Long Suspense Poems

Long Suspense Poems. Below are the most popular long Suspense by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suspense poems by poem length and keyword.


Divine Wisdom

Start
The dark is full of suspense I stare at the night,
The moon, like some ghost out of its grave, comes out misty white.  
I see the sky dotted with billions of stars across the crest,
Like countless diamonds spilling out of a treasure chest.

The sun rises in the distant horizon as a red ball of fire,
I run across the meadows to watch it climb the sky higher and higher.
I thank God for each new day and the night that has gone,
Each new beginning and the promise of days to come.

The heaven is wrapped in flying clouds, the winds blow them away,
The sun peeps in and out, to find its way. 
The cloud becomes dark, streaks of lightning flash,
Rain-drops fall on the ground into puddles ready to splash.

The rains wash the withering leaves and help new shoots grow,
It draws out the scent of the earth as the gurgling water flow.
The rivulets carry the water over parched farms and finally to the sea,
Divine wisdom ensures this process never fails, we have to agree.

End
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Eye Power

You possess me with those eyes of pyromania
a tidal wave of temptation thrashing into my need for euphoria
romanticized on appetite for agile reckoning of kiss ravishing, harnessing my hysteria,
plumed with lashes lent from love's wings, curling wet wishing
brows preened sexy mean, fur strip stiring me,
hypnotized by your hot umber rings
I learn how suspense stings
circles of crave unbuckling my brazen brandishing, 
deep set on my desire I'm unraveling for the vixen fire, heart sweating,
born from the brown of beauty's sweetest warmth
eyes that bite and suck the stress
right out of my soul's duress,
for you I go forth...

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

You possess me with those eyes of eagle blue
you use a single glance my hesitancy to unglue
soaring in the sky of my sweetened fantasy
these blue crystal orbs foretell of ecstasy

But first...the hunt...looking for prey - it's true
it's you - the eagle
brutally brave and fiercely famished
you glide on the wind of my desire
your wings ablaze with fire
your eyes fierce, Oh how they pierce
again and again
my inner sanctum deep
their hue puts the sky to shame
demanding passion and cravings untame
they bore deep into me
slashing bonds of inhibition free
Our eyes speak
Brown and Blue
Me and You...
in your eyes the need to seize
in mine, the need to please
yours dominate
mine capitulate
yours subjugate
mine consummate,
your eyes speak...
mine respond...Bonded, we belong
Eagle and Dove
poetry love
Our eyes speak...

A Collaboration Made From The Quills Of Justin & Eileen
Form: Epic

Comparisons In the Dark

Jodie Foster is frying peppers and eggs.
It is late and her legs ache
as she scrambles the yokes, 
sautés the jalapenos.

Today a jerk again compared her 
to the film actress.
A life she never wanted keeps invading her reality.
Even though she was born earlier
people consider her the ‘wrong one.’

Not for the first time 
she imagines changing her name,
A noise upstairs, the woman freezes
then runs to her understairs closet, 
bolting the door.

Footsteps descend. 
It is the movie star Jodie Foster,
She has a gun and is seeking her imposter.

Life-scripts are merging;
she understands why she has always avoided
cliffhangers - suspense thrillers.

Jodie cries softly in the dark 
clutching a Dollar Store spatula 
that will never work as well as a branded one.

Premium Member Banked

Banked high above the eerie glow of a rising sun
                       
                         Dark ominous clouds.
                                
                                      Entertained
                                        
                                                   Are they by the fearless 
                    
                                       Mockingbird

Who calls to the sun with his incessant 
                                      
                                                  Chattering of various chirps
       
 Whistles, pretty, pretty, click, click, whirt-wherra.

At the edge of the yard a few Crepe Myrtles
                             
                                      Which were allowed to grow normally

That is without the massacre of the tops
           
            Crepe Myrtle which have turned a reddish-orange
                      
                                Preparing to drop summer's leaves and brace
                                           
                                               For winter's fury

Fog has settled 'pon the forest and the creek_ an eerie scene

                       One that gives a feeling of suspense and mystery 

There is just something about the lighting on this partly cloudy morn that adds a 
                                           
                                          Mysterious glow to life's canvas

The sun lingers just barely above the horizon seemingly to stall and wait

                         Before she gives light to this ghoulish kind of morn...

Tales I Tell

Where was I
Were you there too
The time flew by
I’m left, confused

I know the facts 
Yes, I’m aware
Nostalgic stacks
I feel despair

I know the tale
I’m sure it’s true
I know it well
Don’t misconstrue

It’s just, I feel
A disconnect 
Not quite as real
As I’d expect

Almost as though
It’s someone else
Who watched you grow
In tales, I tell

Another’s hand
Who stroked your hair
Another land
I was not there

I spit out facts
An honest sequence
Though right on track
A strange suspense

Memories, they seem
Like fabrications
Deceitful dreams
They keep replaying

But are they real
I can’t decipher 
I can’t quite feel
Like I’m the driver
Form: Rhyme


The Trublyst

Dembow-------------&-----------------Trap
---------------------------------------------------------------
Citing meddling and undermining
keeping him in suspense might he
 be exploited
acting silly and foolishly
she wants to piss him off for
all the world to see
a provocateur and a instigator
a troublemaker thats what I heard
it's a learned behavior
thats what I heard

The situation she all up in it
causing rift's in other folks relationships
it aint cute and sure not pretty
when it's all over she say
thats what he gets.
You aint happy and don't no one else
to be happy
saying someone likes getting hurt
always knowing what someone's worthy of
it aint crazy and shouldn't faze me
ya'll always talking bad bout someone

you involved in his underming
and you think he just gone take your sh$t
if he pounces on you
some your freinds be smiling
and to your face they'll say that's
what you get.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------- "a little yeast leavens the whole batch"---------
------------------------------------------------------------------
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scheming, dreaming, keeping me satisfied.
Thats what Who roaring is all about!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------
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engagment:Groom,Bride;divoice:Fiancce'
engagment:groom;Bride:divoice:fiance
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Form: Ballade

Premium Member Taste Test

A thought, a nightmare, a dream; and what does it all mean?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               
Perhaps its meaning hides inside the clouds and reveals                                                                                         itself with the outpouring of rain that often comes with                                                                                             a flooding deluge of pain.                                                                                                                                       

Anyway, last night, I had a  dream.  I cannot recall most of my dreams, and a few of them I can never forget.  This dream was about friends of mind whose names I shall alter and call them Grant and Justine.                                                                 

In the dream, they created a secret recipe and made a tasty carbonated beverage.  I'm no food expert, but they sought me out for a taste test; and I found it to be a most refreshing drink with a very soothing quality.                                                           

Their drink had the ability to immediately capture one with suspense upon contact with the tongue.  And it had a smoothness that, in a flash, released a taste so pleasing and subtle.  I highly commended them on their new product and bade them the speed of God.

And again I ask, what does it all mean?  I cannot be for certain, but it occurred                                              to me that we often face situations that are rather suspenseful and hold a ton                                                of questions with so few answers.  I sense that if we remain poised, calm,                                                          and prayerful, the outcome will give birth to or release a taste from heaven                                               with the touch of Almighty God.                                                       
09042017PS 2nd Contest, Dreams, Nayda Negron; Contest #330, Brian Strand
Form: Narrative

Premium Member The Ballad of Barley Pettigrew - in Three Parts

I - Barley Pettigrew

I'll tell you a story, outstandingly true, 
of the young lad called Barley Pettigrew.
He was born with nine fingers on his hands.
For how high he could count, it met his demands.
You see, the townsfolk all say the doctor said
he was born without anything in his head.  
It's not surprising that he dropped out of school.
The teachers who taught him said he was a fool.
I admit, the boy hadn't a lick of sense,
but he threw a good frisbee, in his defense.
He would always unscrew a jar for its lid.
He threw anything round.  That's what he did.

II - Daisy Purvis

Not far away, grew a young lass named Daisy.
The townspeople said that she must be crazy.
She had eleven fingers, by cursory count,
The Lord thought for Daisy, 'twas a good amount.
She spoke to nobody, never came to town. 
Her mysterious poetry was upside down. 
Conversing, as she did, only with the breeze,
she would make exceptions for birds and bees.

III - The National Frisbee Championship

The frisbee championship in County Cork -
the suspense was palpable, edible with a fork.
There is a concept known as failure, it seems,
but Barley showed up, not knowing what it means. 
He threw the platter in the air so high,
passing birds remarked, "oh, how that thing does fly".
The wind seemed to grab it.  How it did float!
It drifted 'til it landed in a field, remote. 
Then and only then, the townspeople knew,
no one can toss frisbee like Barley Pettigrew.
How they did it, nobody understands, 
Barley and Daisy, in a field, holding hands.
If this tale ain't true, you could hear a squirrel sneeze.
a sound I once heard, floating on the breeze.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Poet Speaks of Madness

The poet speaks of madness--madness similar
to what?  What was spoken before this silly syllabus?

Each ant, lifting and carrying, adds bundles of dried
and curled rose petals to the soup simmerings.

Now, each ant stomps rose petals into a silken
gown, as if one could insult a shimmering insect.

The poet further sings of madness, high pitched at
times, then sliding an octave lower for suspense.

The ants love to nap on rose petals, dreaming of
rose scents which they store in their sinuses.

Rose petal soup simmers in ant kitchens calming
ant parents and poets--driving ant babies senseless.

The madcap poet imagines herself simmering,
relaxing in a fragrant kitchen full of ants.
© Moon Harp  Create an image from this poem.

Our Shattered Glass

In your head to pass this time
Attributing the former to your lies
Remember our cycle. Oh! how we belonged
We herded great minds and looseth the wronged
This is your part in our shattered glass

Although we fenced these strong beliefs
It is insatiable lust we reprieved
just short a miracle in humming this chord
Their weaknesses sort was time reborn
This is my part in our shattered glass

Endless love stories with novelty rhymes
a  mist of colours, distractions and lies  
Lighter pages, suspense or crime?
Mirrors and doors, our refraction in time
This is my part in our shattered glass

Just as we lost faith, we tore apart these walls
thus we drifted and sailed to our downfall
Last I heard of thee, it was late in the fall
In love and in lust, at her new masters beck-and-call
This is our sorrow in my shattered glass
Form: Sonnet

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