Long Tigress Poems
Long Tigress Poems. Below are the most popular long Tigress by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tigress poems by poem length and keyword.
bloods curdle into sour pastes,
touches reek of bitter tastes,
an unethical monster,
a lustful devil,
an insult to society.
a burning heart and soul laced,
two lips and her happiness blazed,
but what about her?
she who walks home to hell,
a torn body without any gauge.
the risk of love and lost morality,
dreams of drowned reality,
she who slits her wrists,
she who kills her lust,
she who stabs the beast and yet returns.
a tigress undercover now revealed,
the brutalist under her soft frame, unveiled,
confined in her lonely cage,
the nefarious angel-devil,
now forlorn, now forever gone.
I’m thankful that I’m a woman
With the power to beguile
With charm at my fingertips
And bewitchment in my smile
I’m proud to be a woman
Of genders the fairer one
With a silken soft beauty
And aura to match the sun
I’m glad to be a woman
Of creation the very best
The epitome of all the finest
By whom mankind was blessed
I revel in being a woman
Full of such delicate grace
The one to woo and dazzle
With passion etched on my face
I relish being a woman
For I’m able to dominate
To conquer and subdue
With one motion to subjugate
I celebrate being a woman
To have voluptuous curves
Not angular and muscled
But supple, with gentle swerves
I jubilate, for I’m a woman
Made as a help meet for man
To console and nurture him
Add my wisdom to his plan
Yes…oh yes, I am a woman
I know what I’m capable of
At times I am a tigress
At others a gentle dove
A woman is the essence
Of beauty and all that’s good
Men, I advise you to be careful
And treat them as you should
For women are little girls
Made of sugar and of spice
Now do be good little boys
If you want them to be nice!
YES, I’m thankful I’m a woman
I embody pleasure sweet
To be found in my presence
Is a never ending treat!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
OK men...take this with a grain of salt...C'mon! It is the International Women's Day. Show that woman in your life a little bit more love today, for where would you be without her! ;)
Sitting in the meadow green grass shimmering in the Sunlight
Jade green eyes Sparkle in a mist of long lost TEARS
A cat picks it owner SHE sees LOVE: SHE LOVES HIS HEART
Contrasting stripes of POLISHED JADE Shining in the Sunlight
Dew drops on Meadow grass Sliding down like Tears
Rolling Through the Clover Purring LOVE from HER Pure HEART
FOREVER ALWAYS Entwined in ETERNITY
“NOOoo, NOOoo, Unfair YOU said THREE Lines no Longer
My next stanza is four lines long THEN “WE” go back to THREE”
“ OK, OK I’m sorry but I do LOVE YOU FOREVER AND ALWAYS “
“ I K N O W and I LOVE YOU FOR ALL ETERNITY “
The Green TIGRESS seductively LURES HER MATE to Fondle
To Caress and Probe MY inner SOUL Discover the Estacy of LOVE
A Contented PURRrr, a Contented groan of arousal from HER LOVE
“ Nubbies “ for HER LOVE,” Nubbies “ from HER EVERLASTING LOVE
“ My DEAREST and Only MOST BELOVED LENORE, No [ “Nubbies” ]
Our POEMS are of a HEAVENLY LOVE : not the lust of Mankind
Our EVERLASTING DAY is still three long months Away”
“ I said EVERLASTING LOVE not EVERLASTING D A Y "
Now finish the POEM in YOUR LOVING and HEARTFELT WAY
IN JUST THREE {3} LINES”
If YOUR in the jungle YOU hear the ROAR of the Mighty White Siberian
Fear for YOUR Life , when YOU listen to the Sirenic PURR of a Green Tigress
Hug and Embrace HER for all of YOUR Tomorrows She ; YOUR EVERLASTING
W IFE
Dedicated in LOVING Memory to the Co-Author Of this POEM
My DEAREST and Only MOST BELOVED LENORE ELLEN ADAMS [ L E A ]
On the third level, the revelry had ceased,
there was a great peace,
here, in the communal gardens,
a calm, joyousness descending,
a few people already resting,
on the grass, they lay,
the Tigress,
here to meet the Dark Man.
such quiet solitude touched her,
the gardens, good for the soul,
all the songs of glory,
they reached this place of respite,
many started to leave the gardens,
walking down to level two,
most singing came from that vicinity,
the joy went on.
On the fourth level, almost silence,
very few voices could be heard,
the dwellers here, now at work,
they worked within the golden palace,
A few children were singing,
they did sing the old tales with gusto,
High pitched voices, almost lost upon the breeze that blew.
A few children were on the street,
dancing to the song being sung,
their laughter, a balm to the heart,
it was a joy to hear,
Alahsar, alive with gaiety, joy and love,
hearts were truly singing,
would that every heart would ever sing.
The golden palace,
atop the mountain,
awash with light,
The softer songs of Alahsar,
they come from deep within,
within each room,
rge sumptuous splendour of priceless jewels,
All but a few are happy within,
they all await the guest of honour.
Outside, the storm reaches its zenith,
the mother of darkness sings,
soon, from the heart of the storm,
the Dark Man and Turvehr come,
Many watch the sky,
alive with thunderous terror,
soon he would come,
The storm alive now,
the thunder booms,
the lightning flashes.
Once more, the mists of time fall over Alahsar,
once more I must have my horn charged,
the mead shall soothe the dry throat,
in bardic, melodic voice, the song shall sing again.
Soon we shall return to golden Alahsar,
the city of dream,
the words of elder songs,
they shall sing out in power and glory,
kike running waters the words shall flow,
painting their visions of wonder,
the glory of Alahsar shall live again,
your Bard giving life to antiquity's song.
To Be Continued..........
By day she goes about
the weary business of her dreary life:
a housekeeper, bookkeeper, shopper, chef,
chauffer for two active teens, and
hostess of her husband’s dinner parties
is she.
In the middle of her day
she naps,
for in the night. . .
when her work-obsessed spouse
soundly slumbers
and the kids at last are fast asleep,
she goes into the darkness
of the woods
behind her house.
The mask of this woman
falls without a sound
to the leaf strewn ground.
She raises her face to the moon.
In its light, the stripes
of a tigress are revealed!
Her legs feel strong and limber.
That ferocious appetite
for something that she stifles
flees away
as
she
runs.
Among the pines and midst the sounds
of the woodland’s crepuscular creatures
she runs and runs and runs.
She is running after something
she cannot put a name to.
She’s a good woman.
She would never use a bar or night club
as her jungle.
Now - with her tigress face -
swift, stealthy, and strong -
but above all,
not beholden to any body
she is simply free to be.
After an hour of running,
the mask of the housewife
is restored.
Then she collapses, exhausted on her bed,
where she dreams refreshing dreams -
which are necessary -
for tomorrow
she begins again
the weary business
of her dreary life.
10/26/2014; Now used for Skat's A poem you are proud of #3 Poetry Contest
I feel your need to romp on twilight's climb
despite the consequences life can claim,
you know my velvet touch can make you pine
I am mystery you know by first name.
Through hours we will groan a sinless prayer
and think of nothing more than primal flesh,
sensing how deeply you think... I am rare
a warm appetite that brings hearts refreshed.
If you accept desire's sweet effect
and choose wild abandon for fire's release,
then plunge with me until grasslands are wrecked
as stripe of innocent love climbs and heaves.
But before we complete our final song,
can't gushing heat douse instant passion's heed?
To covet me... tenderly to prolong
my tigress’ spirit by grace will concede.
.................
Your First 2014 Poem Contest of PD
By nette onclaud
* Use of few slant/ end rhymes is intentional
If a tiger would come alive,
from my paintings and sketches,
Could you make a wild guess,
What it would be.
Would he attract the tigress in the thicket,
would he show his skills with a quick kill or two,
Would he roam around the jungle majestically,
as if he were the king of the forest.
Would it be a young and macho breed,
With the vibrant stripes of black and yellow,
With his snarling ferocious teeth and whiskers,
Would he scare away the flock of deer at the river banks?
My cat loves my paintings,
She likes the colors, birds, and flowers,
She did not like the looks of tiger,
Jumped over the painting, tiger face looks all shattered.
Strange, strange the character of the human race
We, the human race on the earth is very strange -
The precious jingling anklet we wear on our feet
Where the cheap fingertip we keep on the forehead;
We celebrate any birthday by putting out the candle
Where we putting on the candle to remind the dead soul;
Milkman comes to the door to sell milk which is useful for health
Where we go out to drink wine though it's harmful to health;
We become angry, if anyone calls us a child of beast
Where we feel heroic energy if anyone calls us a child of a tigress;
We respect the salaried soldier as our national hero
Where we demand the death penalty for the public killer (nonsalaried) ;
Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Form:
Evil and God
Good and Bad
Since her first dawn.
She has been hearing it;
Of the both sides of the coin,
Of the both sides of human nature.
If a truth for the coin,
A truth for her.
What if she was not subdued
to be good?
What if she was not taught
to worship God?
Was it necessary?
She wonders as she embraces
the cold hard mattress,
in a cold room bolted from outside.
Animal are not taught,
are not cultured.
Yet they know how to be calm,
how to be angry.
Feed and produce.
They know it all.
Love for love
Fight for fight.
Being human,
Why does she lie here,
Life imprisonment.
Is she dangerous?
Those black and white coats,
bound to zero or one,
would not understand
Provocation.
If the tigress is provoked,
She retaliates.
Still, she knows when to stop.
She retaliated.
She stopped.
It's over.
None can harm her
if she wants.
She learnt.
And been judged - a dangerous criminal!