Long Anima Poems
Long Anima Poems. Below are the most popular long Anima by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anima poems by poem length and keyword.
Who we pray to,
what we worship,
these are less important
than what we worship with,
whom we pray with,
and never against.
Yet, who we pray with
feels less important
for global peace
restoring Earth's great
timeless justice,
than whom we refuse
to pray with,
and sometimes,
on our worst days,
insist on judging against
And whom we have
crossed a highway
or mine field
to pray with
is more important
to personal health
and Earth's wealth
than whom we are willing to pray for
only from a safe distance,
and only on our most charitable days,
generously impassioned nights.
How we pray
with mouth
mind
heart
sensory body
hungry gut
passionately rooted soul,
psalms and chakras
of deliberating
dialogical sound,
This primally matters
in reproductive relationship
co-arising animus mundi
in spacious
unspecious anima prayers
with and from indigenous
wisdom for and above
below deep
and wide humanity's
best divine prayers
Passion stories
of how active prayer
embraces intimate narratives
of speciated
sacred
solidarity
Rooted in remembering
who we pray to
remains eternally less important
than whom we cooperatively
compassionately play with,
and never ugly against.
We are but transient breezes, subtle specters,
On this ancient soil, so dense, so tangible,
Yet fleeting seagulls of smoke in nature's hands,
A curtain's sway when the final act concludes,
Departing from mortality's sharp incision, we leave without armors,
Simply empty shells, extinguished echoes on the shores of oblivion,
Bearing the secretive seal of a destiny towards the void.
How much trust we place in the nipple of mother matter,
Which, as if bewitched, can stealthily blow into a dance of rage,
Subtle or gentle, sweeping in its path without asking,
To then rest, as an eternal statue of enchanting rock,
Entangled in scents of the past and stardust.
Water, anima mundi, takes shapes that conceive our dreams,
Of vapors, rivers, and scales,
Murmur of steam, song and ice's silence,
Its clear transformations mocking the angels of reason,
The restlessness of this voracious cosmos,
Weaves the unseen dance of passionate atoms,
Dropping the illusion of a room where nothing stirs,
Though drifting into vast abysses of boundless space.
The mysterious elixir weaving its web from occult matter
And silhouettes that seem cut from the stillness of eternity,
Elude the clumsy decision of the tried consciousness,
While seekers of signs drink desperate silences,
Visionaries between the heavens, in a carousel of intention,
In the eyes of the crowd, a vain and endless quest for meanings and essences.
As much as the pantomime of worlds transforms,
The same remains the story - a circle that closes.
As the fulcrum of awareness shifts, soul don't go adrift
Affirmation: We are more than body & mind connection
Let us leave all attachments behind and vaporize,
like space. Mesh with the sun, recognize that we are One.
Like a caterpillar at the beginning stages of life
the egg, the larva (caterpillar), the pupa (chrysalis or cocoon) and the adult
we are solid matter at birth,
Our souls remain in a cocoon stage until we decide
to explore its fibrous non-matter lignon.
Anima is to our souls what the cocoon is to the chrysalis.
A thick protection goes over our souls and the only way
to get it to be a viable spirit, is to use breath and
MEDITATION as our key life chi.
We may not be butterflies, but we have our very own
pupation pitfalls, we are human having a
human experience, with a spirit that wants to be free
to fly.
When we respect our souls and give them proper nourishment,
time and space, they will embrace the human body as it heals.
We are spiritual souls inside a framework made of flesh and blood.
And only when we teach ourselves how to relax, breathe
and accept all that encompasses us, can we truly find inner peace.
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words,
after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
With pen in hand, I readily compose heartfelt lines
filled with aggregations of thought and emotion.
Verses that break chains that bind, setting me free
as if I were a shackled slave in the Land of Goshen.
Freed by my pen, I've been redeemed from the sea,
and each poem a litany, recited on a rolling wave.
Poetry is the seafaring wind that fuels my sails,
navigating me to exotic, faraway places I crave.
I'm unanchored without the burden of an albatross
tied around my neck when I choose to compose.
While tethered to a pen, I'm safe and kept afloat
in tragic times of mourning and sorrowful woes.
Rhyming romantic Sonnets stirs my sensual blood,
for then I am imagining being someone's treasure.
With the heart of a passionate poet, I take part
by scribing torrid scenes of fervor beyond measure.
Writing breathes anima into the chasms of my soul.
I celebrate my poetry as art, a revered tour de force.
Poetry is my source of equilibrium, joy, and peace
when life's adversities attempt to steer me off course.
November 28, 2022
Poetry is a Life-Cherishing Force Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
She rises above a pool of twilight blue,
The water glimmering liquid crystal
Fluid as an oiled navel which brightens her flesh,
That inside pure eyes, mist radiates
On her curve, and frost trickles heavily across
Dampened lips …blending with manly scent.
A gush shudders at the rhythm of her depth
While the anima of his raw grace, such kindness
Transforms her outline into a Borealis
Laying on a nightglow of lace and hemp …
Till male and woman become undefined,
Aligned through his surrender to a feminine
Seed , as the water continues bathing them
In the discovery of astral glow… like so,
The sweet vapor within her body rains
------ and his tears
Fall upon her quivering pores,
Honoring the fertile goddess within.
……………………
Anima- “ Every man carries within him
The eternal image of a woman.”—Carl Jung
----------------
Animus/ Anima –Part 1: Anima Contest
Sponsored by Tom Quigley 5/8/2016
My uncanny body is a labyrinth, a corpse flower, my passions are dying!
I am running towards a mad fire, a beggar is sucking my mind.
Stealing my voice (My blessed fate is silent!)
He and I in the mirrors, what remains of us…
I am strangling my God!
A greasy noose tight around His throat,
A rotten chair at the end of a loathsome corridor, typhus, bacteria…
A giant magnifying glass at my temple and a matryoshka…
In our tongue, the lament is heavy…
The old man holding the world…
In his hat, a black leech, the white rabbit is the sky;
His ear is severed.
The black box, all passengers missing and lost.
A metal room in the missing person ads…
The time of misty continents.
I passed through the bandaged passage, the Ferris wheel and the carousel…
A childhood I do not recognize, lines on its feet, a red corset on its waist, stitch marks on its chest…
The age of innocence explodes in the mouth of a black slave!
Embargo, monarchy, war, famine! (Never will abundance arrive!)
Our women...
Shadows in their hair and tuberculosis on their lips…
Snow made of mercury on their backs, anarchy descending from their hands
People are witnesses to the apple, the puberty of Eve,
Narcissus on Bosch’s wall, Caravaggio descending to hell,
That terrible torture, anima…
Jesus wept for wounded souls and placed a narcissus on his head, light, red blood cell, metamorphosis
I broke the wine of Cem, Shakespeare drank a goblet of hemlock,
Lear lost his mind
The Sphinx, the dragon of a black night, offered death to man
History is bleeding with a sin born of torment!
When was the last time I looked in the mirror
only to look into eyes that I felt were not mine?
They were two dark dots which held a glimmer
of an empathy and caring which is unlike my nature.
Looking more closely at that glimmer staring back at me
I see a part of my being that could only have come from Mom.
She had that glimmer in her eyes everyday of her life
a legacy which she passed on to her daughter and sons alike.
Soft, gentle, caring, sharing the love she had for me as her child
her motherly complexion reflected back in the glimmer I see.
What other gifts are part of the legacy of this feminine heritage?
Is this the reason I am able to love with abandon my own family?
I cannot dwell on this moment of realization that I am part female
as Dad is also here, strong, muscular, but with the same love for me.
Sharing a life of caring for a family which they have made together
I am grateful for both parts of the nature which I see in that mirror.
They have made me who and what I am to all I know, meet, and love
Especially to HIM from whom all things come.
I wonder sometimes if longing
is no more or less than misplaced belonging,
on my list of absences
that are more honestly presences
we have deferred explicitly owning right now,
you and I potentially co-empathic,
Left with Right dialectical insides and outsides,
without even knowing this absence from each in-
and outside other.
Things and relationships and transactional places
longed for yet unseen and unknown
we walk within and of and for in outflowing imaginations
both within and without ego/ecoconscious polypathic sacred-organic
ecology.
Bicamerally,
as Yang to Yin to not not back to positive Yang
we long to belong to no longer longing
to become to not not simply be
ecoconscious healthy EarthTribe cooperative reorganizers,
as, hopefully, was, and remains, Elder RNA's original organic regenerative designs,
Earth's original thermo-resonant polyculturing climate intent.
Personal and familial history
evolves into ecopolitical re-creation and de-generation stories
of great, and more typically smaller, transitions within dipolar climate histories,
ecological WinAnthro/WinEarth evolutions of octaved major thru minor memory dialects,
musical pitch and personal rhythm patterns of vibrating light
across evolution's transformative polypathic through monopolistic trends.
BiCameral CoBinary neurosystemic anthro-intelligence
recreating ecosystemic Gaian-intelligence matriarchal mysteries
HerStory cooperative strings and tales of evolutionary synergies,
authentically integral
indigenously and wisely owned incorporations,
divestments from dysfunctional climatically revolting competitions,
unkind suffering loss and death,
slowing domesticated empire-building force of irreligious nationalistic form
by day,
tsunamis and hurricanes and Earth's quaking futures by night
As perceived through bicameral co-evolving eyes,
still longing to belong within co-empathic humane-divine
nature-spirit Me/We ego/eco-systemic healing
body-mind belonging
cobinary
neurosystemically felt-thought longing
anima/animus rebalancing belonging.
The sound of wedding bells, I hear
My daughter’s maiden flight, so near
Festive celebrations, in full gear
And nuptial gaiety, so much in the air
This letter I write to my daughter dear
To consider seriously and not to sneer
She is entering a turning point in life
Getting ready to be a young man’s wife
* * * *
“Oh, Love! Under our sheltering wings
Guarded you were, from tumultuous swings
Now that you are going away
To live under another man’s sway,
Bear in mind this counsel thrown
By a mother who through age has wiser grown
That’ll make your life blissful as you wish
And keep it aglow without blemish
Make a home of the house you go
Give love to all in weal and woe
On your face, a pleasing smile you wear
Cover in cheer, your furrowed brow of care
Give the man all that you can share
And show him that you really do care
Condone him, though frailties abound
And correct him in private, not raising sound
As years glide and glamour fades
As grimy truths emerge from shades
Life may not appear all that fair
As once it seemed to the soulful pair
Yet, believe, your life is clad in glory
Dispel all nagging thoughts that leave you sorry
Know, the stumbling blocks that seem so gory
Will finally lead to brighter paths of glory
Conquer hearts through your innate charisma
Never surrender to anyone but to your anima
Feel proud that you are a woman.
Gifted perhaps more than men with acumen
Do not ever demean yourself or forget your identity
Even in trying situations, never lose your serenity
Hold your head up and never look timid.
And venture into a life with dreams vivid!”
Anima balances Animus
In a dance of fathomless rhythm
The hangover reaches the consciousness
The cherry tree goes on blossoming spree beside the sea
I find myself delving deep with the emotions by her hands set free
In the warmly maternal hearth
Are my malted moments of mystic mirth
Never any dearth in perceiving the coffee cup held up
Anima has at all times been most pleasurably giving birth
To a variety of rain and thunder in an awesomely good earth
Anima is generous in beckoning under her brackish breath
A momentary death underneath is euphoric in its affinitive depth
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
April 27, 2016
For: Anima – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Quigley