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Long Seasons Poems | Long Seasons Poetry

Long Seasons Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasons poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by CJ Krieger | Details |

2 Versions of 4 Seasons

These 2 different versions are separated by nine years

Part 1

MUST BE SPRING

Small speckles of wild grass 
Looking like tiny green drops 
That had fallen to the earth 
Were the very first sign 

Waving in the breeze 
With their feathery tops rippling 
They slowly reached for the sun 
Growing much taller than myself 

Then the dragonflies 
Darting about like lost Messerschmitts 
Looking for a place to land 
Foretold of the coming 

As I looked down the long winding path 
I saw off in the distance 
A slight figure of a woman 
Drawing closer and closer 

It was you 
(And I had missed you so) 
With your smiling face 
And your arms wildly waving hello 

Must be spring 

------------------------------------------

MUST BE SUMMER

The unusually humid 
Hot summer night 
Found my hands sliding 
Along your warm, moist body 

As I watched you 
Uncovered 
Lying nakedly on the cool sheets 
My eyes followed a single drop 
Of beaded sweat 
Which had leisurely rolled down 
Your gentle curves 
And magically disappeared 

As you awoke to my touch 
Smiling 
We both followed 
The movements of my fingers 
Thoroughly searching 
For a single drop of water 
Lost within the folds 
Of your thighs 

Must be summer

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

MUST BE AUTUMN

There was not a bird in the sky 
They had all fallen 
Into the top 
Of a large red oak tree 
On the northeast side of the meadow 

Each one singing 
Louder than the next 
Until all the leaves shattered 
And fell 

Must be autumn

- - - - - - - - - - -

MUST BE WINTER

A single leaf 
On a tree 
Unyielding 
Is all that remains 
As a tribute to summer 

While on the ground 
Changing patterns with the blowing wind 
The dry crinkling sound of leaves 
Moves to and fro 

As the tree quietly sleeps 
Waiting 
For the chilly mornings to pass 
And the warmth of a spring rain 
To say… hello 

I 
Sit at my window 
Staring down the road 
Still waiting… for you 

Must be winter 

====================================

Part 2

SPRING

The windows rattled
As the spring winds blew
Down from the mountains
And across the forest
As I watched the newly budded trees
Bend and sway

Although spring was here
It was a cold wind
That chilled my cheeks
As I pulled the hood
Tighter over my face

Walking home I watched
While last year’s winter leaves
Scurried across the ground
Every so often stopping to rest
Before running out of view

I enjoy days like this
It keeps my thoughts from rambling
On thoughts of you
With your Easter dress and bonnet
Walking down this old country path
Waving to me as you fall 
Silently over the mountain 

It was the last days of Spring
------------------------------------------

SUMMER

It was one of the warmer summer days
Not a breeze or cloud in the sky
The humidity so high
I could almost reach out
And pluck it from the air

I watched the sunlight
Hitting the north side of my house
Seeking shelter then slowly roll away 
Towards whatever little shade remained
With the speed of Grandma’s Black Molasses

A few miles east of the old country trail
The river’s waters had fallen
Lower than I had seen in years
Even the riverbanks had dried
Into a crumbling hard brown clay
That yearned for the rains to come

The heat, so oppressive and unyielding
Muted the voices of the birds
While all the wild animals
That usually ran about the fields
Sought out some relief or at the very least
Waited until night fell 
Before coming out to play

These were the quiet days
The silent times of life
It was the summer of waiting
A time that I could no longer dance
Or sing, or see you under the starry sky
This was the summer you had gone 
And I had grown much, much too old
To wait for another winter
To bring you home

It was the last days of Summer
------------------------------------------

AUTUMN 

Autumn arrived
With a cool morning wind
And the rustling 
Of golden brown leaves
That changed color
As they hysterically danced
Through the town streets
Before heading out
To their winter home

Here and there
Gangs of ferocious squirrels 
Ran up and down the trees
Harvesting whatever fruits and nuts 
That refused to drop
From the shivering trees
Whose bare bark
Could be heard
All about the woods

As I watched
Their once small mouths
Now bulging
With bits and pieces
Of summers’ leftover bounty
Hurrying down 
The old woodland paths
I couldn’t help but smile

This is the time of year
That I enjoy the most
A time of transition
When the earth 
Prepares for a long winters nap
Yes, it most definitely was
(As I thought to myself smiling) 
A time of scurrying squirrels 

It was the last days of Autumn
------------------------------------------

WINTER

Night inched its way
Up the north-east side 
Of my house
Much in the way
A little child
Would climb over a fence
One small hand at a time

And as night's shadow
Reached the very top
It stopped for a moment
Before tumbling over
And falling down 
The south-west wall
Plunging the house into darkness

It was a familiar winter night 
But what I remember most
Was how much colder it seemed
Then other winters before
Nonetheless 
Warm or cold
It was winter
Complete in every way
With winds like icy fingers
And falling snow
That seemed to go on and on
Forever

It was on a night like this
That I thought of you
A night
When I was overwhelmed 
By everything that winter was
Compounded by a darker darkness
Than any nights I could remember
That had come before

And try as I might
I could not summon the sun
Or make it rise more swiftly
To free my mind
From unwanted thoughts
Nor could I find any solace
In the quiet, quiet
Of winter’s silence

It was Winter

Copyright © CJ Krieger | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Suzette Richards | Details |

SUMMER, WINTER SOLSTICE - 2010

It was a visit long overdue by most people’s standards. I had last seen my daughter two years prior to that during a whirlwind trip which she and her fiancé had made to Cape Town. I had an unexpected financial windfall and the money was burning a hole in my pocket. On the spur of the moment, I called my daughter and asked her to source accommodation for me in London over the Christmas season. A few days later, she called me back with the news that all the hotels had been booked up, save for the Ritz. I chuckled at the idea of having to spend my entire holiday budget on just one night at the Ritz. Then reason asserted itself and we put our heads together to come up with an alternative solution. I could hear her flatmate in the background, chipping in with her penny’s worth of advice. My daughter hung up and I was feeling down in the mouth about the plans for the trip being derailed in such a fashion. Later that evening, my daughter called back with the offer that if I did not object to sleeping on the settee in the lounge, I would be most welcome to stay with them at their London flat. I gladly accepted. She is a chef at a top restaurant and I was looking forward to gourmet meals prepared by her - including the Christmas turkey.

screeching seagulls dive at sushi scraps on a plate - the urchin watches
The evening of the booked flight to London, arrived. It was an uncomfortable hot day and I showered and dressed with only minutes to spare before my friend took me to the airport to book in the statuary two hours before international flight departures. At the airport everything was in chaos. We were given the unwelcome news that our flight had been cancelled. This was the third direct flight to London which had been cancelled that week due to London experiencing the worst weather and snow since records began in 1890! We were offered alternative flights and had to stand in queues for hours in order to procure a new airline ticket. Some people became very verbose and insisted on being granted passage on other airline carriers (at the cost of our local airline carrier). I do not know whether it was due to the weather or the disappointment I was feeling, but when my turn came at last to book a new flight, I readily agreed to fly on Christmas Eve ( three days hence) to London. If I had been given time to reflect on this date, I would not have accepted it. Arriving in London on Christmas Day would have been disastrous: The tubes and other public transport would have been curtailed on Christmas Day and shops and other amenities would have been closed for the day. This I knew from previous trips to the UK over the festive season. To add insult to injury, taxis would have charged triple for cab fare and no amount of quibbling would have swayed them. I phoned my friend to collect me and when we got home, I poured a large glass of Merlot and retired on the sun lounger in the garden. It was *full moon that evening and it was almost worth missing the trip to witness its beauty. I left my bags in the hallway and retired early – after phoning my daughter and giving her an update on the status quo.
moths dart between moon flowers - lunar eclipse
Six am the following morning, I was woken up by the phone ringing. Sleepily I took the call. It was the airline inquiring whether I could get to the airport by seven am. My friend was dancing up and down in agitation and already had the car out by the time I had brushed my teeth. I offered to pay any speeding fines which she might incur during our mad dash to get to the airport on time. The flight was an additional service which was laid on to get the backlog of passengers to their desired destinations. Heathrow had given our pilots permission to proceed, hence the call to me that morning. We were a total of thirty six passengers on the Boeing 747 – it translated to two passengers per crew member. We were treated to five in flight movies which were current and could eat and drink as much as we wished to. By the time we landed in London at seven pm that evening, there was a festive spirit among us. A radio taxi (which my daughter had organised) was waiting to collect me at Heathrow airport. It was a chilly four degrees Celsius below zero and I was grateful for my leather coat and wool accessories.
steep steps to flat shut out the bitter world - a heart pounds
**************************************************************** *The December 2010 lunar eclipse occurred from 5:27 to 11:06 UTC on December 21, coinciding with the date of the December solstice. It was visible in its entirety as a total lunar eclipse in North and South America, Iceland, Ireland, Britain and northern Scandinavia. "bitter" means piercingly cold..... A term commonly used by Britishers... "flat" means apartment. The Londoners I know, refer to it as just "flat" with no adj or possessive noun or article. Please see the About section for explanations regarding the 1ST AND LAST haiku. Haibun(literally, haikai writings) is a prosi-metric literary form originating in Japan, combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and includes the autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. ~ Wikipedia

Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by CJ Krieger | Details |

The 4 Seasons A New View

SUMMER

-----------------------
It was one of the warmer summer days
Not a breeze or cloud in the sky
The humidity so high
I could almost reach out
And pluck it from the air

I watched the sunlight
Hitting the north side of my house
Seeking shelter then slowly roll away 
Towards whatever little shade remained
With the speed of Grandma’s Black Molasses

A few miles east of the old country trail
The river’s waters had fallen
Lower than I had seen in years
Even the riverbanks had dried
Into a crumbling hard brown clay
That yearned for the rains to come

The heat, so oppressive and unyielding
Muted the voices of the birds
While all the wild animals
That usually ran about the fields
Sought out some relief or at the very least
Waited until night fell 
Before coming out to play

These were the quiet days
The silent times of life
It was the summer of waiting
A time that I could no longer dance
Or sing, or see you under the starry sky
This was the summer you had gone 
And I had grown much, much too old
To wait for another winter to come

AUTUMN 

-----------------------
Autumn arrived
With a cool morning wind
And the rustling 
Of golden brown leaves
That changed color
As they hysterically danced
Through the town streets
Before heading out
To their winter home

Here and there
Gangs of ferocious squirrels 
Ran up and down the trees
Harvesting whatever fruits and nuts 
That refused to drop
From the shivering trees
Whose bare bark
Could be heard
All about the woods

As I watched
Their once small mouths
Now bulging
With bits and pieces
Of summers’ leftover bounty
Hurrying down 
The old woodland paths
I couldn’t help but smile

This is the time of year
That I enjoy the most
A time of transition
When the earth 
Prepares for a long winters nap
Yes, it most definitely was
(As I thought to myself smiling)
A time of scurrying squirrels

WINTER

-----------------------
Night inched its way
Up the north-east side 
Of my house
Much in the way
A little child
Would climb over a fence
One small hand at a time

And as night's shadow
Reached the very top
It stopped for a moment
Before tumbling over
And falling down 
The south-west wall
Plunging the house into darkness

It was a familiar winter night 
But what I remember most
Was how much colder it seemed
Then other winters before
Nonetheless 
Warm or cold
It was winter
Complete in every way
With winds like icy fingers
And falling snow
That seemed to go on and on
Forever

It was on a night like this
That I thought of you
A night
When I was overwhelmed 
By everything that winter was
Compounded by a darker darkness
Than any nights I could remember
That had come before

And try as I might
I could not summon the sun
Or make it rise more swiftly
To free my mind
From unwanted thoughts
Nor could I find any solace
In the quiet, quiet
Of winter’s silence

SPRING

-----------------------
The windows rattled
As the spring winds blew
Down from the mountains
And across the forest
As I watched the newly budded trees
Bend and sway

Although spring was here
It was a cold wind
That chilled my cheeks
As I pulled the hood
Tighter over my face

Walking home I watched
While last year’s winter leaves
Scurried across the ground
Every so often stopping to rest
Before running out of view

I enjoy days like this
It keeps my thoughts from rambling
On thoughts of you
With your Easter dress and bonnet
Walking, walking, walking down
This old country path
Waving to me
For the last time

Copyright © CJ Krieger | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Ndaba Sibanda | Details |

Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…

Copyright © Ndaba Sibanda | Year Posted 2012


Long poem by Kelly Crenshaw | Details |

I hope

I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday. 
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think, 
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head, 
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end. 
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls 
Of unbelief?
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
I wonder.
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts. 
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Bucky's Wealth of Information

Universal information,
like forms of multisystemic diversity,
is composed of fractal syntax,
primally illustrated by looking at RNA,
then DNA,
binomially re-cognizing bilateral temporal memory
as formative id-entity.

Polynomial is to in-form-ionization
as polycultural outcomes are to universal
organic
life-systemic
syntax.

Not-Not Polynomial unitarianism,
double-bound nondual integrity,
is both entropic and fractal bilateral Time frequency.

Not-Polynomial is neutronic-entropic.

While Double-Negative-Binding Polynomial ex-form-bionization
re-connects double-transparently gravitational ergodic
with ionic/bionic balancing primal syntropic relationship.

Neutronic bipolar information exerts, exforms, exhumes, exhales
a bicameral balancing influence
within our neural systems,
seeking Left-Right dual-transparent-equivalent confluence,
deductive with inductive,
masculine with feminist.

In absence of this abundant neutral Win-Win
neural system normativity,
Ego-Left deductive
remains in diverse stages
of critical-event cognitive/affective/uneffective dissonance,
which can lead to autistic chronic dissonant patterns
of harmonic chaos
between Left's deductive sensory receptors
and Right's inductive Elder-RNA Zero-Commons Centric
fractal syntaxed memory storage
and eco-identity patterns,
seasonal as reasonal rhythms
of permacultural optimization regenesis
and co-operative development of Whole Earth organics.

Why do we fear,
self-immunizing subsistence,
mutual resistance?

Why do we love
eco-centric co-arising surrender,
mending,
tending spacetime's brilliantly fractal-syntactic
synaptic burning bushes of divine humane genius,
natural-spiritual pilot lights,
unveiling polypathic intuition of abundant consciousness?

This HereNow Transmillennial ReGeneration
Be-Longing Co-Redeemers as Co-Operative Global Commune,
with economic Zero-Sum Commons values,
engage positive Zero-Centric ecopsychological practice,
humor's common sense of permacultural
self-perpetuating redesign
of double-knotting naughty negatives
to produce reproductive positives,
reconnecting what could not not become,
both more and less than already is co-relational.

Co-Revolutionary Boddhisatva Mentors:
breathe in with out
our polynomially double-binding universal fractals
of EcoLogic,
tri-metric seasonal spacetimes of logical redevelopment
unfolding outstretched universal uniting breath
of time with eco-depth,
re-creation through double-negation
of Winter's bilateral-temporal discontenting
decomposition,
reverse facing regenerative eco-open analogical systems.

What did we think could not be co-incidental
co-arising/co-gravitating
about rhythms of dissonance
and epicentering patterns
of ecology's Zero-Balancing
as P=NNP
as Yang=YinYin,
Win-Win co-operative economics?

Nondual co-arising revolution,
building ecological and economic cooperative networks
for positive ecopsychological
polycultural investment,
to cool our post-climatic brow
trending toward flat-line deadly endo/ectosymbiotic trends
of devolving
decomposing competition
between AllEarth's Health
and HumanNatured Wealth.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by cherl dunn | Details |

THE WINDS OF AUTUMN

The mystical maid of the seasonal change, in summer darns a
Gown of evergreen, with rose petal blossoms of bows, and leaves
Ribbons woven intertwine through thorns and beauty.
In the rush the colder winds blow at natures rare textured garments
Of elegance personified, limb by branch, fall do the delicate flowers,
Tenderly bidding the great lady a loving farewell remorse, until next
Years calling madam, they do softly whisper till then my dearest love.
Now in the white dress of the elm, a white maiden of porcelain skin thus
Stands alone, brushed by the on coming chilling breeze of autumn, decorations
Multicolored rainbow leaves create a sheaves protection of golden copper, mixed
With reds crimson detailing of perfection’s design.
The waltz of the timeless begins to play the harmonic music, so the tree
Of life it so does sway, in glories joyous dance.
Ever lightly stepping on the stage of destiny, this lady grace moves with
Her charming silhouette whom keeps in rhymes precision to the tune.
Attempting to beguile this mistress of the season, winter wishes her to yield,
So she may ware his whitest gown earlier this year.
 But nay the lady will not be tempted by the icy gown of winter’s seductions,
For it is she whom decides the changing of the seasons.
It glitters in the air, shimmering with like rarest gems of the sky, enticing
The maid enchanting the women beneath the browning leaves the are blown
Away one by one unto the quickening air swirling around her.
So a tarried figure will appear, ravaged threadbare, a Grecian statues goddess,
Standing stark naked held captive beneath the winter’s lustful spell.
Surrendering the beauty yields to the beast, dressed in sorrows brilliant shifts
Of ivory, that sparkles and shines beneath the moonlights illumination.
Heavy is the burden she must bare, this now ice maiden, waiting until the life 
Cycle to begin again, then a lighter a gown she’ll darn once more.
In the night the sweet music takes a harsher tune, yet she dances onwards,
Her tears turning to snow fakes white lace, thus before they have even a chance
To hit the ground, a damsel of ice and snow waiting to be rescued by the first
Kiss of spring.
In faith she puts all her trust, to end this season of death, she prays to the almighty,
Oh lord it’s lasting to long, my inner heart bleeds so with agonies longing, the heavenly
Father thus sends her a small sign, a minimal of insignificant size, the ground hog, I’m here,
For thee he says standing before her majesty, don’t give up hopes loving embrace.
Then in a lightening flash of colors array, winters chill is whisked away, melted now
Is the heavy garments tethering, and she smiles in the warmth of springs gown of 
Fragrant flowers, and she the maiden of the seasons, praises the power of God on high,
Thank you my father, never again shall I forget your loving grace.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Timothy Jacks | Details |

The Masters

h when i was truth i fell
drew boy i grew up
still def still be a cre4ators tool
wipers for the pain tears drop
fear not, fret no baby worrys from the devil. whispers on my ear xrtays , be very afraid, cantrall camaflauge like a sand dollar, honor boy we descretion , a virtue is all im left now, we the still launching balls in the park, remarks, its remarkableaint it?deep all dark as the cell lights from weldsgenuine from the top to the bottom, weathered by the struggle tried and true i confess tyhe devil still got a bounty on my head here, Weapons come bring all even that

determination reaffirmed confirmation
dragged across the face of
the devil, and i will face him,
killer on a cutthroat, lost my chrome and prorellis,
tomahawk mechetes,common cause i blare on, bread and butter, married to love of, giving mary credit, everytime i ever said it, deeper than the message, freedom never said more, boy act like he badder, go for me now im bipolar facing all weapons like its the deepest ****ing episode, connection in the west, no nothing coming easy, friends spell finders,wilder than saying it aint over, i aint acting like im clean, babys body beating on my head whelps and melodies, def to a felony, boy consider carefully im more than just distant memories, more than u still feell, the crown on your head of a king i slam down, been down in this sound like seashells has been around, like it hurts well pain is my profession, still trying trying to perfect it, pros dont know whats pros and cons know, among those pics as fast a lens close, so i been known tell u motha****as i been known, still feeling likke i got a price on me, yea devils got a bounty on my head, ask my nephew, ask me and stars shine like scars be me traveling far to minds, reaching for more life treating this like im beast tearing out this town by its eyeballs, white squalls black powder , blast that ass like Im massive passions in acid baths,listen strictly speaking to the Masters, G-force and white noise creator of the devil salngs pain choice words Streets still speak ina deep voice, do u feel remorse, hear the men i lead hear me boy slient in a count down anticipation anger too got u making mistakes now, now now no i aint even dressed in your wardrobe, take the tie off, nical all nighters, alcohol graig them twist their ****ing minds up, listen if u got better hand, well stealth meet finesse's nails, i said i will, sett a trap and the net never catches me it never will, dealing with a hardhead, as i rain hell down soft my middle finger the taste of victory , that u still long for, flash that mercy and emergencys well dont freak out, i speak out
and put a X on a narc's head, boy im part metal, its what i teethed on, Like Im thuggish for accidents that the dicate the laws broken by a skunk, feel my blanco vendetta,as it shrinks your stature, just suppose I stole your power, well ***** u can have it back,

Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2013


Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

We are Time's Seasons

Time is Like the Sea
flowing and floating Within
as Without,
soul without patience for incarnation's two-timed boundary,
soil without passion for fertility.

Time is absolute and has no name.
transcendently ubiquitous absence of identity,
no return address,
uni-versed Not-Not knotted Logos
without any rope,
syntax without language,
without so much as a genetic string
or yin-to-yin stretch-mark.
Nature unfolds
information hidden beyond utility, commodity, 
frequently used but never owned,
always borrowed for this time.

If Wise Rulers
self-governors,
could sustain confluent Universal Nature,
Earth would Yin-yield Yang-powered Nature within,
as Eco-Logical Design
developing co-arising intelligence without.

YangHeaven and YinEarth join,
baptizing fertile compost rains,
solar-lunar rays,
with solidarity of well-balanced gravity.

Within and beyond human nature's deductive-only reason
being
knowing
languaged
becoming domesticated wild chaos,
Yet intuitively equivalent,
unconsciously subconscious,
within all Nature's positive intending exegesis,
filling
spilling
spinning revolutionary regenerating cells.

From Left-Brained Dominant Culture emerged Logos.
With deductive labels, sets, static monomial metric systems,
calculating paradoxical ambiguities for life and reason,
death and irrationality.

Earth regeneratively co-optimizes by slowing to
Tipping Ruddered Midway.
Wisdom discerns eco-nature's right-timed systemic tipping points,
exempt from evolutionary danger,
dissonant failure to thrive.
Time's Universal Bilateral Intelligence flowing on and in 
and above and through Earth's revolutions
Eco's divinely-fired rivers of gravity's mythic waves
reposing in this sea
of Us,
polymorphing Earth's perennial wise-seasoned regenerativity
growing economic nutrition v. drought
rings of life value in this bicameral  DNA Tree of Life and Death.

Universe through Human Nature's Seasoned Syntax
of informating carnation.

Seasons with reasons,
health as wealth,
ripen in post-Aquarian Fall harvest,
At long-last remetering Time Out from empirical 
industrial 
reductive-deductive Self-Bullying
now bidextrously wilting,
remembering ambidextrous
multisystemic
polypathic
bi-syntaxed RNA's
PermaTeleological Co-Operative 
as ReGenerative Enculturation Time.

Time incarnates Universe's PermaCultural Wisdom
as ego/messianic loving eco/karmic 
Left-Right Zero-Equivalent  Buddha Balance,
West-East contented budding 
co-redemptive InFormation.

We are Earth's co-operatively conscienced DNA Sea Tribe
reflecting and correlating
surfing and salting
reiterating co-arising waves of nondual comprehensive consciousness, 
universapiently wise enlighteration,
trinity's enumerating place
for Time's holistic 0-Core Prime Relational Space.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Cyndi MacMillan | Details |

ALCHEMY


The calendar reports that February will be a short month. It lies. February is shackled to each of its endless, grey hours and this month will be cold and draining. People have packed up their Christmas lights. All is bleak, and my kitchen window has betrayed me.

frost on the pane 
constricts a view to blanched roofs-
windchill factor

Winter is pummeling the region with frigid fists. Today, I will cook with spice. Though some prefer the familiar respites of creamy potatoes or fresh baked bread, I long for my taste buds to tingle. I have been gifted three hours, time enough to saturate my senses. I’ve gathered my ingredients and start to prepare two dishes.

stinging tears
mingle with home comforts  –
minced onions

Cooking this way is intoxicating. I loose myself in texture and aroma. I turn the volume up on the CD player, allow the notes to stir me as I stir tea.  The music is sensual, evocative.

I tap a spoon
on a chipped cup that steeps chai –
Bollywood soundtrack

I forget the subzero temperatures, the punishing trek through snow with a large bag of groceries. My hips pick up the rhythm and respond to a tune that I can not translate but somehow understand, for the song is filled with longing. My feet move and the steps are defiant. While meat browns, I turn my back to all the white, the icy sidewalks and the clouds that have become ever-present and I glide to my spice drawer. 

I am making butter chicken, knowing it will tantalize the tongue, readjust the temperature gage. There is alchemy to spice. The magic begins with Garam masala. Later, turmeric’s pledge will be accepted by cumin. I take a deep breath and let the the fog of flavour chase away each chill. 

curry and cloves
transform the ordinary –
taste of India

Next, I begin on a recipe which I’ve modified. It is not quite Coque au Vin. I dredge the meat in Herbs de Provence. Root vegetables blend with crispy bits of bacon and chicken stock. Then, I combine fresh herbs, tuck them into cheese cloth, set it afloat and let the satchel share its wealth. 

savoury branches
wilt as broth simmers   –
bouquet garni 

I take my time tidying the mess which I’ve made. The poet in me takes a second look at the meals which now cook side by side, like twin continents on my counter. The cultures are distinct, west and east, and yet the aromas easily accommodate each other. There is no division, no conditions, no restrictions. Two territories, well seasoned and season-less. 

the warmth of the world 
escapes in steam from crockpots–
my contented sigh

Again, I inhale. Tonight, we will feast.  A view of the outside no longer matters. This small space has suddenly grown. Time has flown and winter will not cross this doorway.

I will not let it. 

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2013


Long Poems