Long Suggestive Poems
Long Suggestive Poems. Below are the most popular long Suggestive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suggestive poems by poem length and keyword.
He was a bold color artist, painting bright
pigments of rose blossom pink,
tangerine treats and peacock waves, just right;
occasionally working in pen and ink.
He was a brave thinker and his artwork palette
bore whispers of daring thoughts.
Had he sculpted; no doubt, his mallet
would’ve recorded ladies exposed ladies...double knots!
His work reflecting sensual curves,
suggestive of bright ribbon curls,
truly exposed his inner verve;
filled with spirals, swirls and whorls.
Upon the sight of his flamboyant works;
the eyes elation would display.
Exhilaration causing their swift perk;
at the elaborately illustrated brocade.
SEAHORSES
We ride ocean currents
We are small marine fish
With segmented bony armor
Such an upright posture, swish
A curled prehensile tail, a tubular snout
A head and neck suggestive of a horse
Mythical creature with horse's head and fish's tail
We are masters of disguise of sort
We camouflage game is on point
You may find us on a shrimp boat
We whom swim in groups are “frys” no joke
Our courtship begins with a daily dance
We gracefully swim together
As the little assassins of the sea at glance
When not courting we feed, as successful predatory killer's
We ride ocean currents
Hippocampus we are Sea Horses
4/26/18
Copyright © 2018
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
For Poetry Contest: SEAHORSES
The game gave me something that I didn’t have before,
Peace in my room ‘cos I was not exposed in an arcade,
It let me think with ingenuity whilst allowing me fingers,
A control the likes of which I’d never had, was not said.
Four ghosts to gobble you up if you meet or come near,
They’ll get you if you don’t formulate your action plan,
Pink, blue, red and green, but the yellow Snapper gear,
Takes it, has righteousness on his side to cheer and fan.
Also, four large dots on all four corners for protection,
To give you twenty or so seconds of armour from ghosts,
So you get the ghosts to follow you by an approach action,
Then by taking them all to where you get the saving boats.
A blue maze, but if you are also female you’ll wish yourself,
That it was dark pink to accept and stand up for women,
Because all that navy blue only places you upon the shelf,
Seeking understanding from all your boy friends’ acumen.
There’s the cherry first level, then the peach to square,
Then there’s my favourite level with the red strawberry;
They’re not my favourite fruit but i used to pick ‘em, dare,
And then the red apple level comes along in a big hurry.
After twelve levels the acorn arrives as the ultimate prize,
So it’s suggestive of Acorn’s favourite and proudest game;
I think I reached it three times, beat it once with my eyes,
So I knew my level of society, and it gave me my own name.
Mysteries into mysterious
The thought just makes one curious
History having accounts within its own log
The wonders through the creation of the seas
1871 was a year when cargo ships would sail through unchartered waters of LAST CHANCE ALLEY would often disappear
The crews were never found
Some say the Devil would be aboard their ships
But there is no record of witnesses who can contest to that
All you hear and feel are the sea breezes
Many ships dare not to go through Last Chance Alley fearing that their ship would be loss and never be seen again
Captains and crews heard stories about Last Chance Alley, but feel the name should be changed to PROHIBITED ALLEY
Mysterious doesn’t make it obvious
Once mystery still a mystery
History has stated the Devil being disgusted as a monster aboard all the previous downed ships
One would think the many storms feeling like a monster itself
Imaginations gone wild
Some see Fishy ship tale being folktale
Perhaps it surrounds too much ale
Yet many ships have disappeared without any findings or known abouts
What’s the reason, and why no investigations out?
Unknowns still uncertain
A torn curtain with splits could be a beware
Was it the sea or storms themselves being lies of the Devil Sea?
We can only guess the many assumptions being nothing conclusive
Only suggestive
The Devil’s revenge
Myth or theory?
We will never know
We don’t know what is happening below
Maneuver your mind and continue to wonder
Devil Sea with an evil approach
Madness and controlling
Fulfilling in offsetting
In that meteoric moment
she exhibited eternal qualities of wonderfully wrought womanhood,
calm,disciplined and candid,
adorned with few distinctions from the rest behind her
the loving leadership was projected in painstaking posture,
brutal perfection,a suffering of diligence amounting to total serenity,
she being a gem amongst stones,
for inexperience a cure,
synchronicity simple & symetrical like ripples in a river,
the troupe twirls & turns as leaves whirl gingerly in pools of water livid,
their torsos taut like trunks of young & vital trees,faces flowers,
brilliant when in cold morning view,
hands impossibly curved on extended arms,hearts placid,
without looking the dancers drape their faith
upon the integrity of her warm luminosity,
the lead lioness quietly commands their orbiting obeisance,
in her hushing eyes the sparkle of a rich race communicates confection
to the contemplative congregation,
she is a Godess in the midst of nymphs,
something dangerous,calamitous,manifested mutely in the expression
of a posterior dancer
whom strangely stares at the back & soul of the leading lady in stance,
this suggestive & supportive figure embodying dispassionate envy,
strategically laying seige
to the gloriously innocent leader of this cultural romance,
a reminder reminiscent of Eve's two children
in the forgotten fields of antiquity
where success was hunted savagely by the weakness
inherent amid imps -
This poem is premised upon a photograph of a traditional Cambodian dance troupe -
J.A.B.
This is a cheeky cover of John's festive suggestive...
So there goes my Christmas
What has Bazball done
Our Ashes tour over
Before it has begun
So a very merry Christmas
And a happy new year
At least Rooty got a ton
A Beauty for all to cheer
So there goes my Christmas
Test sh*tfest in the sun
The hosts in the clover
Us out gunned and out spun
So there goes my Christmas
Bazbull we will now shun
Silly supernova over
The nonsense now done
So a very merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Our boys did bend over
Were shaft*d up their re*r
So there goes my Christmas
Repeat defeat does still stun
Return to white cliffs of Dover
With the urn.. pull the other one
So there goes my Christmas
Brendon hope you had fun
The Ashes are over
Before they had begun
Bazball’s over…Bazball's over
The end ain't near tis already here
Bazball's over…Bazball's over now..
HELLO
"Hello."
"What do you mean?"
"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?"
"You said 'hello'."
"O---kay..."
"Was it just an emotionless greeting,
For an unarranged accidental meeting?
Were expressions or gestures involved?
Was something questioned now resolved?
Did you look me soulfully in the eyes,
Or secretly undress me with your eyes?
Do you think we were here by fate, or choice?
Was there something suggestive in your voice?
Did you say hello with playful alluring guile?
Did your eyes, dimples and lips all smile?
Did your hello contain some hidden laughter,
Or suggest YOU AND ME forever after?
Was that hello, I'll see you now and then,
Or hello (goodbye!) never again?"
"I don't know. It was just hello."
"Hmmmm." I said, rubbing my chin. "Hello!"
14 Jan. 2019
Protective Lyricism for the Ages Part Two
Martin Luther King creating a path to dessimate discrimination
An angel earning his wings from an epiphany of prophetic elation
Listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing while learning a litany of biblical quotations
Acknowledging what the accomplished man can bring to the depth of your insight and notations
Reflection on the history of mankind and the human race
Detection of the mystery of the refined acquisition of Heavenly Grace
Invention of the symphony that defined its own musical place
Prevention of the epiphany in the name of the legitimate corruption that we all must face
Culture and thought, revolution and resistance
Vultures distraught at the economic powers inability to accept difference
Subcultures contort beneath the robotic clandestine inference
As agriculture evades the poisonous attempts to regain universal prominence
Can you remain content to wipe the tears from a broken child’s eyes?
Will you refrain to vent when confronted with the fears of a vulnerable persons cries?
Will you remain content and resolute when presented with categorical lies?
Can you see through a charlottan selling snake oil and prevent him from orchestrating further demise?
Stand tall among the uncertainty and the acrimony and defeat
Create a call for continuity as the less evolved struggle to compete
Lauren Bacall and her comical purity as her timing is complete
Lucifers fall from heaven that remains spiritually almost now obsolete
As the heightened notions of virtue overcome the notions of hell
And the frightened invocations of servitude become commotions for the brave to tell
While the enlightened devotions of gratitude arise from the men who initially fell
The power rises above the certitude of any humanly epiphany or spell
Embrace the new creations of progressive thought in actions
Face the few negative connotations of suggestive criticism of your exactions
Replace the two imitations of corrective empiricism of your protractions
Disgrace the blue intonations of all defective invitations to celebrate protective lyricism that requires astute observations
The End
Copywright Elizabeth Moroz 2023
If the title is suggestive they watch me
put their name in it they watch me
the only time they get attention
the only time they get a mention
centre stage, run the show,
watching me because they know
I shine a light they glow
watch the numbers grow
it’s a sad life that their living
and it really is a given
that they lap it up and love it
when I tell them where to shove it
that short lived power trip
to a lifelong sour lip
yes you were a munter boss
whose never ever known a loss
because you’ve never had a lot
your missing brain and bottom pops
wishing you were someone hot
clever interesting you’re not
sense of humour not a human
that moustache forever booming
no man was ever after you
unattractive daft and rude
but trust me they would laugh at you
laughing at you not with you
yes you really oughta
fish the ice out the water
yes it melts and flows right over
if you’re that dumb you’re a knower
that knows nothing at all
you should have gone to school
you’re so stupid you will never know
just how stupid overall
O, dear poetry, how old are you?
give me a glimpse, The Story of Sinuhe
the art just might predate literacy,
before the birth of the written word, BCE
Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor the eldest fictious
the Epic of Gilgamesh on papyrus
the world’s oldest love poems, verselets
Homer’s ancient epics
Compositions made for spoken word
I finally found out from all I’ve heard
what my dear poetry means to me
the love of artistic lyrical spontaneity
learning of words using them expressively
or impressively, excessively, whatever it takes
with poetic license, there are no mistakes
Works that lead to electric elucidation
with rhythmic flow, meter and alliteration
my primo priority is; my poem pieces make sense,
with rhyme and my love for classic cadence
having the quality of amatory ambiguity,
steered adrift with ominous obscurity
strapping images of suggestive metaphors
I’ll write to inspire as do the troubadours…..