Long Suppleness Poems
Long Suppleness Poems. Below are the most popular long Suppleness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suppleness poems by poem length and keyword.
Awarded to privileges and sanctioned
embellishment favoring enhancement,
Over time, years chip away unnoticeably
o'er worn breathless moments,
Taunt texture of an arduous youth evaporates
in a whimsical hallucination,
Fields of the dermis yield a harvest worthy
of an ample supply of suppleness,
Foretelling fluctuating skin moisturizing balms
that saturates the aged cavities,
Cherished heydays occupied a magnificent face
for cameras to envy,
In the advance of time, I am content
to tender the waning years,
For a fair measured distance
as a camera poses for a closeup.
2020 January 10
his mouth was wide open like a whispering heart
‘bring me sex drugs rock and roll back the years’
but prayers went unheard and the little blue pill
failed to arouse healing and he went flaccidly home
from the bawdy house at which he exhaled a curse
still passionate he grasped a manual on hot love
marvelled at positions that took courage and strength
suppleness of body and mind and stealthy resolve
a picture book of inspiration he centred his spine
reflecting on tantra and a magic carpet holding on
to the yoga mat in search of rejuvenation and flow
his mates mocked him when pure Philia took over
'too incestuous' he decreed for 'I can do this myself
I want Eros' but Freud recommended killing his Dad
and bonking his Mom in classical misrepresentation
of Storge under cover of analysis and moist dreams
his lips were parched and he longed for a lover
or at least some dark web site for illegitimate lust
searching for meaning his book case collapsed
and the bottom shelf reached to the top of the pile
how to treat haemorrhoids did not appeal to him
neither did the DIY guide to aphrodisiac verses
Nietzsche suggested that all religion was dead
only Karl Marx appealed to all communal desire
when he considered surrendering to his old age
abandon the vacant vacuum pump he had become
and accept that the highest form of amorous joy
was to bequeath his two rubber dolls to charity for
recycling of a karmic wheel and selfless nobility
he was pleased after a quick look in the dictionary
that such impartial transmission actually existed
and when he wiped irreverent seeds from his loins
became firm in the belief that Agape was for real
19th April 2021
Agape Poetry Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
MY NATURAL BEAUTY
O bizarre beauty,
O eclipse of a perfectly contrived creature.
O rustful bonny frame cladded with muck,
Made fleshy with its suppleness as lime soot.
O dark glinting hair like fleece interwoven, that soon
Would turn grey sky in Northern Arid Savannah
O Artiste physique, well endowed-
Like Benin feminine bronze sculpture;
An obsolete craft, to wane into gloomy oblivion.
O brilliant ebony skin with the wafting allure
Of ambergris to suffuse the whiff of odorous incence.
O passing beauty –
By Circadian or Accidental dissipation.
How best can I appreciate you, my beauty?
Except to behold you,
As a precious mound of carcass
Bedecked of sands and worms and air!
When I behold you as such, and still my heart is lured
With an irresistible longing to
Rouse this masculine flesh into verveful concupiscence
From this raw natural state,
This be a perfect beauty, a perpetual love.
And so will my soul drink content,
A brimming measure of this natural lee of love
And thirst no more to find beauty!
Her gentle features, delicate
A porcelain delight
Approaching bisque perfection
She shimmers in the night
The body of a mythic god
The suppleness of rose
If there be just one little thing
it’s found in sweet repose
She snores, oh yes, she snores
When she is blowin’ Z’s
The thunder of a lumberjack
I would compare to these
The rafter’s will begin to shake,
The bed shifts high and low
She sucks the air enough to move
The curtains to and fro
But when she wakes, a Barbie doll
Arrives to greet the dawn
I never wait around to see
What happens, should she yawn!
Will you be loving me ‘til time is naught?
Your fingers only know of suppleness,
will they not flinch to touch skin wrinkle-fraught?
My beauty withers, cup reached emptiness…
Your love has set my heart aglow, renewed
‘tis ev’rytime your words lave over me...
Like soothing rain on desert sand subdued,
I soak it in, drunk for eternity
Do forgive me, for ever doubting you,
this pain has ravaged me, yet you’re still here.
‘Tis I you love, this I now know so true,
please stay with me, for death creeps in so near
Let saccharine lips meet for one last time
The windows close now, yet leave love sublime
00612162011
Written: September 23, 2023
___________________________________________________________
In the denizens of the grey-haired.
Suppleness lingers, yet love is not shared
Around a suitable quantum of melodrama
A tangle of tales, deriving roads to nirvana
Their quest looks to boost their path of life.
As the action is close up, the picture is strife.
Gambling on the outcome of one's own sake.
If nothing less than how we die well is at stake.
With delicacy, sophistication, and merriment.
Days delve into the inner lives of residents.
In the midst of dementia, remain confident,
Despite setbacks, spirits remain resplendent.
In this mansion, where time looms still,
They decry solace and a sense of goodwill.
Their tales unfold, akin to pages of a book,
Each chapter reveals a disparate look.
The day of insight into what is dear to them.
Adds a raw vibe of vitality and spirit to the stem.
They reclaim their identity and their voice.
A record of all daily lessons was a neat choice.
They share their stories, laughter, and tears,
And in doing so, they conquer their fears.
The day that delves into the inner lives,
Links them all, akin to a tapestry of ties.
Each character, a thread in the grand design,
Weaving together a tapestry is so fine.
Their lives intertwined, their stories entwined,
Making something truly special and kind.
And when the sun goes down on another day.
They were changed irrevocably, in spirit sway.
Since this is the place where love may be found.
The day that they dive into their private ground.
The query of their ultimate fate is at stake here.
In a team, they don't groan as they tackle their fear.
They handle the unknown with finesse and care.
They've grown in size and inane in their square.
Nature ages like Youth,
a bougainvillea wrapped
around a strapless watch.
Youth doesn’t look at the clock
but ignores passing hours unknowing,
innocent of the melting water.
It leaps and lunges without fear of a fading silhouette,
it smiles with missing teeth,
gaps filled with dreams that will change.
Youth giggles at the simplest of movements,
it blanches under praise -
it drifts along shores, feeling hearing holding then
abandoning the flotsam and jetsam of aging. It is a bundle of
yesterday’s plans
ostracised by calendars,
unaware that friends will leave, as
trenches are dug by
hands, wrinkled.
Youth is a promise milked into creams,
it is a sweating desire to return, rediscover the
suppleness of joints, of bones, of possibility.
Youth has not yet become a mouth that sighs,
is bougainvillea still free from being entwined, twisted and tied.
It is not yet conscious of time as an intangible abstract
forever
Today one more page is shorn off from the book of my life.
On this day of humble rejoicing, my heart brims with gratitude,
For I am granted one more year and the priceless gift of life,
When many young ones are destined to drop off from life unexpected.
Under the shroud of darkness while many falter and flounder,
God has been guiding me all along, never letting me down with,
Hardships I can’t tide over or challenges I can’t confront.
Besides, the love of my family and dear ones keeps me in good stead.
God has been my strength and my guide through all these years.
Though grown older now, He fills me with the fuel to move on
He keeps my cup full with his grace that I enjoy a serene peace
And each new morning to me is a fresh awakening.
I have lost the sheen of my eyes and the suppleness of my limbs.
My brittle bones ache, I can’t move as brisk as before.
But beneath the shell of my withering body and wrinkling skin
I still have a heart that sings, young as ever, not yet shrivelled.
With my sweet family and children around and the lovely people,
With whom I share my life, immensely blessed is how I feel.
I wish to move on in life sharing the gifts of my heart and mind,
Making myself convinced that I haven’t lived my life in vain.
I remember fitfully,
Those verdant fields their
Yellow brushed cotton tips,
Gyrating, swirled to beauty,
sighing, undulating minute blades
infintesable allure wafted
on those white wattle nights,
even drained of sustenance
it still motioned to flower
as I am drawn to nigh.
Jaundiced paddocks replace
the suppleness of earth, where,
once green strands laid
like laurels on the dawn
Rich red particles of death
now pepper the ether,
unwonted limbs litter lanes
original ground now fallow
Trans morphed unholy Gaia
sits cackling next to Azimuth,
sons of the fathers, follow
the false prophets online
As their hands are filled
with knowledge of the world,
their heads are lackluster
gazing today after tomorrow
Good intentions are twisted
in a government mainframe,
planet earth screams succour
and only God is left to hear
but I'll ever remember,
viridescent pastures
millions of miles long,
breathlessly beautiful
before the tech triumph
life's last gasp of gorgeous
Hold your tongue, tie it up tight,
for a loose tongue that strays in devious ways,
can slip and cut deep, too quick, right to bone.
It wags the dog, flaying in many ways failing.
Telltale tongues come in many forms:
A tongue forked splits and deceives.
A sweet tongue tempts the sweet tooth.
A slick tongue twists and charms the crowd,
Tongue in cheek, is a jovial jester in play.
A tongue twister, taunts and defies is suppleness.
A hidden tongue is what the stray cat got,
while waiting to pounce on tidbit poke.
A red tongue protruding betwixt clenched lips
can mean many things, in a ventriloquist vent.
A lighthearted tease, a flirty wink.
A way to focus, concentrate or consider.
A sign of doubt or embarrassment.
A quest to taste what's yet to come.
A glib tongue, so smooth and fleet,
can twist and intrude and entwine
in ears, mouths and other orifices.
A fiery tongue is much mightier than the sword,
reshapes the world with every word,
that wields truth, lies and deceit,
from the lashes the tongue whips into shape.
Ah! the tongue, out or in
tells such tattle tales,
in words it shapes, in tastes it quakes,
into crevices it silently sneaks right in.
So keep it wet, slimy, lithe and subtle
to come out and play, or be kept at bay
as needs arise for every occasion and situation.