Long Tremor Poems
Long Tremor Poems. Below are the most popular long Tremor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tremor poems by poem length and keyword.
"The wind is the pounding of my heart."
By Constance La France
In the crowd I saw someone
Quite handsome, all in a haze, so filmy
Nothing did I see clearly
But a pair of love lit eyes riveted on me
My heart began pumping fast and beating
As a soft wind fleeing past me
Did my face grow pale?
Or got colored by a blush?
I lowered my eyes and looked away…..
But I saw him advancing
Coming straight to me
My heart began to race,
Like a wind gaining force
My breath got hitched.
My lips went dry and parched.
I didn’t hear what he asked.
Words got stuck in my throat!
As by a whirl wind twirling around me,
Felling trees and snapping power lines,
My words flew away and I lost all connections…..
Unable to move or utter a word!
Felt butterflies in my stomach.
A tremor took over my hands and legs,
Like a tornado shaking me from foot to crown.
Beads of sweat appeared on my brow.
My mind went blank.
Forgot where I was, got frozen in time.
All I could hear was the pounding of my heart,
Like the whooshing of a storm in mad fury
August.5.2022
Let Your Muse be Inspired- R form Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
~ PLACED FIRST~
They come with hands that speak before the mouth,
With eyes that turn inward to keep their flame.
The room is loud with questions sharp as keys,
Each click a test they never learned to name.
Silence is taken for a hidden guilt,
Averted eyes for schemes that must be true;
A pause becomes a lie, a tremor fear,
And truth is lost in tones it never knew.
Words stumble—meant to walk, they run instead;
The body sways, a weather vane of strain.
“Stand still,” they say, to someone built of storms,
Whose calm arrives by wandering through pain.
The clock is cruel to minds that sort the world.
By careful stacks of sound and light and sense.
Commands collide; the echo multiplies;
Compliance shatters under overload’s expense.
A confession must be had at any expense to close a case.
This is torture and being tortured the tortured will do whatever they want, just to make the torture stop.
What mercy fits a language not your own?
What patience hears a heartbeat, not a script?
When fear grows loud, the body chooses flight,
And every movement seems a counterfeit.
Teach gentler ways to read the human face—
The truth may whisper, not present its case.
Let training learn the grammar of the quiet,
And hold its fire when answers need their space.
For justice fails when listening is thin,
When power rushes past a fragile cue.
Safety is born where patience learns to kneel
And see the world the other sees it through.
You give me a lift
to those heights I once dreamt of.
You support me in your warm embrace
and the heat comes through the silk and lace.
I cling to you with all my might.
We pass unseen from day to night.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
You ravish my soul
in pleasured ways that you know.
Fingers rouse each dormant fantasy;
your voice entreats me to set them free.
I yield as your lips have their way,
thoughts break free; I’m taken away.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
We lose count of time
as it comes to a standstill.
We can read each other’s thoughts so well
though we dare not talk or break the spell.
Our eyes and cheeks with pleasure glow.
Emotions rise and freely flow.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
We lose conscious thought
as pleasure exerts control.
Our bodies prove the zenith is near
and we arrive in euphoria’s sphere.
We revel in passionate thrill
until every tremor is still.
There’s no care to prey on both our minds.
Scarlet sky lies wrapped in bliss.
Gentle breeze bestows a kiss.
It feels good to be so close, real close to you.
Floating, floating over land and sea.
Floating, floating, floating endlessly.
For the Duet Contest of Heather Ober
December 3, 2015
Embers in the Wind and Threads
for Tomorrow.
In the rising fog of the New Year let burdens
take flight.
As failures lift like morning dew under the sun's
gentle touch.
Let them drift away carried by dreams dissolving
into the horizon.
Unbind societal shackles like chains rusted by time's
unforgiving passage.
Let freedom persist a song echoing
through the dawn.
Fly away barriers that sundered
our hearts and
Vanish into the night's celestial jete.
For in our togetherness
our strength restarts.
Like a melody each note harmonizing
with the next
Ashes of isolation where unity
finds its way.
We are a mosaic of dreams each piece interwoven
of unity's play.
Welcome joyous days with
wisdom’s spark.
Spin tales in a patchwork of
blended delight.
Let harmony imprint minds and souls.
Like an ember’s warmth on
a cold winter’s night.
Carry agape love a beacon through
the dark.
Let this year transcend mere time's
vibrant flow
A crown adorned with empathy's
multicolored light.
Societal, psychological, philosophical
in the know.
Unified we thrive, our unity ignites.
Threads of tomorrow woven in today's
greatest show.
Ultimately, each voice a tremor
in the wind can join the
rising choral tide.
Each note a battle fought
and won where shadows once did hide.
No longer solo in the dark but harmony
in vibrant throng
We rise a symphony of souls where
failures turn to song and singing:
May the Lord bless us with
His grace
And guide us through
each day.
May we seek His eternal
loving face
And follow His peaceful
righteous way.
May we find strength in
His word.
And comfort in
His soft embrace.
May our hearts be filled with
His love.
And our souls with
His unconditional grace.
May we walk in
His radiant light.
Shining His boundless
love for all.
Guided by grace our
hands and feet.
Answering His utmost highest and
loving call.
I am
The red ripe apple of the sinful tree,
The honey suckle of the bumble bee.
The pink blushed rose Of the secret garden,
The stubborn spoilt lass,never in pardon.
The youngest daughter of the honeyed sun.
The castle dream girl in Sands Of fun.
The jealous lover of the crescent moon,
The blowing Wind in strong monsoon.
The first white swan in the silver lake,
The seizmic tremor of each earthquake.
The scarlet love bird on each window pane,
The falling tear drop of crystal rain.
The candle's flicker of each passionate flame,
The Mystery!mademoiselle,madam,or dame?
The Copper butterfly in each Serene Meadow,
The Sunday church girl in White snow's shadow.
The brown eyed maiden of deep blue Seas,
The pretty Woman of soft strawberries.
The old fashioned lady in sweet proposal,
The gold stringed harp in music's motion.
The colored Smile on rainbow's face,
The flamenco dancer covered in lace.
The little Mermaid in pirates'streams,
The wafting wave in glittered gleams.
The twinkling Star Of black silk skies,
The lanterne light Of fire flies.
The Cindirella in glass slippers,
The happy verse of each romance.
The grown up baby who easy cries
The grown up lady who easy smiles.
The wishing feather of a flying free dove,
The Veiled young lady in the 'Power Of love'.
Charma
Who will shatter as I shatter when you're not here?
Who will burn in the silence of your absence, desperately longing to be near?
Who will let their soul break, eyes fixed on the door,
knowing you'll never walk through it anymore?
Who will be consumed by jealousy at every glance that dares to touch you,
while I am devoured by the fire of my devotion?
Who will love you with this madness,
this pain,
this raw need that tears my heart, thread by fragile thread?
And I wake up on a grey morning, full of shadows and shattered dreams,
every corner of the room an echo of your absence,
a memory of all that was and will never be again,
and time slips like sand through fingers,
and I wonder, who else will feel like this, who else will suffer like this,
who else will love as I love you, in all shades of pain and passion,
in every moment of silence and longing?
And I lose myself in thoughts, in waves of melancholy,
in a sea of regrets and crushed hopes,
and I imagine parallel universes where we are together,
where each of your smiles is a sunrise, each touch a caress of the wind,
and I wonder, who, who else will feel like this, who else will live like this,
when you are no longer there to light my way,
to give me meaning and purpose, to fill my life with your magical presence?
And in the tremor of the night, when the stars seem to weep for us,
I turn to the shadows in the corners of my mind,
and I realize there are no answers, only questions that repeat,
like an old and sad refrain,
and I think, who else will love as I love you,
who else will feel the pain and passion,
who else will burn and shatter,
who else will live with this madness, this pain,
this raw need that tears my heart, thread by fragile thread?
On a bright sunlit morning, washed brilliant with clover,
the day was alive with complacency, as color.
The day had no reason to quiver off course.
A cat in a tree, was stalking a bird,
and people were rising, to go off to work.
No one was thinking of nuclear things.
Below, in the trenches, a watchman has wandered,
checking a gage, and turning a page, of an old manual cover.
He scratches his head, and ponders a problem,
wondering how numbers could be out of order?
His heart rate goes up, his blood pressure rises.
He is wise to a problem and soon he's alarmed
He sets off the buzzers, but knows much too late,
the tremor he felt, was not only his own.
But instead, is the syndrome, we've always ignored,
Something horrendous.........Oh, God, what will come,
of the innocent families who live in the zone?
People arising, beginning their day
who scurry their children, in a rush off to school.
and husbands who carry a lunch in their pail,
punching a time clock, to work at the mill.
Just an ordinary day, in the lives of the men,
women, and children who live 'neath the hill.
"The Hill", that will bring them the end of the world.
Living their lives, on a tightrope so thin,
daylight begins, but how will it end?
A tremble so mild, invisible wave,
has seeped from the waste, with a radiant hand,
to swollow landscape, and burn with the sun.
As heart rates get higher, blood pressure rises,
the tremor we feel, is that of our own.
Oh, God, what becomes
of the innocent targets who dwell in the zone,
men, woman, children......who live 'neath the hill?
"The Hill" that will bring them the end of their world.
___________________________________________
The China Syndrome For Contest: "Equations"
—Per Ignem Civium—
Not for the tremor of an hour—
nor for the rumour of a declining sun—
but where a nation recollects
its primal breath.
Empires, like great tides, withdraw to gather;
and the world, misconstruing pause for peril,
utters its prophecies.
Yet there abides—
not in the eye that inventories dominion,
but in that inward faculty
which survives the ruin of surfaces—
the hand unyielding at Valley Forge,
the voice that would not fracture at Gettysburg Address,
and that anonymous endurance
by which a people becomes itself.
Not accident—
but long obedience.
And now, when the stars are counted
as though they were few—
they kindle elsewhere.
In the obscure fidelities of men and women,
in refusal, continuance, the kept word—
each life a point of fire
no dark can take.
A nation endures where one conscience burns.
O say, can you see—
not by the dawn’s early light alone—
how that dispersed brightness coheres,
till even doubt must break
and, breaking, name it:
the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Then silence—
I beheld
(not borne by wind, but by a multitude of vows)
a flag sustained from within:
each star a living centre,
each thread a bond no hand could sever,
and the firmament itself
inclining—
as if that which men call a nation
were but the outward sign
of an interior, deathless consent,
which, once kindled, admits no empire
and requires no time.
So it stands—
not as dominion, but as measure—
while time
relinquishes all question.
Sticky hands and sticky feet
Clinging to the ceiling
she crawls on his belly like a fly
To get the last jar of marmalade
That lay bare in the open sky
Thousand of eyes watched her as
her sticky fingers grips the ceiling
and she bent her legs over the bar
and make her way to reach for the
star with moving clouds lingering by
It was a dangerous mission
that no one could understand
One that could have broken her hip
But she was determined to make history
As she climb from bar to bar and held onto
The ceiling like a star, something held her firm
And she straightens her body and walked
From the ceiling to the roof and roll three
Times in the air and her sticky hands, and sticky feet
Gave her a perfect landing on her feet
It was pristine and new and the crowd went wild.
and she broke the old record and set a new one
She climbs the height that no one could see
And she landed without a jerk or tremor on her knees
With her sticky feet fastened into the ground
She went back in time and color her mind
And the mystic of the sticky roof was the living proof
She has waited for this moment to come
When the whole world would rise to their feet and applaud her;
with sticky hands and sticky feet she made history in the streets.
She steps, and each movement is a dance of stars across the universe,
A constellation in motion, carrying light into every corner of shadow,
On paths of tranquility, guided by a kindness that untangles the knots of time,
Her smile soothes unseen wounds, transforming suffering into sculptures of happiness.
With a radiance that seems borrowed from the eternal fire of comets,
She lifts the burden of the world, light as a feather caught in a whirlwind of love,
Without a shadow of pride, just an ocean of gentleness flowing through her veins,
Her voice is a symphony of truths, a song that calms storms and melts glaciers.
She brings peace to the stars, a dream that binds the sky to the earth in stellar embraces,
Her heart is a temple of gentleness, a sanctuary where souls find refuge,
Her soul is woven from threads of love, a cosmos of pure and endless emotions,
In her presence, every moment becomes an eternity of light and love.
When she steps, the earth trembles beneath her feet, as if listening to a secret,
Each step is a note in a cosmic symphony, orchestrated by unseen hands,
The air rises gently, carried by a tremor of fulfilled desires and dreams,
Nature itself pauses to take a deep breath, to savor the serenity brought by her presence.
Her gaze shines like a beacon in the eternal night, guiding lost souls,
She transforms wounds into flowers of light, tears into pearls of wisdom,
Weaving desires and dreams into the fabric of time, with delicate and patient hands,
Creating a place where love lives in peace, a sanctuary of tranquility and beauty.
Her gift to the world is an unseen song, yet felt in every breath of wind,
An echo of light and love that endures in memories and unfinished dreams,
In her presence, we remember the simple beauty of existence, the silent magic,
For she is, without a doubt, a heart made of eternal light and love.