Long Unnoticeable Poems
Long Unnoticeable Poems. Below are the most popular long Unnoticeable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unnoticeable poems by poem length and keyword.
"Just breathe, you're having your breath taken, 'Aweigh anchors away,' the blessed follows," ... by The Poet
The unnoticeable lulls a fancy
as obscurity stares at a lost
such are promotions
of a trance
stages all ages
a momentous chance
for lifetime promise of romance
shattering glimmering
convinces glimpses
alarm bells--"Hush little baby don't--OH NO!"
"Release the Kraken ... or mices ... an ant if you have any?"
She comes, A ROWER?
It's The Specifics of the Ocean
Those islanders will come out - rigging
and surfing, Aurora, in a pipeline ... she's a dreamer ...
OH NO! WIPEout, its ecliptic ... but there at the ocean's edge
o'er the horizon, Aurora, RISE
the shacks are empty, the fields aplenty
The Drums of the Islands, Aloha Alive.
Walking away
It starts small yet expands unobtrusively
Unnoticeable even strangely illusively
You didn’t notice but it inevitably grew
So bad now will eventually suffocate you
I’m walking away
Enters pain acute the very worst kind
Saturates my body and even my mind
I know others share this terrible plight
Fact of the matter its just worst at night
I’m walking away
Loneliness whispers I’m here to stay
Exclusively yours both night and day
A one way road a quite single lane
A settling in this melancholic domain
I’m walking away
Scattered pictures my thoughts assail
Recollections prominent almost a holy grail
Precious memories oh thou soul set free
I will never ever walk away from thee
Scrumptious sight of prairies and grass
Ardent beaming of flower buds and buzzing bees
Leafless coils, branches of trees become alive
Hastening! Arousing everyone's joy and vive
Everyone happy on cheerful springtime!
A cotillion trips and chirps of jolly birds
From some distance, I have started to heard
Fantastic shun and kisses of pretty butterflies
Tempting all species of flora and fauna to thrive
Welcoming, beckoning the heat of summertime!
First crisp of breeze, creating dew in morning
Canopy of red and orange leaves from branches, enchanting!
Turning the world into a canvass of nature's brush
Unnoticeable, such romantic dash making anyone blush
Revel, embrace the sweet amorous season of autumn!
Solid chilling raindrops of snowflakes
Giving warning: careful during breaks
Covering branches, bringing icy cold aches
Yet, skiing an exhilarating cool escape
Delight in the coolness ambiance of winter!
BY
olive_eloi
2:22 pm
02/26/2014
CONTEST: MEMORIES ON BRANCHES
SPONSOR: GAIL ANGEL DOYLE
4TH PLACE
I always say I have dog ears
they are rather wolf ears
I hear things others do not notice
the blowing fan of an air register irritates me
in the morning I wake to the neighbor’s rooster
or a large garbage truck rumbling up the road
my dogs barely hear these things,
continuing their relaxing slumber.
tingles of a ticking clock bug me
whereas no one else notices them
I can barely concentrate if someone is tapping
right now there is a noise I cannot pinpoint
It seems to permeate the air
it is one of those sounds unnoticeable to other humans
but I have wolf ears
I sit here, irritated, trying to decipher it
It might be a light fixture or a hum of a refrigerator
I cannot type another word, trying to sit in silence
begging for silence, which never comes
because I have wolf ears.
You; him or her, anyone can tell me I am wrong..
Each and everyone is entitled to their own opinion..
Each one has a word or sentence to say..
For this is freedom of speech..
However, must one speak this much to cause hurt?
Must one use this to cause abuse?
Must one utter such to destroy or discourage someone?
Must one reply in a disrespectful manner?
Oftentimes, VERBAL ABUSE is so common
Yet oftentimes so unnoticeable..
It is oftenly committed by anyone .
For in heightened emotion one gets uncontrollable...
I am a quiet type person..
Don't want to speak up when I can handle..
Though all patience reaches its "red line"..
All controlled emotions reaches to burst...
Thank God no tears fall
For I'm not use to speaking much
I feel a torn unleashed in my heart
As I speak the hidden words I long been deny...
by: olive_eloi
27/09/2013
7:30am
He leans over the grave and kisses the frosty ground
The last tears roll off his cheeks
He looks East then West
He is the only one there to say goodbye
Surely this life mattered to someone
But its just Date of birth, date of death
On a faded grey flat stone embedded amongst the weeds
Almost unnoticeable as i guess this life was before him.
He wanted to scream. " is there no one who loved you,"
But there was no one to hear.
He said a last prayer for this unwanted soul
And in mid-prayer he felt himself floating upward
Into the clouds, into the light
And his last glimpse downward the revelation became finally clear
It was his name on the headstone
As heaven drew near.
As thin as an unnoticeable shade of the sunbeam
I see your shadow flying with you as fast as your flight.
It is the particles of sand, dust, and water that gleam.
As an imperfect mirage when the sun is very bright.
Do you, by your shadow, reveal my love that often blurs?
That appears and disappears with its fancy flimsiness.
Or do you point out the moods of my madam, who prefers
A man with mammon, magnetism, might, and magnificence
Your shades have mystery, mythology, and melody.
An obsession for identity in your fury flows
Though it seems a glow show, you have traces of tragedy.
Architectural arts and monumental modes disclose
Merged within your shadow are aspirations. abundant,
With her, as a storm, tempest, or gale, you are triumphant.
Azteca
As a young girl growing up in Los Angeles City
My mother took me everywhere with her
Our favorite Mexican restaurant had great hospitality
Casa De Nina, I enjoyed the music and she, their famous platter;
Guajolotas o tortas de tamal
Desayuno, plato de huevos rancheros
Champurado and pan dulce de Pasqual
The owner made us feel special, served us our usual
There were, Chicano art hanging
Some of the most authentic were of Azteca
Roots in the primeval instincts enchanting
The details of nature surrounding, alla prima,
A painting of an epitomal Aztec noble prince
A beautiful princess in his arms, bien fe`rma
The traditional cuadro stayed on my mind ever since
There it was, in all places, the painting was everywhere
La Marketa, the textile district, La Golondrina
Pintura’s de Indios Mexicano’s all about the town square
Olvera Street, even in the Mission at the Marina
As soon as I got home, I cleared away the furniture,
from up against the wall
In one hand the print on the calendar
a charcoal pencil in the other I began to sketch it all
A mural has to be painted in close relationship
to the scale, style, and mood of the interior,
With regard to such siting, to eye levels, a very good tip
Considerations as light sources, make realism art superior
I hid the paint from my mother and dad
Unnoticeable as of yet, I drew very lightly
I worked fast with what mediums I had
Brush strokes here and there, ever slightly
Until a finished project, my very first mural
I took her scarf and covered her eyes,
lead her down the hall and pushed the door
I whispered into her ear, s-u-r-p-r-i-s-e
Happy Mother’s Day, I prepared her a little more
With her fingers splayed over eyes and lips
My mother processed, motionless, in awe
Focusing on the corner at the paint drips
she said, I always knew that you could draw
An inspiring experience for the most part
Exhaling—she saw that I was passionate of my Chicana art
IN THE SILENCE
There is a longing in my being,
Someone nudging, also speaking, in the silence.
For ears truly listening, eyes that are watching,
beyond the acceptance of an unnatural botching,
Away from the laughing, pointing and gawking,
voices debating, the troublesome talking.
It is a power, a force that's present,
a love that's beyond a starry night's crescent.
The dictated emotions that keep us from hearing,
many hearts are failing for the worrisome fearing.
But be very still and you can capture,
and walk towards the calling, your name in the rapture,
There is a most wonderful, Omnipotent Being,
a Love everlasting, belief without seeing.
In the silence.
Within ocean waves crashing,
a continual washing, forever set in motion, in a perpetual fashion.
They see and they tremble with vague understanding,
at simply God's doing at His every commanding.
They turn up the volume of the blasphemous drama,
to the youth of our nation with demoralizing trauma.
But In the silence there is One crying,
to save a lost world from an eternity's dying.
Salvation free for all, for a blood that's still spilling,
for the passion of our Christ, a price paid at His willing.
There's a truth of discerning, solid, and stable,
of a grace that is present, willing and able.
In the bloom of a flower, a body of water that's glistening,
the cry of God's heart heard by those who are listening.
On top of the mountains, in the sprint of gazelles,
In the roars of the lion, the ring of church bells.
Across the great skyways, there's an artful distinction,
clouds filled with His tears, for the mankind extinction.
Listen, in the stillness, the longing connection,
the loving story of an eternal detection,
In the first beat of the heart, the first kick of an infant,
the last breath of a loved one, a life gone in an instant.
From the miraculous, the spectacular, amazing with thunder,
to the smallest unnoticeable miracle wonder,
Listen, I beseech you, and you will hear,
a love heard in heart, and not with the ear,
In the silence.
Wishing herself away
She
spirals herself on ceramic to the height of childhood,
reuniting each extension of her being to simple oneness
to challenge the chaos in her mind.
Familiar figures outside the room shape themselves with concern,
but her crowded thoughts
cannot understand a silhouette;
she knows its lack of attention to detail.
Her lungs fill with steamy air and release in heavy sigh
around her favorite position:
She
feels safe in the warm pockets of her limbs, blanketing her heart from the chill of
truth beyond the room.
A fleeting urge to unfurl flies by,
as she hears the bathroom tile pleading to end
the smack of rumblings from her toes:
but she resists,
knows enough
not to anger a nerve’s anxiety.
Curls droop anxiously over her knees,
eager to be straightened to some sense of sanity,
but she brushes them away from the moistness on flushed skin:
figures they’ll only frizz with failure
alongside her own objectives…
At this moment,
She owns the serenity of ease
seemingly unnoticeable
to others performing worry beyond the door.
Oh the moment to hold and not let go!
The fear of greeting her fate outside….
But
The sanctity of her thighs cannot warm
the length of her body beyond a moment;
the tears from her eyes never completely drown
the sight of confusion;
the locks of hair are never opaque enough
to shield the brash smirks
of ultraviolet light;
and the arch of her frame eventually must cease
its primitive beauty…
All, sadly,
in overwhelming acceptance
of her non literal position.