Long Becoming Poems
Long Becoming Poems. Below are the most popular long Becoming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Becoming poems by poem length and keyword.
Functions
to Form
Include economic
and communication Functions
to political ReForm
Are like Relationships
between autonomous Things
Like interactive Verbs
to otherwise isolated Nouns
Round notes
between harmonic lines
Like Waves of ecosystemic interaction
are also Atoms of unchanging egocenters
Like exterior Dynamic
to interior Static
Like Time for becoming
and Space for timeless being.
Cooperative win/win Functions
to sustainable
robust democratic Forms
Like resonant Minds
to resilient Bodies
Spirits
to Nature
Light
to Power
RightBrain Enlightenment
to LeftBrain Empowerment
Interdependent Individuation
to autonomous Identity
Unitarian
to Universal
Synergy
to Positive/Negative Energy
Unclothed Integrity Functions
to contained Ergodic Form
Flowing Systems
to strong static Sets
Yintegral Time
to Yang Place
Sacred Organisms
to secularizing Mechanisms
Becoming Revolution
to Being NonEvolution
Nights needing to be perfect
Imaging a future for… unseen
Yet… perfection is unseen future to hack
Can I tell what is my night for a dream?
Every possible scenario crosses my thought
Detailed to an extreme for a poet’s night
A possible future impossible to be bought
And how many times did my moments died?
A self thought lesser otherwise
Becomes a someone without its moments
Moments believing for a need to lie
Unfortunately… even lies need its reasons
Without this, I make with that
That to believe a little lie I told myself to be
Anew became moments to have had
And from that lie, is truth I began to see
Nights becoming to be perfect
Standing upon a once future… seen
My unseen future I have perfectly hacked
Yet… I know not what my night for a dream?
I see things from here,
heaven has,
a beautiful view,
I know things,
about you,
my sister does too,
when you found out,
all the things we knew,
you threw me to,
heaven,
above the sky so blue,
My earthly voice was muted,
by your,
bloodied hands,
but on the other side,
of heaven,
there's a room,
so ballroom grand,
it holds the tears,
and screams,
of every murdered woman,
child and man,
It's there,
we sing our stories,
whilst the angels dance,
the saddest songs imagined,
waltzing hand in hand,
violins bring tears,
as the angels sway,
I joined in,
the dance of death,
becoming bitterly lost,
along the way,
I became,
a fallen angel,
to avenge,
the ones I love,
left down on earth,
when I was thrown,
here above,
I'll not let you,
throw them,
the same as you,
did to me,
I'll become,
your worst,
nightmare,
one you'll,
never be able,
to see,
if you die too,
who would ever believe,
that an angel like me,
was the one,
who threw you?
Sweet Serenity Prevails
The storms arrive again, banging thunder at my door
These trees are swaying, thrashing, in the wild wind
Branches are cracking, falling, as if nature is in a war
While bark is taken off parts of trees that are skinned
The rain pours everywhere around, blowing to the side
Soaking the ground turning dirt to mud in the cooler air
All the noise, with unsettled skies, makes me want to hide
Maybe escape a while, to return when the weather is fair
Slowly the calming begins, with the trees becoming still
The sound is now distant, a light steady rain left behind
Now, the colors are brighter, shining richer on the hill
Serenity returns, with clean, cool, refreshing air to find
I am breathing in the summer’s peak during a storm’s trail
After Nature’s turbulence passes, sweet serenity prevails
Heidi Sands
8/4/17
Growing old, things loved and cherished come and go.
Phone calls- text messages thinning.
Tossed aside in a world of folly and thickening frost-
Growing old in a world that keeps getting colder.
Hard faces-hovering over graying steps.
Cobwebs in the corner of an empty nest.
Growing old, another funeral procession -one friend less.
Life becoming an endless blue eulogy-nothing more, nothing less.
Layers of experiences - wisdom making very little difference
Growing old, what am I to leave behind...
A fistful of photos- memories forgotten
A few half-assed poems
a small sack of dirty dimes.
Where does time go when it's tired?
Years lost to a breeze-like a willow in spring.
Hard times and regret chirp away at the mind
Like sparrows on a line-so little time.
Where did the time go,
I wish I could buy a little bit more.
To release this overdue dream from its chrysalis.
Place barbed words back in the voice box.
Pay the toll for goals unmet.
I need a bit more time for apologies.
To tether forgiveness to regret.
Where did the time go, growing old?
Each soul comes here to live a fate,
Quest starts with cheer to spark fond date.
Each man must live a journey plan,
Reach out to give the best he can.
Each day comes round with something good,
Soul knows these grounds in change of mood.
Each person feels sure gut feeling,
Mystery wills a becoming.
Each to a path to set a course,
Then see the stuff in poignant cause.
Each to a road that love may grow,
Bear thus the load to live fine show.
Each comes to know just how life hurls,
Align with flow as fancy swirls.
Each man must learn a message clear,
Watch seasons fling with beauty here.
Each to a style that ever blooms,
Joy seeds fond smiles as colours groom.
Each to a gaze as wonder swells,
Walk through life's maze to live and tell.
Each in a space where time meets place,
Rituals embrace the touch of grace.
Leon Enriquez
02 January 2016
Singapore
Becoming a storage facility is a necessary accomplishment,
but what I really long to become when I grow up is a conduit.
For my entire Christian life span, I have heard the admonition,
"Let Him have His way". The meaning of the expression has always
been clear, but Pastor's message last Sunday shone an even brighter
light on the subject.
Two bodies of water, one, The Sea of Galilee, is alive and ever lives,
bringing forth more abundant life; The other, The Dead Sea, is dead and continues a steady pace of dying, even though gifted with the same living water as the other. The results of the Dead Sea's inability to let the Jordan River have its way is not only a sentence of death but a 'receding' kind of continual death because it allows no outlet.
We can be grateful that The Dead Sea is in contrast to even Nature's Way, and is the exception and not the rule. Moreover, God's way in us is to both receive and share Him(let Him flow through and out of us), resulting in our being, not a bank or storage facility, but a conduit, a powerful way to let God have His way.
110919PoSoup
To dwell in an apathetic realm between darkness and light,
not caring if people hear or listen to me, would be a plight.
Being stoical, taciturn and indifferent to pain or pleasure,
when emotions are unsung for there are none to measure.
Being aloof could never be my long-term objective.
I'm not passive about things, but it's a stoic's perspective,
that being neutral prevents them from becoming fraught
over things they deem inconsequential, and care naught.
They wear the blank expression of a cow ruminating cud.
Though thorns may stab their flesh, tears will never flood.
In silence they suffer pain as if their heart has been ablated,
accepting apathy as the destiny with which they were fated.
Let others bow and pray to stone images of gods they make.
Fools, who do not know sentiments can cause heartache.
Stoicism is a concept, the accepted philosophy of the mind.
They find tranquility when indifferent, but I am not that kind.
Apatheia is the goal, detachment from pleasured passion,
but I'd not be stoic if love is an emotion I'd have to ration.
Tears well in my eyes when whispered words of love I hear.
I'm not stoical by nature. There are too many things I revere.
Entrusted by the Gods
with the secrets of heavens,
Nikola Tesla, *
like a new Prometheus, **
into the deem-lighten world of
phenomena walked
determined to dissipate ignorance's fog
and
let divinity's knowledge of universal
laws shine bright.
Alas,
Man's haze of confusion and doubt
didn't allow the intensity of his shining mind illumine
technology's path till its ultimate goal
thus
living unanswered many questions asked by us,
mere mortals, who still strive to comprehend the
magnitude of his genius
that
was impregnated with the cosmological principles of
being and becoming which constitute the
eternal truth that steers the Cosmos!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 January 2020
* Nikola TESLA, Serbian - American inventor, electrical engineer, mechanical engineer and futurist. Born 1856, died in 1943.
** In Greek mythology, Prometheus is a Titan who is credited with the
creation of Man from clay and who defies the gods by stealing fire and giving it to humanity.
a relationship
magically,
unexpectedly
blossoms.
acquaintances
graduate to
fast friends,
becoming
two peas in a pod.
inseparable twosome
pulled together
tightly
as if
by magnet.
seamless alignment
of perspectives,
interests,
passions,
hobbies,
and sartorial tastes;
a transcendent connectedness.
a bond
like no other;
quintessential
kindred spirits.
Date written: 05/03/2023