Long Surface Poems
Long Surface Poems. Below are the most popular long Surface by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Surface poems by poem length and keyword.
The itch of you, deeply,
beneath, surface, rises quickly,
to scratch, The anxiety of it all,
trembles my bones, Like an
acid Tripp, gone wild, not Jerry
Springer, It's craziness is much
more, as it breaks ICE, wanting
every inch of your body,{Dark
Chocolate}, like A Mid~Night
snack, going once, Going twice,
I can't resist going in, So eager
to, HOT IT, ATTACK IT, Not
STOPING, Loving My LOVER,
FIT TO A GLOVE, Flying WHITE
DOVES, As it Thickened to
open, 360' Rotationally
Collapsing, Hard as BRICKS,
Where We smoothly, KNOCK,
KNOCK, KNOCK, the
headboard, LOUDLY, waking
the BLOCK, with deeper
MOANS, For this Nuclear
Explosion LOVE FEAST, will
Certanially be CONSUMED,
with Down Pour,
because you are that Sweet,
Sweet-er, and Sweetest
Sensation, I will ever get times
THREE,,,, Sharing The same
OXYGEN, as we Touch noses,
connecting LIPS, Closely
together..... Piercing nipples
tightly against the chest....Breathing
Heavily with exhaustion. For
This is A passion, with no lust, for
it is an ultimate stare down to A true
beginning....
Entered in Good Enough contest,
Sponsored by: Sandy Ivy Davis
Carma Reed
10-23-12
In depths of whispered lies, they ask,
“Are you okay?” I respond, “I’m fine”
But inside, I’m tangled in a knot
A turmoil of thoughts I can’t untwine
“I’m fine”, the words escaped my lips,
The greatest shield against my pain within
But beneath the surface,
Oh beneath the surface, I suffocate
In a sea of sorrow, I drown and spin
Beneath the surface, behind every “I’m fine”
I wish…
I wish I could find the courage
The courage to pick a knife up
I wish I could slit my throat
Oh I wish…
I wish I could drown in my own blood as it gushes from my throat
Maybe then I’d drown in something that’s not my own thoughts
“I’m fine”, I whispered, but it’s a lie
For each day I live, I feel dead inside
Behind these eyes, a storm rage
Behind every smile, a tempest roars,
“I’m fine”, I said, though I long to scream
A masked laughter to withdraw the pain
“I’m fine”, I whispered as I cut open my thigh
“I’m fine”, I whispered as I enjoyed watching my blood escape through my scars
In the silence of my hollow soul,
Echoes of anguish take their toll
“I’m fine”, I repeat like a broken record
Yet inside I feel so severed
With each "I'm fine," I lose a piece,
Until there's nothing left but grief.
Beneath the surface, I drown in sorrow,
Yet still, I say, "I'll make it to tomorrow."
But in the darkness, where shadows creep,
The truth emerges from its sleep.
"I'm not fine," I finally admit,
As I confront the demons that won't quit.
So here I stand, broken and bare,
Stripped of my disguise,
No longer hiding, no longer scared.
"I'm not fine," I confessed to the night,
For only in truth, can I find the light.
The poet is a painter who spreads his soul on the vast canvas of time,
with emotions flowing like a river of colors through the valleys of unspoken thoughts,
touching with his invisible brush the shadows and light in fragments of eternity,
combining sadness and joy in subtle blends of misunderstood hues,
creating a living painting from whispers and silences, from laughter and shed tears.
With each verse, he weaves threads of desires and regrets,
drawing lines of melancholy on the smooth surface of the heart,
while his metaphors transform into fragile butterfly wings,
flying through the garden of dreams, carrying the essence of ephemeral moments,
in a symphony of colors and emotions that dance to the eternal rhythm of time.
The poet, a magician of words, creates worlds from desires and shadows,
painting with feelings that stretch like a horizon of hope and love,
while his soul becomes a rainbow of thoughts and emotions,
spanning the canvas of infinity, where each hue is a story,
and each story is a dream painted with a heart open to the universe.
She is Pacific ocean
Tranquil from outside
tumultuous from with in
Shallow it seems from the surface
But deep, very deep it decends
And what things it carry inside
Lively Coral reefs
And Volcanoes
Ready to errupt...
A world that can never be uncovered...
She is a cloud
Floating on air waves
Struggling to find a place
Where it will shower all of its gems
And those won't go wasted
But will reborn the dead soil
And the sleepy seeds
So precious, so full of potentials...!
She is a butterfly
With the heart of an eagle
Standing like a mountain
Against the Tsunamis
That rise when stones are thrown in the sea
Fragile yet very strong...
Emotional but Taciturn...
She is a moon
Having different phases
Which come out to roam every night
To enlight the valleys
To listen to the untold stories
And go back in morning to burry them....
She is light, she is beauty
A food for thought, a key to imaginations
And yes she is a flower
Scared of taking her hands of her face
For she will be cut, put in vase and eventually thrown away
Fate has this in store for flowers
She is but she is not
She exists but she does not
Like stars on a full moon night
She is there, and she is not!
She exists yet she does not...!!
________________________________________
~Paghunda Zahid
Placed 01 in Brian's J. Select any form any theme poetry contest
"The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind." Khalil Gibran
Mr. Moore taught us English lit
but more important than that,
he taught us how to use our wit.
He willed us to go way beneath
the surface and there discover
treasures hidden under the heath.
He urged us all to cast our lines
way far out into our waters,
waters of thought, we could refine.
We found Truth was for Mr. Moore
like a shield or coat of armor.
These well-known words tacked to his door -
"Above all, To thine own self be true."
Then, does it really matter much
what others choose to say or do?
Virtue we came to realize
exists in the mind of the man -
his character without disguise.
It seemed like nature had concocted a singular miracle
As I sat on the wooden bench looking in towards the woodland.
A red maple tree stood tall surrounded by eucalyptus trees
While down below grew the yellow protea and acacia scrubland.
Sun filtered in between the green and red coloured full growing trees
Sending bright rays of light upon the lotus decorated lake,
Dragonflies flitted over flowers, as cicadas sang their song,
As a light south breeze ruffled the surface, what melodies they make.
Thus I sat amazed at the scenery so magical and bright,
Admiring all beauty God's creation that no man can design.
Meantime my daughter sat quietly next to me, mobile in hand,
Tapping messages away, heedless of the view as I did pine.
I know of a very good-sounding song.
I heard it first when I was very young.
Its theme reminds me of a lovely nursery
rhyme. It speaks of and longs for peace, harmony,
and togetherness. The song and the musical group
are without a doubt among the world's best. But I
disagree with what it advocates in the lyrics of the
song. Surely, we all would love to see unity from sea
to shining sea. However, I unequivocally oppose the
price it is willing to pay for the cause of peace, harmony,
and tranquility.
I am a boomer and grew up in the troubling
sixties. I do understand what I assume to be
the dream and intended purpose of the song.
I'm not sure if the producers and singers
believe every word. Notwithstanding, it's a
great tool to spread a message. The message
is clear, and they have no fear.
There is nothing to interpret or explain. They say,
"Imagine". It seems that every line is clear and
plain. They have great imagination, but it appears
to take them in a direction that leads away FROM God.
I also have imagination, but it leads me TO God.
I cannot imagine that there is no heaven.
I have anticipated heaven all of my life.
Unlike them, I CAN NOT imagine there's no God.
I have invited Him to dwell in my heart and mind.
But like them, I CAN imagine no organized religion.
That is to say, a religion of man-centeredness. I
CAN NOT imagine there is no hell either. I really wish
there was no hell, but wishing won't dismiss reality.
I CAN NOT imagine having no possessions because I work
hard for them. Neither can I imagine no countries, because
I believe in borders and the sovereignty of nations.
There is so much more to be imagined in that beautiful song.
We say that beauty is only skin deep, and for this song, I
would agree. For my ears, the beauty stops on the surface.
For the sake of beauty, I wish that it was not so. For the
cause of peace, I wish that I could join them, but wishing
does not erase reality. I have always declined the invitation.
111622PS
A weir holds back the river
against the flow of the morning tide
I wonder how many thoughts,
unspoken, lie behind its barrier-
ponderings of love, turmoil, betrayal
obstructed by the dam of emotional blocks
struggling to break free from their confines.
Like silent storms beneath the surface,
they swirl in the depths of the mind,
the dam of fear, of shame,
keeps them hidden from the light.
moment a potential release,
each breath a reminder of restraint.
The heart, a vessel so full of longing,
yet bound by invisible chains,
craves the freedom to flow unbound,
to speak the words that have waited too long.
But the weir stands firm,
its stones like the weight of doubt,
the water rising higher,
pressing against its edges,
until one day—
will it break, or will the river flow in silence forever?
Upside Down Town
Not a ripple disturbs the
Surface of Sunset Lake.
In the bright sun
I squint across the pond,
And there I see my town
In the water mirror,
Upside down!
Houses standing on their roofs,
Their colors bleeding greens
And grays and yellows like
Paints on a silver-blue
Impressionistic canvas.
The gnarled branches
Of the oaks and maples,
Instead of reaching skyward,
Stretch their leafy fingers
Toward the bottom of the lake,
As if fishing for their lunch!
Upside down cars whiz by
Above the houses,
Wheels spinning in the air.
A patch of feathery yellow reeds
Grows down, not up, and
Sweeps the sandy depths.
Do you suppose that people
In those topsy-turvy houses
Are standing on their heads?
Or walking on the ceilings
Just as Mary Poppins did?
Maybe they just float,
Like astronauts in space,
And drink their soda
Through a straw and eat
From drifting plates!
It’s disorienting, yes,
To say the very least!
I really think I like
My town much better
Right side up!
Dancing Memories Re-Surface
A TV show brought back the spark
Dancing, showing its finest arts
Bodies swaying, feet moving
A beat, that introduces rhythm
Memories start to unfold
Behold, a dancer on their own
friends poked fun, in a friendly way
He is gone into his world of sway
Invisible protection from outside sources
No girls approached this strange boy
The Saturday dance we all attended
Some there because of peer pressure
On their own, moves were smooth
If others involved, they would lose
Aware of a presence standing before them
Invisible barrier is there it will protect
A girl with eyes so dark and wary
She swayed to the beat, arms inviting
Time stood still, decision needed
Heart missed a beat, barrier was broken
Friends all quiet, enjoying this treat
Applause from friends as the couple joined hands
Dancing as one, shyness was gone
Her eyes never ever left the lonely dancer
The dance it finished, she bowed and held him
This girl became a traveling companion
Years have flown, memories remain
The night a girl, taught a boy how to dance.