Long Anomalous Poems
Long Anomalous Poems. Below are the most popular long Anomalous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anomalous poems by poem length and keyword.
The azure ocean, home to the embedded enormous incomprehensible riches of mysteries and riddles,
More than the Mars, lies unfathomed, underneath the conundrum of oceanic colossal rhythms.
From the The Milky Sea Phenomenon, a sight captured as bioluminescence illusion,
The Purple Orb of the ocean floor of California and the Baltic Sea’s anomalous puzzles,
Like the alien spaceship put foot on the colossal quagmires of oceanic chasm!
When the underwater volcanoes erupt to perplex beyond imagination in huddle,
To probe and discern those gems of oyster shell’s luminous pearls dazzles,
Deep beneath sleeping peacefully in the ocean’s cradle!
The fatal enigma of the unplumbed immensely profound oceanic mysteries will never dwindle.
The more one plunges to pierce in deep muse its vastness engulfs to diddle!
The superficial waves in corrugation, are mere widening its hitherto horizontal hurdles.
The bizarre sounds emanating from beneath are like giant icebergs scraping the oceanic floor in madly rhythm!
The obscure oceanic realms, its myriads mystical appearances remains timeless, fancy of millions!
Eras and eras pass, the mythical mermaid’s riddle are yet to resolve,
As centuries pass, may replete with the witness of numerous human civilizations!
Like the Atlantis of Japan, from time immemorial, the oceans are abodes of colossal confusions.
The voyages disappear in the Mystic Triangle, who knows what lies beneath the mythical abstractions?
The twirling sounds of infinite ocean swirling in the sea shells are quite captivating, attract admirers attractions;
The archipelago one after the other vanished without the trace, as in Marina Trench’s aberrations;
As if the Phantom Islet of Bermeja, in its murky abyssal cradle’s magnetic composition.
The Crop Circles discovered beneath its bosom as if the signage of other world’s manifestations;
The oceanic phenomenon of green flashes meets the red tides, reveals your magnificent disposition.
Wants to plunge, swim like a mermaid in your mystical cerulean temporal lilting motion;
Oh, the oceanic conundrum more we try to fathom, the more we entangle in your cryptic chasm!
© Silpika Kalita
While rambling like a vagabond in a seraphic poetic submersion, in a remote region, witnessed the most captivated sight ever,
a sleeping valley rippled in wild blooms, as sparkling in mystical celestial beam, in the mesas of the clouds, the Dzukou Valley,
a remote dale at the border of Nagaland and Manipur,
in the untrodden tableland of India's Northeast!
The picturesque landscape was ringing with the
once in a lifetime scene of emerald shades of hillocks
paving the way for azure mountaintops,
luminous flowers waving in the winds amongst the tall grasses!
The vale was tweeting and twirling amidst the virgin vegetations enriched with the spectacular sights of verdant forests,
exquisite flora and fauna,
serpentine streams, myriads of panoramic pink
and white wild blooms that dot
the vast caldera of the valley and its' verdant meadows,
alongside the meandering rivers of Dzukou and Japfu,
appeared as the absolute paragon of serenity and tranquility!
Surrounded by the whispering platonic hills,
with numerous colorful flying creatures,
the valley seemed as smuggled over
the dewdrops' fragrant feral fruits,
Oak and Rhododendron forests are a feast to the eyes!
Half way up and any signs of tracks disappear,
and one is just left with wheezing enigmatic bamboo thickets!
Botanists' delight, trackers' paradise, seraph's psyche,
rovers' riddle, is reclining placidly ,
the untrodden earth's lulling lullaby,
in the abode of the divine Lily's
anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
a rich biodiversity hotspots
of endemic species, the Dzoku Valley;
an uninhabited unsullied phosphorus valley
Note:
The Dzüko Valley is located at the borders of the states of Nagaland and Manipur in Northeast India. The valley is known for its extremely rich biodiversity, seasonal flowers and flora & fauna. It is situated at an altitude of 2452 m above sea level.
© Silpika Kalita
A barred spiral galaxy in the Giraffe
has one of the arms curled in front of its core
where dust laden lanes in the grouping outpour
as Hubble has shown it for earthlings’ behalf.
Some sort of encounter perhaps came along
for bent NGC Two One Four Six once took,
which lent it that loopy anomalous look,
engendering forces colossally strong.
So lively in midwifing star births is it
that this galaxy earned the term starburst kind
like clusters of blooms Mother Nature designed
in tropical gardens terrene to visit
or namely the clerodendrum called starburst
which effloresces in a canopy bright
as do starburst galaxies at cosmic height
with budding sidereal young being nursed.
The galaxy’s less large than Milky Way’s size
just slightly, they say, to astronomers’ eyes,
with starry creation in lavish supplies
thus adding to worlds in stelliferous skies.
What habitants will these celestials see fit
to bring to fruition as creatures, to wit,
allow them to flourish as features permit
then blossom as lifeforms evolved bit by bit?
About eighty thousand light-years end to end
it lies ninety million light-years from our place,
this mortal abode of humanity’s race
that’s wending its oft wayward way round the bend,
or so it seems, though there are stargazer dreams
as reveries reaching existence’s plane
whence deeper dimensions of being may reign
embracing the whole of reality’s streams
in sensory oneness with all great and small,
beyond unenlightenment’s treacherous thrall,
a doomed irredeemable fate to forestall
which sadly might ever more likely befall.
We dwell in a realm where delusions benight,
enraptured in spell making wrong appear right
with vision too blurry to notice our plight.
Such times find it vital to seek out the light.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Info ~ NGC 2146, a starburst galaxy in Camelopardalis (Anne’s Astronomy News)…
A dream, bad from every nook
In front of my eyes, so painful.
Eyes of mine being tearful
And petrified of the remembrance, I looked.
Deep down somewhere inside the heart
Lies a monotonous melancholy,
Lording slowly, speaking distinctly
Of the ones, moving willingly or unwillingly, apart.
The awful reverberation of the pains,
The anomalous silence of the lips
Makes no good to the victims’ deeps
But to menace the already-made stains.
Love and affection, nothing but an illusion,
Drive the youths, sometimes, into a circle so vicious
Making them, gradually, sub-conscious
Of the foredooming situation.
The hazardous ambiance of betrayal,
So treacherous, so obnoxious
Makes us so ferocious
To trust in one being more than loyal.
Women and even small girls
Practicing and participating in prostitution
Though a taboo to the sophisticated civilization,
For a mouthful forget their morals.
Jobless the students are, so hopeless
Leave no reason for education.
Depressed to the manhole of frustration
Question their independence.
The merciless slaughtering of people
And of the innocent newborns, so cruel
The carnivorous minds inside, that dwell
Are they better than animal?
The miring sins, all around
A sinister awaits the weak,
Till this insatiable appetite of Politics
Forever will be sound.
For us, the same
Day or Night, it is.
Our conscience to protest it is
Upon which, hovers the clouds of shame.
Forcing us to do what we should not
In the name of God, either,
Or by reasons of fear,
Hurts our life and existence, a lot.
To the bloodthirsty vampires,
Stop these barbaric games
Of pretending to hold your false fame
Leading to your catastrophic massacre.
For a year or two, if these pursue, I fear,
Ruthlessly skinning and ripping the society
For the highest worldly possession, money
End of the world is not too far, my dears.
A whistling wheezing hamlet, whispering and emanating, tunes euphonic,
In a remote isolated valley, far-flung from the abode of the temporal,
Warbling quietly to whistle scads of tranquil cryptic songs;
Lying spasmodic, a sparsely inhabited mellifluous hamlet, Kongthong!
Not to hyperbole, a singing utopia, uncustomary to the core!
Where innate and mellow are the naive dwellers' rustic tinkling timbres!
A rover's riddle, the natives' pride, a unique heritage, their blissful strains!
Ringing with an ancient tradition of tune-giving in honour of the root ancestress,
Customary to the matrilineal surviving unknown folk of the thorp!
The chirping region's dispositions and practices outlandish, vague and obscure,
Primitive and bizarre, mere to merge with nature's absolute accord!
Voices buzzing in whistles, murmuring and chattering, lilting,
Arcane, pervading the virgin thicket of the sacred thorpe!
To entangle, passerby and wanderers in dream like metaphors!
Those magical murmurs in quirky tunes, mingling the breeze of the secluded hamlet, intoning own tinkles!
Blessed are the tuning terrain's offsprings, nameless!
Rared by ditties, hailed sacred by the clan's conviction!
Outlying, by the uninhabited enchanting wilderness of East Khasi Hills,
Sleeping quietly the untrodden, nature's lulling lullaby, the whistling Kongthong!
Yell! Immaculate and serene, the saga of their undeciphered airs, mumbling in exquisite ethos!
Inimitable and gripping to eye, how the denizens of the tribe,
Are crooning to dub and call each other by indigenous intonations!
Pitching and whooshing, to tune their melodic identities unique!
Whew! The picturesque terrain is tweeting, whooping, and whizzing!
Heaven! Bless anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
The ringing Kongthong, God's own whistling hamlet!
Kapow! Here’s mud in your face!
Poetasting rhymes, rhythms and nuclear waste.
Playing in mud pits, kitchens and certainly laced
Everyting that’s made . . . in this mysterious place.
Prob’ly shouldn’t eat this mud in this pie,
It may be somthin’ that’s all just a lie.
Interesting reads and certainly flies . . . beyond belief . . .
High above all that’s high in the sky.
Grand Master Chefs with their heads in the sand
When they pop out unleashing their impossible plans,
Amaze me mind with swirling twirling expands
Me into magical worlds of colorful lands.
Creating recipes so fabulous and untamed
Makin’ somethin’ outta nothin’ - sometimes insane.
Like potters awakening monsters in clay,
I read with a fever . . . Poet of the Day.
New poems always put a smile on my lips,
“What’s this,” I say, “that puts new pounds on my hips.”
Feeding my soul with soupster’s gluteness glips
Coming to life like birds pecking their way thru the crust,
Flocking to screech that it’s Poetry or Bust!
Come one, come all! Don’t miss the bus!
It’s time to unleash the beast . . . in all of us.
I’m not sure I’d eat mud pie turned into soup,
But I’m sure it tastes better than anomalous poop.
No bird brains here, weird just expressing our scoop,
You’re all wonderfully wonking a world worth a damn,
Nothing here can poss’bly be wrong or a scam . . .
No hackers allowed, A.I.s or plagiarizing posers,
Only original awesomeness of incredible composers.
I see you . . .I feels you all . . . eating this soup . . . making the call
To the restaurant that feeds the needs of us all.
No one here starves, no one at all.
So, thank you for being you
And always know that it's true
you’ll always be welcome
in my sandbox of blues.
Shamefully dull, life would be,
Without seasons to nourish me.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
Nature’s blessings the nourish us all
Apathetic and harsh, winter is,
With arctic gales that pierce
Every linen shielding my frame.
Anomalous flakes of snow drift from the sky
As sheets of white accumulate on the ground
And weigh down the healthiest trees,
Teasing those ready for winter festivities.
Once the snow angels and snowmen are made, and
Once the sledding and snowball fights are done,
Into their warm homes, all will run,
Hiding under hoards of fleece
Until it’s time for spring to come free.
Pleasant and lively, spring is,
With liber rains falling lavishly
On soil beds of assorted seeds,
Nursed diligently by the avid gardeners
Who thirst for the sight of the first blossoms
Of poppies, roses, lilies, and tulips.
Blueberries, cherries, and strawberries
Entice the onlookers waiting to pick
The ripest harvest in a timely manner
And savoring them until summer can flare.
Fierce and fervent, summer is
With a feverish breath, that makes rain a treasure.
People gather in masses to absorb the bodies of water
As a radiant sun desiccates the land.
Outdoors, pitchers of lemonade are carried everywhere
And thriving honeysuckle sweeten the air.
Yellow lights of fireflies flicker through the night
As exhausted bodies relax beneath the stars,
Gazing in admiration, until autumn can appear
Calm and homely, autumn is
Wither green, red, and yellow foliage taking over.
Crisp leaves bustle about the ground,
Trapped by flurries of whirring winds
Until they are raked into heaps for children to dive in
And pumpkins growing in preparation to carved or baked.
Families huddle together around brilliant fires
While couples stroll through parks, taking delight in the landscape,
And having picnics until winter’s brisk rise.
I was primed to nuture your soul until the end,
Seeking to be your endless passion but most importantly, your best friend.
A bliss with no expectations, conditions or boundaries,
The blazing ember that burns for more than centuries.
Endowing my fragile heart to be embraced,
Unaware of the agony to be faced.
I too, believed, trusted and loved you with all that was mine,
Never depicting a torn love that I would decline.
The whisper of promises, laughter and tears,
Your absence was unwaveringly one of my ultimate fears.
Time revealed the truth about what we shared,
Unfortunately it broke through at a time I was not prepared.
Betrayal and pain clouded my mind,
Thinking you were anomalous one of a kind.
Fighting inner demons and recovering from a heartbreak is not easy,
Sometimes when I ulttered words, you proclaimed they were cheezy.
Opening up to you was the biggest blunder I made,
Thus, the affection I had for you begun to fade.
Underneath the radiance I exhibited was a lonely soul looking for a heartfelt union,
It was as if I never had a companion.
Less attention and support triggered me,
My happiness never held significant, so I let it be.
Every nightfall tears rolled down my eyes,
Trying to comfort my own soul saying "you are the prize".
All the judgements I made were never acknowledged,
A relationship so complicated like the ones in college.
Blinded by your charming looks,
Desiring a celestial connection like from one of the books.
Doubts of giving love another chance,
Never looking back even at first glance.
Trusted that my heart was in good hands,
Breaking every part of me now including all the strands.
You will never see that side of me again,
Because your presence only brings back the pain.
I see my country is in terror
To much political makes our leaders fearsome
Foreseen the future is black
They plan to make a worst exit
For almost three years in office
No big projects has not displayed as accomplishment
The country's whole year budget is almost release
The political election is near but faint suspicion
Worst malady, the gold reserve have been sell abroad
The billions gain has nowhere to be transparent
More loans abroad has been found, no accountability
Transfer of funds from health surplus is diverted
To projects that has already funded to doubly funded
The Supreme Court has found more anomalous acts
As filed cases was serve to the leaders in sitting
More money matters comes in the open unaccounted
Where the purpose not meet but ends is doubtfully willed
People are in quandary of what will the end result to all of this
Dollar rate is stable at fifty eight or more than expected
The economy is quite alarming, more are unemployed
Every department of government has issue of corruption
Mainstream medias are not giving the good information
My people rely on New Social Media which are now in quandary also
Because of the freedom on voices my leaders are irritable
My leader is now onion skin, easily react not in a good way
The issue of not going to drug test is illusive, not acceptable
My people is suspecting my leader's questionable leadership
Making him the puppet of someone else's political ambition
The question remains uncertain of where my country is going
Is it to battle China or favor to someone else's allegiance
When will my nation have a true leader to lead this country
Into a First World Country and make Filipinos proud
Or when will our politicians ends their preposterousness.
[Smuppet is a word of my own creation. It’s a portmanteau
compiled from Social media puppet (or indeed, muppet). I
came up with it to describe a brainwashed smuppet on the
radio today, who said he won’t have the Covid jab because
he felt he was being told too, and also that vaccine ID cards
are an invasion of his privacy, his freedom and his human
rights... duh!]
*
You borrow a book so you show them a card
And you need a license to drive in your car
For overseas travel it’s probably best
To have a few jabs against some local pest
You enter a bar or a nightclub or two
And if you look young they want ID from you
The post office leaves a note if you are out
But without ID you are going without
If you have a job to do, that’s good for you
Security want your pass to let you through
And if you drive in there’s an app on your phone
That means you can park in the staff only zone
Well, Facebook and Tiktok and Instagram too
And PayPal and YouTube all know you are you
Some know where you are and some know where you’ve been
You’ve set up a world where you’re never unseen
At pop festivals they put bands on your wrist
To tell folk you’ve paid but a point you have missed
So, ’No covid vaccine: No ID,’ you’ve bragged
But all the above means you’re basically tagged
You preach to the world it’s a privacy dive
How awful that governments want you alive
Your arguments frankly are all but anomalous
When you claim your right to be Mr Anonymous
*
[I do, of course accept one’s right to refuse the jab
so long as the reasoning is sound]