Long Strictness Poems
Long Strictness Poems. Below are the most popular long Strictness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strictness poems by poem length and keyword.
On meeting ruminants
My mother had tuberculosis, and my sister and older brother
sent to a children's home, where the idea was strictness
My brother didn't come he had an accident with
a hand grenade, he threw, but not far enough ended up
in hospital and later sent to an island breaking stones
in a quarry
My sister and I had gone to a Roma wedding and had been
told not to go to, a real working-class do, the bride was
pregnant in white, with plenty of food, and booze to
Everything began fine music and dance, until a woman
in a jealous rage, tore at the hair of another woman
Other women joined the melee, depending on the family
lines, but soon the men fired up by booze and dance
joined in a mass fighting.
Police were called, they came with batons swinging
when peace ensued the police went back to their
station, no arrest was made
When we got back to the children's home, she went
to the house for girls and I to the house for boys
I sat in the piano room, which had a picture of men with long beards, looking serious when the boss arrived to punish me came in, I threw a vase at him
The next morning, I was sent to a farm to learn how to milk
cows and and an enduring respect for ruminants
is always on my mind, as is their mild nature
I write. That is what I do day and night,
write write write but I like to do it outside the lines,
the curve and the shape and the pattern,
to go against the rules of all poetry!
I let my words fly like the birds above. Free and swirling.
All the twirling words in my head I send whirling . . .
Saying no to metaphors. And all devices that poetry is suppose to need!
I say NO NO and NO . . .
I need to be free to spin and fling my poems.
Here and there. Let them be what they want to be.
Not be chained to a form. To a Rule. To convention.
To not be restrained by meter or syllables or lineage.
Yes, to just be.
Joy is to twist, deform, reverse, go verse crazy and way too long
I will destroy what should be . . . into what I want it to be
_________________________
October 16, 2018
Poetry/Verse/Contra To The Strictness of Form
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1071-794-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Contra
sponsor, Jesse Rowe
Third Place
The ocean speaks in poetry
Syllables slammed into the sand, sounding out the tides
Like a language uttered by ancient beings
Ripples flicker from the shore, forming words that echo in the crash of waves
Cool, blue-green waters contain the sentences of silent love
Even the wind whispers the condemnation of the structured
The forced strictness of the grammatical,
The drumbeat of raindrops are rhythm enough for the surf
A heartbeat wildly stuttering in a dance of speechless beauty
The grand jete of a ballerina stretching for the sun in the crest of a wave
A quest, unstoppable, for a higher power than gravity.
A music beyond silence yet above sound
A fluent fluctuation in the depths of emotion
A soul surrounded by the stranglehold of purpose
Pulled over the edge of reasoning and into an abyss free of thought,
Free from the confines of the chemical, mechanical, mathematical, logical,
Something that defies the dictates of society
Antonyms that reflect the intangible
Sorrowful joy - memories sunk beneath the spindrift
Lonely love - a bond that will never be broken
Contained vastness - like the ocean beating upon the shore
Poetry.
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.
At first, I did once, spending my whole night
Started from the topic I needed to write
Half of pantoum, I dozed off
Felt like floated with the roof
My poem was posted after a week, fight!
All entries were judged after some few months
My poem moved to next page, new poems in front
Mine wasn’t found on the list
After passing judges’ wrist
Whose strictness lied on perfect rhymes and fonts.
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.
Happy birthday to the most handsome, most loving,
and most amazing Papa in the world — no one else but you!
Before anything else, I thank the Almighty Father
for giving me you as my Papa.
You are one of His greatest gifts to me — the reason
I’m here in the Kingdom, the vessel He used
so I could truly know and draw closer to Pastor.
You weren’t just a good father to us — you were a good man.
A man who loved not just with words, but with actions.
Not just in the physical, but most of all, in the spiritual.
You planted seeds of faith in our hearts
even when we were too young to understand.
I still remember what you once told me,
back when I was still in the outhouse —
how your strictness came from love,
because you never wanted to raise children who’d lose their way.
And now I see it clearly, Papa — everything you did
was for our souls. For our future. For us.
Thank you for standing tall when we were weak.
For holding on when we were close to letting go.
You carried the weight of our doubts with unwavering faith,
and that’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.
Thank you, Brother Hugo — for every prayer,
every word of guidance, every silent sacrifice we may never fully know.
Wishing you more birthdays filled with joy, peace, and strength.
Please take care, Papa. Get well soon,
and don’t let any sickness dull your spirit.
We love you so deeply. Happiest birthday once again, Papa — our hero, our guide, our blessing!
Finding myself again on fields of desire,
my soul wrapped up in frenzy's restless fire,
remembering the sweet pleasure of a touch
and the charm of a love sincere and burning much.
I don't want you to chain me down in strictness,
but offer me tenderness and passion in fullness,
for our bodies, mature flames burning through the night,
wake up to pleasure's call like nothing else in sight.
Let them share their ecstasy without condition,
with every touch, every kiss, every soft submission,
for nature blessed us with so many gifts of sense
just waiting to be found and shared in love's intense.
Make every moment a delicate symphony,
where notes of pleasure rise with tender cadency,
and a woman's body, warm and soft and sliding free,
receives your love like velvet melody, not severity.
For in the living details hides the secret of supreme delight,
which few can understand and fewer still can bring to light,
not just a simple act, but symphony of body and of soul,
where pride and selfishness dissolve and tenderness makes us whole.
I speak to you sincerely, for whenever we miss the peak,
the second chance is just a shadow, fading as we seek,
fear overwhelms me, knowing I may never feel again
the highest pleasure loving you, and desire sinks into dark terrain.
If I'm being honest, I would rather not even try,
but let things stay the way they are and just let it lie,
for pleasure is fragile and divine, yet secret in its grace,
and in its loss our souls may scatter without a trace.
Two hearts in an awesome communication
but covered by bodies which are worshipers of denial.
She adores him, he cherishes her
but such feelings are molded into the formality of colleagues.
Excitement, no matter how little, is suppressed,
appreciation rendered from a falling heart but by casual lips;
attraction, pressures the borders of the mind through its swell
but yet restricted by the protective bunkers of pretense.
When the time for absence to ease the saga comes,
anticipation drafts out a time table
for expectation to put every event on alarm
in both souls which cling to the thoughts of the next reunion.
Ego strips to perform a show on affectionate longing;
he becomes the gold standard to her new lifestyle
while she becomes the detergent to which his actions are washed.
Time once again takes a shift from itself,
internal body signals responding to a meeting, soon to occur.
Face to face, the physical acquaintance is once more blessed
but the corresponding fever has now began to snore,
weakening the whiskers of attraction to stay down.
Executive in the outside, voracious in the inside
with longing spirits towards each other
but confined by dramatized strictness.
Static and fixed concentration but away from her from the guy
with concrete rigidity lasting for long-long minutes.
Expert carefulness and planned accuracy in body movements from the lady
with continuous episodes of deep exhales
coming out of tension’s internal burning sticks.
Avoiding each other’s gazes with admiration’s lips tightly sealed
epitomizing an atmosphere of two minds in one likeness,
yet standing as agents of discomfort to each other.
Heat has unnecessarily been added to a delicacy so spicy
and nothing can blow it out unless someone says something.
My soul grasps how to reap life's unique goal.
Style ushered as an epic quest, a stroll
I'm fraught with findings to an ad-hoc probe
Throughout the time frame of our respite roll.
I was spurned by a hodgepodge of light strobe
By then, I knew what direction to throb
A diaphanous shed haunts our capture
In bearing, there is a celestial globe.
It's a matchless range gain from the ledger
Spite the spirit's sharpness, body's rapture
Chiefly have bestowing way, their insight
Dreamer's best stance is his decoy nature
Upon abyss veiled in sheer azure bright
Kernels had been seared by a dreadful blight
The stubborn mindset that stifles their voice
Tethered a faint guide in the shrouded night
Before drowning, our uttermost darkness
Beset by datum, view, knack, and strictness
Our heart's need, masked by a snarling ego
Bold eye buried by a slight abhorrence.
Written: January 19, 2022
Earth Life Purpose poetry contest
Unseeking Seeker
Rediscovering myself in fields of desire,
My soul enveloped in frenzy,
Remembering the sweet pleasure of touch
And the charm of a sincere and fervent love.
I do not wish for you to shackle me in strictness,
But to offer me tenderness and passion entirely,
For our bodies, mature flames in the night,
Awaken to the call of pleasure, incomparable to anything else.
Allow them to share their ecstasy,
With every touch, every kiss, every sigh,
For nature has bestowed numerous gifts of the senses upon us,
Awaiting to be discovered and shared with love.
Make each moment a delicate symphony,
Where notes of pleasure rise gently and rhythmically,
And a woman's body, a hot and slippery field,
Accepts your love like a melody on velvet, not harshness.
For in the vivid details hides the secret of supreme pleasure,
That few understand and know how to bring to life,
Not a simple act, but a symphony of body and soul,
Where pride and selfishness dissipate and melt into gentleness and passion.
I speak to you with honesty, for each time we miss ecstasy,
A second chance is just a deceiving shadow that fades away,
Fear overwhelms me, knowing that I may never feel again
The supreme pleasure of love with you, as desire gets lost in deep darkness.
If I were to be truthful, I would prefer not to try,
But to let things remain as they are,
For pleasure is fragile and divine, yet also mysterious,
And in its loss, our souls may scatter without hope.