Long Bear in mind Poems
Long Bear in mind Poems. Below are the most popular long Bear in mind by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bear in mind poems by poem length and keyword.
Listening to Edgar Allan Poe
Amazing! (see below)
from Edgar Allan Poe
early 19th century..
we await this awakening
today!
switching of identities
sometime in our lifetime
is the one and only
purpose we have..
Jehovah replaces Man
as felt identity..
beliefs are cast aside
and our activities
are activities of That
which we are...
Think that the sense of individual identity will be gradually merged in the general consciousness—that Man, for example, ceasing imperceptibly to feel himself Man, will at length attain that awfully triumphant epoch when he shall recognize his existence as that of Jehovah. In the meantime bear in mind that all is Life—Life—Life within Life—the less within the greater, and all within the Spirit Divine."
- Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849)
Eureka: A Prose Poem
Less tangible than air
but they live everywhere
with an impact more real
than iron and steel
No shadows they cast
though the sun blazes past
nor substance to block
the light that they mock
Yet block it they do
and obscure it from view
with their energies dark
and their beastly mark
Sworn enemies of man
and God and His plan
They delight as we mourn
our slaughtered unborn
The usual suspects
those Heavenly rejects
contrive and conspire
and their chief is a liar
Misled to believe
the tales that they weave
We are all too willing
to join in the killing
As we watch evil rise
it should be no surprise
that insanity rules
forming thick bloody pools
And delusions abound
among people, unsound
given over to rage
in this mindless age
Don't make the mistake
to believe they are fake
Just because you can't see
doesn't mean they can't be
Even winds are unseen
yet the tree tops still lean
when the atmosphere blows
as everyone knows
So please bear in mind
though the whole world is blind
to our foes now concealed
they'll soon be revealed
Then these demons from hell
nevermore can compel
human beings to kill
one another at will
And our God shall prevail
as the evil ones wail
leaving death and despair
less tangible than air
© Mike Wise
9-29-20
Busy streets and shopping spree.
People were so naive of what gift to give.
Is it fancy bags or jewelries?
A huge toys or high end gadgets?
Everything that's worth and the best.
The best of the worthiest.
Price tags must be prioritized.
Empty pockets were left behind.
The season of hope and joy.
Pandemic consumerism valors.
Who wouldn't be delighted to received,
a gift in a fancy wrapper be achieved.
Christmas day isn't cost a thing.
But the love,peace and contentment,
the most valuable thing we can share.
Spreading love can win world peace.
Enlightened heart meets happiness.
Let's bear in mind that King was born,
To lead the world into salvation.
December 26,2013
Aiyah De Torres
Out todays start when we open our eyes
To the soft dawns that paint themselves
For us,
Either over silky oceanic waves,
Or in urban concrete laden sceneries
Or even over freshly sprinkled fields and meadows!
Our todays,
We live them as they happen to us
We tune in to their harmonies if they
Allow our plans to be concluded
Or, we embark upon new boats
If they so do require,
As,
In this impermanent world,
Nothing is to be taken for granted,
Not even the blooming up of our tomorrows
As we expect them to be!
Then,
Why would we care to think of what shall happen
A decade later
When
Small steps lead us further towards our paths,
Specially when these are rooted solidly
In faith and in our own convictions?
Who can say for sure what shall happen
In the near or the far future
When the seers of sooth have chosen to resort
To silence faced with the unpredictability
Of the dark ages?
We control our future,
We control our tomorrows
When we row gently upon rivers
And race according to the limits of our body!
We control our future, yes,
Let's live our todays, as they are meant to
For only such shall pave for us,
Our tomorrows,
Pray, bear in mind that life does not end with death
And that its portal carries a tomorrow along with it as well!
The land you grow on is His,
As water is, sunlight is;
And I'm but a care keeper
And claim to be no owner,
I raise crops blest by His bliss…
He says, heart gone to each plant,
Each makes him feel so pleasant
He strokes them with tender hands,
Two long-lost souls as old friends—
A friendship that feels no lent!
Wishes well, fruits and flowers,
Admires beauty of bowers,
To fresh buds, fragrant blossom,
With praise ever so handsome,
And keen advice he showers:
A season there’s to mature,
Heed to haste nor waste, be sure—
Enemies that kill childhood,
Cherish, long as lasts and good,
It helps old age to endure,
Nor wither before your time
Ere your growth reaches its prime,
He walks on to feel young fruits:
Never miss to thank your roots,
Growth’s fine, but roots only rhyme.
Seeds and leaves as do all else,
Each its success story tells,
Ungrateful O never be,
Be a proud offspring of tree,
Bear in mind till ring loud bells.
And whilst gardener's wards nodded,
A pregnant breeze, yon, wafted:
His nature is to nurture,
Not to heed, Nature’s nature,
Rare if advice is heeded.
__________________________________
Musings | 03.03.16 |
Poet’s Notes: With loving hands and heart a gardener nurtures a garden. He treats greens as living beings, as they really are, and tends to counsel them with well-meaning words. But even from my not so sound knowledge of gardening I know: not to heed humans is Nature’s nature, a sentiment that reflects in the last two lines of this poem.
(for M.T.)
Some days you wake up
You look in the mirror
You’re afraid of the fire
Afraid of the furor
Your heart skips gaily
Over each error
Like the bumps that curb your speed
You’re waiting for Friday
Waiting for June
That plan ‘round the corner
That golden moon
Cracks in the leather and grease on your spoon –
You’re the last of a dying breed
I used to know what
To say to my friends
Dusting off jokes
Or making amends
What do we care
which language offends?
The garden should welcome its weeds
But they’re retiring jerseys
And burning books
TV won’t age you
If you hold on to your looks
You’re a man called Horse
Swinging from their hooks
Yes, the last of a dying breed
Isn’t it strange?
We were here just a short while ago
The petals of sweet innocence
Immune to the wind
Isn’t it strange?
You forget everything that you know
And the altar of experience
Demands a list of your sins
Time’s a tilted table
Time’s a thrown fight
Time would have you go gentle
Off into the night
But time don’t bear in mind
Your deep appetite
And the force on which you feed
In the Army of Stagnancy,
It’s “don’t ask, don’t tell”
Just think of those ladies
at the poisoned well
And greet the humid weather
And bid fond farewell
To the last of a dying breed.
Sometimes, in uncertain outcomes, as life agitates,
It can sway either way, maneuvering on the edge,
For a difference rather modest, makes the final call,
When a narrow margin determines a win or a loss.
If a win we choose to celebrate, or defeat we deride,
Prudent to bear in mind, that it wasn’t a landslide;
When results are so close, why not cheer them all,
Cognizant to recognize~ distinction is awfully small.
Slender is the layer between eve’s dusk and twilight,
Between dark of dawn, and luminance of sunrise;
Between safe and danger, there lies a narrow divide,
Where, between cliff and fall, life’s border resides.
Mementos of love embraced, and love sadly repelled,
In albums of beloved, or memories forlorn dwell,
Clamoring from corridors of good or bad choices made,
Between narrow margins of hope, and contours of fate.
O, a narrow margin can be of mighty consequence
Inhabiting elation of success, or anguish of regrets,
When death lingers in the clutches of final moments
Stilled between breath inhaled, and breath exhaled.
This program of Rhymes of the Times is dedicated to Richard. I share a poem Richard wrote about me, The Warrior Princess. Richard has been a great influence in my life and I wanted to dedicate an episode to him.
Warrior Princess
Warrior princess the weaver of words.
She wields the scepter of the night.
Commands the heavens and the birds.
Watch her face bathed in moonlight.
He has no will power to resist her charms.
She wields the scepter of the night.
A strong man like a baby in her arms.
She writes each move that he makes.
He has no willpower to resist her charms.
He knows he has made his mistakes.
Why did he walk through Fantasies door?
She writes each move that he makes.
He bows before her head on the floor.
"forgive me for invading your dreams"
Why did he walk through fantasies door?
All the power is not hers it seems.
Warrior princess the weaver of words.
"forgive me for invading your dreams"
He commands the heavens she is the bird!
Eileen wrote a poem about a man invading her dreams
I wrote this one for her, the stranger flips the tables.
I hope you enjoy Eileen!
On your Birthday Eileen I thought I would re-post the poem I wrote for you
Thanks, Richard. You always amazing! I will treasure this always. You are so talented. I'm honored that you would write this for me. I also love this poem of yours that you wrote using titles from my poetry:
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/queen_of_passion_845051
Just a note: These programs were recorded months ago, before my weight loss journey. The recordings aren't finished yet, and I haven't recorded new ones. I'm anxious to do a few more so you all can see how much I have lost! :) Also, bear in mind that we would record about six in one go, so I didn't have much time to "perfect" things. The students were on a tight schedule, and I had to go with whatever make up was done and didn't have time to redo my hair...etc...etc.
Deprived by country and elsewhere
For deeds and actions I didn’t do
Suspicious here, not welcomed there
You can imagine my worldview
You’re privileged to move around
Your peaceful countries waged no wars
I’m privileged to go without
The double standard world of yours
You think of nation seeing me
Though it’s not me but your projection
You’re talking to contemptuously
I only mirror your reflection
In Wonderland founded by bandits
Stands a glass house where I live
Break it to shatters, I won’t mend it
Just bear in mind I cannot leave
By circumstances I couldn’t manage
And to be honest, no one could
I am dehumanized and savaged
And you all set and understood
I’m not complaining, but just telling
The facts of living that I find
Funny enough to rhyme, compelling
Your short attention to unwind
I am a laughing man of August
I am a crying man of March
When spring blows off the winter dust
I click some photos to enlarge.
Do I have to remember that life has a set flow?
Our days might be dreadful, yet, joy utterly slow.
Miracles arose typically through the cloudiness.
I'm busy exploring and hoping for days to pass.
The lack of sufficient treat hampers our friendship.
We'll be frying outside during the scorching heat.
Things that can be seen clearly are sand and grass.
As we cross the tiny bridge, without greeting mass
Inside you is the wellspring of your greatness.
This is the spot to utter while everybody is yelling.
There was nobody like you as away as nothingness.
Bear in mind your equipment and life's calling.
No one recalls eternal's gaunt visage with fondness.
It's critical to grasp your unique treat and essence.
Written: December 23, 2021