Long Abstract thoughts Poems
Long Abstract thoughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Abstract thoughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abstract thoughts poems by poem length and keyword.
Me In Three: Curious, Analytical, and Creative:
In a realm of thought, where notions glide,
The essence is three, cannot hide:
A curious spirit, a seeking flame,
An analytical mind, a puzzle to tame,
A creative soul, a vibrant hue,
These facets merge in all that’s pursued.
Curious
Wandering paths where questions bloom,
Dispelling shadows, chasing gloom.
A thirsty mind, with hunger deep,
Secrets of the world, to seek and reap.
From starlit skies to the ocean floor,
Asking the “why,” “what,” and “more.”
Each leaf a story, each cloud a sign,
In nature’s book, the world is mine
To query and explore each hidden track,
A quest for knowledge, no turning back.
With eyes wide open, embracing the new,
For curiosity paints the world its brightest hue.
Analytical
Then shifts the gaze, from the broad to the fine,
A tapestry woven with an intricate design.
The gears of thought begin to turn and spin,
Where logic reigns, and the study can begin.
Dissecting the details, weighing the “pros” and “cons,”
Unraveling complexity, from dusks to dawns.
Patterns emerge in the data seen,
A structured process sets the answers free.
The chaos lessens, the order takes hold,
A clear solution, a truth to unfold.
With reason’s light, mapping the terrain,
Where every piece has a purpose to gain.
Creative
But when the structure is clearly defined,
A different spark illuminates the mind.
The world of art, of story, and of song,
Where new ideas and inspiration belong.
With brush in hand, or with a pen in tow,
Watching as novel visions start to grow.
From abstract thoughts to tangible form,
Building and shaping, weathering the storm
Of the convention’s rules and the expected path,
Creating beauty from an aftermath
Of silence and the void, a unique new voice,
In the realm, making a choice.
The Synthesis
So see it now, in this interplay,
A triad of traits that shape the day.
The curious start, a question in the air,
The analytical mind, which puts the pieces together,
The creative spirit, which brings a new design,
These facets, intertwined and fine.
Each one supports the other in the flow,
A complete and evolving, dynamic glow.
Are you a fan of fur friend liberation,
Across our great lucky nation?
If only we had intercommunication,
Between every species on Earth,
We'd understand each other's worth,
Do you believe in what we're taught,
That animals have no abstract thought?
Indeed, how do we know this?
Is it all a load of blip?
Do dogs pass over into Puppy Heaven? I ask,
Believing it's for 'good boys', their task,
Their certain and sure hope of resurrection,
Somewhere with snacks and toys in Heaven,
Loving their owners just the same,
Abstract thoughts, is that the game?
True interspecies communication,
Dreaming on, in this lucky nation!
To glide with inspiration above quilted clouds
Where birds so often soar
Glimpse a sunset hued in gold
With many colors to adore
To grasp the muse that swing from creative vines
And sway from abstract thoughts
Upon the page release the lines
Which meander within the plots
Clasp the quill as the ink flows
And carefully craft each verse
Clutch the metaphors in rhyme or prose
As throughout the page they intersperse
Sometimes the ending can hold a surprise
And cause a gasp in its trail
The words flow subtly and with guise
Its meaning you then inhale
6-28-2021
Writing Prompt Grasp - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
An ornate vase brightens the dimly lit room
Where a beautiful girl sits, deep in thought
And as her daydream begins to bloom
She reaches for the the dreams she's sought
Perhaps she's composing a symphony
Or playing in a concert hall
Maybe she's had an epiphany
Where rhapsodies enthrall
She may have a song in her heart
Whose melody she's trying to find
And as I watch her daydream, in abstract thoughts divine
Her song she thus imparts
upon this page of mine
She places one hand on the piano, in delicate sleeve of lace
The other rests thoughtfully on an open book
As she journeys to that distant place
Where only the mind can look
To build a better human use a robot
Genetics are overrated and outdated
Androids make the perfect man
With nuts and bolts who needs a soul
Love your machines
They come with metallic hands
With instructions to construct
Transgender bathrooms built to last
Humans make great pets
When inoculated they are the best
Venereal diseases are a breeze
Hmm.... Are they really needed?
Bots speak bot languages
Abstract thoughts are optional
Don't need visas to get about
Robots work non stop for free
No clocks to punch or dirty thoughts
Void of affection and infections
They follow the instructions of God's plan
To build a better man
Days are sharp as memories pass
As the idle thunder attest
to storms of unsettled wrath.
They gather together on the opaque horizons.
The engines of the highway HUMM
and
the grind with the heaviness of an iron heart
…eons-long!
Full of oily thoughts and rusted parts,
in memorium when machines ran
by our hand only in the theory of history, Grand!
The city reeks of oblivion and abstract thoughts…
Infinities' echos were sharp redrawn imagery…
Antiquated days nestled in idol thunder!
of tomorrow’s memories…ALL
In the theory of memory
Now all color is
…is the color of embers
As we rust like echos that pass
into the wasted days, abstract!
In theory of memory…
Only the bitter last!
The poet's hands are tied by written words,
inking emotions in-between the lines.
Nature's creatures, like butterflies and birds,
oft get reduced to colors and outlines
only observable from the sidelines.
Poets induce feelings through abstract thoughts
trusting the reader to connect the dots,
but struggle to transcribe a smile or frown,
for the weight of fledgling words, holds them down.
Feelings untethered from reality
can cause a communications breakdown,
when a poet pens sensuality.
(Dizain)
6/08/2021
The Poet's Hands Are Tied Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
I'm primarily known for my poetry
inked in cerebral colors of abstract thoughts.
Yet, there is a complexity concealed within me.
My totality runs surprisingly deep.
You must meticulously disassemble and examine
all my puzzling parts to understand me.
I'm a dreamer, awake in a dream called life;
an optimist and a self-doubter, I know I'm not always right.
But I love to fledge my poetic thoughts,
feathering their wings with witty words.
My heart reveals hidden hurts buried deep
to appease my conscience and oblige reality!
Yet compassion underlies my every breath,
weighing life's wrongs on the scales of injustice.
Draining dreams tear by tear, year after year,
frustration has not yet emptied me of hope.
But, if I am to be defined by anything,
let it be by the gift fate endowed my muse;
and the Karma my poems have generated,
illuminating my pathway to now
and guiding me toward tomorrow.
Mart has almost no friends.
He is a different race than anyone at school.
His low I.Q. makes him act differently.
He is a concrete thinker.
Abstract thoughts he does not grasp.
When he gets a friend, he is super thrilled.
His exuberance overwhelms them.
He speaks in a super loud voice.
He is an incessant talker.
He needs no personal space, so he stands in your mouth.
Mart gets offended easily.
He shrieks and screams when he feels disrespected.
Easy conversation can trigger him.
He is moody and gets upset easily.
When a person tries to end a conversation, he is offended.
Of course, these are the people my mother forced me to befriend.
She thought it would help me develop empathy.
It actually made me angry and upset, like Mart.
Being his friend meant losing my other friends.
By 12
By 12 I was
fully grown. My height was
the envy of
the short arses in
my classes. I wasn’t a
porker like
some ... I was
spared fat jokes. My level of
pituitary activity was, well,
excellent. Hormone increases were
too. Ejaculated more than
most. My secondary sex characteristics gave me
some respect. I was the first in
my class to
break their
voice. My thin mo caused awe in
the hairless. Deductive reasoning was
special. My systematic problem finding the answers to
things had triple the
different possibilities thought about, mulled, prior to
the answers being chosen. I was the king of
abstract thoughts, and that
riddled others with
confusion and
anger. It was easier for me to
manipulate abstract concepts than
concrete ones. Hours on
end I’d get lost in
idealistic contemplation of
hypotheticals until I was
clapped out
of it. I spent a lot of
time lost in
identity formation. I soaked in
everything. Long-term memory
ached. I praised daily the
elaboration added to
encoding strategies. I avoided happily interactions with
most. Opposite-peers I avoided
happily. I was
undateable.