Long Unfastened Poems
Long Unfastened Poems. Below are the most popular long Unfastened by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unfastened poems by poem length and keyword.
Was it off-white?
A cavity on the hem of my socks
Undulation,but palpably grazed
like the letters you never unfastened
I set sail for my untrimmed toenails
A cavity on the edge of my nail plate
“Ma, its uneven”
Notes, chords, and bolted doors
Inaudible, I pulled more thread
Attenuated, I pulled
The darkest possible color
Reached my wavering fingers
“Ma, it wouldn’t look good”
Chortled, was something funny?
I couldn't catch it
“Ma…my needle broke”
Rainbows glimmered after a laugh
I'm thirsty
My sock is missing
Two large figures left the room
Loose clothes
And covered feet
“Ma, my thread is thin”
Word Calibration in G Major
‘Don’t worry honey.
No one walks this way.
At least, not at this hour.’
The neons inside the dark house,
Across the street over there,
Are aglow with ghostly shadows,
Flickering like strobes in slow motion.
Just our car parked here now, and
No one is around. Nothing
Except Dream faeries dressed as opossums.
We are alone at last, and
It is time to touch firm bodies together.
It is time to be alive once again.
Your top two buttons are unfastened, I see.
Shh, be still as I unbutton the bottom two;
My left hand knows where to go;
I will now kiss and caress your soft perfumed neck,
As my searching fingers follow their bead.
‘Shh, what’s that sound?’
Loud voices coming this way,
Formless voices strolling by on parade;
‘Shh, duck down and don’t make a sound,’
As we continue to kiss and lick excited flesh,
Embracing in silent sweat,
Ensconced under a flaming white blanket,
Inside a lavender blue ’72 Land Yacht.
There is a moonless sky outside, and
A creeping fog beginning to settle in.
‘Ahh, I see that you are cold, honey.
Here is my hat,
Cover yourself.’
It was a memorable evening, bright
with my beautiful, charming fiancé
(once my wretched, tormented heart's delight)
near the old village of Fatheringay.
Drawn by the lilt of a whispery voice,
we found ourselves in a dark, rustic pub.
An inner misgiving questioned our choice.
A man served drinks from a hook on a stub.
After imbibing a strange, bubbling brew,
we dawdled the full moon-lit countryside.
In the lunar light, her eyes shone light blue -
mine, a phosphorus glow, like Mr. Hyde.
We gazed at the Hydra constellation,
where the Ghost of Jupiter nebula
somehow unfastened my reservation,
as its image fell on my retina.
That my grandfather was a lycanthrope,
and a mad cascade of serpentine thoughts,
this myriad of disclosures doused hope
(a demented disconnection of dots).
The vile dreams would slither back to their hole
too late for my near bride of eighteen.
The strong brew's effects had taken their toll.
My love was never again to be seen.
No, my true love was no more to be seen.
As darkness approaches, I grow anxious for our meeting
when your first touch will make me shiver in greeting.
An invitation to a private feast, darling, for you to dine.
After centuries together, I've no fear you will not decline.
We've quipped about it being called Valentine's 'Day'
when only in the night is it safe to come out and play.
Since the first time you made love to me in your lair,
I cannot get enough of your animalistic savoir faire.
My proposal will be waiting when you rise from bed.
You'll find me in the garden. It's nearly time to be fed.
My hunger is growing for what my body requires from you.
My thirst will be quenched when moonlight shines through.
Ebony the night, and in its silence, I'm desperately needing
to feel your lips on mine and nibbles to start the bleeding.
All of me will surrender when you wake and become mine...
my lover in shadowed places; my beloved bloody valentine.
Around my shoulders you'll wrap me in your heavy cloak.
Passion will arouse between us with every tender stroke.
Moving through the fog, we will tryst inside your crypt...
my buttons unfastened and your pants slowly unzipped.
There's a sudden feeling that I get from you each night,
eagerness for what's to come when I feel your first bite.
I'll tilt my head back and desire will hit me with a rush.
Your crimson lips silence me as my blood begins to gush.
You drink just enough to keep our love a burning ember.
Being in your arms is the only place I will ever remember.
Drink from me, darling, as if the libation is a fine wine,
and then I will drink from you, my beloved bloody valentine.
The Philippi rulers had Paul and Silus beaten, imprisoned and their feet clamped into the stocks.
Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises to The Lord continuously after the cell was locked.
But at midnight the prisoners bonds were unfastened when the foundation started to shake.
This happened because God caused an earthquake.
The jailer feared the rulers because he thought the prisoners had escaped and he was going to commit suicide.
But Paul told him that they were still there and the jailer saw all of the prisoners, what Paul said was verified.
The jailer asked Paul and Silas how that he could be saved and he was told.
They said to believe in Jesus and he would be saved along with his household.
The jailer cleaned Paul and Silas's wounds and then they baptized the jailer's family.
Paul and Silas were released from prison and then they were asked to leave the city.
Ancient aliens rise
from sandy caves and rifts
lay open hidden truths and gifts
in revealing their demise.
The possibilities of Jupiter and Mars arrival
hint that we are the civilizations continued survival.
Those secrets that lay beneath the surf
were purposely well hidden in the dirt of earth.
Revealed through recovered and deciphered texts and script
the purveyors of modern day interpreted manuscripts,
speak a language of the past unfastened
while today slips easily away not lasting, ever passing.
Perhaps it is only what is left of us
and we have lived before upon this enduring crust.
Who will remain in the futures soon to be past
to relay the truth of who we are and what we cast?
Ancient aliens rise once more
and tell
the story well
of who we were.
The Drive-Thru Oracle
Kevin Davis, 2024
At sixteen, I turned into the glow
of a fast-food drive-thru—
stomach echoing, thoughts unfastened.
The menu board flickered,
numbers rearranging themselves,
prices breathing in and out.
I rolled to the speaker.
It watched me.
Static. Then:
“What do you want?”
“Uh… a chicken sandwich and fries.”
The night held its breath.
Grease-sweet air pressed through the window.
Then the speaker again, slower now,
as if tasting each word:
“What do you really want?”
I glanced up.
The pictures had changed—
burgers replaced by ladders,
a compass,
a pair of open hands.
“A… chicken sandwich?”
“No.”
The word vibrated in the metal pole.
“What do you want to do with your life?”
My hands tightened on the wheel.
It felt warm. Almost alive.
“When I was little, I wanted to be a fireman.
Maybe a cop. Now…”
The parking lot stretched longer than it should have.
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sixteen,” I said.
My voice sounded borrowed.
“I haven’t lived enough.”
The speaker crackled
like something burning far away.
“That is not an answer.
What will you be?”
The answers fell out of me like coins:
“A soldier. A psychologist.
A husband. A father.
A minister. A friend.”
“Good.”
The word rang
like a bell dropped down a well.
“How will you arrive there?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Then that is your work,” it said.
“To not know.
To move.
To fail.
To gather days.
Do not begin
before you have begun.”
Above the speaker, the clown leaned closer,
its paint cracked into maps.
I smelled smoke.
Or salt.
Or time.
I opened my mouth—
—and the world snapped.
“Hi there! Can I take your order?”
Fluorescent light.
Asphalt.
A plastic clown, sun-bleached and grinning.
The menu: burgers, fries, shakes.
Nothing else.
I sat very still.
“I’m not ready to decide right now,” I said.
No one answered.
I drove forward when the car behind me honked—
past the empty pickup window,
past the blank-faced clown,
back into a night
that felt slightly unfinished.
My stomach was empty.
My life, suddenly, was not.
Sunlight hot strikes hard
White concrete shimmering
rippling mirages of water far
piercing cleanly the boundary clear
Gliding swaying moving near
linen blinding bright conceals
shadowed curves hinted within
softly moving rhythmically
creamy white buttons
within slits that hold
unfastened slowly setting free
moistened flesh lying within
sliding slowly dropping soft
pooling about sandaled feet
stepping free setting bare
downward into water cool
glowing warm sinking in
cooling clear waters here
essence mingling becoming one
sun warmed moisture cooling now
warm softened curves cooling now
growing tight firming form
clear clean waters hiding not
firm tight curves now within
distant watching all before
waves of Auburn floating free
bright halo of curves above
pale rounded curves
Soft warm breeze carries here
scent of flowers Jasmine and Rose
mingled within the waters clear
stirring emotions within me
moving together touching now
fitting together perfectly
waters cannot cool the warmth
growing within the moisture here
together to be in bright sun
parting not again to be
remaining together joined as one
through the day into the night
And at dawn's
Bow to dusk by
Each day's end,
She bedded in her
Unwindowed Lonehut,
Skinned of thatch,
That she too may sleep...
She would shut her eyes,
After shutting her door,
For sleep that ever ignored
Her crave.
For in her dreams, a thousand
Shadows chased her into the sea
That steered directly at her thatchedhut.
And in it, sharks, in their schools, would
Expel her, and she would awaken and
Rain would depart from her eyes to her
Bed through the remainder of dusk
Till dusk died down and dawn redawned.
She unfastened her canoe by sunlight
And sailed along with other fishers
Who ever preached to her about her
Beloved hut.
But defying all, she ever returned to it.
But unlike she couldn't afford anew one,
But because she just craved to...
And one day she slept and her soul,
In the otherlyworld,
Noted that she had had enough sleep,
Moved to awaken but could not...
Her friends, the fishers, well aware of
Her long absence around and ashore,
Made for her hut; force-opened its door,
For being silent to their knocks,
And what they saw was why
Humans ever shake heads sideways at
Sad-news and in sadness...
One thousand and one fluttering butterflies in one centre all
flap their wings sharing ambrosia for my soul mate and I
Mysterious nights in soft embrace tending sensuous flight
dance to tunes of the muezzin praying for love’s melody
Turkish delight on the shores of Baklava sweat meats taste
under a veil of exposure in nubility’s promises reconfirmed
Silk’s fragrance on a magic carpet in full flight shelters them
as their passion was made for more than the dusk of the dawn
Mosque and musk mingle when fast is broken and garments unfastened in
the East when sun rises bids farewell to the moon and their vows bow to
Tantra cosmos and mantra and
give thanks to the orbit they do not have to travel alone
12th February 2018