Long Acclimate Poems
Long Acclimate Poems. Below are the most popular long Acclimate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Acclimate poems by poem length and keyword.
Anxiety
Written: by Miracle Man
August 19, 2021
Believing forthcoming days won’t be sublime,
allow habits and idiosyncrasies to irritate.
All thoughts of delight will wither in time,
and days are spent scrambling to acclimate.
Embraced are those thoughts of wistful years,
praying future days don’t house sameness.
Then taking final inventory of life’s souvenirs,
and allowing others to usurp our saneness.
Many go through life hearing negative songs,
but “Love keeps no records of our wrongs.”
1 Corinthians 13 KJV
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth
7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes...
Life is the art of dying-
not the kind that closes the eyes,
but the kind that leaves them open,
watching.
It begins quietly.
So quietly you mistake it for growing up.
A softness goes missing.
A belief fails to return.
Something unnamed steps out of you
and never explains itself.
You learn to live with less
before you learn what was taken.
Life does not kill you—
it thins you.
It teaches erosion.
How to wear down a soul
until it fits neatly
inside obligation and routine.
We die in places no one mourns.
In sentences we swallow.
In love we ration.
In dreams we stop defending
when they ask too much of us.
Each year removes a layer
and calls it experience.
Each loss is framed as necessary.
Each wound is expected to heal
even when it never closes.
You become familiar with absence.
You stop asking where things went.
You stop noticing how empty
the room inside you has become
because emptiness is quieter
than grief.
Life is the art of dying
because it demands rehearsal—
daily,
relentless,
without consent.
You practice disappointment
until it feels natural.
You practice silence
until your voice forgets its shape.
You practice being overlooked
until being seen feels intrusive.
There are deaths with no aftermath.
No moment of recognition.
Just a slow rearranging
around the damage.
Hope does not leave dramatically.
It dims.
It learns how to sit still.
It becomes something you remember
rather than something you reach for.
You do not survive life—
you acclimate to it.
You learn how to function
with fractures holding everything together.
You learn how to move forward
without expecting arrival.
Life is the art of dying
because nothing is ever taken all at once.
It is removed piece by piece
until one day
you cannot remember
what you were before the subtraction began.
And there is no ending to this.
No resolution.
No lesson waiting at the bottom.
Just the continuation—
a body still breathing,
a soul keeping count,
and a quiet understanding
that the art
was never meant
to be finished.
Spiritual, perhaps even emotional, experience
reflected upon and evaluated with gratitude,
can further develop natural-rational
secular-sacred
co-intelligent eco-presence
between sacred ecotherapy
and secular egohealthy healing.
By contrast,
LeftBrain competitions
against RightBrain cooperatives,
PositivEnergy trusted
by multicultural democratic emotions
and motions
of swelling WinWin love
and awesome Left-Right co-arising beauty,
These winning Losses,
salutary problems,
further acclimate against health optimization
furthering LeftBrain dominant suboptimization
of natural-spiritual wealth
within everyday Western competitions
to champion patriarchal patriotism
Against matriarchal eco-maturity
nondualistic
non-violent nurturing
Green ZeroZones
Boundaried by No Vacancy signs
aimed as tools, not monoculturing weapons
for harvesting dissonance,
co-disassociating non-therapeutic colonizing injustice risks
distinguished from ecotherapeutic creolizing justice opportunities
of and for peace-filling ZeroZones
of Sacred Green PolyCulturing Integrity.
Light/Dark emotional, perhaps even spiritual, experience
reflected upon and evaluated with gratitude,
can present both LeftBrain oppositions for EgoSafety
and RightBrain BothAnd apposition
for WinWin EcoOpportunity ReDiscovery.
There is an old and wise saying,
Take only what you need
and use everything you take.
We often consider the first part,
or at least make occasional stabs at simplicity,
but the last part is less frequently said
or thought about
as essential to healthy vulnerability.
If we don't use everything we take
and have been given by others,
then we can be sure
we have been given, and perhaps taken,
more than we need.
Taking only what we need
sounds obvious and transparently ethical,
perhaps even aesthetic
in purity of harmonic intent,
yet more mysterious
and richer
and deeper
when we remember
that life itself,
and human life even evolving more so,
is lived in margins,
double-boundaried spaces,
places,
times,
seasons of growth and decay.
Earth's marginal soul
is living soil and water,
surface wind and fire storms
and swells and ebbs.
RNA and DNA regenerate
on and within this thin biosystemic sphere
between atmosphere
and dead bedrock.
Life, as contrasted to not-life,
is a marginally placed process
of learning to take only what Earth offers
and gratefully using everything as cooperative gift.
Life derives from prehistoric photosynthesis
on Earth's evolving and devolving synthesis
and revolving skin.
And our senses, all five,
each take what we need of this synthesis
to LeftBrain adapt
and RightBrain adopt
what our thin margin offers us
of and for a healthy simplicity
yet wealthy diversity
of synthesizing double-boundaried life through death.
Humane life is evolutionary
within Earth's marginal organic boundaries
as we choose to use everything
our RNA and DNA Elders
have gracefully and phylogenically offered us
to swim and walk and fly
within Earth's bountiful health boundaries.
Humanity defines what Earth has given
as marginally sufficient diversity
and is uniquely poised on a constant multicultural edge
to fully delineate,
acclimate,
creolize,
know polypathic gratitude
for this polyphonic boundary grace,
to deeply digest
and warmly decompose
every sensory gift of Earth
we take in
through this vulnerable ride
between natural birth
and spiritual revolution,
Taking only what marginal wealth
we need
and using every double-boundaried healthy day and night
we gratefully receive.
Nature, in her quiet wisdom, forever mirrors this reality, weaving it into the very fabric of existence. The sturdy oak tree, in a world of ever-shifting acclimate, adheres faithfully to its intrinsic nature; it does not yearn to be a weeping willow, but unfurls its gnarled branches to the sun with unyielding authenticity.
This steadfastness is its silent promise to the forest—providing shade, sustenance, and a home for countless creatures, never betraying its purpose. Just as a river, in beautiful obedience to the call of the sea, must follow its natural course without second-guessing the twists and turns, so too does the authentic self move through the world.
The river carves its path with honesty, and in that sincerity, it gives life to the valley, remaining true to its essential character. It cannot be false to the land around it because it is, above all, true to its own flowing essence.
Observe the moon, which in a celestial dance of trust, waxes and wanes through every phase—full, crescent, new—never hiding its current form or seeking to be anything other than what the moment demands. In its complete acceptance of its own cycle, it reliably governs the tides and lights the night sky for all the world to see.
Thus, the natural world stands as a living testament: When the seed blossoms into the flower it was always meant to be, its unique fragrance is a gift to every passerby. Its self-actualization is its contribution.
To be true to one's own self is not a selfish act. Still, the most profound act of generosity, for in the integrity of one's own being, a harmony is established that resonates outward, like ripples from a single, clear stone dropped into a still pond, touching everything around it with an unwavering, honest grace.
DAUGHTERS OF THE KING
Live for Jesus From A-Z
Hear Ye, Hear Ye,
Oh Daughters of the King.
From creation’s crown, to our glorious gown,
Live For Jesus From A to Z
Awake, Align, Acclimate,
Beautify, Captivate.
Dedicate,
Demonstrate,
Dance before the King!
Electrify, Enterprise.
Live a Fruitful life,
And Feminize,
Give all your Heart
Go beyond,
Harmonize, while holding on!
Hallelujah,
Illuminate joy for Jesus,
Jubilate!
Kneel before Him, Kiss the King,
Live your Life as an offering!
Marry a Man who's a godly Mate,
Make God the standard
don't negotiate!
Just Open Heart, Let Him Operate
Pray and let GOD'S Power Penetrate!
Qualify, Queen'ify,
Renew, Review, Sanctify,
Teach the Word, Don’t procrastinate
Tomorrow’s Not Promised,
It May be Too late,
Use me Jesus! Ultimate!
Visionize the Victory gate!
Win the lost!
Xtra-cate!
Yes to Jesus Youth-a-cate,
Youth renewed, Young-a-fy,
Changed In the Twinkling of an eye!
Zion’s Girls, take to the sky,
Daughters of the King!
No secret the Don did abrogate,
his strict ban barring employees to acclimate
themselves, to live within United States
legal tender, and accommodate
themselves comfortably anonymous,
though "NOT FAKE," but accurate
reliable, trustworthy, et cetera
resources who did activate
my awareness, his hired hands receive adequate
pay, (perhaps greater than minimum wage),
despite the fact he does vehemently administrate,
adulterate presidential decrees, and thus
passively advocate, those supposed:
intruders, marauders, and pillagers
(rapists thrown in for good measure),
thus being party to affiliate
with contrary doctrine makes
him more than a flagrant hypocrite
since such migrant fiasco does aggravate
me as well as innocent lives that aggregate
within a country, whose motto rather than alienate
purportedly offered sanctuary:
"Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses
yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse
of your teeming shore."
No excessive effort needed to insulate,
expedite and ameliorate
the woeful plight of ordinary peoples,
whose culture club, those very
governments aim to annihilate
driving a figurative wedge (gee),
I decided to annunciate
(a spurious whim), and suspensefully anticipate
if affection toward asylum seekers will arise
decrying duplicitous action (exhibited by
commander in chief), undoubtedly
other citizens do not appreciate
(minus the bajillion dollars purposelessly
allocated to erect a skyhigh wall,
when more humanely appropriate
measures beg attention at
less expense I aver and approximate
and avoid unfairly incriminating, but to arbitrate
(with some degree of justice) pitted
toward migrants flagrant human rights violation,
those in power arrogate,
and wield for the luxury, exploitation and convenience
of those wealth mongers, who fail to articulate,
how when families got rent asunder fallout does asphyxiate
the human species in toto (including
Dorothy, Cowardly Lion, Tin man and Straw man).
Vibrant, organic, woodland copse
Free-flowing sylvan form
Bonded to bartered soil
Your pulpy chalice with fawning tendrils expand
Bristling needles from your, wavy mantle extend
Briny resin bleeds from your deep reservoir
Your green cloak glistening still
Your crowning diadem stretches to the horizon
Subsequently, your noble bow leased for brigand wear
Penuriously felled in due season
Your prime tender sheared for trite offering
Your true shape, form stunted to acclimate
To your synthetically-groomed dorm
Your green twigs now carefully-preened artifice
Once unfettered appendages weighted with trite trinkets
Your wholesome, egalitarian visage translated into a conical orb
on path to autonomy, she matured of late,
exhibiting autism during childhood
compliments of intervention, mastered
vanquished every trace to acclimate
self reliance no matter said spate
of developmental delay,
cramped, crimped, and
crumpled cognitive literate
chores abilities, yet
supportive services did alleviate
ordinary setback, now indiscretions,
liaisons, and transgressions, I implicate,
some half dozen years
gone by, this husband
flaunted philandering, but woefully great
lee mistaken, yours truly did underestimate,
how sacrilegious cupidity, depravity, infidelity...
induced the missus never to exonerate
mine suddenly kismet forced belate
reflex, thus I futilely berate
then indecorous behavior
more so impacted eldest daughter,
first born offspring subsequently
angrily bore secret travails adulterate
ting spoiling her high school years,
viz compounded by egregious desire
for das dada to satiate
squelched sexual hunger
marriage without intercourse did frustrate
synonymous, when I hapt tubby celibate
bachelor, hence “FAKE”
Casanova did forever alienate
whose affect my
(hypothetical) untimely death
might be borne with
greater aplomb to accommodate
absence of this papa,
a generally conscientious fellow,
mental health askew since birth predicate
always hated grueling fiendish existence!
As the storm clouds gather over the sun
A tiny opening lets through beams of light
Still a swirling dark mass like a sea undone
Resting behind are beams of sunlight
Rain is needed and the clouds a delight
They offer protection from the noon's heat
Cover from summer's full sun which is bright
Maybe tonight will be a cooler treat
Despite dark clouds, there's hope for new days
Maybe sunlight for an afternoon tromp
Or some time for water sports and play
An evening filled with much romp and stomp
Dark clouds can be at sometimes aboding
But after the storm life is acclimating
Written: June 30, 2014
Inspired by: Elly Wouterse's Contest
Contest: Encore