Long Venusian Poems
Long Venusian Poems. Below are the most popular long Venusian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Venusian poems by poem length and keyword.
Cleopatra,
I investigate your eyes
through Nile mist that weaves,
jade butterflies that never fly
sable tresses hanging over leopards
bole skin on the border of Venusian dreamcatchers
Gilded diadems dance as burned suns
radiate from golden flakes of your crown
lightning demarcating the border between genius
— and ambition
wars are fought easier than your heart is won;
Cupid grieves your connections
Great men fear being made lesser by You
She of the God-like Mind
made Immortal for her Wise Counsel
I’m no prisoner of Fear nor Envy
nor Love
only Fate & Chance
Passionate war’s trompe-l’œil
Innoculate against the forces
of the dark spectrum and it's Siren tune.
It's sickly pale green and gold hues. Monochromatic scale of hallucinogenic hopelessness.
Uses your Pride's Holden Magnet in it's vacuum.
A fog in the distance closes in,
like a Harpy in Venusian Projection,
streaming obscenity,
zooming in mirror of it's dirty vanity.
Principalities stalk the bog of your ruin.
Embalming your soul into insanity, Heretic Cocoon.
The Dance of Death's pompous Melody.
Dreamweaving sutured organ,
piping your fog into Mummy Womb.
Nightwalkers overlook the ritual.
Demon Satellites orbiting your perdition.
They argue this violation is consensual.
Taking not in_- the adorn of light's prism.
But staunching irreverence, a shadowed-stench where the light bends, grotesquely mishapened.
The Lord of the Flies-traps closes as if nothing happened.
Rainbows end.
Luminous jewel,
sphere illustrious
an imminent charm,
bright glow of love enamored
morning or evening star,
nebula’s composition redefined
named of the goddess who
by she enveloped our thoughts,
quotes, desires and hopes
ambiance eternal inferior
no moons for comfort,
only soft wispy, sulfuric clouds
enshroud and protect
in her celestial dance hall
ebon silhouettes abound,
volcanic pillar’s interior
Venusian mistress
Venera, radiant planet,
orbits and swirls about
Influencer, wife, sister, mother,
always a lover all in one
gracious and graceful
epiphanl presence,
astro star, Keats "Bright Star"
forbidding essence,
she plays in another’s
intrinsic magnetic field
for she has not one of her own,
grant her repose
from the hot lava lamps
of her orb’s abode
given a double whammy
they wanted to double down
on double talk
in the
torrid gust
the summer solstice
its sundry insectile eyes
seething with sultry scorn
in this weather channeled
source of telegenic storms
seasonal shifts are
lost in translation
poisoned neural flowers
the root of
rotting neurosis
the Earth becomes
Venusian
profoundly tragic
hypersonic horses
fly out of the digital barn
they sail over the
northern hemisphere
firing blinding arrows
into the dead brains
The Tropic of Cancer
and Capricorn
relax in the tropics
the Sun lords it
over the equator
precession calmly proceeds
(23.44° is the Magic Number)
all is well
in the best of all
possible
flatlands
Hi, gentle flower.
Good morning to you,
waking from your dreamy slumber.
Like rays of sun light,
your golden petals reach forth to greet the new day.
Glistening in the morning haze with drops of honey kissed dew,
you beckon forth those that would take from you your life renewing nectar,
leaving for you the crystalline promise of renewal from the fertile dust that brings forth the promise of new life.
Gently your limbs bow to the breeze that warms your leaves as the light shines brightly moving from
this side to that,
and the shadows grow long as the day hurries on and the specter of dreams awaits your inevitable slumber.
Twilight ascends in rapid demeanor inviting your satin wings to
enfold you
with whispered silence as you are drawn into deepening sleep.
The day is done and the time has come as darkness sings the
final dirge
that sees you to your
everlasting rest,
never more to cast your Venusian beauty upon the
eyes of the world.
Here are four survivors of a rocket that had crashed.
For a great distance, they had walked through rain that had splashed
so long, and so hard, that everything was turning white.
The downpour continued steadily through day and night.
“Does it ever stop raining on Venus?” one could ask.
A journey through the planet’s ceaseless rain is a task.
It requires the strongest earthmen to endure the rain;
a challenging test to withstand frustration and pain.
Venusian jungles are thick with vegetation.
Survival is usually of short duration.
The torrential downpour cuts through the trees and the land.
It is steady and so strong. A man can hardly stand.
It’s continual pelting of raindrops on his head.
It does not take long before most men wish they were dead.
On this planet, there is one thing that they would call home.
It is a round, yellow building known as a “sun dome”.
Inside, there’s a man-made plasma giving light and heat;
where it is dry and comfortable, with food to eat.
Thirty days and nights had passed since their space ship was downed.
They blindly tread through the rain until a dome was found.
However, inside, it was dark and cold with no sound.
Gashed holes in the ceiling proved there was no one around
Venusians attacked here and killed everybody.
These creatures were infamous for their savagery.
On the map, another dome was shown to be nearby.
Only a few kilometers away, it would lie.
They would leave in search of the next dome they hoped was near.
Their compass readings were off; their position not clear.
Suddenly, their ship with two dead crewmen would appear.
They had traveled in a circle, causing them great fear.
A dark, ominous, electrical cloud they would see,
spewing thousands of lightning bolts, a monstrosity.
This caused their compasses to show inaccuracy.
The group’s leader yelled “Everybody get down right now”,
but one man stayed up and tried to run away somehow.
He was struck by the lightning, and was burned quite badly.
Remains of this man were charred beyond identity.
The raging storm cost the crew another casualty.
The three remaining men continued on their journey,
blindly hoping a sun dome was in propinquity.
Based on the short story "The Long Rain" by Ray Bradbury
A Venusian and Martian met one day
But a language barrier stood in their way.
They observed the stars
Between Venus and Mars
Still, they had very little to say.
Both are unique and complex in make
Desiring a love that would make Earth shake.
Though broken at heart
They must stay apart.
There are plenty more options to take.
If only their warring families knew
Of the chemistry existing between these two!
They might try to seek peace
Cultural conflicts may cease...
The Marnusians would be a form new.
Unfortunately life doesn't work that way
Whatever fairytales and fantasies say.
Each a star-crossed lover
Secret. Undercover.
Their affection doomed til their dying day.
Belladonnic poison seeps from your eyes,
like an electric serum of Venusian alchemy,
one that paralyzes my sense of pride.
My mind oscillating,
alternating,
your gaze,
annihilating.
An infusion,
Uranium radiating me into half life,
as I look up small to thee.
How can you be my painkiller,
stretching rack,
healer,
and a killer clown surgeon
with a knack for stealing autonomy?
Your touch burns with the fires of Purgatory,
a solar cycle casting elemental ghouls,
in a rogues gallery of impish valkyrie.
Propheting in New Moon phases
of alignment's interferon mightocon cell mining,
beaming morse code anecdotally-
You dress me in the dark's fairie mood ring-collar- manacle- you cause me to wear in my captivity.
Endangered in the midst of your wilds,
from your strange type of phi
that echoes from the voids-
enchantress- third eye.
I flop like a fresh caught fish
in your net of silk, patterned telepathy.
You are a siren, a villain- bewitching
the stormy seas- to shipwreck adventurous souls
and harbor them on your oasiatic Isle, Circe?
So why do I feel saved, even in your captivity.
Turn me into a fattened pig, then,
do as you will,
but be the truffle of my descent
as I forage for delicacy.