Long Aborts Poems
Long Aborts Poems. Below are the most popular long Aborts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aborts poems by poem length and keyword.
earth star chakra my killick, subliminal subpersonal connects me to core of planet’s centre, spinning yet rooted in quiet mirth
absorbing misaligned energy in sturdy girth
intuits heartfelt frequency exchanges
across planetary consciousness gauges
below Gaia’s benign surfaces it modulates
where own wisdomed faith undulates
steady Will humming stable solid secure
no other anchor would I endure
awareness finely tuned filamented fibres
reaches far flung corners shadowed or
light, without single flinch fight or flight
authority with divine responsibility dear
centring my substance as an emperor does
holding disciplined foresight unseen safe
signals settled velocities where I am to walk
intentions sure of next waiting chorded port
underground star exuding strength, cohort
of ages, missioning goals it never aborts
Each day an extension of my time
so each morning a risk and opportunity
to avoid greedy egocentrism
to step into harmonious eco-centered consciousness.
Each still-wombed entity extends Mother's incarnating time
so each maternal risk and opportunity,
each free will act of paternity,
aborts competitive egocentrism
by extending bipartisan consciousness,
wisdom's good faith fertility
for our co-operating future.
Each life extends time's enculturing memory
of secularizing risks
and sacred opportunities
avoiding evolution's monopolistic dead ends
by embracing revolution's polyculturing awareness.
Each moment incarnates maternity's wombed memory
of monoculturing risk and polypathic opportunity
to avoid deductive domination's severance
by mutually embracing
multi-paradigmatic synergy.
Time is a unitarian womb
and its omnipotence is universal!
Fathomlessly ubiquitous.
Like the double-binding revolutionary progenitor of all things.
Its smooth-structured boundaries resonating
prime relationship not-not tangles informing,
untying,
Its Earth tempered balance of enlightenment,
Its turmoil decomposing dissonant understories
Yet
like dark deep ecological flow
it sustains Earth's green/blue Commons.
I do not know whose holonic embryo
EarthTime fractally unfolds,
a 4-dimensional echo
of seasonal reincarnation
within bicameral communion.
Here silence reigns supreme all time,
And evening melts away
Into the night in distant sight
From where the locals stay.
The murmur of the grove distracts
My stiff and weary shin,
Yet they move on and trudge along
The dark and shady green.
There oft the sun departs so soon,
He creeps behind the hill,
His lustrous rays no more embrace
The woods with happy zeal.
A flight of birds are yet to steer
Back to their cozy niche,
Their sudden flap aborts the nap
Of a hare against its wish.
A cricket chirped moments ago
But now it drowsed certain,
The graveyard lies beneath the skies
Serene in twilight rain.
An olive spreads its drooping bough
Beside the muddy way
The dew and mist each other kissed,
While on a tuft I lay.
I viewed the farthest rock in mind
As if I dreamt a dream
Of spirits keen on being seen,
As volatile as steam.
I heard a mellow voice at once,
As sweet as a summer song,
It beckons me to the cemetery
I sauntered all along.
Never I felt my limbs so numb,
As though I levitate,
A mastiff howls to the parted souls,
Who love to emanate.
What have I seen, it steeps my mind
With a never-presumed state,
The knights and reverends upward soar
To blame their sorry fate.
Most lonely I assumed myself,
I now see a lonelier face,
Or is my mind of reason blind
That views a captive race?
Tonight I will converse with you,
Upon your flowers I sleep,
The marble frame protects your name,
Where softly I shall weep.
22nd September, 2021
The
Poorest
Choice in life.
I’m not being judgmental nor commenting on my feedback I’m just clarifying and
respectfully explaining my view of the poem. I appreciate the feedback, I understand when a
poem is written everyone relates to it in a different way. One never knows the ramifications
of a single piece of work. In the epigram form there is not much to work with due to the six
syllable meter. In my initial thought of ‘Aborted,’ from my creative perspective, was a
metaphor of aborting a single thought.
If one aborts a thought, the poem cannot be born into existence, thus no life of words,
no poetry, nor a beautiful contribution to literature to continue or record our stay in time,
etc.
I categorized my poem as life because we abort things daily and that’s a part of life. I am
explaining the creative depth of my poem’s entirety.
Yes, life can be aborted along with a thought, or a wonderful opportunity.
When poetry is written it is usually draped in metaphors and similes from the creators vision
and unique perspective. I hope my explanation shows the depth of a poem goes way deeper
than its surface... Raul Moreno
AN EPITAPH
Will liberty ring out again,
beneath the cries of human rights
can freedom's name survive,
dissembling and lies;
Will duty from its prison flee
throw off its shackled memory,
is respect just a word,
spoken,but never heard:
How long, how long 'til I becomes thee ?
when ,when, will ego bend the knee,
the victim is not me
my friend, my friend,it's we.
Who rings this bell of liberty
truly sounds,our culture's death knell.
YESTERDAY
Where are our
yesterdays
here today
gone tomorrow-
a page in history
oftime forgotten,
the past buried-
fragments
of memory
unearthed by a voice
a song
a photograph-
lived again
through a sepia lens
ACROSS A ROOM
Beauty is something we see
with individual eyes,
deep within our soul,resides
attraction,waiting ,asleep
yet longing to be aroused;
Our need to be recognised,
a desire to recognise,
reciprocate and hold close
subtle scents,inherent and
so universally held;
A certain something unique,
intercourses between eyes,
a novel read by a glance
in seconds,might last a lifetime
indelibly imprints,love;
Only time,can reveal
imperfections of conceit,
when ego retreats and
aborts the frail foetus in
pools of recrimination.
Listen to me read these poems on youtube under name ichthyschiro
Love is
so much stronger
than hate…
Hate aborts
all that is
good…
Love is
a pregnancy
that always gives
birth:-
Hate pontificates
that which
is called fear
but strengthening
love silences
weakening fear…
In the healing
atmosphere
of life
hate evaporates
but love
absorbs
healing sunshine
and serenely flows
with her frothing waves
splashing upon
the shores of life…
The moonlight
of love
will always
drown
the darkness
of hate
for where love
abides
hate can never
be:-
re post inspired by theme of Laura contest
Beauty is something we see
with individual eyes,
deep within our soul,resides
attraction,waiting ,asleep
yet longing to be aroused;
Our need to be recognised,
a desire to recognise,
reciprocate and hold close
subtle scents,inherent and
so universally held;
A certain something unique,
intercourses between eyes,
a novel read by a glance
in seconds,might last a lifetime
indelibly imprints,love;
Only time,can reveal
imperfections of conceit,
when ego retreats and
aborts the frail foetus in
pools of recrimination.
BRIAN STRAND
Note
syllbic free verse style ,after Elizabeth Daryush
What kind of man would rape his Mother
What kind of man you are
What kind of man would kill his brother
What kind of man you are
Save his soul
Vile, low down, wretched sinful one
Where you coming from
Purposely wanderer wanting to harm
Hurt each and everyone, everyone warn, RUN
Determined to have your I'll gotten ways
Better stop choose right go left
Accept Jesus Christ
Amen
What kind of man abuses children,
What kind of man you are
You are of your father your daddy satan
You choose what you do
Your uncle Cain
You know the one who killed Abel
What kind of man destroys all his and yours
What kind of man steals from God
What kind of man you are
What kind of man implores evil for fun
Then turns laughs and runs
So what kind of man you are
What kind of man worship satan
What kind of man kills
When a man love is for real
What kind of man that's no, no, no what kind of man abuses his girlfriend
What kind of man you are
What kind of man cares only for his self, preservation
What kind of man makes his girlfriend the child in the womb aborts
What kind of man you are
07/07/74©1974, 2017
From demo cassette/LP "The World May End Tomorrow"
James Edward Lee Sr