Long Untasted Poems
Long Untasted Poems. Below are the most popular long Untasted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Untasted poems by poem length and keyword.
Methinks the here
to fore purposeful inclusion
of key word "babysitter"
a slight oversight describing
residents at Highland Manor
(a particularly nagging omission
in previous epistle to detail,
how flat screen televisions
constant blaring subdue
said majority of tenants),
whereat this emphatic
writer, (a penny pinching hitter)
susceptible to miss
out oomph pa, I
(a poetic critter)
will now intend to convey
without recourse to:
instagram, snap
chat, or twitter
thus, this quasi
appended verse
attempts to avoid
communicating disappointment,
asper unfulfilled
childhood, adolescent, or
young adult jitter
ring circumstances found
me tubby a quitter,
now as an aging bummer
with decreasing glitter,
I aver feeling litter
ally somewhat bitter
sweet asper those
figuratively untasted,
untested, and
untoasted fritter
(comfort zone
expanding challenges,
now bugging me
psyche) with jitter
re: ness, cuz yours
truly denied, deprived,
and disallowed himself
tubby a more vibrant
Matthew Scott Harris
to get distilled
from je nais se quois
crucible of life,
hence omitting,
sidestepping (like do si do),
and skipping tummy
loo, viz fuel
joie de vivre injecting
more verve
into what thyself
subsequently evolved into
a staid staind and dire
strait tinned existence,
but no pitter
patter pity please toward,
this present day
pearl jam knitter
of (senseless, listless,
and aimless)
verse as this human
specimen racks up years
as an aging orbiter
round mister sun.
My gypsy heart is restless.....
I’ve been here too long
too long....
the fields alive with paths that lead....lead...
there, to the edge of the earth and sky
the minstrel sings that sing
of places of my dreams sing...sing...
to my gypsy heart
the unknown, untasted, untouched, untraveled is calling.....
Calling...
Ah..........
don’t bind me
don’t keep me
don’t....don't beg me to stay
don’t claim me with the promises of yesterday
today is today
I want to fly away
don’t hold me back
The gypsy in me hears voices
You cannot hear
for fear
My dear....
You have no gypsy heart
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At midnight....tonight
Yes.....tonight
I will slip out the door
hand in hand with mistress night
I will take flight
while my family sleeps
and my heart weeps
while the stars make a place
and the moon hides her face
while the night breeze carries me
I will break free...
My love,
I’ve been here too long
Too long..........
When you wake
and your heart starts to shake
For heaven's sake..
~~~ forgive me~~~~
The call of my gypsy heart
Would not be still
there was another place
another thrill
and so
against my will
these cravings to fill
I slipped away
I'm not....far...far away
Forgive me, I pray
For this gypsy heart
could no longer bear
to
stay
Eileen Manassian
I've always been fascinated by the gypsy life. My favorite Disney character is Esmeralda from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I found this pic today while looking for something else and I thought....I have to repost my gypsy heart poem from ages ago. Hope you enjoy it.
Another morning gone. The warp and weft
of kids and errands seems a sort of theft.
I love to listen to the phone-in show,
Peoria Euphoria K Seven, Illinois,
the kind of thing that housewives can enjoy -
Andrea Doria, Eva Longoria -
but parents don’t have rights. I’ve got to go.
Another morning spent. The spare room painted.
I poured the soup away, since it was tainted.
He mixed his caustic soda in the bowl,
with Pennsylvania always on his mind
(Bryn Mawr mainliner – guess you know the kind –)
Brainier, mania, Lusitania
and wiped it once around with kitchen roll.
Another morning done. The suit dry-cleaned.
A neighbourhood committee’s been convened.
Initial meet – the Wilsons’ brand new deck –
how was it financed? Heaven only knows.
Seaworthy credit? Like the Mary Rose!
Wegmans, Wayfair, Wakefern, Wickes …
(Let’s hope the builders wait to cash the check).
Another morning over. Turkey basted.
Last night, the almond cupcakes went untasted.
I don’t know why I go to all the trouble –
they raid the fridge for fudge and mayonnaise:
don’t call it eating. Kids today just graze.
Athletic greens, soya beans, proteins –
I sometimes think I’m living in a bubble.
Another morning down. The carpet hoovered.
The garbage bin unemptied, outmanouvered.
It looks so comfy, nestled in its cleft.
The city elders park outside their own,
so why can’t we? Is this a yellow zone?
Organic waste, paper chased, cadmium-laced.
Another morning gone. How many left?
Be Thankful Each Day
Written: by Miracle Man
11-28-2019
Lord, I oft take for granted,
many little things.
Because some of these objects,
don’t produce pings.
They often tend to slip,
through my life unseen.
While you’ve blessed me with plenty,
Other parts of the world glean.
Little things like clean water,
which without thought we waste.
While others live in squalor,
without clean water to taste.
Void of shoes, and walking,
where ever they might go.
The good life goes untasted,
this is all they’ll ever know.
So today while I have choice,
of Thanksgiving treat.
Some parts of the world ponder,
if they will just eat.
So this day from our bounty,
we will willingly share.
Not with them, but with someone,
because we’re thankful and care.
Before me laid an untasted bowl of candy
And the duty owed to family.
Do I satisfy my long craving self
Failing to respect responsibility ?
Or to my lover's vows turn deaf
And pay homage to ageing sagacity?
Papa claimed my lover gave not all he has
For marriage is what love should be about
Trapped between a coward and a Thomas
What bravery have I to clear whose doubt?
Over the seas and far away
Lies my lover too cowardly to seek me
Nearer to me to lead my way
Stands my father too doubtful to trade me
Do I elope with hopes of a love fantasy
And banish every iota of reality
Or pay to my father his tribute due
By the murder of my lover's cue?
When after a lover may come another
I shall remain my father's daughter
For love ought to rest with the unchanged
Pure bliss and free from sacrilege
Lizdiamond World Of Poetry
Elizabeth.A.O.
Seize the day!?Seize the day,!!?Seize the day!!!
Once I cried “carpe diem”—pluck each moment bright—
But now I know: no soul can truly seize the day;
We can but watch it vanish into night.
Time slips through grasping hands, in echoes vast,
Like memories we hoard—“This too shall pass.”
Before we sense its passing, a thousand moons have passed,
Leaving only footprints fading from the glass.
Open your heart—learn to forgive, let fractures mend.
Time won’t endure; only the love you send
Will bloom beyond your time—compassion, gentle, kind—
Impressions lasting long after days unwind.
We cannot hold on to time, nor merely let it fly.
Still, there’s so much waiting—for question, life, reply.
By living fully, learning wild and free,
From five years old to ninety-five, there's more to be.
As age ascends, keep wonder in your gaze,
Play games, try tastes untasted—let life amaze.
Gather with friends, sip joy’s sweet draft,
Find sunlight in the small, and laugh the hearty laugh.
A godless mass afraid of Death,
though unfettered by rebellion against God.
Uneasy calm imposed by modern gadgets,
global alarm from nations once revered,
A surge of pestilence from the east
trans-versing the cope of earth,
undefined yet named,
A demon unleashed beyond proud science,
The Vain research for a cure,
speculations of empty brained Politicians
and the unending hyperbole of the media
increased trepidation for the unseen,
helpless physicians like simpleton
consenting to the foolery of Politician
defining cures by a mask,
promising relief by sanitizers,
Stay home, isolate and increase your depression by loneliness,
Freedom now mockery, liberty a lie.
compelled by their reset to change the order for another.
Billionaire proposing vaccines,
untasted by the speculators.
Yet the surge unrelenting they say',
is their imposed masks not cure?
Is the sanitizer not a relief?
the pestilence is resistant to their vaccines,
another mutation in Boris Britain they say,
A mockery of their solution,
the speculation a mere phantom.
Ignorant men as viceroy for the unseen realm,
global manipulation of a cult,
A stage for the Antichrist.
Islands in the Stream
Islands linked together like forged argent charms,
In straights of silent, surging currents,
Where Watchtowers of Fresnel lens sound fog sirens
Where sacred shoals harbor shame forgiven;
Lightships built high on cribs and Keys of truth finally seen
As bright argand lamps on chariot wheels send out beacons,
To signal sightless ships with broken masts and rudders
Through whirlpools of turbulent canals and gushing straights,
To find serene deep-water ports in chains of channeled islands.
Yet, these no islands only mountaintops of maturity climbed
From submerged land coupled at a thousand leagues
Beneath the tidal moon enchantment;
Restoring milestone harbors of illumination
Words lit by isophase candle lamps inside carved prisms
Expanding light waves of thought - recognitions of new plateaus
Topping astragals of aerobeacons with untasted adventures
Into enlightenments leaving behind each newly explored isle -
New christened tall ships navigate siren’s lure in uncharted streams.
9-20-21
Contest: Islands in the Stream
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
If I never lift up my voice,
How will I know
How sweetly I can sing,
Or its tenor,
Or how well I harmonize
With the music of the universe?
If I never open up my heart,
How will I hear
The echo of its beating in time
With another,
Or feel the exquisite pain of love,
Or the infinite joy of forgiveness?
If I never open up my eyes,
How will I see
The beauty in a falling drop of rain,
Or the wonder in the vastness of the skies,
Or what the mirror tells me
In its stark honest reality?
If I never spread my wings,
How will I know
How high I can soar,
Or how far I can fly,
Or what it's like to race the moon,
Or dip my fingers in a cloud, or touch a star?
I do not want bitter tears
Shed o'er my grave
For songs unsung, or deeds undone,
Or fruit untasted, or love untested.
But if I never learn to live before I die,
What will I do to make it through eternity?
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
_____________________________
Place of Redemption is Darkness
unpetalling - - solace space unfolding
I sail drowsy dim seas without boat
or oars, conversing with walrus, whales
treading liquid tar silent, unseen
in distance a dog barks as I empty
bladder into ocean
underwater cables run fire
Darkness, Cloak of Protection
alchemy distilling gross, grime, goo
a thousand fingers unfelt sew broken
pieces of Life, loosen hooks, nooses
Angels of Death appear, wings
midnight blue, gathering loose threads
snapped nerves, false cues
I hear a night ‘plane flying passion
Here Crow visits sea darkly shining
untouching cast charming spells with
silent cymbals, unscathed holds sound
I covet cup of cold black coffee, unsmelt
swarthy, spilling on night waters —
hiding eels, oysters find their feeds
blankets have no feel, weave
unraveling, I perceive spindles
Coelacanth swim inquisitive incognito
individuated spirits shine poking
examine my tired flesh, as velvet
phantoms we attune to F o r e v e r
black cat runs sky, corrugated quarks
shatter moon smiles, its rock tumbling
rays on rippling nipples, navel upturned
circles spiral gene keys like piano notes
Place of Attunement is Darkness
no stagnation or pothole sidles, earthling placards, test tubes or empathy labels
shimmering umbra behind stars fall
dust upon midnight water smooth
gloom to-fro about unpaid karma
prison cell was scribbled with charcoal
I shout my name, nobody hears or cares
Humming, droning, buzzing black
holes beckon like blackboards with
light language — I recognise Cosmic
sound activating Heart, fall deeper into
b l a c k o u t __>>>
alpha kisses omega as breath leaves
returning in baby gurgles upon a
Bermuda Triangle ~ dog sniffs backyard
Darkness ignites laughter untasted
observing I pay Tolkien tribute, tinkling
___________________________________
GOLD Placement Poem : Allpoetry
May 26 : Prompt :
What may you find in Darkness |
Confirm no AI
Third Placement: Premier
Sponsor : Seth Pina : May : Your Favourite