Long Tightens Poems
Long Tightens Poems. Below are the most popular long Tightens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tightens poems by poem length and keyword.
Lying in the emerald grass,
I gaze upon you,
transfixed in the moment, your beauty astounding.
I watch you breathe as my finger tips slowly trace
ribbons through the cerise highlights in your long saffron hair.
Gently I caress the contours of your closed eyes, then your cheeks.
Your lips curl in a subtle smile as I, oh so slowly, follow the curve of your neck
down the valley of your soft skin to your low cut tangerine dress.
With each lilac button that I release it falls away revealing your smooth ivory skin.
You gasp gently when a cool breeze tickles you and I watch in enraptured desire
as your bistre peaks rise firm above your bosom.
With the touch of a feather my fingers draw circles and figure eights around your navel.
Your body tenses, as goose bumps cover your skin, and your smile tightens.
I lean forward, your crimson lips beckoning.
The softness of your kiss presses against me and lingers for a long moment.
"I love you,"
I whisper and your beautiful eyes awake.
Titanium sparkles cast glitter in their deep sapphire pools and I fall,
lost forever,
into your bottomless loving abyss.
03/14/16
RUNAWAY BRIDE
Down the ailse she walks
Bouquet in her hand smile on her face
To the alter where her love awaits
Her heart so pure and true
Her friends and family all in view
Her veil hides her face and tears
Her body hidden by the dress she wears
White the colour of purity
Pink the color of innocence
Her dark brown eyes clouded by promises
Thump thump her heart beats faster
Her grip tightens on the arm of her father
Every doubt shes ever had
Passes through her mind , so ugly so bad
Questions to which she doesn't have the answers
Her footsteps slow to a halt
Curious eyes look to her
Back and forth, bride and groom
The mistress there pretends to swoon
But she knows better the lies and laughter
Behind her back they all must chatter
She turns around and begins to run
As if someone there held a gun
Out the door her veil behind
Bouquet on the floor , her name being yelled
Oh what a tale, a tale to tell
Once upon a time a girl fell for a prince
No other man she fell for since
A real prince charming to her eyes
She was fooled from all the lies
Once upon a time a girl fell for a mister
But soon she found out
He loved her sister.
Toska
BY:KHANYA
an immense ache for nothing and everything
all at once
An anguish from the bottom of the heart
and yet how can one star shine
without being bright
when it has lost its light
so i kept mine in deeper darkness of the lonely night
knowing the world made me so fragile
i chose to hide all the feelings burning inside
what good would it bring me if i chose to cry
so just let me be that guy
The one known to hide , bottling everything inside
and inside that bottle is everything you’ll find
behind every scar given by life
what happened to the heart that had every smile
instead of burdens washed down by the river sorrow
and how can i borrow
one’s smile without it leaving me hollow
the chest tightens up
the airway so narrow
making it so hard to breath
and yet i still believe someday my heart will bleed
again
till it can no longer hold so much pain
She stares deeply into your soul as you slowly exhale.
Calmly you feel her presences of life enter in as you inhale.
Breath becomes a wonder as the cold illuminates its mist.
You gasp inwardly as your heart is overwhelmed by a kiss.
The cuddling warmth of her brings in tender thoughts.
Her rhythmic breathing brings fast palpitations to your heart.
She rises and stares deeply into your eyes with gentleness.
You exhale with excitement in loving hugs and a tender caress.
Oh, the joyful magic of Love has enchanted your flaming soul.
As your heart then realizes that her flame has made you whole.
She tightens her embrace feeling her profound flame enter in.
You know with your soul mate of life will breathlessly begin.
The engine.
Black smooth and ornate
Eons in its design.
Hell glows at its heart
Gears grind, turning into the void; sublime.
Darkness hunts,
Something drums...
Springs, Rings, Mechanical Parts.
Churn, Burn, turns...
They labor deep in the dark...
Onyx chrome sleek and full of mystery.
Eternal Engines deities.
Sparks fly, a roar deeply shakes...
The secret earth coil tightens.
Energy is loose...
Entangled minds,
That ponder and aspire.
Madness at matter.
All that is hidden
All that's desired.
Deep; unmoved soul
It waits and conspires.
Mysteries of the engines eons fold.
Dark, intricately carved by a divine hand.
A talented mechanical mind.
Humans with nothing to hold
Secrets of infinities coil...
A hand bleeds bold.
Of things humming in the dark...
With hell that is its heart
Crimson and amber bright
Aglow in the sacred night.
Buried deep within oblivion eons-long
Gears grind turning to the void, sublime.
Casting visions into the cold…
Creation marches to the song
Of spheres, as gods steer
engines blaze.
The things left unsaid
grow heavier through the years,
gathering below
like silt in a riverbed
fills in the refection pool.
Snowball, small at first,
gathers more snow as it rolls.
snowman's tiny nose,
becomes head, then a body,
then a roaring avalanche.
Regrets germinate
as roots grow into the soul
become embedded.
what was 'too few to mention'
is now 'too much to ignore'
Hand touches lightly
then tightens for better grip,
as the wanting grows.
the weight becomes the burden
that is so hard to let go.
Fingers on the ledge
numb and trembling from the strain,
grow inflexible
letting go is now so hard
after all the holding on.
We wear the wind without knowing
who it belonged to before.
A coat of yesterday’s anger,
today’s kindness sewn in the lining.
Faces blur at the edges—
the barista is your brother,
the stranger at the bus stop
holds your childhood in their eyes
for just a second.
We revolve through doorways
where names change
but the silence between words
feels familiar.
One day you are the voice,
another day, the echo.
Interwoven shadows—we circle each other
Actors before a shattered mirror,
forgetting who plays whom
and whose cue it is.
There is something behind it all—
not watching,
not judging,
but weaving.
The thread runs through all of us,
and tightens
when we pull away.
--- Christopher Johnston
Thoughts regurgitated though repugnant,
coil of self loathing tightens its noose,
venal thoughts a fragmented whisper,
to sabotage, undermine, disrupt,
one’s frail ego under siege,
wounded whisper n as barbed wire plume,
internal bleeding one must staunch,
if only gumption triumphed,
vacuous a notion one brazenly floats,
inane virus of the mordant gibe,
its origin welded to an anonymity,
so vast in its remit,
defying bold attempt at confrontation,
acid laden cut deep within,
over trivial and flimsy oversight,
imagined stain, partial blind slip,
transgression not worthy of indictment,
court proceeding deep welt juror,
nodding in consensual conspiracy,
wounded mutter, wounded sibilant sigh,
homespun crime against oneself
Eye contact at a bar,
Laughter mixes pheromones,
Irises dilate as dark euphoria sets
Two unavoidable actions in motion.
His double action Adams apple pumping
As her lips glisten after a tongue bath.
Lightning cracks inside, deafening logical rhythm,
Channeling energy into porcelain-like
Vessels of desire.
Muscle tightens under skin, defining
Halted passion, sensual urges, and plasma thirst.
Blood pumps into veins, temperature is in flux,
Perceptions re-imagined, recollecting interests.
She sees his primal fierce eyes, sculpted body
Under a new light. A canvas to etch her
Screams in with red polish. Painful,
Pleasurable thoughts invade, creating
Memory before action.
He smells her fragrance, he feels her breaking
Resolve submitting to him. The chemistry of his
Anatomy pulling, swimming, clawing at each
Fiber of her being. Her skin’s cold and moist,
His, warm banana nut bread.
First embraces, friction, resistance, motions
In oceans of soaked sheets. Powerful
Contractions, condensation on windows,
Perspiration dripping beads over
Limbs. Forcing self upon self is
Maddening, to conceive, to imagine
Hard sounding drums pounding
Soft harmonic beats into one
Human melody.
Exhaustion, the wasteland of battle,
Blood and lipstick swirling eyeliner into
War paint. Carcasses lay strewn, scars
Ridden across back and thigh.
Tears fall down cheeks out of pure
Joy and affirmation of lust.
May I buy you another?
The best choice of words
Made a dream come true
For whom?
The silent type—that’s what I am.
Not the strong silent, carved of stone and pride,
Not the cool silent, with a smirk to hide,
Not the mystery that people want to trace,
But a quiet born of shrinking from the space.
More like the scared silent, the one who stays
Frozen in the corners of the passing days.
The one who always assumes they are wrong,
Apologizing just for moving along,
Convinced my voice is an error in the air,
A broken note that shouldn't be there.
I am the silent that would rather stake
My own fragile peace for another’s sake.
The silent that would rather be miserable and low,
If it means a lighter path for someone else to go.
Let my own wishes fracture and break,
If it keeps the surface smooth without a shake;
I will swallow the bitter, the heavy, the cold,
So your comfort remains completely untold.
I am the silent that dreads the sudden sound
Of my own name called as the room turns round.
The heavy panic of having to talk in class,
Wishing I were invisible, made of glass.
As the clock ticks down and the papers rustle,
My chest tightens up in a breathless hustle,
Praying the eyes of the room pass me by,
Leaving me trapped in a stifled sigh.
I am the silent that doesn’t make many friends,
Watching from the edges where the laughter ends.
It’s not that I’m cold, or that I don’t care,
I just don’t know how to reach across the air.
So I stay on the fringe of the social light,
Walking home lonely into the night.
And oh, how I hate the glare of the beam,
The sudden exposure, the nightmare dream.
I am the silent that hates doing anything at all
If there is a spotlight waiting to fall.
No stages for me, no central floor,
Just a quiet retreat behind the back door.
A shadow that breathes, a voice kept inside,
Where the loudest storms are the ones we hide.
Just the scared silent, careful and small,
Trying to exist without shaking the wall.