sin, through
rose-colored everything.
And I swim
in my own darkness, wading
through wet waves
of black spades,
washing wounds
in the nothingness,
crashing unto gates
as heavy as
a raven’s wing,
whilst I’m clawed
and transformed
under betrayal’s sting.
So take my scars
as an offering,
feeding the knotty cracks
in our foundation, paper thin;
there’s nothing left
to take, or give in
this facade we maintain
of this kingdom
of an immortal harlequin.
Your like my backpack
So heavy and stiff
Do you ever get tired of carrying that sack around?
It's heavier than mine
Except i can't see it
No one can
No one even knows it's there
To be honest i don't think that anyone else really cares
Does it bother you that heavy thing on your back
Or do you just hope that they can't see it
As you hunch over trying to look relaxed
Man, that backpack
All covered in black
Pockets in the front and the back
A big old backpack
You try to get rid if it
I watch you fight with it everyday
But it doesn't go away?
It just sits there
In dismay
Just like you
Except it doesn't want to get rid of the pain that it causes
You toss and you turn through the hallways
Hoping to be ignored
But that backpack is up to no good
It's a menace
It makes you frown
And feel like everything in your life is going down
I have the same backpack
Except yours is a lot bigger than mine
Bigger pockets
Thicker straps
And a whole lot sturdier
But I'm glad that i don't have that backpack of yours
Having to carry around all that bagage
Having it control your every move
Make all of your decisions
Control your life
Uh, that's some backpack
Holding all that stuff inside
Trying to look put together on the outside
But as soon as you open it up
SWOOSH!
A mess of papers and pens fall out
Everywhere
Stack a block upon a block, you need no reason why
Keep on stacking blocks on blocks until they reach the sky
When they reach above your head they’ll seem so very high
But if they topple over there will be no need to cry
Just stack a block upon a block to have another go
But stack them up more carefully and stack them up real slow
And when you stack them higher than they were before, you’ll know
That every time you try again your confidence will grow
So stack a block upon a block, make sure it won’t collapse
Don’t use cement nor sticky tape, don’t use securing straps
Just keep on stacking blocks on blocks and if there’s no mishaps
This time they may well reach the sky, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
The boot is passed around -
You’ve seen it
walking into buildings
Don’t steal it
You don’t want it
Who wants the boot
…say boooooo
Contraption traps
my leg, ankle, foot
The pressure
infused
Straps look better
on my sandals
Release…release…release
then the feet recline -
as they tool around
grinding, spreading
cracking my smile
can’t even frown
moving tongue
left, left, left
don’t want to bite it
heard the bloody stories
made it out the door
put the boot on
reclining
wining
in a good way
staying cool for
three or four
weeks
I jest:
They gave me the boot
holidays should be fine
if I walk the walk