Long Swipes Poems
Long Swipes Poems. Below are the most popular long Swipes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swipes poems by poem length and keyword.
Floating in the sanctity of a tiny tranquil sea,
hidden from the world by only a fragile wall,
unaware of the uncertainty of their own mortal future.
Wide innocent eyes blinded by a bright light,
unable to see the evils and prejudices of mankind
and the society that emulates his selfish nature.
Virgin ears silenced by their own innocence,
unable to hear the chorus of suffering
mankind has brought to bear on himself.
The sound of salvation beats within a tiny sea
while the impatient fingers of death linger outside
waiting for a chance to plunge in and stop the beat.
Each time Satan's hand swipes by the virgin soul
dangling helplessly from life's frail thread
mankind's last flame of hope begins to flicker.
Shall a world chorus of cries ring in their births,
or shall a soul numbing silence fill our vacant hearts?
It isn’t weak when it pleasures me
It’s more profound in informing details in leaks it only seeks sensual desire
The way it’s too tight it swipes me right off my feet just to flee off the forbidden valley
It cheers in complexion disguising in corals
Its distinctive insights foresees the flexible feeling to enter
To bind right with the lips just to taste the power of being dominated
If I would scream it would enjoy my acknowledgment
In further it would go straight up to start over again
This time my eyes would be folded in mystery
My hands would be handcuffed
The room shall be ball the most auspicious fulfilment of different desirable tools to commit submissive Act
Purified…The chosen ones only to transmit such Dominant Act
The chemistry it plays the actual passion of being submissive.
The taste of being strangled grasping for air till the feeling of dizziness contagiously takes its effect then being let go right after a full squeeze of the under area
A punishment of a spank while bend over without a cause
A trap for both of my legs just to be powerless while I’m being violated slowly
Each stroke contains a high pitch of moans
Until the water fall squirts leaving an unbearable vibration of sensation
It speaks deep to the heart
Tenderly to the soul
Tells of the many wonders
You'd love to know
In it's single mission
Spreading of truth
But what good is a love poem
If it wasn't written for you
As it tears at your heart
Swipes at your tears
Bringing to the surface
Emotions you haven't felt now for years
Telling you things
You only wish that you knew
But what good is a love poem
If it wasn't written for you
With the tightening of chest
The shortness of breath
The shedding of light
On what you could only guess
The tug on your heart strings
That won't leave you alone
But if it's not written to you
What good's a love poem
In a barren apocalyptic landscape,
under a withered, bare, and grossly malformed weeping willow tree.
Lies a lone stone which reads: There is no escape From the house of the dead.
The stone, in pristine state, stands as a testament to all who enter there.
The interloping tendrils of a wisteria vine, have encircled and strangled all in its path. Except for the stone, which emits an eerie glow, as a lighthouse beacon in a fog laden ether.
THERE you will experience true solitude.
Approaching closer, you feel the frigid breath of the cemetery breeze, enveloping you and drawing you nearer, t’ward a single oblique whisp of a specter as she floats ominously over the stone.
Her once great love left her for dead, and
from the depths of sorrow, she acquiesced.
Since that day, she has clung to the life she once had.
Her happiest days were spent in the garden behind a house where no one else played.
Laughing, singing and running with her once great and true love they spent endless days together.
Now, in her current form, she lists as she sways, her tattered ghostly shroud swipes against your leg.
The window curtains’ lace whips wildly through the night air, flicking against your feet and wakes you sharply from your sleep.
Opening your door, as you head down the hall, in the corner of your eye, you spy a translucent figure. Turning to look the shape disappeares.
Was this a dream, forebodance, a warning of some future catastrophe? Mark me, and heed these words well......There IS NO ESCAPE FROM THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD.
February 21, 2021
Poem written for Constance La France
Ghost Poetry contest
Just a click
from a dating app
so ordinary,
so simple.
Who knew
one could find love there?
In a place of swipes and short messages,
where hearts scroll
faster than they heal.
Did it even take time?
Or did time forget to move
the day you appeared?
First meet-up.
First date.
First nervous smile
pretending not to be hope.
Beautiful eyes
the kind that speak
before words are ready.
Tall,
standing like a promise
I didn’t know
I was waiting for.
Her skin,
bright as her name,
glowing like morning
after a long night
of loneliness.
Small conversations,
nothing fancy,
nothing loud
just laughter
resting gently
between two strangers
becoming something more.
But the connection…
the connection was real.
It felt like home
found in a human being.
That’s when I saw
she was the one
not because she was perfect,
but because my heart
finally felt safe
beating near hers.
Everything happened fast,
like rain
that doesn’t ask permission
before it falls.
She didn’t only become my lover.
She became my family.
My comfort.
My safe place.
My sometimes.
My always
for a little while.
We built memories
in borrowed time,
laughing like tomorrow
was guaranteed.
But good things come
to an end, right?
No warning.
No loud goodbye.
Just silence
where love once lived.
And now
I scroll through memories
instead of messages,
replay your laughter
instead of hearing it.
Sudden love
taught me something
that hearts can meet
in an instant,
love deeply
without permission,
and still
learn to let go.
You were not forever,
but you were real.
And sometimes,
the saddest love stories
are not the ones that never began
but the ones
that began so beautifully
and ended
too soon
She is being ignored by mom and dad
They have their own friends, most virtual
She was replaced by I-phones long ago
They no longer speak at dinner, each swipes a screen.
She swipes a screen too, searching for her new best friend.
He is seventeen, and he understands her pain.
He is her confidant, she will be leaving tonight to be with him forever.
He has cautioned her to not tell her parents.
No worries there. They would not hear her if she did.
Her bags are packed. She is going off on a new adventure.
At fifteen, she is lonely and sad; this will be terrific!
She has no idea he is fifty-two,
and she is a about to become sex-trafficked.
unfortunately I rouse,
incapacitated, fettered,
fuzzily sensitising to
my bedchamber, I ruminate
and periodically deem adequate.
eyes hanging with encumbrances,
engendering the plagued gaze,
empty and dull of scintillation
that flickered out lang syne,
inadvertently blighting all
who love me enough to meet it
with sorrow and remorse.
bitter utterances resound—
sarcastic, playful, yet
it swipes at my skin, scarring,
each reverberation swells
the ache, once dull, now palpitating,
degrading my ability to exist.
repugnance laces my features,
sewn into the cavities and pits
inside I can’t otherwise fill;
dentition stained, a miasma
of decay, tainting energy
emptily pledged to sustenance.
my body a vinyl record
obscure, weakened, aimless,
and the community the stylus,
passing over me, yet somehow
boldly navigating my scratched shell,
incapable of realising
impairment is done to the core,
ignorant that the music,
even with perpetual
interrogations “are you okay?”
like a broken record,
erelong will stop playing.
diamond grazing integument
unravelling muscle, a dazzling show,
zenith of the symphony,
populace vocalising and jiving
over the sound of my wails,
misconstrued to entertainment
solely from my torment.
severed sinew gathers in
accruals of sanguine liquor.
unseamed as the music crackles,
fading to a somehow louder silence
upon the tragic epiphany
of my lacerated cadaver.
Someone playing a concrete violin
with a jackhammer
on a midnight sidewalk,
street lights gawk,
flickering fascination,
tuning keys locked,
rosin swipes declined
chalks marks hold hop scotch trinkets
tossed into the numbered squares,
pawned now for a glass of chardonnay
and a plate of cheese
Paneled walls ache
of yesterday’s smoke rings,
scentless air fresheners,
hanging Christmas trees
presumed innocent,
only here for the music
and rear view mirrors
cherry lipstick traces on a folded napkin
crimson half circles
prints on either side
someone will be kissed tonight
I’ll take it with me
I love the flavor
Today, there are no bounds
in these times, what’s lost is found
it could be ours with just one tap
then watch it fall onto our lap.
So much to see, so much to do
all from the comfort of the same room
it’s all there, in just one place
even better, it lights up your face.
But when was the last time,
you’d meet a stranger over wine?
Take those digits and hold them close
and watch it become something to boast.
The anticipation of weekend nights
when everything felt vibrant and bright
camera phone photos with blinding light
‘ugly’ jeans, far too tight.
Connection meant a hand to hold
it wasn’t something that could be sold
when they would call, you’d struck gold
now they just ghost, it’s getting old.
There were no ‘prompts’ and there were no ‘swipes’,
just ‘save the dates’ and ‘get it rights’
because back then, you’d have to fight
now it’s okay; next one’s in sight.
There was always something on the big screen
but now what’s new, has already been seen
all that lays there are empty scenes
we stay inside; we’ve found new screens.
Isn’t it great, this newfound fate
that keeps us safe behind our gates
it’s all so shiny, it’s all so bright
yet somehow we’ve lost the light.
IVs and deathbeds
Line up like grocery carts
In a parking lot
Pushing daises up
From deep below the Earth's crust
Unstable terrain
I see nothing in
Where darkness is musical
And leads me nowhere
I'm an old man now
Looking up at the youthful
Young whippersnappers
Celebrating life
Over a blanket of clouds
That I crawl upon
Celebrate all life
Under a blanket of clouds
Let's snuggle below
Oh, woe to Death's blade
That swipes away at my life
Cutting it too short
Translucent twilight
Where doves fly forever south
By the edge of land
Luminosity
Slowly dying with the Sun
Setting fire to rain
'Til death do us part
So, I whisper, "I love you"
Before I depart
In between circles
I dance to the rhythm's beat
Deep below flowers
A celebration
Where rainbows bend at my knee
Proposing new life