Long Tailing Poems
Long Tailing Poems. Below are the most popular long Tailing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tailing poems by poem length and keyword.
You perforate my normality
with snap-shots of the past.
Images of yesteryear form
a slide show which interjects,
dove-tailing, sneaking in to
the now with the stealth of
the stealthiest fox.
Distracted from the present
my mind meanders down-stream,
pausing at a bridge arched over now
and then. Remembering when I was younger,
carefree, flitting between hearts,
scattering the lovelorn in my wake
like sown seeds, lost, never harvested.
Then flippancy of youth. The transience.
Easy come easy go -
before the burden of emotion takes its toll.
My fickle fingers touched your heart -
then dropped it, hot potato-like;
craved for then petulantly discarded,
out of fashion, gone, onto the next .....
Yet here you are merging then with now.
You found me somehow, and I you.
Back to the future. Time travelled
and catapulted into familiarity.
The perforation of normality.
Present in the present with the steel
of the steeliest fox.
In my dreams you interrupt,
In my shower you limit water,
Putting in clothes you drum louder
And getting out I'm sweating.
You were to be my strength,
My weakness you turned,
Your tone so unpleasant to hear,
Ready to turn me in to tear my status.
My wish you are not concerned,
Only your will and wish counts,
Going to eat you are tailing me,
And eating you over watch ,with anger.
Finishing my meal seems to hurt you,
Relying on you, you melt for me to fall,
My sorrow burns up in my heart,
And you can't let me have a sip.
Going to sleep, I wait for too long,
And my stomach rumbles due to coldness,
Your words dehumanizes me,
And you turn my night to a nightmare.
Upon my life your winter still drizzles
Evoking the morns that arose in despair
And nights that steered dreams into sorrow,
As I sit all alone in valleys of destitute
Where memories haunt pitfalls of yore.
Tender and sweet, you were my ruby rose--
In garden of love, essence of fragrance,
Enchanting petals in butterfly dreams.
But seasons soon ravaged resplendent meadows--
Drought of emotions dried up the crops,
And red-robins left, abandoning empty nests,
When you relinquished the vermilion dawns
And chased sunsets in twilight of sundown
Forfeiting the sunrise that illuminated past--
You heard me there, but said nothing at all.
As arrival of fall marked the summer's end
A budding rose curled-up in travails of desires.
And dreams that cherished revelry of night
Confronted the day that endlessly rained,
When you roamed deserts tailing a mirage
Leaving behind lotus-pond, full of white swans,
Claiming of dissonance in nightingale's song.
Yet, I keep hanging on to visions of spring
Wishing for rivers to rush down from mountains
And blossoms that faded to host a new growth.
But in memoirs of yesteryear there is no tomorrow
For sometimes my dear, love just isn't enough.
September 10, 2019
Poem of the day on September 12, 2019
Placed 1st: Sometimes love is not enough poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: Your best free verse of 2019 by John Hamilton
Placed 1st: Strand select contest O by Brian Strand
Out of the darkness she moves unseen;
her feline silhouette against
the full moon.
She raises her nose
and looks up to the lit night sky,
switching her tail left to right ,
she strolls across the fence not shy,
prowling into the thickening night.
The fickle moon so bold
masquerading as a pumpkin
with a wicked glowering grin
hovers above the autumn trees turn red and gold.
Wind violently howls showing
its wrath, tailing a fleeting
wizard's unforgettable black hood
stalking the night woods
floating and flowing
out of your dark side.
Beware to be lured outside
if you dare, feast your eyes.
10/18/2017
Contest Name: Could You, Please
Sponsored By: Broken Wings
A contest a test,
Also ending tailing test,
In contrast,human on this planet,
For human,test a beginning not ending,
Adam sat for the first test,
Under the roof of Heaven,
Sitting on the golden desk,
Adam lost the first test,
Copying Satan's script,
Thrown to Earth like a cigarette,
Since then,
Many tests ,contests,protests and contrasts,
A coin has two sides,
No toss with a coin only one side,
Head and tail two sides,
Win and loss the two sides,
In toss,
This or that the choice,
Winning way wise,
The loss we protest,
Winning,only purpose,
No protest this all to accept,
The truth is,anything below best is not loss,
It is not the best,
Good or better at least,
At school we sit for tests,
Some times we pass,
Some times we fail,
Again,attempts or forgets,
In life illness is loss,
Wellness is win,
All in ill like cure,
No one waits telling fate,
From illness to wellness like loss to win,
"Not to win but to take part",
"Your's today tomorrow mine"-
The twine golden rules of all contests,
In a contest winning only a contrast!
Above the heat
the sky is flecked with ice.
The sun is no longer burning,
it’s a ghost lamp swept by the rags
of a coat-tailing wind.
There it is - arriving out of a hazy distance
a living cliché, a Bald Eagle
It must have caught a thermal.
I think of all the medallions and coins
it has been stamped and embossed upon;
here it is
an existential exclamation mark.
The eagle veers away
turning deeper into the ice-blue.
No one witnesses this,
even my eyes watch cynically,
the jaded disappointment of this sadness
is darkening my sight.
All hail to the he American eagle -
slowly disappearing.
© 59 mins ago
Sweating,
bench pressing,
ripping my chest..
Urgg,
the final stretch.
Whew,
she breezes by.
Crop dusting her
"love Spell Perfume".
WOW,
my eyes follow her across the room.
In dream-land,
I've lost focus,
under hypnosis,
now "tailing" that tail.
bent over,
tan thighs.
That apple bottom
caught my eye.
No surprise though,
I'm a booty kind of guy.
Those blue latex tights,
fit your hips so right.
I fight,
fight my growing urge.
Candy for my eyes,
such visual delight.
I can't focus on my work-out,
with that magnificent sight.
Sweet, caramel apple,
ample eye candy.
Erotic, mass provoking,
thoughts encourage Gym-Nasties...
**Concluding the Gym-Nasties collaboration started by Linda-Marie Bariana "Sweetheart"
Jared Pickett
12/17/09
Asavvy1
Step Outline- Hiking Trail (A Horror)
Prologue
Ext. Woodland Park, Upstate California- Sunset
It’s mid-autumn, hot. A week before school starts, there’s a family gathering. A young woman is arguing with her father. She’s holding onto her food. Then, she grabs her purse and storms off. Her father calls after her, but she’s heading into the mouth of the woods.
ACT I
Ext. The mouth of the woods- Dusk
She walks along the hiking trail, grumbling about her father. She takes a bite of her hotlink and complains about leaving her beer behind. She isn’t alone.
Int. Feelings
She wants to have one family outing where she doesn’t fight with her dad. It’s the same repeating argument, just a different scene. He always eats away at her good time. Why can’t Dad let me be?
Ext. Right at the throat of the woods- Dusk
She shouts to the listening woods she doesn’t want to return to her father. And the beast that’s stalking her listens.
ACT II
Ext. Swallowed by the woods- Dusk
The beast watches the woman slide down the woodland path. She’s speaking to herself aloud.
Int. Thoughts
Are her troubles so loud that they have to escape her body? If the beast sinks its teeth into her throat, will her words of anguish spill out with her blood? And then she shouts she doesn’t want to return to her father. If she doesn’t have any plans to leave the woods, he should have his fill.
ACT III
Int. Inside the belly- Dark
There are blistering bubbles below her. She lost a shoe and three toes. The walls flex and relax against her crawling hands. She didn’t know someone was tailing her and listening. She was so consumed with her fight with her father that she got devoured by another man.
The firing pin is in position,
Primed awaiting the decision to fire,
The target has been acquired.
I require more information,
The operation is under observation.
I'm stationed safely in my heart,
Starting to pick apart the details.
Tailing the target so I don't forget,
It's all in my mind,
I designed how this goes.
Hiding in the shadows,
So no one knows I know,
Cloaked by a coat of intuition,
I fit in tight spaces.
Embracing the darkness,
Facing my own mess,
I press forward to the goal.
My soul flows with confidence,
Growing my experience.
The clearance has been given,
I'm aiming with precision,
The mission in critical condition.
I listen to the breeze,
Before I squeeze the trigger,
Aligned with the bigger picture.
I fire with pure intention,
Unloading my weapon of perception,
Healing a collection of souls,
Looking for their part in the whole.
Whirling through torpedoes of sound,
spinning and tailing its way like Raphael to earth,
shoots some uninstantaneous ether:
the impermeable myelin of true experience.
The soul—the richest treasure chest ever found;
creating, disseminating, revealing, glimmering, alluring.
Rawest sense material pinging in gold-tipped purls of rose-furls:
stroking the ears as gently as a brook,
yet roaring with the might of an ocean-river undammed,
with strength enough to loose the captives.
Dance—that vital union of impulse and excursus,
Funnelling to earth to free the heart with unspeakable words.
Beauty will save the world, said a great Russian writer:
But how does that matter unless it first save our souls?
Wending, winking, welding walls of splendor; almighty proportions,
austere glory of Euclidean quintessence,
draining, distilling, disgorging life's elixir into a jet-black pearl
suspended in honey-dew drops:
Then the peak of the ascent and the plummet back to the globe of the touched;
yet refusing to leave us untouched.
Surely there is more to what there is than whatever we wish it to be,
Yet the continuum plunges on in measured oar-strokes,
to reach in all haste that prized and glistering and all-consuming whole;
Unfilched fire of sparks and symmetries to wound the soul with terror
Of the known but not realized:
After all that, we arrive at the beginning,
and let our sails be billowed with burnished breezes.