Long Allusive Poems
Long Allusive Poems. Below are the most popular long Allusive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Allusive poems by poem length and keyword.
An old sweetheart of mine never believed
in daytime dreams, because they shattered
quickly and shaking her unconvinced head
silly words came out of her mouth admitting,
" Aren't fantasies unrealistic dreams...
when they appear more tempting
then a cake with irresistible frosting?
And while she cut it with careful fingers,
" The outside tasted very sweet,
but the inside looked kind of hard;
its whipped cream was soft and white,
its filling was solid and not much inviting! "
It's worse than a thriller too unconvincing and trite,
although to the novice novelist the tragic plot
appeared to be real with the small-minded bigot.
Comparing fantasies to a decorated cake
is a huge and unforgivable mistake,
the ingredients look fine and exquisite;
but who garnishes it may lack artistry
and gastronomic skills to create an extraordinary
delight not applauded by someone who's inquisitive
about what went into it before baking it,
and laying it down on the table it looks perfect.
Are we still pursuing hallucinating fantasies
that weave themselves into allusive dreams
that make others notice how disappointing
they are having put all our trust in them?
Is this an end to dreaming coming to grips
with a stark and naked reality never being
challenged by a mindless dreamer who causes an ahem
not realizing that he's in a dire state of optical illusions...
instead of being persuaded that nobody ever wins.
A temporarily useful illusion,
like Wall Street knows something
about inevitable climate pathology
disvalues of anthrosupremacism
worth illusive core investment value
is not necessarily
a merely utilitarian delusion
about timeless principles of value
like human dignity
and organic integrity
and profoundly polycultural beauty.
A temporarily useful illusion
may have long economic
and robustly deep political roots
in universally integral allusions,
round robust reflections,
gut feelings,
intuitions of past fruition
regenerating win/wins
and not degenerating
LeftBrain Loser deductive logos
and RightBrain Loser inductive
merely threadbare mythos
Languaged thoughts about useful things,
like narrative knitted feelings
from thriving co-relationships,
derive from articulating threads
in allusive indigenous wisdom
Long felt panentheistically
and/or enthymematically
not not yet
does not quite illuminate positively present
Win/win round cosmic
holonic, organic, systemic
rememory of Yangfull Trust
loves Yintegral Beauty
Usefully refines,
illustrates
polyculturally win/win
healthy democracy's peak wealth illusion,
valleyed allusive delusion
in-between implicit wisdom
and explicit knowledge,
empowerment
and enlightenment
Circling
spiraling whole open
systemic energy
non-zero summoned
cooperative illusive experiences
non-zero summed
energy systemic
open whole spiraling
encircling dismembered delusions.
Lost in my thoughts
Oh how time flies
Once I was young
Now I am old
I've been though hell and back
Had heaven right there
Now I am searching again
Allusive love why do you hide
Do I scare you away
Do you feel I am not ready
Or has time run out on me
Into the great unknown
Seems so strange
To embark further down an undiscovered path
A memory an expansion of what has become
The truth only lies away
Where is the calm
Where is the passion
When will it all align
Can it be within my reach
Everything I desire
Not without reality
Not without imagination
It should all make sense soon
In the eyes of my existence.
The desire so strong to have a great night’s sleep
The shortcomings are how one feels when the morning greets?
An old lost companion who resides in the thickness of night
That presence becomes more elusive and my longing amassed
Whence does one have a moment to be at ease?
Deliverance is a subject that revolves around hours and minutes
Time out from the rigours of a quantumly perplexed life
No escape from the relentless vacuum that persists time after time
Whether here or there no refreshed states exist
No matter, for I alone endure all that matters and is amiss
Sleep and wakefulness lay side by side
One calls to the other and the two are entwined
Delusional mind, irrational thoughts
Processing moments that becometh the norm
Yet it plunders this soul and removes all prosperity
This looming curse has my alignment at wits end
What salvation or saviour can offer some saving grace?
All the wasteful moments accumulate and I am trapped in despair
Sleep is allusive on these cold long winter nights
Repetition to toss and turn and never learn what abides
Recognising the disorderly imbalance, unruly in one's head
To dissolve under camouflage and let no thoughts nigh….
AWAKENING SLUMBERS
reflect
stark constraints
highlight
the
stillness
a contemplation
a synthesis
evolving
silhouetted
vaguely
transcending
experience
of reality
a repetitive rhythm
to emphasis
the options
in a poetic
dimension
scintillating
giving
stark relief
saturated
& allusive
oblique in
transition
to influence
the ascendant
impetuous
interplay
devolved by the
organic
slight& aslant
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
The clock chastises me,
as painted petals bloom brilliance
in illuminated wonder that attempts
escape from the hidden crevices
deep within my beleaguered mind.
The beauty I seek is but an allusive dream,
flowing rags of worthless chattel
that fill me with words, heavy, like stone,
my rhymes but pointless emotional prattle.
Yet, still my need must pursue that dream
to create another verse so sublime as to define
me as me in a world filled with poetic doppelgangers
and, so, I write just one more sad, lonely line.
"Extant nectared incense she lit, burning inside, slow but alone,
Arrogant me, let her leave, as here I sit, awaiting the unknown."
Clever, perhaps, but are my words,
like the melancholy song of the lonely Lune,
beautiful?
Geez, or should I say jeez, no Cuneiform here,
shall I try once more...
"crystalline sparkles
achromatic winter jewels
spring paints with colors"
...to bring out in me that which,
through these many years of seeing
my world ravaged with emotional upheaval,
still, in its turn, allowing me to experience
love and enchantment from eyes
that held me in the warmest embrace.
"I see the storm as rage engulfs those lovely eyes,
the blue intrepid sea of passion's lost release.
Inside, the tears of torment flow to sooth the lies,
yet, pain remains in every moment's wish for peace.
As burning anger seethes inside of you
the path it seeks obscures your point of view,
and leaves the ragged scars of bitter love
left blurred like mist in sodden clouds above.
Emotional, these moments steal your gentle heart
and eat in to the darkened void that once was you,
but misplaced hate can not keep you and I apart,
when, with my shroud of love, your heart I will eschew.
I hope you'll see just how I feel for you,
for you are why I do these things I do."
Crap!
Total
crap I read!
and I chuckle
as I re-read it.
In a single sonnet,
iambic hexameter
and iambic pentameter,
the Bard must be turning in his grave;
I guess I'll have to try another day.
08/15/2018
Form:
What makes us grasp so furiously upon waking,
for that which has just been torn,
rent asunder by the simple act of rising;
for meaning in the ramblings ruptured?
What makes us yearn so for that which
our sleeping mind has conjured,
half from exhaustion, half from seeming madness;
for a world so far from that of the callous conscious?
Is it a desire to understand?
To comprehend what happens behind our eyes,
what thoughts are truly our innermost,
whether the visions are absurd or allusive?
Is it a desire to escape?
To remain behind with the lunacy,
to rejoice in its flippancy and levity,
to gain sanctuary from the odd or ordinary ennui?
I have not the answer to these questions,
nor suggestions beyond these queries themselves;
I pose these to all, for inspection and perspective -
mayhap many can solve what one creature cannot.
She passed many things, daily
As records played in the background
Don't go near, stay away, don't touch
Til she drove herself to the only place SHE could be
.................................FOUND
Monotony has a rhythm of its own
Familiar carries a purse of peace on its shoulder
Til the very thing one can never have or be
Is at the very place, forbidden, but now, wiser and older
She looked, maybe that was wrong too
But a glance caught her inner eye of wonder
Difference sat itself, right there in the tree, for everyone to see
The earth beneath her footing roared with thunder
She came to herself with a fevered haste
Rushing to leave the sacred place
.......lest sHE behold HIS fierce face
She avoided, went around, cut paths in the ground
Yet there difference still sat, living, breathing, NOT DEAD
............peace.......the only .........sound
Time stood still at the site of difference
The record played "Don't go near!" Yet difference
.............is HERE
Pain seared in her mind as she began to reason
Truth wasn't for the one who came from a rib
Men carry vision of the GOD, allusive, unknown
Maybe sHE could be greater if her mind uncovered
........a...........what???
No! Away, go away, little girl
Awwww, the pain, it hurts,
............ugh! I don't care if I DIE
...................nothing is as bad as THIS
CONSTANT BEATING OF A DRUM, GET ON WITH IT LITTLE GIRL, GO DO WHAT IS ALREADY .........................................................DONE.....................................
The bullet shot through the window, shattering glass
Leaving a hole for her to approach and finally ask
.........a question
She did it, walked into the presence of difference
And Difference wasted no time to point to the pain
He ran over the messages secretly playing
In the back, pushing her to the point to act "insane"
She repeated the message as though it were TRUTH
But Difference showed the flaw in reason and touch
Sitting in the forbidden tree no one could come near
Made HIM god, and obedience, a broken crutch
............for a HUNGRY god
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05/20/2020
Note: Pain is difference. It is the thing that makes us grow and come to know what is of LOVE and what isn't. We must push into our pain to understand, rather than yield to the idea it will last forever.
There once was a patsy who wanted to make a buck
With a parrot on his shoulder for good luck
Bill was the bird’s name
And he knew how to strategize to win life’s game
Off to the treasure coast
The pair cheered with a toast
Leaving behind a wintry mess
To look for an allusive lucrative IRA chest
South the two did go
Wanting to enjoy one more show
When they landed in the state of fountain of youth
Where there were riches according to the legend that was rumored the truth
Upon their arrival they were greeted
By pinstripes in a meeting
Are you looking for gold visitor from the north?
How much do you think a patsy is worth?
The Pinstripes did ask with a grin
Knowing honestly how to win
I must decline comment right now
Realizing this could be my final bow
We wish you the best in what you are looking for
Pinstripes said about the opportunity door
Enjoy it here in this tourist destination
Rest relax before digging into your professional presentation
I have Bill
On my wing where he chills
And he will guide me with style and skill
For when we discover that grand
In the sand
It will be mine
And No longer will I be a patsy in decline
Only the tale will be told
By someone explaining who actually got the gold
The Pinstripes who are already there
Or a Patsy looking for a buck in which no one knows where
In unconsciousness, where shadows prance,
An elusive dream, a furtive trance,
Weaves its tendrils through my mind,
Lingering with longing I cannot find.
Evasive visions, forever out of reach,
Dreams like tomorrows never breach
Their resolve to never come into being,
Never see daylight, but do lie-in within, unseeing.
For when you chase and lure a dream,
To become reality, it fades and loses its gleam.
The closer you get, the more it alludes you,
Like a shadow, its only stuck on to you, with glue.
So cherish your dream as an allusive desire,
An elusive enigma, a destiny, to which you can aspire.