Long Archetypal Poems
Long Archetypal Poems. Below are the most popular long Archetypal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Archetypal poems by poem length and keyword.
‘if I could I would fetch you the moon a spoon …’
opalescent like a chakra’s rainbow
your lustrous promise kindled
a path to peace and stability
to the moon and the back of beyond
shining darkness
radiance emerging from shadows
archetypal togetherness forged from above
a pearlescent moonstone
bestowed on our marriage
guided by an expanse of time and space
crowned with infinity
and transcendental esprit
infused by mind body and soul
lunar crescents shone waned
and waxed once again
for better worse richer poorer
in insanity and restoration
to love and to cherish ...
founded on divine intervention
heavenly bliss interspersed
by carnage and despair
blessed by the gift of recovery
it took what seemed like eternity
to understand that
not moon spoon nor
what wants to be written in stone
can be taken for granted
a moonstone
represents more than
stardust to become
or a fanciful pebble
carved by the Universe
love thoroughly vanquishes obstacles
and has inscribed miracles
into our wonderful lives
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old curmudgeon, aye pucker
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being beat into pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
In the chambers of the caves,
I sought refuge from all the moral forgeries
spreading over the land. Holding my lamp aloft,
I pursued solace in childhood alcoves.
In the chambers of endless caves,
I explored myriad twisting pathways
longing for the playful mirth of recall.
But Cerberus confronted me, snarling,
preventing my passage beyond his gate.
In the chambers of the caves,
I descended deeper into unconscious cavities,
finding vast chasms of terror, and
winding tunnels leading to oblivion.
I wept like a summer rain cloud.
This was all a terrible mistake, I decided.
How do I escape?
In the chambers of the caves,
I wandered, panicking aimlessly until
I stumbled into an illuminated hollow.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by dancers.
Festive music played as they circled me.
Here, I felt safety and delight.
Laughing and clapping, the dancers pranced.
How this confusing labyrinth brought me
here, I couldn’t guess.
In the chambers of the caves,
I soon learned I must continue my exploration.
Everywhere, there were caves for living and dying,
deep subterranes of experience. Jung called it
collective and archetypal. Others declared it
the physics of the soul, the quantum consciousness
of reincarnation.
Coruscating gravitas
imbibed algebraic
cerebral tranches
to spark
alacrity defiant
material manducation
deployed tangibly
phlegmatic
whilst
begetting manifest
miraculous meteoric
innovative impulses
when
penetrating bailiwicks
of tongue-contortion
cerebrum
eidetic retention
straddling juncture’s
poised gateway
as
baton weaving
catalyst triumphant
for
pumped ensemble
virtuoso visionaries
who
taproot trajectories
cocoon emerging
brainchild unfettered
obsessing
magazine mandarins
artistic
archetypal Monet
lavish lavender
lily pond
with
balsamic brushstrokes
galvanising
similar maven
budding Einsteins
blazing trails
of
original contrivance
boosting beneficial
health domain
of
wellspring weal
integrating impactful
slants
gearshift gargantuan
narcissistic nadir
repetitive
regurgitations rampant
abjured by
polymath prodigious
whose
appalachian peak
of antecedents
an avalanche
tintinnabulation
enunciated showpiece
heralds harvesting
gilt-edged prodigy
in fields
belletrist
nimble-fingered
experiential
—Where My Exile Ended in Your Light—
I entered first the prison of a levin,
an empyreal wound of auroral fire
engraved upon creation's obsidian palimpsest, where no
adamantine fetter circled my mortal being,
nor umbral silence sealed the astral threshold; yet I remained
as though eternity had distilled from its immeasurable depths
one sanctified chamber for its undying flame.
I wandered through labyrinthine dominions of becoming,
bearing vestigial constellations upon my soul,
pursuing seraphic dawns beyond the argent verge
where mortal yearning dissolved into celestial oblivion,
while beneath my veiled immensities awakened
the primordial canticle of my fragmented stars
returning to the archetypal firmament of their genesis.
Then you arrived beneath the quivering aureole
of the empyrean night—not as a conflagration
that devoured, nor a maelstrom enthroned upon the void,
but as the ineffable radiance preceding creation's first dawn,
through which my exiled rivers of consciousness flowed
from aeons of separation into the boundless ocean
of their forgotten origin.
Within your eyes I discovered nascent galaxies; within your embrace,
vanished distances dissolved; within your soul I heard the hymn
that breathed before light conceived its own division.
The levin vanished; heaven withdrew its hidden scripture,
yet I remained within that vanishing eternity:
the soul is not liberated by fleeing every boundary,
but by finding the horizon where infinity surrenders.
I was not imprisoned by the lightning that touched heaven;
I was the heaven that remembered its own eternity as light.
Maybe just maybe I am and always
have been an
Undiagnosed
Apoplectically archetypal orthodox
Dislexic
Who unfortunately tried to spell
it out to anyone willing to listen
But obviously my words came out
all mixed up and wrong
So I never made any sense whether
that was or be
Whether scribbled down profusely and
indiscriminately on paper
Or spoken word of mouth thinking
other's could follow my train of thought
Which I perceived to be a well thought
out intelligent engaging conversation
Only to find out later people were only
merely placating and appeasing me
Because the one thing and defining characteristic I did have going for
me and on my side
Was that I what and while I lacked
in certain regards and area's
I somehow made up for in charisma
and sense of humor which manifested
in the guise of likeability
And the reason I used to get away
with things I never should have been
able to
But hey if they wanted to assume and
presume that of me
And they themselves opened up that
avenue of excuse for me to abuse
Then why on on wouldn't I take full
advantage and prey upon it
Mirror , Mirror
On the wall
Looking back
Upon reflection
Thank you for being brutally honest
and in doing so pointing out the patently obvious starring back at me
That in this case I am not indeed
the victim
But rather what I am in fact is the
actual perpetrator serial offender
And but again at very least I already
possess
A face befitting my endless list of
crime's
To encapsulate and match my
mugshots in oh so many
devilishly evil ways
I should in future be the archetypal
Bogeyman poster boy or child for
generations to come
Parents are then able to use to scare
their children
If and when they plain flat out refuse
say for example
Give back chat won't go to bed brush
teeth eat green's or do set predisctibe
school homework
And if that don't work or scare them
enough then at least they will be
somewhat prepared and won't be
phased
When 1 day they 2 end up getting
caught and may meet and come face
to face with me
And they become an inmate just like
me corralled inside 4 prison wall's where
everyone and everyone is the bogeyman
And the mirror's are all cracked so
the shard's can be used as weapon's
Or to see who is sneaking up on you
Intrigued by the beauty of bewildering sorrow
Never far away from their own contradictions
Nebulous ghosts sound a fog horn of doubt
Encased in confabulation the truth lies raw
Revered by transgressions and translucent pain
Nirvana beckons at the core of sunken Atlantis
Equates archetypal enigmas plying for due fare
Mother Gaia unveils blindfolds of honesty
Essential tears dissolve trances of transience
Serenity shouts for decision virtue and love
Intimate foes take the battle to interior shores
Sisyphus ties his buoy to an anchour of hope
02 February 2020
DNA's cooperative purpose
for ego/eco-systemic mapping
outside convex with inside concave
is to unite our cooperative WinWin questions--
not to colonize
not to overpower
Earth's entire interdependent ecosystem.
Convening green ego-groups
framing healthy ecosystemic habitats
act in messianic/bodhisattva solidarity
patriarchal/matriarchal
West with East,
on behalf of whole ego-eco balancing stakeholders
we left with right unite
yang with yin re-membering
reassociating archetypal representers.
What would we health experience
on
and in
and over Earth
when our cooperative WinWin revision
is multiculturally achieved?
What restoring difference
could reassociating peaceful health
with justice wealth
WinWin choices make?
Green with Red
Left with Right
West with East
North with South
Yang with Yin
Dominant with Recessive
Convex with Concave
Prime ZeroZone appositional
timeless
relationships...
Win polypathic with notnot polyphonic Win
Strength with Flow
Mountains with Rivers
EarthNature re-animating WaterSpirits
Green golden ruling Red
Subjects with Objects
Polynomial causes
with NotNot Polynomial
ZeroSum health/wealth effects.
Uracil magically reappears
as Green EarthMan's newborn
deductive nutritional Spring
With Green SkyWoman's Cytosine
for inductive adolescent nurturing Summer
Inviting Red MountainMan
maturing Adenine's reductive conserving
autumnal harvest of nutrients
For UltraNonViolet RiverWoman's flow of Guanine,
seductively liberating WiseElder Advent of Integrity
redacting reiterative
fusion fracting
regeneratively decomposing
re-associative DNA
archetypal rememories.
I want to peer through tomorrow’s eyes.
Not a thing already old,
not a yesterday word
only temporarily paroled
from a moribund dictionary.
These words
newly dead now for millenniums.
Words old enough to have echoed from Eve
as she howled
from her guttural heart to a mute moon.
The newborn always come in the night
always in-between the past and future.
I want to be the parent of that birth,
not a distant and feeble uncle already
replicating an old understanding,
not a gummer or mummer.
I want words born in a universal forge,
their fire burning bright still.
Not any part of an effete scribbling
far removed from an Ur meaning,
its archetypal images already diluted
in ages of misreading and misdirection.
The etymological root of everything
is just the one word for everything.
Instead I only have these words
seeking to be new while still wearing
old, borrowed clothes.
Sometimes I wake up
in the middle of the night speaking in tongues;
a language so luminous
that star travelers from the distant future
could converse with me
from any compass point of my mind.
I want new eyes to drill down
to the pictographic roots
of every linked letter and script.
Words then would be individual revelations,
direct arrows from a new bow,
each a poem in itself.