Long Aspirations Poems
Long Aspirations Poems. Below are the most popular long Aspirations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aspirations poems by poem length and keyword.
Soon I will become a memory
Like all, including the ones
Known as gods, Buddha and Krishna
Universe runs on laws
Nothing remains but the ultimate
Absolute and impervious to aspirations
I am waiting for the final moment
Not that I am not sad
I want to live
Many things you do but they never end
I know I will not be there
But I don't believe
And live with a solace
When I am no more embodied
I will live in the hearts and the dust
Plucked flower once clumsily graced a girls curls,
Now crushed in the wake of her ascending swirls,
Comfort be gone as bees holds dust for another,
Swarms of butterfly's doth aimlessly hover,
Yes, it was a bothersome thing,
It will pass for others to bring,
Drizzling fate from silvery clouds of one-liners,
Trickling o'er laughing grass, chuckles from flowers,
Smiles grew everywhere, a forest was chanting,
Far grays thunderous silence mid dull strikes of lightning,
Whilst a cheery red robin sits on a limb,
Gave me a tune and tweeted a hymn,
A rainbow arc set adrift in motionless skies,
Half of that lost in obscure disguise,
A moth sits on my clothes, drawn as if it was light,
Does not budge when shaken, not even a strike,
Eyes on me, as they interpret their assessment and define,
Requires close touches, made speechless, 'twas divine,
Teardrops from elated eyes as fetuses of euphoria,
Forms and slides on cheeks fleeted journey of my utopia,
Breeze stems the short blades that grips the weight of me,
As enmeshed toes wraps in taller swords from cool earth neath, be,
Wanton for more goes unclaimed and was ignored,
Droplets adds, from a few to a downpour, engorged,
Clone the day, immerse it well into aspirations hold, free it back to where fantasy's exist, except the one,
Unfettered I chased myself homeward, drenched yet fulfilled for having lived this day regardless, except the one.
Things lost whose where and how seems history,
Much like hollow of a half hanging tooth,
Intangible, melted as mystery,
Things that heart grieves— what once was vibrant youth,
Whose presence feel like black-hole-borne absence,
Old memories, meanderings of heart
That like a lost address make no more sense,
Still add up to more than sum of each part.
Things lost they all— in sunset sink of time—
Like incomplete jigsaw puzzles that stall:
Dreams, aspirations that may or not rhyme,
Lost on life’s wayside, scarce can one recall,
Roads taken not, turns thought off, never made,
Vows not vouched, lie in time’s twilight zone, dead.
___________________________________________
Sonnets (tongue-in-cheek) |09.05.2023| lost memories
Poet’s note: Yea, so much is lost in this twilight zone of time that we lose its count, a blackhole from which practically nothing can come out, save vague sense of loss.
Lewis Milton Hankins or LM for short when I call him
Always writes poems amazingly in any form and theme
He’s an excellent poet, author and prolific writer
A man of God, as reflected in his poems--a great believer.
He’s a very good mentor, so kind and generous
On his time to read poems, to encourage and applause
Sometimes he gives surprises, being the first to comment
His words uplift---he’s a loving and wonderful friend.
His poems and works are great sources of inspirations
Breathtaking masterpieces like Villanelles and Pantoums
He pens them with ease, in a highly aesthetic creation
To share his life’s journey, love, hope, ideas, joys, aspirations…
Then, the moment came for him to leave us all
Going back to our Lord, creator of our poetic soul
Sad and heartbreaking but he doesn’t want us cry
For he’s going to a better place to reunite with his wife.
Thank you dear friend LM for the good memories
You’re safe in God’s Hand, you may now rest in peace
We’ll remember and keep you in our hearts forever
Deep gratitude for your poetry; still, we’ll visit you there.
Jan. 5,2023 23.12pm
I love his comments especially on my poems, My Best Blessings and A Jolly Fisherman, who first commented on it. His words were uplifting and they served as my consolation prizes.
In Honor of Milt - An Un-contest
Contest Judged: 1/16/2023 1:13:00 PM
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Place 1 ( almost all were chosen first coz this is uncontest)
Wailing for her demon lover, she knows nothing about these woods
Daring the devil to snatch her from clutches of midnight she howls truth
Wolves answer her with appreciative baying of their own.
Was she a she-wolf, a werewolf or a gray wolf? She laughed at herself.
The shadows of the night danced like furious fodder around her
Was she an empath? A wife or a wild woman who can transmogrify?
Maybe a touch of all three; a Gemini, which explains her a bit.
A gray entity was heading her way, but it was thwarted by the night sky.
She had a knack for finding the most grotesque and turning them.
Their evil into sand, their inspirations into aspirations.
Wild knows wild.
Her daddy said that about her when she was eight.
She put her arms out and twirled her essence into the path of a young girl.
There were snickers and dashes in the bits of the bush shadows now.
I am me, she said; relieved.
Eager to be….herself.
AUGUST FLOOD, LION MOUNTAIN LANDSLIDE
BY SIMEON AUSTIN DAVID PANGU AKA MR SENATOR
To bed they went wishing good night,
With zest they opt to wake up and do their chores with all their might.
Rain falling from the sky, we know it was a blessing,
Tears rolling through Sierra Leone's eyes...(Pause) God knows the reason
The earth shrink as the flood came,
Beautiful faces were never the same.
It came too fast, our smile it wipes
Yesterday beautiful songs, today sorrowful cries
Good will, aspirations and innovations buried in the mud
Your Tomorrow's agend is all we have left to remember as we mourn.
Yesterday was the naming day, Today the mourning day.
Father couldn't get to watch you as your grow old and play.
Vimto tastes like vinegar in our mouths,
As youth left for the dead and survivors to scouts.
Mother, father the voice of their children calling,
Father couldn't see son,mother couldn't heard her daughter crying.
Numbers cannot be numbered,
John couldn't be recognized by his own brother.
Oh! God why the rain?
Why our faces are not the same?
Why the earth, the earth it couldn't hold?
thus on our backs the rocks must roll?
Water is life but lives now it take?
Why, must on my Nation's mind fear made?
Creative writers society
+23288241244
(Please share as we mourn)
No time for trivialities that hinders my good will
The hunted now the huntress aiming for the kill,
Though, I was diverted that paused my prime pursuit
Now, I've caught clearer thought and arts I'll execute.
And if they dare to put me down for jealousy a norm
I'll sharpen my defences and they I'll out perform,
As labours toll from work of goal will not be ill sordid
Where triumph and victory unifies rewarded.
No time to idle in this life where miracles occur
Duties turn to beauties when aspirations stir,
Climbing ancient mountains where rocky tracks are rough
Only makes one stronger to go beyond, and tough.
With experience I will win evermore with fairness
Changes were embraced to enhance awareness
Important work to engage for deliverance of mine
Whilst any less you may guess I shall not have time.
From ancient times to these modern days:
aspirations, dreams, riches, power and poverty
remain unchanged as it was, so it will be...
if in wine there's truth, let words compromise;
if peoples are nothing new with their actions
ready for wondrous works or destruction,
who will be praised for that grandeur...
the builder who constantly labors or the destroyer
who tears everything down with fierce indignation,
being envious of whom whose fate is without demise?
Some accept friendships without questioning, without having a clue;
what a shame is to face the final, dire consequences,
when explanations become very obscure and confusing...
we should have seen it coming, not trusting it to appearances,
changing from the state it was, not increasing the slip of the tounge;
and though many were of noble birth, they too were excuted by bloody hands.
Laws are only appreciated by upright and decent citizens
for the sake of their government to assure a peaceful living;
but how does a cry of justice effect us, if peoples are nothing new;
have we condemned what they can't understand to exscuse ourselves?
My inspiration came from the Latin phrase:
I am a man, nothing concerning mankind
is alien to me
In the hallowed halls of healing, dreams were once sown,
A path chosen by duty, not a path of our own.
Driven by a mother's wish, I stepped in that domain,
A journey prescribed, a white coat, a stethoscope's refrain.
Yet, one day I diverged, took a different trail,
Ventured into markets where fortunes set sail.
Risky waters of finance, lessons learned profound,
Confidence gained, street-smart, in the hustle I found.
Unemployed doctors lament, a chorus of despair,
Degrees in hand, burdened by the system's snare.
Beggars of employment, limited minds confined,
Blaming the world, their aspirations maligned.
But I, a wanderer, chose a different dance,
No longer tethered to a medical trance.
For two hours, a storyteller, a sage of the street,
$8000 to learn how financial battles I'd meet.
I conquered, I rose, from the ashes of the fall,
Opportunities abound, for those who stand tall.
No longer a beggar, nor tied to a title,
Embrace innovation, let dreams be your bridle.
Unshackle the pride that binds you to a past,
For in innovation's embrace, your future is cast.
Technology beckons, a realm vast and wide,
Don't be addicted to a paycheck's fleeting tide.
The white coats sit idle, unemployment's cruel jest,
More doctors than jobs, an unsettling unrest.
Rethink, restart, shed the cloak of shame,
In the digital age, create your own game.
Do the math, break free from the CV's plight,
A doctor's title, a beacon of endless night.
In the imbalance lies a chance to reinvent,
A new beginning, where dreams find ascent.
Women in my family,
two of them I treasure the most,
my wife who has been my support at all times,
and my mother for whom this is my tribute.
When in times of turmoil the family was adrift,
mother toiled to grow roots in a green pasture.
To my deprived uncertain life she gave a gift,
a nest from where I flew in the sky of future.
I soared high in the care of her protective wings,
my rising aspirations harsh wind couldn’t blow away.
I live in the radiance of her love, memory emits,
for it’s she who made me what I’m today.
______________
June 22, 2022
Contest : Women In My Family
Sponsored by : Sotto Poet