Long Assumption Poems
Long Assumption Poems. Below are the most popular long Assumption by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assumption poems by poem length and keyword.
I lived ... once
I loved and laughed and ached from my marrow
I spoke my soul, and spun my mind to my innervation and impulse
Swam up spirits to the source of their dreams and passions
I moved and breathed and thrived
Slept and soared and savored the tang of carnality
Counted my chaos, and measured my occupations with desire
I danced with angels, dazzled and dark and unearthly
And I sang to the heavens in their wildest weeping
With a voice of callow intonation ... and melodious temper
ALL with a child's heart, and a saint's assumption
Yes, I lived ... once
Full and bright and joyous as a midday meadow
Yet, in the midst of a moment's suffering
A soft, stinging moment of false hope and agony
I pressed, tender, the lips of a curse ...
One deep, warm, melting kiss of a temptress
That turned to a coursing ... of poison
"You will write with such feeling," she whispered, eyes smiling
As the glass between us fogged with her bitter breath
A painted fingertip, shaped and pressed
Tracing my doom in the opaque mist
Oh, vile brutality - to gift me this insight and creativity
Only to shake it ALL from my grasp ...
And turn me ... to dust.
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Opaque" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausin, Judge & Sponsor.
I married myself,
The female version,
With quirks and misgivings,
Sacred cows and aversions,
And yet, we are different,
Not completely consistent,
And our familiar bad habits,
Are way too persistent,
She brings to me honor,
A dignified shake-up,
Amidst scattered and voluminous,
Containers of make-up,
Her life is straightforward,
Though far from the norm,
With setbacks she caused,
Or induced others to form,
But, she knows who she is,
Certain times, what she wants,
With a dose of dramatic,
And emotional jaunts,
She's so bright, it's scary,
Which makes me succumb,
To notions of applying herself,
Makes me numb,
Because her passion, she has it,
For beauty, among others,
If only she'd want them,
I'd dictate her druthers,
As a mom, she's in charge,
My role is assumption,
Which is needed, considering,
The triple combustion,
And yet, like myself,
She clatters for solitude,
To balance her life,
That exists at high altitude,
So, as I live as I do,
I can rest with much ease,
That, like I, there's a woman,
Who's so darn hard to please,
But of course, who else would,
Handle, deal and excel,
In a life with a man,
Who's from heaven and hell.
(6/22/00)
Wordsmiths, take heed ...
Letters of the alphabet,
By themselves are but harmless shapes
Of ink or graphite or digital information,
(Placed in ordered variations of ones and zeros),
But when combined in specific patterns and placement and propriety,
Become the most powerful weapons and tools known to humanity.
How many countless lives have been changed, worsened, improved,
Manipulated, darkened, brightened, ended, or even BEGUN,
As a result of their use by an intelligent mind and deft writing implement?
How much love, hate, kindness, vitriol, care, apathy,
Truth, hypocrisy, forgiveness, jealousy, joy, or even horror,
Has been carried to its mark by the thoughtful control
Of their placement and structure and management?
Oh, what horrible irony there is in the assumption that "words can never hurt" ...
They are, without a doubt, the most hurtful things ever created by man,
And yet their keen and acute ambiguity make them their own saviors,
And by positive application and intent,
Can be the most magnificent and wonderfully
Exquisite creations that we are capable of.
Be ever vigilant when you consider their organization and use,
For by their very nature you may be sending forth
A thoughtful work of fascination and beauty,
Or unleashing a monster of incalculable horror and venom.
WE are the bows that send the arrows forth,
WE are the guns that let loose the bullets,
WE are the catapults that let fly the burning stones,
But we are also the hands that pick the flowers,
That gently part the hair, that hold and caress with tenderness,
That encourage and help and touch and feel and explain and honor ...
ALL by the ways we form and group those individual letters of the alphabet,
ALL in the mindful ways we arrange
Those seemingly harmless little squiggles and lines ...
If we only treated words with the same care and respect and caution
That we allow weapons and miracles,
For they are easily as wonderful ...
And easily as dangerous.
Words cannot begin to describe who you are
My mind is so limited and self-absorbed
In fact, I mustn’t know anything of you at all
We can observe each other and depict patterns
We can predict each other’s faults and value
We can say we can figure out one another
But all we know of really is ourselves
I know that you are a kind person
From what I see, you are perfect
I fear that my self-absorbed opinion of you
Is altogether wrong
I fear that everything I think of you
Is a lie—an ignorant assumption of you
Within billions a thought is traced within the light
Not nearly brushing against insight
I don’t believe I ever really knew you
Through these blank words and verses
All I know is myself
Though I often fear. . .
That that in itself is the lie
That I am the lie
For all I’ve ever known,
There is a word we can each describe of us
Appreciate it; the mess, the , the beef-
Each is an effort to learn good from bad;
Perception differs to bring about grief,
Either to agree or not makes hearts glad...
It won't be for long,
But may remain ever young...
When right don't chase wrong.
Just do not be too forward to draw down
Your take out of pain to please assumption.
What you had been through takes part not the crown,
For violence or kindness can't stand gumption.
Sometimes it seems odd-
Before red sea obeyed rod,
Moses had no squad.
It will never be of value to eyes,
Nor of treasure to kindled mind, unsaid
Let alone be real; what truth actualize...
Until it becomes memory, past embed.
Then it turns a miss,
Years watched each get dismiss...
Into the gone bliss.
A man with a mission in land afar
To take his faith, become a star
And show the Afrikan the straight and narrow
Highlight slavery and end its sorrow
From Scottish gray town he did hail
And joined the child force in the mill
To work long hours and even school
Learn religion and science, that was cool
The paternal impact was very strong
Religious roots and sense of wrong
To reflect his own childhood labor
And equate it with that in Africa
Impelled to seek trade routes there
And rid slave trade ones, that was fair
To map the Nile, new places to search
And quit mission ties with the kirk
Missing for six years, his absence felt
To find lost Dave, Stanley’s intent
Robbed, humiliated and four years sick
Livingston’s adventure was not quite so slick
Stanley found him by a lake
It was the doctor, no mistake
The only white for miles around
There was David safe and sound
No need for Stanley’s assumption
Nor the teeniest bit of presumption
Stanley’s request for him to return
Was refused and decidedly spurned
Africa was his lifetime’s vision
Conversion and discovery, his mission
Africa’s greatest missionary remained
With only one convert to his name
His convert Sechel was taught to read
Then translate the Bible for his tribe
But continued with polygamy
Completely rejecting monogamy
Livingstone succumbed to malaria
As well as a bad dose of dysentry
He died of African agues, that’s all
His heart removed interred in soil
His remains transferred to English land
A hero’s welcome and burial grand
But heart affirmed in African ground
His name forever there renowned
LOVE led me to the entrance
A darkness I had never known
Raised by terror, fear shaped a story
That had overtaken and grown
....mental illness
When I first saw ahead
The very thing LOVE wouldn't allow me to escape
I argued with my LORD, til he presented the option I couldn't afford
I walked into a dark tunnel to finally face
...trust
Step by step I gave words to my assumption
As I gathered the last morsel of gumption
...to lift my leg
.....terror weighted my ankles
..............."MY LORD, WHAT IF......
Every concern silenced by LOVE
Just as trust settled my soul
HE wrapped me "criss-cross applesauce"
As my broken melted into HIS whole
...together we reign
That was ten years ago
And I find myself IN a similar place
Transformation has changed my stance
So that LOVE guides me as I walk with grace
....into the unknown KNOWN
There is no longer any fear
Like an embryo in the womb
I can hear LOVE's voice
And HE in me is the LIGHT in every room
I will come through
Because eternity shows, I'm already out
Though all the forces of fear wage war
LOVE will not enter into unbelief, fear, or doubt
From dark to light
The fallen are made right
From fear to LOVE
Humanity is yielded up
....in unison.
Written by Trudy Schrader on 9/22/2019
It's a rather complicated experience to explain
on paper, but I shall make my best attempt.
Some years ago, there was a Presidential candidate.
I shall make my point without any identifications.
So much of who we are and how we think lie beneath
the surface and often go undetected by us and others.
Case in point. For no apparent reason that I detected,
a friend, thinking that I would be biased toward a certain
candidate made a baseless and prejudicious assumption
and informed me why I should not vote for that candidate.
My friend did not realize we were supporting the same
person, never bothering to ascertain such valuable
information. She was not mean-spirited and felt close
enough to me to allow her such freedom of expression.
She never realized that her attempt at pointing me away
from what she considered to be the wrong direction was
in bad taste. I think that because she was much older,
I decided not to confront her with the issue.
To be biased is blinding. By definition, it is to have an
undue propensity for something. I suspect that if her
assumption was a legitimate one, her mission to change
my way of thinking would have been justified.
However, she relied on the historical data of the media
and placed me in a certain category. In so during, I became
a statistical entity and not a personal friend with a mind
of his own. Ironically, she was blind to my lack of bias.
Far above your conscious, a bird beats its own wings,
on its own way,
to its own destination.
A sharp gust slices the air—still not catching you in its breeze,
but it’s enough to cool to the bird,
and release a feather.
It drifts down, falling mile by mile,
traveling mouth by mouth,
assumption by assumption
to your lake.
It’s a nice lake. Man-made.
It only goes so deep, so wide, so long,
and so do you.
The feather shatters the azure surface,
in doing so it glides just ever so slightly, below beneath you’re peace of mind.
Then you’re flooding because you can’t contain yourself,
and you’re chocking and clocking me,
waves rocking the shore,
feather floating above still.
The difference
and sameness
I sense
between Buddha's Illusion
and Capitalism's Golden Illumination
Lies in my assumption
of natural Yang v Yin awareness,
LeftBrain dominant
AND spiritual Yin/Yang
bilaterally balancing consciousness
of RightBrain regenerative justice
in Earth's peace paradise
Through this narrow double-binding way
of universal compassion
and democratic co-investment
Bicameral Illumination
becomes strong Not/Not Illusion
when I lose hold of Lose/Lose Aversion
to Yin's fulfilled feeling of EgoDeath
as also Yang's loss
of disconnected
disloyal
dissociated
disembodied loss
of ego-reductive apartheid life.
The difference
and sameness
I sense
between Yang's empowering life
and anger about climax-induced ego-loss,
and Yin's illuminating death
absorbs cold fear,
Warms peaceful promise
of future's healthy ebb and flowing promise
from Yang's past wealthy
viral win/win strong edging
and wanting,
climax belonging
and quiet relonging,
attachment
and aversion
Cooperatively co-invested
grasping and releasing,
inhaling and exhaling,
synergetic and disintegrative,
compassionate absorption
and passionate longing
to again belong
to primal peace paradise,
Inside re-encultured
as outside climatic
pre-climatic
re-acclimating to regenerative pre-historic life
and death
and life again
memories.