Long Viewed Poems
Long Viewed Poems. Below are the most popular long Viewed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Viewed poems by poem length and keyword.
I JUST,THEN YOU SUGGEST A QUIT EVENING ME WEARING THIS VEST,
I CONFESSED,YOU,JUST LOOKED AT THE WAITER & ASKED WHAT'S NEXT,
HE LOOKED AT HER AND REPLIED,A SMALL DESSERT ON THE SIDE,
ON THE SIDE OF MY CHILLI & RICE,
SO DEVINE, I THINK ILL HAVE TWO DESSERTS,
WHATEVER IS YOUR MENU,PLEASURE HE WINKED A CASUAL FLIRT,
AS SHE CRACKED A SMILE OVER VIEWED HER MENU OF CHOICE,
I'LL HAVE THE CHEESECAKE WITH STRAWBERRY SYRUP WITH ANOTHER CLEAN FORK,
SO HE TURNED AND ASKED,
SO I'LL TAKE THAT YOUR ESCORT FOR TONIGHT IN THE EVENING VEST,
THEY WILL HAVE THE SAME AS YOU I GUESS?
SORRY BUT, ILL HAVE A SLICE OF APPLE PIE WITH ICE CREAM ON TOP,
THE WAITER ASKED HAVE YOU TRIED OUR DESSERT TASTE OF A RAIN DROP????
I DON'T THINK I HAVE,IS IT THE HOUSE CHOICE DO YOU SUGGEST THAT DISH,
MAYBE FOR TONIGHT,AS YOU WISH,AS YOU WISH,
DOES THAT FINALLY GIVE YOU COMPLETION OF YOUR DESSERT TO DEVOUR?
I'LL ALSO HAVE TWO GLASSES OF WINE????AND BRING HER THE BOUQUET OF FLOWERS,??
AS YOU COMMAND SO IT SHALL BE,
TONIGHT BOTH YOUR DESSERTS ARE ON ME,
COMPLIMENT TO YOU IN THE EVENING VEST,????
AS YOU WILL SAMPLE SOMETHING I RECOMMEND AND SUGGEST.
BY.ANNODAL
Can I escape
from my own imbedded think
Rapidly warped perception
is the liquid I drink
What Jesus is saying
I discard with a blink
My mind bent morality
displacing Biblical ink
The collapse of my synapses
interlinked and exhausted
with too many strange thoughts
my mixed mind is accosted
So sinking six feet
a shrivelled seed potted
Mildewed dusty dirty
in the burnt soil rotted
I rise from the ashes
Escape from my dry
Soul, body, mind, reconstitution
on the wind I now fly
Embracing this new freedom
Knowing why my old self had to die
Perspective changes everything
when viewed from on high
For God’s ways are different
He speaks in whispers not a shout
Trusting in His wisdom
removes every doubt
Within this mortal heart
I can feel His Spirit sprout
Who I wished to be before
is no longer what I’m about.
Written May 12, 2020
Richard J. Lamoureux
Political Correctness
By Franklin Price
6/16/2016
Political correctness
Is what it's all about
Makes me want to pull my hair
Run around and jump and shout
I ask myself what's happening?
Where is my right to speak?
Think it's not here any more
Years ago it reached its peak
I'm not in a minority
In color, creed, or sex
My opinions often viewed upon
As a curse or witch's hex
What happened to majority?
No longer is it cool
If I say I'm one of them
I'm something of a fool
The rich and the minorities
Now politically correct
You can tell by what is going on
By the causes and effect
Rule by the majority
If all considered in its view
Is politically correct for all
It's something we should do
We need to band together
Bring the masses to the fray
Be politically correct for all
As it was back in the day
The house whispers
as I awaken
and a dream plays.
My loft breathes as I get up.
The block on the hill
still after the night’s
storm, and a story
plays in my head
remnants of a love
I once had. The cat
rumbling on my chest.
shares the moment.
…
Tires sing as I drive
along the river
as it takes in reflections
of sun. I’ve viewed
the scene many times.
I’m seeing it again.
Public Radio plays
a feature on psychology
and the triumphs and trials
of life, and I cry out
This is me. This is me.
‘’’
In a diner, dishes clink
and patrons laugh
while elderly cajole
their granddaughters
voices filled with promise
about the lives that lie
ahead.
…
I walk away
from old conversations
the pain felt
after someone left for good
and unanswered questions.
…
I stay true
to one thousand voices
in my head.
A new poem I seek.
When next my eyes are blessed to set on you,
May that be soon or further down the line,
Will tears refuse to paint with only blue,
And choose instead less colors viewed as mine;
I’ll see no beauty where it was before,
No lilac petals shall your garden grow,
And that it won’t, in dark, then to a store,
Where bottles sold are filled with fine merlot;
One sip is all these words will need to slur,
That tell left feet, a pair, attached my legs,
To stumble forth when hunger might occur,
But hear eternal hollow famished begs;
For years have passed since wine thin veins unwind,
Same your resplendence which turns vision blind.
LOCH NESS
Ahh!, a picture
Picture this
Viewed black N white shades of gray
Rivers rippling
As lightening strikes, thunder roars
Clouds roll
Continual lightening flashes
A top the hill
Moonshines bright through parted clouds
Still thunder roars
Still thunder cracks
Ripple waters bounce onto shore
cloud with dark bottoms
clouds on top are lit lighted white
As the dark rumbling rivers show
Shadow menacing bobbing, rolling, streaming through the water
Torrid troubles in the waters
To the left near horizon shaped like a "j" peering out of the water
The picture to me looks like...
WHAT'S THIS'''
AHH! Loch Ness
12/12/17
For Contest: LOCH NESS
Sponsor: Thvia Shetley
Her Wedding Day
The spiral staircase made her high heels sing,
while from afar, she heard the church bells ring.
Today, they'd pledge their marriage vows so true;
before their friends and kinfolk, say I do.
She reached the terrace off of the third floor;
their chosen chapel, there behind the door.
Alone, she viewed the beauty of the day
and took a moment to thank God and pray.
From here, the City churches pierced the mist;
tall steeples now, below the clouds, sun-kissed.
With a deep breath, she turned to enter now
the place where she and her true love would vow...
He was not there...her heart began to pound!
The seats were filled...to terrace, she turned 'round.
Below, she saw him leave the front door there...
he closed it, and, now smiling, crossed the square.
May 11, 2018
Contest: One Nine and Sixteen Upgrade Version
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
Required Lines To Use:
Line one: 'The spiral staircase made her high heels sing'
Line nine: 'From here the City churches pierced the mist'
Line sixteen: 'He closed it, and, now smiling, crossed the square'
Rio de Janeiro, a city by the shore:
Home to Ipanema, Carnival and dance folklore.
As a child, of you I read, from books that showed your Christ.
Arms outstretched, He guards your days and lights your sky by night.
And now I’ve stood beneath His feet and breathed the air you breathe.
I’ve viewed the famous Sugar Loaf, seen monkeys play in trees,
visited your fruit stands and drunk from a coconut shell.
I’ve searched for creatures hewn in stone that midnight vendors sell,
and on your soft and clinging sand, I thrust my toes deep in
and glistened under winter sun, brown sugar on my skin.
Along Copacabana, I jumped waves, enjoyed a beach
which, when they cross an avenue, all visitors can reach.
On weekends and on holidays, your several sea fronts teem
with hundreds, no with multitudes, of people who all seem
content to chat beneath umbrellas, lounging in the sun,
while on a road closed to all traffic, others like to run.
And on that winding promenade are folks, most clad in shorts,
thong-bikinied women, sundry shapes and shades all sorts!
Kids whiz by on roller blades; old or young may ride a bike.
Many simply merrily stroll, though dressed as for a hike.
And in your city’s whole, the countless cars and bodies stream;
pedestrians and door-less shops, props in your waking dream.
with taxis veering left and right and people catching buses;
Cacophony of life your subways and your streets encompass.
Children on their mother’s hands; boys in soccer shirts.
Men sip beers at sidewalk bars; girls scurry in their tight skirts.
Portuguese artisans laid the paths your people walk.
What tales immersed in history if cobblestones could talk!
More than a metropolis, you are yourself, unique!
And I have had the pleasure to have sampled your mystique.
For Bic Gi-Sa's Landscape and Towns Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The conductor’s call lingers~
the train’s smoke and steam dissolve.
Somewhere, a suitcase clicks shut~
finality in the sound of leather straps.
Viewed through smudged glass,
the world blurs into watercolor:
gas stations with their winged signs,
a lone boy waving from a bicycle
that will rust by summer’s end.
We press our foreheads
to the glass, watching telephone poles
stutter past like film reel frames~
each one a flickering second
gone before we can name it.
We pass a field where horses
stand like forgotten statues.
Their shadows stretch long
across the stubble,
as if trying to catch us.
Walking towards the dining car
we pass a woman in a pillbox hat~
she folds her gloves into her lap,
staring at the ghost of her reflection
as it floats over picked cotton fields.
We smell burnt toast
and something sweet~
maybe pie.
Wearing a rumpled suit, a man
stirs sugar into his cup,
counting the spoon’s lazy circles
like a prayer..
Dusk arrives. Lamps flicker on,
casting long shadows
that stretch across the aisle
like memories too thin to hold.
Some rides never end.
They just grow quieter,
carriages emptying
until it’s only you
and the rhythm of the rails
counting down the miles,
remembering….
You may read the related memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/all_aboard_13601
When i was young
I had many dreams
Of young boys quests
And nightmare streams
The dream of the shed
I have written about
But it's the other nightmare
That made me shout
Down a street i would walk
In my hometown
As i viewed the sky
A plane came down
It crashed in the canal
Leaving debris strewn
Bodies lie dotted
Families in ruin
I stand and stare
At the plume's of smoke
I'm half a mile away
But still i choke
Sirens all around
As the screamers scream
All of a sudden
I'm out of this dream
I sit up in bed
Drenched and cold
Shivering and lonely
With no one to hold
I fall back to sleep
My mind in dread
I count, one, two three
As they line up the dead
In the morning i awake
To this recurring dream
Or is it a nightmare i keep having
In panic deep scream
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php