Long Vociferous Poems
Long Vociferous Poems. Below are the most popular long Vociferous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vociferous poems by poem length and keyword.
Banks of fading sunset silhouette stood silently beyond,
Stretching a great bronze bundle of clouds over the sand,
An illuminating vociferous formation of wrinkled band,
Finding the timeline skies to cross bridges over land.
And the Ocean last look at summers evening silhouette,
Frame picturesque refine portrait folding calm ripple waves
In our bemoan eyes, daylight closes with resolute regret,
And night shadows edges nearer the contrasted entrances.
Sunset captures our vivid imagination and warmly intercept,
The spectrum ranges of violet rays in one beautiful breath.
When the sun drops below the horizon, the vibrant mix erupt
Euphoric display of unadulterated shades in theatrical myth.
The presence of cosmic moon spreading those lavish colors,
In twilight sky painted silhouette, reflects droplets drawing
Drama, by low hues and views, in latitudes and moist flavors,
Ambiance air scattering dust over the Rockies cast evening.
Memorable atmosphere translates into Hawaiian postcards,
Before the gently falling rain usher in the shallow storm,
A moment of darkness lies here and in between other worlds,
But nothing can take away sunset sequence of perfection.
BELOVED BOSOMLY BESTIE
Swift & Sweet Salone-Titi as the Washington West Wind,
Frenzy, fearsome & fair stallion,
Your loving heart heals a battalion,
Tho a victim of veracious voluptuous vociferous bum,
But many wish they replicate you, tho different for some,
Wisdom is not only your name but your act,
You tower even far above imagination and fact,
Your tenderness is like kisses from a dear,
No better feeling I can get than having you near,
No fear in your love
Cos your cheer is enough,
I shed ink and punch screen because I miss you,
Hope my words top your cup to the full.
My DIVINEly REBEKAH & one in a millie DELPHINA,
The passion in me that burns & drips like liquid fire,
Now I'm fulfilled to call thee wifey,
Because the butter has been spread o'er the bread nicely.
Beloved bosomly bestie,
Swift & Sweet Salone-titi as the Washington West Wind.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 28th March, 2020.
# impromptu #OnTheSpot #Poetry
# PoetKing #VickManuelPoetry #VMP
her finger to his lips,
the mood like an eclipse.
she’s set the bed so it won’t quake,
not yet.
her satin gown shifts slowly,
like accentuated snowflakes.
the moon illuminates the hallowed place.
she flickers with the candlelight,
bare feet on rose petals, her wrists
orchestrating the space above the clouds -
a tender dance, sans music.
she needs him to hear
the deafness of the night,
then she can make love to him,
as if he knew
a world where only lightning can succumb
to the pitter-patterless rain; noiseless crackle,
the ebony sky with plumes of ziggurats.
afterall, she’s wont to create fireworks
in the marriage bed; roman candles,
catherine wheels, head over heels
in love with him,
and he hears her.
she kisses his tears.
he hears her quiet heartbeat.
the ornate swan and royal blue,
her charms,
the twining of vanilla and rose...
the honeymooners in vociferous throes.
this night of nights — the chamber undulates
as her spouse embraces the storm.
he craves fidelity*, her infinity.
6/25/2020
Sensuality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
*state of being faithful; accuracy of details
“Love needn’t be very eloquent. It calms down into silence as man and wife grow old together with sweet memories of the years gone by, which speak to them more vociferous than words” ~ By poet
Years rolled by in silence
With the ease of clouds drifting away
Sometimes as waves pounding the shore
They walk, along the much-trodden path
The same grass beneath, the same gravel
Emotions surge and die in their hearts
Careful of every step, they trudge
Sometimes lean on one another
Two birds fly past them
Their eyes are simultaneously riveted
They move on, hardly uttering anything
Basking in the warmth of silence
Among them words are redundant
Their cataract eyes reflect
A clear sparkle of contentment
Hardly visible to an outsider!
They move on with waves of memories,
Of all the years gone by, knowing quite well,
Life won’t be the same as before,
In the twilight years, but they see clearly
The stars beckoning them
In lustrous luminosity from a distance!
May.5.2023
Entered for Brian Strand Premiere No. 1217 Poetry Contest
~ Placed Second~
Writing Challenge- ‘Y’ Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
This June, our national football team
Is going to South Africa, for the World Cup
When we were told not to wear our team colours
I thought, ‘This country has gone bottom up!’
Since when did our nation get twisted
Into a totalitarian state?
Where certain minorities have their say
Fuelling the ‘BNP’s’ fires of hate
They wouldn’t have even dare to constrain
The Welsh, the Irish or Scots
Who if told not to wear their teams colours
Would rather be hung, drawn, quartered or shot
Their sense of pride in their history
And for their Countries, is world renowned,
For England to bow to the vociferous few
Would be letting the team in South Africa down
Not to mention our troops in Afghanistan
Fighting terror so we can live free
Nailing their colours to the mast
Standing proud in the fight for their country
We here in England must echo that pride
As onwards all ‘our boys’ forge
And I for one, will be flying my flag
For Queen, Country, ‘boys’ and Saint George.
My molten core is bursting at the seams
Billowing ash and smoke circle above
Volcanic eruptions are on the rise
Intense balls of fire I toss from my glove
That damnation isle, this Icelandic land
Eating away at our profits, typically planned
This mother nature, no dollar sense
No bonus for us, can she redistribute and condense
Mankind has been playing hardball too long
His head's over-sized and his ego too strong
Iceland is but the tip of the iceberg
I'm now plotting the next eruption surge
There she goes firing of again
Airports are closing, grounding more aeroplanes
Tourism again hampered by her vociferous bellows
Which is a pain in the ass for us holidaying fellows
Don't toy with my gifts; I'll be more gentle
Your fine Earthly home is but a rental
Be kind to my creatures both great and small
Perhaps my fiery heart will cool down after all
Perhaps we have been harsh shooting from the hip
It's a trait of man, it's why we self worship
We appear to have grown a streak of selfishness
As we now look around at our self made mess
History Repeats Itself
By: Miracle Man
6/27/2020
As past sins are remembered,
and while restitution/revenge is being sought,
evil upon the world is wrought.
History is incontrovertible,
yet history is being erased/altered.
By allowing statues to be torn down,
portraits removed, flags changed,
and the renaming streets and buildings,
Our country is becoming more fractured.
Each thing is offensive to someone.
The sins of our past must be remembered
for “Those who cannot remember the past
are condemned to repeat it.”
In the name of social justice
we jump through hoops to appease a vociferous crowd.
We’re indoctrinating young minds with the narrative,
that “The end justifies the means”
thus making violent acts acceptable.
Hatred is a heart thing,
And Jesus loves us!
Proverbs 10:12 -
Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.
Cat was very nice to mice:
If asked for cheese, replied,
how big a slice?~ My honor to
please! --
Was also fond of backyard
birds: Wonderful! Marvelous!~
his admiring words.
Now dog, was a bit more ornery...
he barked a lot, even at the laundry --
protector of all, in that way true~
a tinted greyhound, who answered to
Blue --
Though some may doubt, lower critters
can actually speak! Perhaps, likewise suspicious
of my Chattering Creek….
--------------------------------------------------------------
There once was a Chattering Creek,
Mostly happy but sometimes bleak;
for the rains would come, and stir
such a clutter, causing the waters to
ripple and stutter; the edges would leak --
voice, more a holler! A vociferous flow~
Splattering! Splattering! Splattering!
Till a breathless slow – dearer klatsch-like
chattering~~chattering~~chattering~~
To whom much is given much is expected, land of the free
For when His Light is reflected then all will be able to see
Yet His Light has gone away, as evil seems to tighten its grip
No longer knowing how to pray, that bitterness worsens with each sip
Praying for all the people in now the latest of these attacks
But as we gather together in the steeple it is our prayer that lacks
God hates the shedding of innocent blood in especially, His Unborn
Still wondering why such the flood of our Holly Father's Righteous Scorn
Calling His Name we beg for mercy, then show none of our own
Murdering Innocence with a decree and sealed with a self-righteous tone
In God there is no difference, for He has created us all
Yet, still being so vociferous about a gunman and his gaul
Will these attacks continue in what seems a quickening pace
I believe that's up to us and the next vote that we will face
With over six million lives at stake in praying to the One above
Don't make the reprehensible mistake of trying to limit God's love
Isaiah 59:7- 8
Their feet run to evil, and they are swift to shed innocent blood; their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; desolation and destruction are in their highways. The way of peace they do not know, and there is no justice in their paths; they have made their roads crooked; no one who treads on them knows peace
“The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun.” — Unseeking Seeker
••••••••••••••••••••••••
At the beginning—
before Satan lost his place in heaven,
Man had but one thought—only the good, pure one.
Our thoughts were like pearls shining in conscience’s trove,
beacons of hope, our unwavering guide.
Our hearts were like the sun—
they shed light on knowledge, and their realities filled our lives:
the realities that the reward of good is eternal bliss,
and that of evil, eternal destruction.
Then Satan grew envious of man.
He crept into our hearts like a slow, seeping poison.
Now his spirit vies with the original dweller—
the Holy Spirit—
to reign in the heart of hearts as a harbinger of pain.
So there are two dwellers in our hearts.
One whispers—even the stillness of the sea
thunders louder than its deafening shout ~
that's the Holy Spirit.
The other whimpers, vociferates, and vituperates—
its words, like fresh blades, cut deep with a single stroke ~
that's the evil spirit.
Like muscles shaped by constant use,
the one obeyed becomes the stronger voice.
When the whispering one grows dominant,
it wears an angelic garb,
stainless with pure grace,
filling our hearts with peace and tranquility,
and causes the vociferous one to lose its voice.
But when the vociferous one takes the throne—
it becomes a black cloud, filling our hearts
with evil thoughts and intentions,
a leech sucking truth from our veins,
leaving a festering wound of guilty conscience
from the things it tricked us into doing—
making God’s presence a wild goose chase,
as truth slips silently from our mouths without a trace.
But the goal God has for our hearts ~
is the essence of the sun:
to absorb the energy of the stars,
to temper and refine our souls,
to awaken the full light of our minds,
that the Holy Spirit alone may dwell within.
So as it was at the beginning,
so shall it be at the end.