Long Appears Poems
Long Appears Poems. Below are the most popular long Appears by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Appears poems by poem length and keyword.
Bigotry
Written: by Miracle Man
11-19-2019
Many people today still remain a bigot,
Tolerance isn’t something they choose to embrace.
Hatred spews, like liquid from a spigot,
A blight on mankind and the human race.
God created all with the intent to be equal,
But conditions today are becoming depressing.
Having passed their time, bigots work on a sequel,
Now it appears today that the world is regressing.
“Too many of our prejudices are like pyramids upside down.
They rest on tiny, trivial incidents, but they spread upward
and outward until they fill our minds”
William McChesney Martin
Today in an unusual way
Something is amiss
After a brief strong morning headache.
My wife, donning her internet nurse hat
Asking a google search doctor,
Opines it might be a ‘mild cognitive impairment’
(aka getting old but not yet demented).
But in the moment, which seems to be resetting
Again and again, it doesn’t seem so mild!
A stroke of genius, or luck, or just
A good old brain aneurism is hard to know,
But everything seems fresh and unfamiliar
And the handful of poems I’ve written in the past week
Appear utterly unfamiliar
As if somehow secreted onto my computer
By a prankster bot
Or written by an imposter
Who somehow got control of my body-mind
But then got evicted this morning.
At first I think I’m reading someone else’s words,
Or maybe something vaguely familiar
But miss-dated and really from a year ago.
My wife, the instant internet nurse practitioner,
Runs me through physical and mental tests
Before giving me her unprofessional okay,
Which just leaves me even more baffled
As I laugh as each moment,
While tracking the last,
Appears fresh, unique and distinct-ly now.
But with the worldwide web at her finger tips
She gives me the thumbs up
Which I guess is as reassuring as can be
Without an MRI,
Something we don’t yet have an app for.
But despite all this medical jargon
The image that actually comes to mind
Is a crack in the cosmic egg.
The question then being
Will a runny yolk emerge
Or a bright eyed little wet chick,
Maybe even a Garuda?
I’m hoping for the fledgling Garuda
But I guess only time will tell.
The present moment on the other hand
Just keeps her secrets.
My wife tries one last reassurance,
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
You’re always like this
Being the implication.
Personally, I’m not ruling out the MRI…
(10/20/25)
Love surrounds us…though people take it for granite
Oh, but we’re unaware of it! We’re ignorant of it at times of tribulation
Vibrant, vermillion roses float in the swaying wind, like feathers, passing me by with a smile and a friendly wave
Everyone is embracing hate instead of love, embracing havoc instead of peace – WHERE IS THE LOVE?
I am longing to feel like I belong! The church bells repeats its penitent bells
Saddened by the fact that I’m trapped in my comfort zone of callous night…I want to be unchained from this solitary cave…but no angels tread the road that I’m currently on unfortunately
Hate rips my heart apart and throws it in the heartless fire…love is invisible like a caved in treasure
Ashamed because I always wanted to find avarice-devouring love, restoring joy to my absent-of-vanity verse
Rain descends like the sunset as my spirit ascends like the sunrise above the disconsolate clouds
Drenched in heartfelt relief…of experiencing love on another level – I’ll bring back to life my faith towards You once more
Tattered by heart’s wistful thumping…replace my heart with beauty’s caress and harmony, for I’m desperately in need of a savior
Owned by hatred, the monster that appears in my nightmares, the vile leader of rancorous wolves…
Fly away from the darkness that made you drink in desolation and devastation
Isolated by bliss and joy – overflowing with lamentation
Never able to find a mixture of serenity and exaltation…maybe I’ll find it in the forest’s quietude
Destined to unlock my heart’s desire…however, love is hard to find, for I’m a hopeless, romantic boy, foolish in love and frankly…blind!
Watch the magician place magic in her hat
feel the incantation as she,
in stealth-like fashion
feasts one eye on you....
She is an alchemist with a sword of illusion
rabbit tricks hold you spellbound;
Blurring the lines between fantasy and reality
with the sleight of her hand
she transforms and vanishes !
Zig zag lady tricks, divided into sections
high magic, low magic
a benevolent white dove appears
Observe carefully the magic that occurs
Chronometer moments vanishing time
luxurious ships are launched,
inside your mind !
Hypno-levitation wands and magical performances
a necromancer holding alchemy in her bare hands.
You will see me stopping here
To watch this bar fill up with laughter
Between the darkest evening of the year
And the dusty light that has drawn us near.
You must think my accent is strange
Mumbling sounds in a downy lake
With effectual ease and hoary winding age
For a stranger to ask if there is some mistake.
Although your acquaintance is lovely
This red street is dangerously dark and deep
And I have far to go before I sleep in the ally
Where fear is the only other sound to weep.
At the collects bar, the tourist ask
Whose drinks are these you did not know?
I could only see the glow in the glasses
filled with deadly ice-cold snow.
The moment finally came after living hard
with poise and strength, and gritted teeth,
In all the dangers you have survived
breathless bodies in paradise plated in the heat
Blood on the bar appears to most as sauve
The center of activity to be loved and hate
With dark clouds and lights lowered above
Red ground, saddest verge feels the weight.
Russia, my lovely
Why do I remember this now on a Christmas day
galley boy on a tank ship that was old in 1956
as the youngest of the crew of mostly middle-aged men
it is safe to assume I'm the only one left alive.
The ship arrived late at the port I have long forgotten its name, we had been stuck by drifting ice and only the Russians could come to free us.
A large icebreaker came and got us out of the mess
it appears the winter that year had been hard,
the elderly
said it was because a long war had upset the weather pattern, the cook, who was Swedish and had the face of
a Roman senator, or a hawk, told me not to listen to the fools, weather patterns change over time, whatever humans do.
The town was only a short walk from the oil terminal
and we walked without being harassed by beggars and
people who pretended to be friendly, anyway they skulked away when the cook looked imperiously, made
a remark in Russian.
The avenue in the town was wide but strangely empty of cars there was also a nice looking park but the town was saving in lightening, and there were speakers
at corners playing music to gladden the heart.
But things were going on that I was not aware of
buying Russian caviar to be sold in Europe and bottles of vodka, the cook got very drunk and the chief steward came to help in the galley.
I was later told, although I had no way of knowing
there were many prostitutes in park the who wanted
women's underwear, and nylon stockings, which some
enterprising sailors had bought in Rotterdam
later that evening, the Swedish cook and I went to a restaurant where men in old-fashioned suits sat and a lady
violinist played.
We were served food, and the cook drank white wine he said came from Crimea, wherever that was, I was not familiar with maps back then.
My impression was it was a poor place suffering from
a long war, basic freedom, and the great difference between the haves (nomenclature)
and people.
He grew up a fat kid
now a gym addict
can’t play sport though no good at it
thinks he’s worked hard while you had it natural
when really he’s doing what you did when at school
but it’s just the weights protein shakes
and muscle relaxers for him
not the competitive contact sport constantly injuring
it’s just losing fat and building muscle up
he's finished growing too so he's building pressure up
causing problems that see life took
in vain training to have a superficial look
getting big without cardiovascular
turning overweight fat to muscular
the poor heart and lungs straining
at a body to big to maintain
as they don’t really adapt to the new muscles he trains
a pressure on the respiratory system cannot remain
he's got the heart and lungs of a fat kid
building up muscle stack an obsessive habit
cus the foundation is layered during puberty
after which heart and lungs don't grow usually
so forcing the heart too far when as huge as he
fuelled by fat kid issues making it about how he appears
he has a jealousy if you were healthy in your younger years
and now he appears to be healthy
but the heart’s saying help me
it’ll hang on seemingly ok
but when it goes wrong,
that’s your life mate
have a nice day.
Being healthy starts young with the lungs and the heart
if you’re older these two the most important parts
build yourself up as strong as your heart is
or be someone too young to have since departed
Squirrels darting, dead of night.
Vivid velvet curtains of mist indistinguishable from city fog adorned, a courageous jogger, Addison.
Marsh light mirage appeared to beckon to canvass of the mind
“I’ll find myself deep within one day or precisely one night.”
Addison, was a jogger who could be imagined by the most colourful imaginations.
A person who ran, jogged, sprinted with crystalline clear visions.
“Ironic, I must connect somehow in every environment.”
Her slim svelte surging figure aptly attired for a wetland plagued by a city scape of habitats.
Just on the fringe of a sizeable town entering a 2025 empowerment.
Yet she seemed ostracized for whatever
reason quaintly excluded.
“My issue seems that I have been evaluating all around me.”
Addison tribe, circles, connects were many.
Yet the dimensions of personal constellation etc would taunt a canvass painter.
Her sister, an accomplished painter appeared to be intimidated by her feisty sister’s midnight trekking or solo runs.
A ballooning complexity didn’t interfere with her job as a new age clairvoyant.
Allied to her other aura surrounding healing skills.
“But here I am channeling for everyone bar myself.”
This angel glow mystery of a runner
Her images reflect in mud spume pools.
The micro burn of fireflies, the crickets clucking incessantly.
Sinister birds perched on trees a watch tower.
“One thing can’t does is paint
Leave that to my twin sister.”
Addison did a swerve, a torsion but fortunately avoided any injury or strain
“Goodness, a black eagle winked at me.”
Addison to her said.
A ghostly gothic gust of wind with a shrill high pitch appears.
Like background music
A grey splattered sweat from Addison’s brow was wiped by her as continuum.
It was so therapeutic for Addison this weekly fly by night.
Damp, sprays, squelching, soggy patches prevailed.
“I can have it both ways.
I seem at home here.”
Addison wondering aloud.
What exactly were the somersaults in her mind?
The ecosystem seemed like an imprint.
Yet I dream of this incongruous dash.”
There are dreams, other dreams, and there are nightmares. Dreams really do have something to say, and if able to capture them upon awakening, we are well served by them. There are dreams from God* whereby He is speaking to us, and there are other dreams
in which vagueness covers their message. Oh, did I mention there were dreams that turn into nightmares? Anyway, that's another subject for another time, but blessed of God and wiser by far are those who know and understand the difference. For example, I will often dream and forget the dream or a dream is too cloudy and scrambled. And then, there are dreams that one cannot forget and will not go without attention. I had a dream last night that was short and to the point envolving a person that seemed out of character, and the portrayal of that person in the dream was very defined and real. In this case, I suspect the message in the dream is not so much about the person as about the characteristics displayed which points to matters of importance in the lives of everyone. In these types of dreams, I try to discern what The Lord might be showing me and for what purpose. In this dream, I concluded that God was saying, "Take note and see to it that you beware and avoid the following": Avoid being Distant, Disconnected, Distracted, and Detached; Avoid being Rushed; Avoid being Indirect, Indifferent, and Irritable; Avoid being unstilled, unsteady, and unfocused. Such flaws permeated the person in my dream. It appears that God was using a dream to remind me to be unlike the person I saw in my dream. Indeed, God often speaks in mysterious ways.
08132019PoSoup *Job 33:15-20 New International Version (NIV)
The meaning of “emergency”
Should not require discussion.
Ignoring one, you’d think, would have
An instant repercussion.
Today, though, some “emergencies”
Are not what we once thought.
A hospital ER is filled
With those where scrips are sought…
Or diagnoses which, before,
The office of a doc
Would be the place where patients
With a flu would likely flock.
The government “emergency”
Appears to me the same,
A non-dire situation
Called such merely to inflame.
A punishment is possible
For dialing 9-1-1
Reporting an “emergency”
When clearly, there is none.
The time has come for pols to act
With conscience as their guide,
Before a true emergency
The people will provide.