Long Wobbling Poems
Long Wobbling Poems. Below are the most popular long Wobbling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wobbling poems by poem length and keyword.
I am crushing on you !
Impossible to ignore
your firm personality alluring attracting me.
I am crushing on you Dear!
I am almost certain, you won’t hear
throbbing beats of my wobbling heart,
but I can’t restrain myself being tempted
finding immense wealth in your mind.
As love is blind, even if you be unkind
I am crushing on you, Dear!
I am swimming and sinking in dulcet dream.
Emotive urge surging, bubbling blood flooding,
passion piercing pricking, ardent ardor whirling,
I am spinning on axis of non -response,
swinging on pivot of confusion.
I am crushing on you, Dear!
though your inertness is almost clear!
'Almost' means ninety-five percent,
as such five percent faint hope is still left.
Can't explain 'how?' or why?'
But 'Perhaps' may justify!
Dream pulls me to soar high.
Reality pushes to drown touching abyss
causing five percent hope to disappear!
Yet, I am crushing on you Dear!
Sweet Valentine
Valentine!
Please be mine,
just to love.
My Sweet Heart
Your love
I must deserve.
My liking,
my yearning
touch your mind.
Please respond
on strong bond.
Love is blind.
My passion,
My emotion,
My desire
wants entrance
to embrace
you, my dear!
Tie tight knot.
Love has brought
two hearts close.
Wobbling left,
Please accept,
best I chose.
Valentine!
Nice and fine,
Smile and laugh.
My darling,
enchanting
better-half.
02/26/16
My day had been extremely hectic
Stamina, I fully consumed along the day
Desperately, into my cold bed, I jumped
To only find myself into the shade of death
A deep sleep immediately swooped my soul
To guide it mercilessly into hallucination
Where red and black visions invaded me
To find myself into the shade of death
I was lonely and poorly struggled powerlessly
With lions and leopards that surrounded me
Great fear vanished my voice to cry for rescue
To find myself into that distressing shade of death
My arms abandoned me desperately to fight
Into a deep burning hell, I stood, with wobbling legs
Burning was my bed and prickly were my sheets
I found myself fearful into the shade of death
But luckily, a kind Angel came closer to me for rescue
To only realize the real world existed around me though
The whole night had been unkind and silently dead
Lifeless was the land: no crickets’ songs, no moon, no stars
To leave me in such virtually scaring shades of death
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
A STORY OF TEENAGE THUGGERY, JEALOUSY, TEASING AND TAUNTING -
THE DESTRUCTION OF A PROMISING LIFE ................
Staggering down the rain-drenched street
I see you, reeling drunkenly
like a sailor trying to keep his balance
on a storm ravaged ship.
You stop only to vomit your intoxication,
falling to your knees, then wobbling back to
tottering unsteadiness as you roll
faltering, aiming for the safety of home.
Your friend tries to steady you, but
you push him away in a tirade of independence.
Sober insecurity magically transformed
into inebriated confidence.
Then, there she is - the teenage focus
of your immature passion. She doesn't see you -
she never does - she ignores you
as she teeters on her too-high-heels
staggering, like you, over the rain-drenched cobbles,
taunting her hormone packed companion
with her pert breasts and pouting lips,
until she stops to kiss him in your view.
Sudden sobriety steadies you as you watch
them jealously - touching, kissing, exploring -
you call out angrily to distract them: you swear,
you name-call, a juvenile torrent of verbal abuse.
The reinforcements appear from the shadows:
his mates, jumping to his defence.
They grab broken bottles, discarded wood, one has a knife,
and they chase you, full-pelt, down the rain-soaked street.
You are easy meat: your reflexes and reactions
still laggard with drink. They floor you easily.
Blows raining down in a frenzied downpour
of merciless, unceasing violence......
kicking, beating, spitting, knifing, wild,
like a pride of lions decimating their prey.
You sink into unconsciousness, your lifeblood
draining, trickling with the rain down the pavement.
She watches, silent tears snaking from
mascara-laden eyes. She notices you now:
for the first time she acknowledges your existence
as your very existence is snuffed out ....
snuffed out like a near spent candle.
Seventeen years obliterated by youthful hatred.
Seventeen years annihilated by needless thuggery.
What a waste. What a bloody, bloody shame.
....did I say this was a 'story'? No, sorry, it's true......
Oh ! My beloved
My deepest love!
On first romance, we were thrilled,
overwhelmed on glance at solitary stream strand.
Both honoured our dormant desire and ardent ardor.
Seed of love sprouted.
Root of pain pierced young hearts.
Passionate stem was up.
Two soft tender leaves trembled with eager heart beats
pulsating romance.
Wobbling bud of love slowly blossomed spread pearly petals
but our First Date sank in silent dismay.
You did not voice, we got separated.
We were not united in social status,
yet strange emotional string tied us in eternal bond.
Reached my last phase and sad to say,
not even aware of your whereabouts.
Neither to justify nor to certify my depth of emotive urge.
We are quite conscious of amorous glow of our lamp of love.
I wish, I ponder, I yearn to send my last letter
carrying last errand, my last wish to meet you once.
On Firtriculon V, the jagged sneels glide
through the deep and wounded river
Of course the river, aptly named The Scagerwat,
Would not be wounded if not for
The jagged sneels messy gliding
On Firtriculon V, the patterwattale plants
Reach up towards and put dirt on
The wobbling bobbling moon
Of course the moon, aptly named The Rastlying,
Would not wobble or bobble if the
patterwattale plants had not placed the
dirt only on the left side
On Firtriculon V, the weaving wheezing wahdels
Sing loudly at 2:83 in the aftermorning
And stop at 2:85 just as loudly
And of course the song, aptly named the ballad of werel,
Would not be sung as 2:83 if
The weaving wheezing wahdels didn’t keep a close
watch on the comings and goings
Of the popples on the ground
On Firtriculon V, people come at go
Ignoring the strange happenings around them
Because nothing is truly strange
on Firtriculon V
alliterative blank verse
Wanting to show myself worthy -
work was not one of my weapons.
Weakly, I worded my secret --
“I wish of your wealth my fair share.”
Worried and warned by the world’s ways,
father willingly stood my weakness.
He watched steady by the window,
worn weary - waiting my sojourn.
Selfishly wayward and wicked,
soon I was spurned as a wastrel.
I woke from stubborn wantonness
wishing my stomach well-fed.
Wallowing from waste, I started
wobbling forthwith to my father;
sensing his wrath would be severe
wailing, “set me as your servant.”
Waving to me, shoulders stretched wide
weeping he walks t'wards me warmly.
Washing my wounds with his welcome -
my worth did not warrant his smiles.
Witnessing this scene from afar
but wretched and wrestling within,
my sibling wants whys and wherefores,
no wasting words on my welfare.
This story stops short suddenly -
no written word of a war waged -
no wailing, no whining, no woe.
Wonder well, for such is wisdom.
Fuchsia-flecked, rhinestone-rimmed cowboy hat
Embroidered boots to match
Silver spurs—slick, sharp, shimmering
Brand new, but battered beneath
Travelled far, walking the jagged beat
Where have I been
Where am I now
Have you seen my mind
Floating in sugary bliss
From the Journey’s Inn—
A haven for friends, old and new
Veterans of domestic arms races
Comparing wounds from the endless chase
For elusive, blood-drenched euclace
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin
Mr. Depression enters
A silver slash of sorrow
Sick with his own lore
“Fancy meeting you,” he croons—cold
“Looks like you need a bitter brew to hold”
Warm whiskey winds down the throat’s hallowed hall
Rattling the rusted lock on memory’s mausoleum wall
Have you seen me before
You might recall—last week, perhaps
Grumpy, frumpy, meek collapse
My garden of grace paved over with grit
Wilted and wasted in drought’s cruel spit
Crawling through viper pits and dens of bad deeds
I felt relief
Quenching parched desire
With earned fire in a glass
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin
Two stools to sit upon
Lost boy and riot girl
Pink Lady, Velvet Gentleman
Again and again
Bottoms up
Chin chin
They laugh at the tribute band
Silly show on a slanted stage
Crooked teeth bared
Yellowed with age
Chipped by rage
Filed by fate
Two AM—wobbling down the jagged street
Holding up the night’s loose end
Keeping everyone awake
Lonely bones vibrating
With resonating lust
Urban lamps flicker
Like my wine-coloured iris
And what are dreams
When fiction splits at the seams
Weaving tapestry from fragments
Truth in forward motion
Stitching reality together
Like Casper drifting down wishing wells
Pleading, plundered, pitiful
Unseen by those untouched by sorrow
But tonight
With my fuchsia hat
And bombastic laugh
Overshadowing grief
Once poured on tap
I grab it by the gnarled neck
Shake loose threads of regret
Into useful shapes
In bedrooms with velvet duvets
Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than dead desire
We stitch our sorrow
Into velvet fire
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin
EMERALD BEAUTY
Mother Earth under cerulean sky
dressed in green foliage with lush verdure,
leafy vegetation and feral bottle green bushes matching with
glossy green grass in big mass growing in mirth.
Clad in olive green gown you were stepping down
from verdant valley to pastoral field,
harmonizing with viridescent panorama.
Your glimmering attire allured my dreamy dormant desire.
I listened to my rapid heart beats becoming faster.
I hastened to meet and address you but wobbling opposed.
Pearly passion entirely on confusion cascaded in plenitude,
resonating in rhapsody on melody of glamour of amour
as I faced the glistened emerald beauty.
12/10/19
Edited on 05/05/20
HM
' BRIAN'S CHOICE 4' Contest by Brian Strand
Sudden gust swayed your curly hair.
My emotion made vibrant leap.
My tingling passion tends to flare.
For moments heart beats seemed to skip.
On stream strand we just stood at ease.
Our wobbling phase in slow progress.
Getting startled on blowing breeze,
You came closer, My dear princess.
A perfect storm hit heart violent.
I could not control my first kiss.
You did not resist being silent.
Love got truly sealed, not to miss.
My best bliss whirled in emotive urge.
All my yearnings are crowned with glory.
My feelings in fervent fervour to surge
ending in a splendid love story.