Long Unveiling Poems
Long Unveiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Unveiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unveiling poems by poem length and keyword.
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
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If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...
I receive the wind's forced breath against my face-and revel in my locks rolling in the vibrant
sunlight.
We hover just above a splash of rainbow painted flowers,
that kiss my toes with open petals of joy.
The scent so pure,
shall decorate my skin forevermore.
We crest high into the ocean tinted sky.
Humbly greet birds which share in our gift,
and delight us in symphonies of angelic praise.
I close my eyes for a startled moment,
as we dance through a vineyard of bumble bees-
"Buzz,Buzz," They caution sternly to us, their unexpected visitors.
A smile imposes my lips at the thought of their disrupted task;
Only to pass them, look over my shoulder and witness their purpose resume within natural
elegance.
A shimmering mirror of water now lies underfoot.
I feel the warmth of the sun's reflection cast up under our joined form.
"Faster, faster!" I command my fairy-friend.
As I lay down flat and wrap my limbs snugly around to secure myself, our speed begins to
flourish.
With quick, steady, pace, we descend onto the water's surface.
Skips and twists- twirl into a tango of splashes,
which shower my face with each perfectly intentional bounce.
The tickle rises up from deep in my belly,
I laugh, a laugh full of true obliviation.
Dragonfly now lifts, higher and higher we go-
As I glide upon heavenly stilled wings.
We drift within utopian clouds,
they pass before our sights like vapored curtains before a theater of whimsy, unveiling a
masterpiece.
The presented gift, is that of majestic mountain tops that promise the scent of sweetly
perfumed evergreen.
This aroma leaves me breathless.
The aroma evokes childhood visions of wishing stars,
and kisses goodnight.
I inhale the memory for a moment longer,
cherishing the scent before I must once again grow older.
My friend I have been blessed to dance in the breeze with,
slows to a transcending idol.
We encircling the center of a noble rose.
We descend gently into the heart of the queen of flowers,
and land on her royal stage.
I delicately climb down, lay upon her silk;
and closed my eyes to dream.
Dreams which have atlas' transpired to become,
my long awaited reality.
If only I could ride upon the back of a dragonfly~
O', what journey I would behold...
According to Matthew's recording of the Gospel story, Jesus' genealogy consists of a total of 47 names.* Four of them are women. Of the 47 names, I am familiar with 23 of them. That is less than half the total. Of the 23 with whom I am knowledgeable, very little is said of 6 of them. Most, but not all of this list consists of The Messianic linage. The others like Zara and Urias are on the list are there because they are a part of the story. They are important because they are linked to the story, not to the Messiah's ancestry. Who was Azor, and what did he do? Solomon I know; but who was Akim, and what did he do?
As the Christmas Season begins, I am reflecting upon matters pertaining to the birth of Christ. In so during, I began to consider our roll in God's Master Plan and our contentment, or the lack thereof, in letting God decide who becomes simply a person mentioned in the story or one who 'stands out' as renown, and plays a large roll in the unveiling of God's Great Plan for mankind.
And so I am forced to ask myself a few questions. Am I okay with relative invisibility with no one knowing my name? Are I okay with being someone name Ram or Shealtiel or Mattan? Am I happy with who I am and the purpose for which God has chosen for me? Are I willing to let God decide?
My thoughts regarding this list are simple, but as I meditated upon this list I was moved and stirred by the fact that each person in the Messianic linage contributed by procreating equally down through the centuries and eventually brought forth the Master Plan of God. Each of them was vital whether their name was Nahshon or David, Tamar or Ruth, Elihud or Judah.
May we be counted among those who simply do what the Lord told and led us to do with little regard for what great things others might be doing. May our names hold firmly to their place on God's listing whether or not they ever grace the pages of any literary piece. Indeed, may we anticipate our names being in the Lamb's Book of Life.
Relative to the Christmas Season, in January as we look back toward Christmas and the needy, may it be said of us, "They have done what they could". **
11262017 PS
*KJV
**Mark 14:8
Take me Away, Alive or Awake
by ~CrimsonSmolder
In the lands of consumption
On the edge that is so narrow
Take me away; alive or awake
Take me away; by force or compulsion
Oh malicious being you..
Capture me whole and breathing
Drug me high
And pain me less
And you shall gain
What other lacked to impress
In a room so velvet
Blood is mistaken for carpet
Curtains turn to shadows
Take me there; Alive or awake
Lay me down on a bed of roses
In a dress of scarlet and pale light black
With hair so curly that shines solid lust
Where candles are lit and halos are exposed
Drug me high
To pain me less
As I stare in those passionate eyes of black
Genuine, yet unveiling
As the drug gives me nausea but keeps me awake
I Lay so still, so wordless
As you rid me from my clothes slowly and gently
And I just stare into those exquisite eyes of yours
Lashes as dark and long
I stare onto that black soft hair
As it falls perfectly to all sides
That built muscular rigid torso and lean abs
That open shirt of yours waiting for the skin to expose
You put yours hands to my sides
Tough yet it feels so soft
As you enter me whole
Introducing feelings of excitement, of tension, of delight
Yet I still lay motionless and still
With eyes so indifferent
And a heart beating so fast
And yet you pause, and produce a dagger
Hidden in thee black silk
Its poison, peering silver, visible at the hilt
I notice, but no reaction follows
You pierce me lightly in the neck and breast
Slipping it lightly, yet in some places deeper into the skin
You lower your aim and strike it slowly yet smotherly to my stomach
A bit of blood escapes my mouth; you wipe it tentatively with your hand
You aim lower, cut deep into the abdomen
Yet you continue to kiss me, and caress my check, leaving scars of red everywhere
Droplets of a beautiful color ooze soothingly from thee cuts
A feeling of lust consumes me
A rage of vulnerability conquers me
A sick pleasure overwhelms me
I try. I will.
And I produce all might to put my hands behind your neck
My legs around your waist
And I kiss you and love you
And sense fades yet the heart still wants
Still lusts, still orders
Yet the blood continues to pour
The body begins to suffer
And pain a bit I begin to sense
As I wince, surrendering my arms to my chest
There's a 2nd part, please do read it c:
Lucy Locket lived amidst Lakeland Hills, where jay serenaded morning;
Like plum rainbows celebrate sunshine, with never any silent warning.
Lucy was merely twenty years old, like a peach rose, dusted with dew;
And she was also a dutiful teacher, unveiling what children never knew.
Lucy liked to sew and to garden, like green nature, roving everywhere,
Recalling lavish, sunset skies we used to view, in the colors of vanity fair.
Kitty Fisher was Lucy's best friend, amidst many, for she was popular;
Like finches are popular in floriated summer, creating gladness, ocular.
Fancy emerald nature wore fun, fantasy makeup, in its faceted colors;
And unfaltering family flattered fall with visits, beloved like no others.
Kitty lived in the house of very ordinary, like cherry redbirds singing;
Where silver moments comprised golden hours, jeweled time ringing.
Summer snapdragons grew quite lovely, on her sparkling street of sun;
And scarlet maples smiled colors, until the smoky season left, sudden.
Nepalese neighbors narrated tales of sweet nation, at mulberry night,
When nectarous, naval oranges hung ripely, under moon, satiny white.
Purple ranunculus blooms resembled roses, when sunrise echoed dusk;
And 'Marimo Moss Balls' played water polo, while jasmine trailed musk.
Giant water lilies ruled placid lakes, giving rise to titanic, pink blooms;
As golden sun and calm moon vie for dominion, inside separate rooms.
Lucy and Kitty went to a lecture, in a lavish, lavender evening of larks.
The lively, literary topic was much enjoyed, like the sun's dying sparks.
Afterwards, Kitty and Lucy parted, each to their own welcoming home;
Like a green bird of turquoise skies, oft makes its nostalgic way, alone.
Later, Lucy discovered her pocket was missing, its location so unknown,
Like red streaks of gold time, ever fleeing, past a blue, marble milestone.
Next day dawned golden, and Lucy's pocket, she found on her doorstep.
Golden coins were tied to its ribbon. And at Kitty's note, her heart leapt!
For it was Lucy's sparkling, glad birthday, as devoted friends remember;
And Kitty had made it one of her best, like hued leaf nights of November.
'Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
Not a penny was there in it,
Only ribbon round it.'
From the trenches of the dark underground into the sewers of the slumworld, a place terrified with the pain of fear, gripped from their minds unto their souls, they are afraid of the outside world, afraid that death could be their bane at least there was a sorcerer to tell Merlin what Arthur's bane would look like, I lived among these people, the only survivor of my family who were captured and butchered like pieces of meat. For me, the attitude of fear was untraceable in my soul like pieces of heroine, vengeance was the objective I seeked for like the legend of the seeker I sought my own path, my own journey to the outside world to avenge my family but the spirit of assistance was crying out to me like the voices of the hummingbird echoing across the dark forest. In our world, almost everyonelacked the determination and courage to stand up for one another, fear had tortured them for so long, a leader was missing but now found like the prodigal son because I availed myself. I supplied to them the spirit of bravery and confidence, everyone would gather to lend me their listening ears and watch me, both old and young, for a long time we lived in fear, but the time to stand together like the walls of Jericho had arrived. The spirit of guts over fear was very essential at that moment, if only Julio Caesar was still alive, I would hsve learnt more from him, we were seen by the outside world as aliens but that narrative was about to change, the tides of the tsunami were about to turn like a compass, a new wave of strong blood run through our veins like a fountain, we were on a mission, like soldiers we marched like army worms into the outside world seeking redemption of our identity, at least the idea of the silo was wrong because there was life outside, it was a different atmosphere compared to the environment in our world. The citizens were afraid of us, we had worn masks due to our fear then, but no more they were off our faces like the unveiling of a secret, the people saw us for who we were, we scarred but that was the representation of our people, a war could have ensued, my vengeance would be successful, but I remembered what my late father told me, "Every human being, be it tribe, language, ethnicity are all one and so we united with the people, after all were all made from the same creator.
Love is like fragile wings.
romance an illusion of moonlight delusions.
I recall when summer skies hypnotised,
in the pleasure of your pleasing presence,
I used to gaze at the doves of love above,
admiring their delicate reflections in your eyes.
Revealing the tempress inside you,
our butterfly hearts used to flutter,
watching our shy shadows dance,
to the rhythm of brave waves of hope.
Tribulations of time led to a
decay within our garden,
as poisoned poetic petals,
drowned in a wild river of roses.
Now we are like a
destitute of wildflowers,
our souls resembling moths of shame.
There is a sadness in silence,
when there is confusion
in communication.
Tongues remain oppressed
in misunderstanding.
When candlelight caresses
no longer feel the same,
as misplaced moments begin to untame.
Songs of passion we sang for us,
escape as anthems of selfish games.
Should we muster dry conversations?
Neglect our flower garden in this storm?
Within wilting vines where
weeping willows hide,
it's a crime that the crying
crescent moon mirrors our stolen hours.
Specks of cosmic dusts
refuse to unravel silver spotted dreams,
when time becomes a nightmare
ticking beneath electric fields of scarlet.
I've lost and found you in
diversified seasons,
as winds of evanescence
curl empty promises into pearly shells.
Every poetic phrase you’ve
place in my borderline mind,
no longer hydrates this
glassy oyster heart -
will I forever remain confined
within restrained walls?
Perhaps this is just another
beginning of an ever-glowing end.
Painted in restless nights
from subtle strokes,
of forgotten devotion felt
like forbidden nostalgia,
beckoning monotonous forlorn
silhouettes to depart.
The last star shines and
bleeds broken hopes
in dwindling wraiths
upon love gliding
within trifling shadows.
For, sometimes feelings
wane like ephemeral phases
of moon-bows that seize
every lingering last light of life,
unveiling tides of change to
wriggle into thin fogs of grey.
Yet your clarity is forever
framed as timeless souvenirs,
designed as fine aesthetic
art colouring me with affection.
Forgive me, but I will
perpetually plant loyal seeds,
so our collaborations
continue to blossom in fresh fragrances.
Last call for alcohol, embargo
on the cargo headed for Fargo?
Bootlegging articles of?
"ConfederationNow",
Boot logger, droned Over all? Foggered... Froggers, sprawled. Farms attacked by competing vows. ++
Blood drained Cows.
Imagine, Gaia hype- our brainwashing, a
sacrifice to a Paul Bunyan Nephilim type, "Savior" moonshining wormwood tea in exchange for Sheep. Believing them to be. Stoned blind in Texas, right wing.
Liquid Media medicinals, points for eveyone West of, Diagonal the Allegheny, best of show, suggestion,
allegiant, allegory. (Oh...allegedly.)
As The King of the North fights zombies that believe the Game of Thrones just fantasy. Conspiracy_ Storytellers of propagandolf, minds of Sauron to keep
eyes Wide-Shut. By Aristocracy.
To "pass" on the proof of those stoned blind in Texas, shekeled, bought, brought a Rose, of Sharon,
from Ticked Karen's, in their own Eden.
Those non-Citizens,
"Christians of the un-Enlightened" l"unacy of Old',
thoughts? NoahmadicHeathens!
Of the tide turning; going South.
The dark side of the moon,
a journey scape of wet dreams in swoon.
To partake the half empty side of drink.
Salt of thirsts.
Cup of wrath of the Directional Winds.
A piracy bloodbath of Nationhood in martyred demarcation zones.
Cusp of swilling blood of the swill,
Apocalyptic feel, fills,
notes of the unveiling of the Whore who Rides the Beast on the Seven Seas. Leviathan is leavened,
rising, ready to eat.
Now, there is censorship on speech on the internet,
then is, when, is then en-Tyrely.
The Gatekeepers at Fallens keep,
keeping freedom, voices "Crying in the Wilderness"',
Peeps out of reach.
Accept for Government (entities) with algorithms, keyloggers, identity id thieves, imagers of the Beast.
Spell binders binding
their articles-of-New-World-Sourcery-Cheaping-Rumpelstiltskin-Seamstitchery-Tailoring-Truth- blinding-digital-mining-slaves for the Wolves,
Kings of the East, Trading Company.
Trading souls for an hour with the Beast.
I promise — that ain't me
I'm not the guy in the mirror
The guy is so beardy
Cheeky faced
With a big thick lips
That isn't me
Remember when I smile
It's a crooked one
One side of my lip
Seems to go up
While the other just hits the ground
Like a heavyweight... Hahaha
Now, this guy in the mirror
He smoulders instead
He doesn't even smile
Well, he might but only when he's mischievous
When he wants to hate on me
Especially in the morning before breakfast
This is overboard but
That guy in the mirror murdered my reflection
I could see it in his eyes
But I just can't prove it
Look!
He just winked!
My reflection was the opposite of him
It's got my every detail
It smiles even in my toughest days
It cheers me even when no one will
It consoles me when I needed one the most
My reflection loves me
Like I said
That ain't me
That's not my reflection
Because I don't believe
That people change —
What's inside just keeps unveiling with time
Now, these days
When I stare at me in the mirror
I don't like what I see
In place of my reflection
All I see is this
An egoistic narcissist with beards
This guy is selfish
Always wanting to make me look bad
It seems like he wants the best for me
But I doubt his intentions
I've never been a cynic before but
I think i'ma be one with this guy
This imposter wrote this in the mirror
That no one deserves my apology
Not even those I love
He told me that
No one steps on my toes
That I won't pump up my fists
This guy told me that
I could do whatever I want
With anyone's Emotions
He said to me
All that i'ma take care of
Is just gonna be me
At first it seemed to make sense
I kinda agreed
Because his words are convincing
It seemed like one of them inspirational quotes
And I really wanna key in
He seemed wiser than I was
But when I realized
That I've lost so much
To please this guy in the mirror
And I miss my shy reflection
I decided to write this
So y'all could read
Right now, I'm about to sleep
And if y'all wake in the morning
And see some changes in me
That guy in the mirror
Switched our spots—
I'll be in the mirror
Please come find me there
And charge that dude
With a first degree murder
Because he killed someone
He murdered my reflection
That guy in the mirror...
Form:
Im half awake, and glaring at the sunrise
distant brilliance slowly eating at my dry eyes
squinted to best witness the aureate Apollo
refract off blades soaked through with dew
heaven's first blush, midsummer quiet, and coffee scent
cast clarity, light unveiling the burden
weighing down on every living being
clearest with the coming of the day
burning black holes into my brain's blank slate
sundering my soul 'till shatter state
fast approaches on the infinity of empty space
veiled out ahead of me
Restless with the lethargy of baring witness
I stir the pit, and catch flames leap up
from within carbon prints of gray matter
quelled embers lay suffocating beneath
ash dunes and smoldering phoenix feathers
matted and clumped by filmy deliquescence
spent of all but their will to rise again.
I grasp at the green broken glass
strewn about my feet like seeds
planted by last night's ignorance
and the sin of forced forgetting that
we all someday pay recompense
for our vice's and the gluttonous
way we all practice immoderation.
The world is quiet in lull
humanity lost to an illusion
breathing soft
and sleeping soundly
altogether
We exist
to want and rub against
the way the world turns on
a crooked axis, each moment less lucid
than those sunspots and dewdrops
coursing through dirt-clay veins and
branding the cracked dirt with morning
I cant shake loose the afterimage
imprinted on my blunted senses
experiencing everything I reach
is less than whole
understanding the universe
exists as fragments blackened in spite
of time's one plight forever pulling it apart
The sunset split the sky,
the fire danced and spit,
and the condensation clotted.
I seized eternity that morning
amidst the doldrums of sleeping masses
its truth intimate and calming.
I sense slumber cease and the suburbs rustle
the dreamers stumble about in waking
to shower away their sweat and dreamt delusion
start their cars, and drive away in sync
I listen closely to their heavy sighs
the shift of sagging shoulder plates,
bent under with Atlas tugging at the reins
kind's struggle never ceases to
echo off of terra firma, quaking
with each clanking of the chains
that bind our beating hearts to
alarm clocks, freeways, work weeks
and the torment of monotony
Form: