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Long Space Poems | Long Space Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

Nothing in Excess

Nothing in Excess
(the second Delphic maxim of Apollo)

A mixture of the brute and the divine
                                                Man is,
That’s why the strife in his soul never
As the eternal adversaries for superiority
In the depths of everyone’s divided

The brute:
Limited by the dimensions of space and
Intimidated by the oppressive notion of cruel
Frightened by the savage idea of inglorious 
And horrified by the torturous thought of merciless
Eager to pull man down to the material world
And with the heavy chains of bodily pleasures
                                                            Him to tie!
The divine:
Unrestricted by the dimensions of space and
Animated by the lofty idea of unity with
                                                           The ONE,
Strengthened by the noble thought of clement
And exalted by the gracious conception of 
                                             Comforting immortality,
To raise Man up to the immaterial heavens
And with the purified delights of spirit him,
                                                      To nourish!

When the ruthless brute, victorious from the
                                                  Battle emerges
And body’s barbaric-cry of victory
Benign spirit, inside the prison of here and now
                                                             Is found ,
From where, silently, the devastation of divinity,

When eternal spirit triumphant out the war 
And the illumination of the soul, jubilantly,
The perishable brute, even from its basic needs,
                                                         Is deprived,
Thus, slowly, painfully and persistently is fainting, 

Only when the brute and the divine a truce
And their powers under the banner of universal
                                                        Reason unite
Rendering to each other, at the proper time, 
                                                  Its equal share,
Harmony is established in our souls and the
                                                   Human is born!


  ©    Demetrios Trifiatis

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

On Being Here Now

Our body is only a cloak,
seek the one who has dressed you,
heed not the dress.

My form dresses our shared purpose,
I seek this SuperEco who has formed our cooperative
and synergetic vocational meaning,
not my ego's magically imagined id-entity.

Yet I remain distracted and confused
by this magic illusion of constancy that grows "me."
I watch with egocentric fascination and delight,
alarm and dismay,
applauding my own virtuoso comedic protagonist bright sight
for creating personal drama from epic opera's stage.

My body forms "self" comprehension
that our integrated ecologic
understands regenerative intuition
magic and spells
alchemy and Golden Ratios
as our eternal 0-summed Here and Now unfolding
karmic grace
evolving each natural system's spiritual reincarnation
of time's coded cultural narrative string
back through space,
forward toward our future generations.

Midway means nothing to infinity.

Here and Now comprehends eternal form
as spacetime function
unraveling permacultural implications
back through languaged information
logistical trees of reverse hierarchies
tipping boundary Trim Tabbing poignant dissonance
midway resolving
co-gravitational resonating
SuperEco-therapeutic love of integrity 
Tao Prime Relationship:
my identity is to SuperEco
as Yang longs for Yin's concaving  warm wombed embrace,
as +/-(0)-summed personal investment,
economic purpose,
evolves +1.00% QBit ecosystems logical,
optimizational regenerative, 
designated development
of co-symbiotic evolution.

My (0)-balancing body's informating economy reveals
our co-arising past with future 
positive CQI ecotherapeutic trend and story,
as well as negative, nondually dark,
narrative strings and cultural tales,
polycultural communities co-mentoring permacultural humane design
resolving Primal Resonance with Original Intent,
eco-centric "Self" identity with SuperEco's
Fractal-Unitarian Tao Metasystem of Universal Co-Comprehensive Balancing ntelligence,
or Taoist UnitarianYin--UniversalismYang,
should we need a shorter label,
and another "ism,"
then Zeroism may culturally evolve just as well,
where science rejoins religion
wonderously prehending this sacred magic we are Now
predicting our Beloved Climax Community future.

My body comprehends this convex cloak
seeking SuperEco concaved within to undress this ego,
to heed our Elder natural naked systems
Here and Now regeneratively encoding
transcending incommensurable naively intuited paradigms and language.

My co-prehended form resonates ecological function and design,
like hopeful hypothermia absorbing a warm bathing womb
to give birth to our emergent Beloved Community
of Mutual Redeemers 
mentoring economic ecologic.

Absorb rich Dark Holed composting primal relationship
of Yang-space with Yin-Time
to radiate SuperEco's brightest light together.

To increase comprehensive harmonic depth
turn off the lights,
extraction of fading natural resources, 
learn to cooperatively dream of full-moon nights
and rainbows of partly-cloudy sun-fueled days.

with bicamerally balancing brains
are Here and Now (0)-centric information
pointing toward SuperEco's prime regenerative relationship.

Form greets Function
as space meets time
as Here redeems Now,
karmic graceful gift of Earth's Eco-centric co-presence.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Audonus Taylor | Details |

Pretty Things

Your face is what
becomes my addiction.
I see it in every minute
and each second I am living.
You're all I'm getting
The only topic written down...
It's like sight has become sound.

Your name is the reason that I 
It's the waking breath in me
All my heart and body needs.
And I...
feel the road getting tough because 
of distance
without the loving kisses
Everything that we are missing now..
But I promise it will all work out...
Just give a little more time
and keep me on your mind, like I do 
Because all that's on mine is when I 
get to you..
It'll be so beautiful...
So beautiful...
So beautiful....

Those pretty things
that people do.
Is all I want to do with you.
These days bring rain
These nights bring rings
We talk about these pretty things.
Your pretty smile, your lovely mind,
This pretty life of yours and mine...
It's all I'm calling out for in my 
Your pretty face and all these pretty 

I know it's hard 
through all the space and time,
But we don't have to wait forever
It's just a storm we have to weather
until the day that you are mine...
Whatever else is whatever...
just as long as we're together
Making our way to each other's 
And we'll be home soon, love...
We'll be home soon...

(Those pretty things
that people do.
Is all I want to do with you.
These days bring rain
These nights bring rings
We talk about these pretty things.)

I can't wait to see your face when I 
But these miles do not hear me
To not have you near me, is...
Just a little more than I can take...
Because this place is just a place
until I see your smiling face...

(Your pretty smile, your lovely mind,
This pretty life of yours and mine...
It's all I'm calling out for in my 
Your pretty face and all these pretty 

Your pretty smile, Your lovely mind.
Is so much more, than space and 
I feel you out there, keep you with 
Hoping these days pass quite quickly.
And though apart we have to be 
(right now, right now, right now!...)
With you is where I'd rather be..
(I'd rather be, I rather be!...)

Those pretty things
that people do.
Is all I want to do with you.
These days bring rain
These nights bring rings
We talk about these pretty things.
Your pretty smile, your lovely mind,
This pretty life of yours and mine...
It's all I'm calling out for in my 
Your pretty face and all these pretty 

So keep me close to you, my love.
Keep holding on to all that's us...
I see your face in every room...
I promise you that..
we'll be home soon...
And no matter what tomorrow 
What we have...
is the prettiest of things...

Copyright © Audonus Taylor

Long poem by Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Details |

The UFO at Cary Forest

Nestled among the trees in a primitive campsite,
A cub scout and his mother were on their third camp-out.
The tent was pitched; double foil wrapped food was cooked just right.
The young campfire cook gave his skills a great workout.

In the past they had stayed there several days at a time.
Driving through the forest just the mom and her young boy.
Thinking about those days brings back memories sublime.
It was a lot of work, but brought them so much joy.

Nights were spent listening to the serenading bullfrog.
At dawn, she photographed wildlife while he made bird-calls.
One morning when they came around the bend in the fog,
A long-necked majestic doe stood tall and enthralled.

The angle was such that she could not get a good shot.
So, she handed him her Cannon; he aimed, then, clicked.
It would be days prior to seeing the picture he got.
She and her son took pleasure in the woodlands frolicked.

In the hours of darkness they finished playing cards.
Their lantern was glowing; it was time to go to sleep.
Outside there was a whirring they could not disregard.
The mother turned out the light; whispered, “Don't make a peep!”

Her heart was pounding faster and her eyes opened wide.
She was afraid to move, but tried her best to be brave.
She unzipped the tent slowly and took a look outside.
The unlikely sight she saw gave her heart a shock wave.
Up in the sky was a circle of lights… humongous!
The outer ones were orange and the inner ones flashed white.
The sound was so loud that soon the boy became anxious.
With a quiet hush she said, “We're going to be alright.”

All she could think about was fear and their abduction.
Teenage daughters, not camping, needed her to survive.
She was so terrified her mind could hardly function.
There was nothing she could do to get out of there alive.

Would sharp-witted life forms from outer space understand?
She had no choice but try; inside she shed silent tears.
Begging aloud to the alien craft, words unplanned.
Daughters, with no one to tend them would struggle for years.

When she explained their situation, the noise ceased quickly.
She peeked outside again to see only stars in the sky.
He, now a man, was not allowed to look out…hazy.
She thanks God for the night the aliens went bye-bye.

©  October 8, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen

P.S. Years later, she saw the same craft in NASA space photos listed as something not 
seen before…unidentified!  When she went to show her husband, the picture had 

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Long poem by brian stewart | Details |


It seems the path Iam on  is changing everyday
the road uncertain just an endless shapeless gray
some would say it would all be clearer if I took up there religion
even with the doubt Iam not scared enough for that decision

I see the faith you placed in one of the many saviors
I lame excuse for the centuries of mad behavior
Iam sure your prophets where the very best of man
but your church and bibles where never in the plan

so every race has a version of there own
stories stolen from the gods of the past spoken out like it was always known
not one of these faiths is open and understanding
they keep others down and your soul churches are demanding

then you history holds no science no enlightenment
dogmatic foolishness written before free government
and every soul that is afraid to die or to ashamed to live
if you stop thinking then heaven is what they give

even now the human mind is found wanting
but reality is intelligence is hard work and life is daunting
if only the concept of good will and love
we understood without some sign from above

if you need the ancient fiction to ease your pain
I respect you and to all other men you should do the same
your saviors were righteous there’s know doubt
in there time they worship but no church was there twist whets its about

there have been many Christ’s since the beginning of man 
the Mayans and Muslim have had tales since they ruled by the roman
dry king ghandi and many more sacrifice there life so others could be free
in my mind that’s what Jesus is what he is supposed to be

even know there some man of great worth he has no money no powerful church
he’s  giving of himself and and loving the lost I dare you to search 
and see the truth were in this together and this is paradise
we are the only keepers of our fate we must realize

I can no longer people pay to pray and talk down to others who dont believe what you say
but Christ himself did not hang with the saved he knew the hopeless so he could see them ok
but times have changed were not ruled by religious empires mad with slavery
we fought for those rights not with one mans good with collective human bravery

a new age is upon us and the true test is coming not one of prophecy
the makers of worlds the stars the cycle of suns chaos of the galaxy
I hope soon we see are only time is now there is no second chance
are race needs to come together  and make a united stance
if faith keeps us apart do we even have the heart

Copyright © brian stewart

Long poem by brian stewart | Details |

Fire Mother

Cold morning greets the weary eye clouds drape the horizon in gray
I turn around avoiding the sight I cannot stand with a dreary pale day
And then I feel it on the nape of my neck A hint of warmth kissing my skin
I turn around gazing out my window and see in the gray light the size of a pin
I try not to build on my hopes the thin ray of light might be gone in a tick
And then it happened the clouds parted way amazing ling quick

within a moment I was a washed in light blinding brilliant and glaring so bright
it was like the day had defeated the night leaving the world with breathtaking sight
The orb of energy colored the sky in outrages shadows and countless hues
the godly object painting its art from star to star the cosmos its muse

I moved with a pace to open the door I flung it open with a giddy delight
the clouds burned away by the waking of ra the life giving force of comfort and might
the rays that touched the flesh of my face washed in warmth a faint tingle
Colors above began to dissipate lose there sharpness leave then un mingle

now the sky retains the majestic color of the all welcoming blue
now nothing can stop the suns life and energy from making it through
the moments I spent outside my front door revitalized my heart filled my soul
I dare not stare into the great star the center so bright a positive hole

I stood there soaking up the nectar my skin absorbing the vital beams
Before this day I thought the world could only be this beautiful in our dreams
Iam not sure to this day how long I enjoyed it how long did I stay
I took the time to indulge in the feeling the blinding array

The golden orb that gives life a chance nourishes its children down below
refreshes my outlook changes the day shinning down for the rest to grow
to bathe in its glory heat on my skin sensations burn from my feet to my chin
summer is coming in its time the way it has always done the way its been

Shading my eyes from the fiery glare I take a last glance at the burning sphere
so filled up inside with light and warmth my lets out a rejoice full tear
Once again it will set in the sky but it doesn’t take long for it to appear
to give the life that we all so crave and to make our days a little more clear
a god to revere a star we hold dear every summer once every year it comes again
to greet us here banish the dark conquer our fear once again I will gaze and ill peer on the 
celestial being 
that owns the sky the liquid fire mother our sphere

Copyright © brian stewart

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Mutual Messiahs

Who's vision are you unfolding for whom?

Are you aware you carry a basket of bread
on your head
and still beg at every door? (Rumi)

You love nature.
Like bread, Earth's nature feeds you
and, like yeast, absorbs you,
is that of which you are made,
and making,
and resolve to eternally create and recreate,
if only you could.

But, you can and you are
and the manna in your head already knows
healthy yeast  redeems regenerationally
diastatically incarnational,
with smooth-souled omnicoherence,
eco-confluent paradigms and dreams and language
and permaculture,
ecological teleology systematically grows panentheistic,
balancing cooperative economies with networking vocations
to permanently eco-logicize Earth.

This is your Day, your EcoTribal Self
our EcoLogic metaculture and Transhistory,
our EcoTherapy synergy,
tipping toward balancing points and principles
of blinding spiritual intuition with restrained scientific deduction,
harmonizing Left-brained language
with Right-brained confluent v. dissonant awareness
of this bicameral basket on our head
as our balancing supereco and your id-entity
engaging your praxis,
whether hope-filled or hopeless,
triumphant or despairing,
you know this already,
throughout this manna that is your entity,
decomposing through death's long post-maturation process
to regenerate as
"redistributed subfunctions
of Other" informing ecosystems. (B. Fuller)

Born of stardust,
messiahs mutually mentoring
our pilgrimage toward Earth's starlight;

e-squared function = c-crystal (cubed)
subatomic polyculture,
waiting behind each begging door
for you to return Other's cooperatively gravitating namaste.

Optimized Living Systems are to metaphysical teleology
as ecosystems are to physically regenerating ("special case") economies,
as EcoTherapy informs design, intention, empirical research,
learning and consciousness,
love, and active peace, and justice,

and RNA self-optimizing information
QBit Quirky
ionic and ergodically balancing value systems.

Your bicameral basket holds no non-polynomial information
because this is an oxymoron,
we already intuitively know everything metaphysical
as diverse resolutions of Prime +/- (0)-synced Relationship,
polynomial information is wild binomial yeast
soaring across time's double-bound equinox divide.

Please continue unfolding our permacultured vision,
and stop begging from competitive economies,
it's just not dignified,
or fun.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by Izzy Gumbo | Details |

circle in the sand

what would you believe to be true?
a sun in the sky and the color of blue?
check to see what time it is…
and is this time a true truth too?
for you?
if we’re to count what really matters
would it be the drops or the oceans of waters?
Maya have a cycle and they call it Long
Consisting of ‘days’ that cycle to One.
Scholars translated the related data…
Stating in dates from a dated stela
That an ‘end’ was to come
For the world as we know it.
I asked for the rest to show it.
Modern cycles of time are related
To the point, I say, of being the same.
In the beginning, it was just a game
But a truth came out the more I played.
And if this truth is really true
Then what might it mean for me and you?
If the Mayan cycle to One it just means
That the rest are too.
We’ll start with a Great date of understanding
The Winter solstice of the 12th upon ending
Will complete the days count of three colors
Red Green and Blue…....... 18.7.2 000
We have the same color in the minutes it’s true…
1300 days is a count of Red Green and Blue.
1300 days as minutes are a 18.7.2 000 Too.
And how do I know this you say?
I only know it in the English kind of way
But 18 = R, 7 = G, and 2 = B see
Which makes black when the zeros are three
Too, this includes them all.
The trick was a spin in the eyes
They said ‘add’ to my surprise… and so I did
Add sum, because it’s said and is so
That once in every seventy two you know
There is the movement of One. Degree.
It was a mystery to me and something unseen
Like the physical physics of godly thing.
“Golden showers” Albert kept saying
Don’t be a coward his dare kept teasing
Could it be true his mind kept pushing
He wants to finish what he thinks is worth knowing…
So what can you touch in 24 miles
If you’re faster then light but stop for smiles?
A kiss from the color of a mind called hOurs
7800 days are the exact same colors, and
18.7.2 000 are used the same ways
1872000 are the hours in 7800 days
Two cycles combine to show whats true
And it is inDEEd; what I can show to you
Because I’m not an ’’... or a phd
But I sure can count, in geek.can.ease…

7800 + 1300 = 9100 Soo, I counted…

1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13 = 91 oo… a lot.
...2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13 = 90 o….. and became a square for it ;)

9100 / 20 = 455
9100 / 13 = 700

20×13 = 260 Tzolkin sacred number…
Because we walk on them (26 bones each foot)… all five of us.
... see… there IS one more… and then it’s new.n

Copyright © Izzy Gumbo

Long poem by Harley White | Details |

Dark Matter Matters

Dark matter seems to be
What isn’t there to be seen
In between
What we see.

They dub it dark since you cannot detect it
Nor can they inspect it
With telescopy.

Yet, while it can’t be descried
It cannot be denied
For equations that irk
To work.

Should dark matter matter,
Would dark matter matter
A titter or twitter,
A transmitter flitter,
A spatter or smatter—
This transparent matter—
To other than fans of the science news
Or hopefuls for lists of physics who’s whos?

Like other matters of matter that matter
A pitter or patter, a skitter or scatter,
It has to be plumbed, summed up and summed down,
Verified, clarified, ere it’s dumbed down.

One cannot spot it with unaided eyes—
Oh, may the way to explore it be wise!

Some sons and daughters of Mother Earth’s waters
And sands of the dreamlands of Father Time
Are trying to fathom celestial history,
Master its mystery, reason and rhyme.

Physicists hunt for dark matter, to move it
With particle accelerators, to prove it
Exists as suspected, from data collected
With outcome expected, eureka! projected…

But let us remember that they call it dark.
How can one discern an invisible quark?
They’re searching to learn of this strange seeming stuff,
For knowledge is power— there’s never enough…

It’s thought our universe has a whole lot of it.
Those who suppose it give info they’ve got of it…

Dark matter exerts gravitational pull.
It glues stars together, makes galaxies full.
Unlike normal matter it plays hide and seek
And so much of it’s interactively weak…

Speaking of such massiveness subatomic,
Its acronym is ironically comic…

With or without this WIMP snicker factor
There’s still a detractor or two around…
Though a gamma ray clue may have been found
In the center of our own Milky Way—
Dark matter collisions, that is to say.

A curious mind always digs and delves.
Yet, are we not getting ahead of ourselves?

High fly the dreams of the capped and gowned
To be world-renowned, laureate-crowned…
Breakthroughs in deep outer space astound…
While here on the ground, horrors abound!

Be it phantom or really elusively there,
Dark matter inferred, if ever laid bare,
When we’ve been interred, with nary a word
To mark our swift passage, might have the last laugh
With ‘what fools were mortals!’ for our cenotaph—
‘Nature and Nature’s laws lay hid in night:
Humans unlocked them, but all was not light.’

– Harley White  

< January 2011 >

Copyright © Harley White

Long poem by Mac McGovern | Details |

How The Sun Was Made

Before man, there was only twilight upon the earth. The earth was divided by two realms, realms, not kingdoms; one above the earth, the Sky, ruled by the birds. The other, the Land, upon the earth, ruled by the beasts.

In the sky, among the clouds, was a large pile of firewood. How it got there is unknown.
It is believed to be there as a resting place for birds not wanting to rest on land.

One twilight, an enormous eagle dove toward the land. His dive caused an emu on the land to panic, thinking it was being attacked, the emu jumped up and struck the eagle. 

The eagle and the emu began a heated argument, then began to fight. The emu, in anger, plucked an eagle feather. The eagle, in its rage, swooped over to the emu nest, grabbing one of her huge eggs in its beak, soared skyward.

As the eagle climbed, he swung his head throwing the egg higher into the sky. The emu
screeched in horror as the egg smashed against the firewood. The yoke breaking, sparked, igniting the firewood, lighting up both realms of the earth.

Suddenly, the earth was bright and beautiful. All were dazzled, but soon relaxed, as the
fire begin to warm. The leader of the Sky saw the light and the warmth it produced as good.

He saw as the fire burned, it produced more heat and comforted all. It also began to
decrease the light and got cooler as the firewood went out. This was a bad thing, he
called all the birds together to gather firewood to keep the fire burning.

As the fire became coals, the light again returned to twilight and darkness.
The birds worked for hours to replenish the firewood.

As they began to pile wood upon the coals, the fire reignited. As the fire got bigger,
there was more light, and warmth. 

When the birds had piled on all the wood gathered, the fire again began to decrease in
light and warmth.

Again each twilight, the birds would gather firewood for hours.

After an undetermined time, light and the darkness defined. As the earth warmed and became more beautiful, the realms became one.

The Spirit of the earth saw what the birds had done and what had become of the earth was good. He moved the fire outward from the earth and made it burn all the time.

He made the earth turn. Day and night were created. The birds and the beasts were one with the earth.

The spirit of the earth was pleased. He had created the heavens and the earth, reaching into the earth, he grabbed a handful of dirt in his hands, Smiling, saying all is good, He created Man.

Copyright © Mac McGovern

Long Poems