Long Arduously Poems
Long Arduously Poems. Below are the most popular long Arduously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arduously poems by poem length and keyword.
"My arrangements with destiny weren't arduously demanding or beclouded with nit-picking details, so I merely ask for a day, any day, pick a day, and then for the year, give me a year, pick a year, any year, oops, except 'Year 0,' I am not my best playing when I'm stuck behind the chalk line like everyone else, not to be stood up, so there it is, moving onward was the month which is "SEPTEMBER," ... by The Poet.
Southerly tradewinds leaf's perspective views,
Edged pages adrift in words sprawled treasure,
Peaceful climbing clouds of repentance' grasp,
Trunks' heightens kaleidoscopic stretched tint,
Expanse grazes steep laced-dew darkened eve,
Murmurs promise fields daybreak momentum,
Breaths breezed boughs its penultimate rebab,
Environ temperament changed a whole sphere,
Reflect currents stem loops harvest glows mar,
What else rivers do...
Floating labored grace-filled parades spar gulf,
Aged thought-filled youth completion nirvana,
Luminance decreased blossomed stain improv,
Lapsing life languished midst immersed motto,
Segments scripts' improved accommodate e'er.
What else seasons do...
*rebab-arabian long narrow neck string instrument
*penultimate-next to-last abiding note stresses the best to come
The one stuck in the tunnel dug in desert of deprivation,
doesn’t know what in notion the rationale of the thing
people of perception define as the art of living,
perceived under free sunshine in the haven of oasis.
Survival struggle kicks the languished life into dark abyss,
breaking the fragile frame of the fleeting future,
the shards are thrown in the debris of abject rejection,
unable to rise from the chasm, even if arduously tried.
Failing to invent the mirage of escape, can’t kindle hope
to light up the receding unseen end of the dark tunnel,
but self-preservation instinct lingering in the bleak confine
motivates to crawl desperately to the illusion of future.
The sordid present suffocates in the nightmare of agony,
turning life into a consumed candle in the dark night.
As the defiled existence is denied the rays of the rising sun,
dented conscience murders the soul in the tunnel of time.
January 31, 2021
Judged (N-A) : February 12, 2021
April 25, 2021
Contest : Your 2021 N-A Choice
Sponsor : William Kekaula
A bud cradled within two tiny leaves
A dulcet design of tantalizing trinity
The proud plant tenderly conceives.
A flower blooming between two tinged leaves
A pristine picture of fervent fulfillment
The passionate plant arduously achieves.
A bridge binding two banks on land lonely
A suturing structure of crafted closeness
In the rhapsodic river euphoria flows freely.
A dormant desire twinning two hearts innately
A child creates the link in paired possession
The triad configures the epitome of life completely.
February 12, 20121
I chose to make 3-line stanza for the contest
Contest : 3
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
April 28, 2021
Contest : All Yours (Apr 28)
Sponsor : Brian Strand
There's an intrinsic dimension deep within my heart.
Its capacity for love and pain, I cannot explain or measure,
but when love takes hold of it, it refuses to be swayed
from taking an emotional journey, arduously pursued.
It's said a heart can be treacherous. I know that to be true.
I've been wounded more than once by my heart's betrayal.
Its pulse is strong, never missing a rhythmic beat,
but to its fragility, I can solemnly attest. It breaks, easily.
Though caged to protect it from physical harm,
pangs from emotional loss traverses through the bars.
My heart never hesitates to ask what if or, should I...
Its sails full speed ahead, despite whirlpools and eddies.
It can motivate me to laugh at life's joys found each day,
but it allows tears to fall in rivulets when it's wounded.
Love's thorns stab much too deep and heal too slowly.
Sinking feeling springs eternal...
courtesy sucker punched by vehicular travails
Truckload of banshees muffled
as more'n yours truly wails
he feels wheely tired
as one after another
significant snafu devilish
troublesome impish of the
poe pervert car -
tell driver unveils
scarier than Stephen
King's macabre tales
one illusory monster with
(by Scott) matted pointy scales,
who infuriatingly rants and rails
against dependence on
unstable, unpredictable, and
unmentionable car rear,
where his ruffled quilted wings,
stand on edge quiver and quails
analogous to how Jack
and Jill arduously lugged pails
splashing water to and fro
hither and yon some
drips drops long as nine inch nails,
actually pleasant sensation
though futile schlepping,
sloshing, and spilling bucketful
after bucketful eternal
rhyming task without reason
synonymous with Sisyphus,
but lo and behold
agony no longer assails
only fleeting ecstasy, think
Bos taurus came back
to animal farm -
carting... yup countless hay bales
(sh....) stolen goods,
under the whinny some nose
of neighboring Equus
at Clyde on dales,
one Mister Ed, a horse -
laugh he exhales,
said bovine won't be cowed,
cuz fodder knows beast,
that charity never fails.
LIFE'S PIECES
Life is like an art or mirror;
Yet some are oblivious of the interior.
Never think it's a light-walk;
Life isn't a finished work but an artwork
Just like a mirror, check yourself,
Like art, draw or paint yourself,
Design, scoop or screw yourself.
If I was a scattered face of aesthetic being,
a resplendent or magnificent thing,
would you meticulously find me,
would you painstakingly fix me?
If life is arduously hard enough
Be thorough and tough enough,
If life is rosy and too soft,
Don't be posey and too puffed.
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Copyright©2022
#LifesPieces
Cataclysmic Lovers Spirit,
Love, lover, you arrive and tame the wild spirit inside,
Set the pace, it slows to a walk to observe and feel and look and notice,
Drops of dew on a rose petal,
Pink sunsets sets, high above in a sun punched sky over a shorn green David Hockney lawn,
Cool glasses of clear perfect water quench a thirst,
And mammoth plates glass windows reflect our youthful smiles,
And our wild spirits slow to love, a simmering boil
They unfold graciously, kindly, admiringly,
And time remakes space,
Entropy changes landscapes, city-scapes, and topography
And you and me,
And the spirit’s restless,
The spirit sets a marathon at sprinters pace,
Seeking solidarity in the wilderness as the rain sets in,
Lichen covered blackened, branches and brackish water slake you now,
You arduously seek thunderous storms in stretches of cold cruel terrain,
And your spirit tumbles in long dark stretches of formidable mother Nature,
once you crashed into me, like thunder, once you pulled away from the wreckage
Stretching your spirit like a Giacometti bronze,
A spirit as Forlorn as Femme aux Bras Croisés
bereft of Joy
simple joy such as dew on a rose petal.
After Alice almost forgot her exhilarating experience
in the dream of her visit to the wonderland,
her imaginative mind drove her often outdoors onto
the open expanse of the undulating landscape
that rolled before her dreamy eyes with animated fantasy.
One night as she was spell-bound,
gazing at the star-crowned sky,
she felt she flew beyond the galaxy
and fell into a wormhole where
she travelled faster than light
from one point to another disparate point
in the space-time continuum.
The survival struggle thrust her
into the abysmal warren,
capturing intrepidly her fading frame
in the fleeting flow of the flexible time.
The disarrayed pieces of her mind were thrown
into the debris of dismal confusion,
she was unable to escape from the chasm,
even if she arduously attempted ad infinitum.
She lost the concept of the present
as she traveled time to the cosmic distant past,
witnessed the glare of the Big Bang
and the birth of the billion suns of the milky way.
A far away dwarf star pulled her then
across the curved space of vacuity
to the future where she saw the Big Crunch,
shrinking the universe
into a singular God particle.
Traveling mystified in the tunnel of time
through the wormhole,
as her psychic alcove merged with spatial infinity
she was sucked into a black hole
that bent her self-control
and deformed her perception of time.
While she was losing mesmerized
the sense of her entity into nothingness,
and started to gravitate toward the point of no return,
she came out once again from the trance of fantasy.
What if the time was not linear
Nor cyclical
Nor dialectical
But shaped like a rose
composed of delicate tender tapestries
spiraling between center and far away
consisting of arduously woven passion
enfolding the seed of life
flush with tenderness and blushing with beauty
reaching out to the world
as life's most resplendent embodiment
and its link to the times to come?
what if the time was a rose
made of einsteinian frames
all petals of rose
a cool fragrant tapestry quilted of finest silk
exquisite
delicate
soft
flush with tenderness and blushing with beauty
through multidimensional craftsmanship
bringing the substance of life
into myriad twists and turns
and caressing the wind
as she nourishes the embodied center
and becomes the embodiment of the sublime
spiraling between the immediate and the eternal?
In the interconnectivity
In the interrelativity
In the intersubjectivity
In the interrationality
In the interemotionality
In the interspirituality
the petal of rose will expound
nourishing
flourishing
burnishing all with fragrance and inspiration
seeking the good of the next and the good of the seed
and the good of the whole
and her greatest excellence
and the universe will bloom through her
spiraling from the center and into the air
and between the seed and the frame
with invisible filaments
to weave the infinite through the incorporeal
and alight and aliven them both in sublimity
making the past and the future the present
and two poles a continuity
that the souls move back and forward through time
at the speed of infinity
on the petal of rose
and in her are made eternal and incorporeal
where timeless and time attain one another
through invisible filaments
and become life transcendent
as she maps
her infinite tenderness
and her arduous excellence
and her ethereal delicacy
in every time-shattering moment
of timed eternity
that is her essence and inspiration
upon the valves
of
my
heart.
September Sun
The sultry summer wind softly whispers her name basking in the early September sun. Eyes aglow with limpid beauty radiating with relentless compassion arduously preserved and adamantly protected. Humbly healing hardened hearts resurecting passion with a single winsome smile. Gentle reflection elevates and eviscerates indiscriminately exposing souls with sensitive grace. Chrystaline elegance of early morning dew reflecting brilliance beyond ever before imagined. Deep discerning emotions generously disseminated as the sunhine dancing through locks of gold. A moment in time etched upon my soul with the blood and pain of my past gently floating away in the early September sun.