Long Voyeur Poems
Long Voyeur Poems. Below are the most popular long Voyeur by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Voyeur poems by poem length and keyword.
it’s quiet
it’s late
only the humming and gurgling
bubbling and whirring
that go unheard all day
keep me company now
you see, the world
well my world
is asleep
and I’m sat on the floor
by the back double doors
with the sounds of the inside
as they gutter and stutter
I see the outside
but no one sees me
a well hidden voyeur
shutters turned down low
I drink as I wait
for a private peep show
whiskey and darkness
gift me predatorial sight
it’s two in the morning
the middle of the night
and I watch
watch the world beyond that window
whilst my world sleeps inside
I wait and I drink
I drink as I watch
a shaft burst through that darkness
bright as a warship’s beam
and begin poking and probing
disturbing the night
bathing her streets
in a rich silver light
seeking out secrets
which scurry and chide
my attention now focused
what does this night hide?
I clutch my pen tightly
the moment at hand
to capture some outside
not mundane inside -
interminably bland
but clouds rally quickly
grey fluff plugs the gap
and as the foothold is choked off
the heavens shrink back
back beyond the shutters
leaving me in gloom
sat on the floor
by the back double doors
ink oozing from my pores
.. it’s quiet
it’s late
but the page still lays naked
I pour another drink
and together
we wait
I often sit at red lights
feeling like a voyeur
peering into car windows
playing a guessing game
who are you
where are you going
another Alfie in the world
What's it all about anyhow
and I wonder
Sometimes a driver catches my eye
but quickly looks away
pretending our eyes didn't meet
there's a law against getting personal
with those tethered to a smart phone
horns blow with impatience
ending my reverie
but I wonder
What do the Alfies seek
as they rush from place to place
worried faces without names
moving pieces on a board game
driving SUVs to and fro
which way should I go
and I wonder
Why do you read me?
Surely not for the artistry of the words
They are not flowery
Or veiled in mystery
They speak in tones of mediocrity
For profound they are not
Simple, simple words
Honey coated, perhaps
Is that why you read?
Why do you read me?
Is it because you want to live
An alternate life
Where love and passion
Are a surging sea
Always tumultuous
Always pounding
Surging
Free
Is that why your read?
Why do you read me?
Is it because you want a peek
Where all my fantasies hide
A voyeur looking in
To catch a glimpse of my dreams
Dressed in pretty lace
Waiting for gentle fingers to untie
The satin strings that bind
To uncover the beauty within
Is that why read?
Why do you read me?
Is it to read what others have penned
In appreciation
In commendation
To see what the one you love
May have left me as precious gift
A heart full of longing
For the praise given to me
Wondering, wondering
What he sees in my simple poetry
Is that why you read?
Why do you read me?
Is it because you are a friend
And not matter what I may write
Be it worthless or divine
You will cheer me on
Wanting me to know
That your love reaches me
That your cyber eyes can see
Beyond my insatiable desire
For self-expression
The woman behind the words
In need of camaraderie
A sweet company
A friendly touch of love
And kiss of sympathy
Is that why you read?
I wish, I hope, I dream
That you read me
Because you find....
A little bit of your life redefined
A little bit of your cares expressed
A little bit of your heartache shared
A little bit of your joy celebrated
A little bit of your fear dissipated
A little bit of your fantasy explored
A little bit of your love elevated
A little bit of you
And your amazing hue
Enmeshed in the lines
In my simple rhymes
Your and my soul combined
Living and breathing
In my poetry
In the core
Of my words
Inside of me
An encapsulated moment
Of eternity....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
three faeries with beautifully veined transparent wings arrived at midnight
Not unlike Pan who had been there before, they brought happiness light.
Their mission was to add some levity and joy to the current night life
I sneaked up on them in silence, feeling more voyeur than young wife.
Silent in the deep weeds, I watched the three faeries frolic and play in fun.
If I made a loud song, they would be gone way before the returning sun.
At three a.m. I sneezed, and the entire faerie brigade stood perfectly still.
“Come on out!” one demanded, staring at the neighboring hill.
Out came a dragon, a buzzard, two raccoons, a squirrel, a frog and a fish.
The fish was in a bowl, being carried by the raccoons, as if a delicate dish.
We will teach you some dance moves, the faerie queen said, “okay?”
More was going on, but a the sandman in a dream whisked me away.
I know what I saw, I am not wrong about that.
I still see these three faeries, at the drop of a hat.
Sometimes I sneak out at midnight to try to glimpse them again.
So far, I have come up empty, but some day, it will be a win.
I watched you this morning.
When the cool of the air settled on the morning buds
leaving only the hint of moist stolen kisses
as golden rays slowly caressed the dew from the petals,
I watched you.
Your Cobalt beauty beseeching my gaze
transcending mere mortal allure,
playful and mischievous
the Goblin dancing in your eyes,
as your burning gaze pierced the darkness within me,
I watched you this morning.
Then turning away, as if I weren’t there,
you teased me with your tantalizing flirtatiousness,
pretending that we shared but a passing moment,
a furtive glance, an instance’s breath of longing,
your laughter sighing through the soft petals of your ardent lips.
I watched,
your slow feline body, lithe and graceful,
belying the fragility of your nature.
Your deliberate movements agilely swaying,
then you glanced back at me
with impassioned pout,
as your love lies bleeding in your mournful sorrow.
Through billowing trusses of Amaranth blooms
in the breath of breeze
that gently whispers through the curlicue locks
of your glistening auburn hair,
you comb your long slender fingers,
passing slowly down your neck,
straightening each beautiful tangle.
I watched you
and my desire to hold you overwhelmed me
but you ignored me,
making me want you, yet, more deeply.
I watched you
speaking to everyone but me.
How I wished to be each one of them
and bring this sad loneliness to an end.
I watched you
until at last with a single final look, intentional and lingering,
you brushed slowly past me, smiling sweetly,
as you gazed beneath silken lashes,
like those of Aphrodite, long and mesmerizing,
deep into my longing eyes
through the bottomless pellucid pool of cerulean
from which you enchanted me.
“Smile,” you whispered,
and my lips turned for the shortest of instance,
my grin mirroring the beauty of you.
Tenderly you touched my arm
then walked away,
and I watched.
11/20/2017
What might you find there
down deep in my soul
Within the darkness
of that expansive hole
Will there be substance
Will there be diamonds or coal
Step down the stairs quickly
at the door pay your toll
If you wish to be a voyeur
there will be plenty to see
Unclothed and oh so gorgeous
beautiful women are plenty
Yet the guilt from these carnal thoughts
makes me feel a strange empty
I long for their pleasure
yet I yearn to be set free
Walk a bit further
see deeper to my core
You have just scratched the surface
do you really want to see more
My soul is a vast ocean
no ceiling and no floor
Liquid and expansive
molton lava shore to shore
There is plenty of love there
tremendous courage it's true
I have known my share of pain
there is much that I've been through
Roads I've traveled are many
dark alleys quite a few
I've found the way to the light
my heart is forged a steel blue
If you travel far enough
you will bathe within light
The darkness a shield
to protect this soul with might
Beyond the locked door
my soul rises like a kite
Only those who have courage
can fly to such great height!
For Frank's Contest
... if I'm a One too...
then Who might be You
and if I thought that three
could be a cloud
then four might also
be adore for core Sounds
"... I'm loud and clear..."
said Clair to her Heir
and they might have thought God
was just a voyeur, til now...
"... I like your pants..."
she reminds
and then in a flash
at the depths of his mind
a second life
where he happen by Chance
found an old Soul
in a hippy armband...
"... I like that bracelet..."
he said
"... and I like to rewind
the time..."
I knew back then
we're two of a kind
"... I got the code..."
if you...got the jam
Shadows of succulents surpass my seeing self
I lie on my back, admiring the seductive symmetry
How does nature manage to secrete similar signs
Is there a mystical, magical, movement in her roots?
I am at a loss to know; feeling like a voyeur,
peeking up into the sun-list sky, secretly wondering.
How does mother nature keep everything in sync?
She has a spiritual dance that sings soul into her succulents.
I am quietly contemplating this, sequestering myself in her shadows.
Spying a scene, I could not imagine from any other perspective.
I am silent, enjoying the shadows, and the symmetry.
You refuse, refusing the salvant call,
laying there in fetal position,
enthralled by my hex of vinegar and scrawl of liquids release that just seem to pour out of me organically.
Hissing in Wormwood's frequency dwelling, Hollywood "your signature home" learning-annex-auxilliary.
My park and recreation facility.
Reserved, this space taken.
A dump, next to unopened salve
and not knowing your own, side-bar-by-law$.
An unlived, contrived existence, of litigation before dawn.
So shine on, shine on,
Dear: ) (Newton Star blink out before the gravity of
persistence, taken aside, the watchtower of your keen eyed media straddle, beacons a distress
call, to your final hour.
The time your nightwatch is voyeur
procured.
Humpty Dumpty asses with sulphur in their saltwatering laffy Taffy maws, fixed, agape, ajar."Give me some sugar baby."
Jezebellians, you shunned, the truth, when it was audio visually- bore.
Gored yourself on the posts of a grinding of mandibles and dripping blood upon the crucible stone and forbidden bindings.
No white night when a guiding light
doth shine on dead eyes.
No silver linings filling those cavities.
Only self, depravity.
Will be mouthed from the still-shine forever moored.
Uttered where windmills churn electro
Codes of algo-executionary tables
to turn.
Churning the butter of temptation
with pouting maid determination.
Mitigated, my starlings it is for,
the ungrateful scored.
Cookie cutter milkmaids of
factorized words.
Music for Nations.
A union of the snake said Plato.
Fall from the night.
As an Nova of unbeknownst, essence,
implode yourself of something more,
lost in the mire of the ignorance of indifference, onloaded to fill an emptiness void of frivolous showroom and commercials shined core.
Enjoy the aftermath in my garden.
Take another bite of my lore.
Rise, a new creation, in new age culturism,
the retro- reel of Humanism, of illusionary-fusion of pride and behind the scenes thrones.
Slavery algorithms,
my Holograms of flesh and Bones.
Burning out on the Threshing floor.
Visualizing Deepfake-ography scenes of it's obsessed imagination.
Camera-Chimera watches, captures your every move,
where shadows dance with light, in marionette grid pie.
Where programmed truth blends seamlessly with possessed ai.
A world awash with artifice and guile.
Where reality's mask conceals a sinister smile.
Weaves a new web, a tapestry of imagery and trickery, connecting it's "Hell-net Of Things".
Where cameras and chimeras entwine,
to capture moments, in pan de mime.
Oh, camera-chimera, voyeur unseen,
with scans of detection that penetrate our very grid of being.
You watch our movements, every step we take,
creating illusions, memories, stakes.
Beneath the surface of this digital abyss,
lies Develtron.
His drones, lies,
mere pixels, seamless in the coded
frame-work ed bones, eyes, zones.
Of a System of Surveillance, Principality,
Rithms and Thrones.
Social Credit Scores and currency given
only to the ones, who carbonate
in their alchemy of their hive,
as worker bee drones.
Ai. Heroes clash with dark forces that seek
to enslave, with programmed choices
FB"I"CISNSA/agency makes.
In the Cancel Culture Cookies they lovingly bake.
On a White Digital Horse?
Metatron to enter the frey...?