Long Bisect Poems
Long Bisect Poems. Below are the most popular long Bisect by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bisect poems by poem length and keyword.
If there’s no god, why show respect
for pain that’s felt by an insect,
for doesn’t that in part deflect
from order’s natural select
which did from soup somehow infect,
cajole or otherwise confect
life as we know it, and inject
complexity, until bedecked,
upon the scene comes Man, erect?
A pain-free god’s what you expect?
It seems creation's architect
is oft accused by means direct
(an argument they resurrect),
of child abuse, pain and neglect,
a charge to which I must object.
Though I'm not needed to protect,
still neither shall this go unchecked.
Although I mean no disrespect,
I think when one is circumspect,
allows not logic to defect,
to fancy, does not genuflect,
and stops carefully to reflect,
they, too, will see the disconnect.
For when they do, I do suspect,
unwittingly, Godhead bisect
(it's rare, if I may interject,
that they might attempt to trisect),
considering not, in effect,
that though there are three intellects,
their wills, communal, intersect,
their overlap complete, correct.
Now you may ask what this affects,
but what it means is all aspects
of common will and dialect,
are locked in a direct connect,
such that when one of them elects
to carry out a plan perfect,
none are diminished, none henpecked,
nor subject to a misdirect,
nor actions that might disaffect,
nor any sovereign state rejects
(hence child abuse notions are wrecked).
I have the scriptures to inspect;
in these I cannot recollect
attempts from truth to redirect,
so I eject as incorrect
the notion that God did elect
to avoid pain, to disinfect,
but rather, chose pain to connect
with life, with us, and with respect,
through Christ, and not in retrospect.
Over the boundary inside this continent
There lived a poet where our holy lands meet
I did not see her picture yet I am led to imagine
By reading out her lovely executed poems
That she must be very smart and unbelievably cute
She has a knack to do a postmortem upon the poems
Written by others by cutting and tearing apart
And leaves a bulky comment like a person very erudite
I believe I can also bisect trisect a poem easily
And bring its intrinsic beauty inside out
But I told her not to do that anymore in a voice very polite
For doing so she would be a poet friend commentator
Or a respected critique or a reputed doctor
But if she writes fewer poems she will never be famous poet.
My advice, I know, always bear fruits
And out of it others gain enormous benefit
But it comes back like a boomerang
And bellow the hit me very hard
And it is not for the first time that this happens like this way
Many times I experienced like this and run in losses
Yet I advise friends even after cutting my nose
This is my kind heart-ed nature and habits
And keep doing this spreading milk of good will and generosity
She sensed it as she is too intelligent
And quickly hid somewhere
I launch a thorough search
In shrubs, herbs and bushes
yet I do not know her whereabouts
She must be a flower now
Bud she was when we met in summer,
Now it is spring
So I suppose somewhere
For someone else she remains lying bloomed
Roses unfolding the redness inside me
Swathed my heart…my entirety
These petals slowly uncovering with glee
Trying to unveil the veracity.
Peeling the deepness…
Unraveling the emptiness….
Grip the stem of this forlorn petal
Sip all its sweet nectar…
Its yours.
Its yours to keep.
Its yours to cherish..
It’s yours to relish…
Open your heart
Glance at this redness
Stare beyond the vastness
Discern this emptiness…
Bisect the thinness of these petals
Caress all its brightest hues…
Its yours.
Its yours to marvel.
Its yours to adore..
Its yours to admire….
Mind this bud
Look into its uniqueness
Be thrilled with its highness
Pervade this emptiness…
Scrutinize the potency of these sepals
Test its verdant shadows
Its yours.
Its yours to dwell.
Its yours to lurk…
Its yours to skulk…
Neglect it and you’ll suffer
Desert it...you lackluster!
But its’ beauty you never could hinder
It’s sincerity you couldn’t vex forever
Grasp it in a jiffy….
Posses it mild and swiftly…
A n y w a y
Its yours.
Its yours to keep
Yours to marvel
Yours to dwell
Its yours…
Its all yours…
We as the subject, look at any object,
noticing space that separates us is still,
the void of no-thingness mind cannot bisect,
omnipresent yet exercising no will,
so what space really is, we introspect,
reflecting in silence, from soul’s window sill.
In staid stillness we sense our presence expand,
then truth of space we begin to understand.
Melding with the void, concepts are discarded,
wherein present as formless awareness pure,
the form we ensoul, is by bliss bombarded,
whence earth life tests then, we easily endure
and with no attachments left to be guarded,
softened soul presence in time becomes demure,
whereupon flickers in space are by us seen,
piercing through its pores, deep wisdom we so glean.
God’s light that lights all lights, enlivens space too,
signalling that though it holds us in its womb,
it also depends on God’s pulse to renew,
that as all life forms in it, with aplomb zoom,
it is silence alone that offers a clue
to truth of space, as ignorance we deplume.
Ceasing to weigh and size, though we vaporise,
who in truth God is, we’re yet to realise.
Written February 22, 2017
Motivation keeps us dream chasing
Those thoughts that you hold dear to your heart
Until the world falls apart from me missing you
These thoughts of you keep me holding onto
This abstract feeling called love
Now paint a pointillist on a rawhide canvas
On a Native American buffalo drum
But I digress to keep the beat going along
Keep it flowing to waterfalls where angels sing
A song to the siren, listen to her lull you to your last breath
So you thought this was an abstraction of love, not death
But you thought wrong 'cause they're one in the same
It's the name of game when the carousel goes round
Watch it go round, round, and round
A radial diametric where the angles bisect
To prototypes and concepts
From the concave to convex
Do you do it for the money and sex
Or for the only dreamers that we've got left
Yeah you know you've gotta give to receive
This abstract feeling called love
Beside the placid waters of the Rhone
A classical village rises to meet the sky,
The magnificent steeple an inverted cone
Hoists a Saint Anthony’s cross to passersby.
The placid waters of the Rhone reflect
Tightly crowded flats along the banks
While gondola-like barges quietly bisect,
Creep behind a steamer in solemn ranks.
Beyond the placid waters of the Rhone
Behind where the hamlet cannot expand
Where artist has never dimensionally gone
Are meadows and fertile stretches of land.
Above the placid waters of the Rhone
And the village so central to this scene
A cerulean sky lends a peaceful overtone
With wispy clouds, a sight not often seen.
Published in PS: It's Poetry
Anthology of Poetry Soup
Arczis Web Technologies, Inc., 2020
Chosen as a FIRST PAGE PICK
All Poetry Website
July 25, 2021
No Excuses
In the midst of the present,
No excuses.
Fell down, got up
Then flight
But the bruises ache
As I turn the pages
To move on, discern
As one of lifes excuses.
Practice, appease, try to please
Yet I failed, Time and time again
Possibilities pass me by
And I thought
Picked a wrong card.
I cheated, lost
But I could find
One of lifes excuses.
Felt love, lost love
Heaven above.
The thrust, the lust
All embracing
Till I got the rush
Feeling the force of the crush
Caught a diamond
But a busted flush
To my disappointment
I had to run
In the arms
Of lifes excuses.
Profession of music, geometry
Physics and Biology
Bisect,disect, Fusion of intellect
Expanding virtues of trials and failures
But there is the revision,
The safety Of lifes excuses
Just as fire is a good slave but a bad master, our power to reason, analyse and discern is both liberating as well as confining. Relying upon experience, memory and vicarious knowing, thoughts as deductive intelligence, that dissect and bisect are useful only for functioning in the external domain of transience, as we navigate earth life. However, to harness the world within, we must necessarily rest the instrument of thought, shifting into deep inner silence, connecting instead of grasping, embracing instead of striving, one with the pulse of universal consciousness. As we be, so we are. As we are, so we become. We be to become.
pristine awareness
soiled not by narrow thought forms
sat-chit-ananda
18-April-2021
Moments of reflections - Haibun poetry contest
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
The main crossroads
Of life, cars speed
Noisily by headed
For the intersection
Carefree or troubled
Times brings a sigh
Life's highway can
Reject, bisect, inspect, reflect, each direction
Set your affections upon things above, my son
Then the major highway will head to the right
The road will narrow and traffic will get lighter
Then you will
Know you took
The right road
At the light
Each intersection
Will become easier
Right choices support
A good life
Wrong choices
Bring much strife
Choose the right
At the intersection
Life will flow
Much easier, there
Will be bumps
But you will
Face them with
Your strong faith
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Contest: Crossroads
Date: 09-23-2021
Simple is the way to be free
Know we are soul, not body-mind
Leave all fears and desires behind
Unshackle soul from our mind tree
Thoughts bisect whilst heart unifies
If heart’s quiescent, ego dies
Make head and heart with love agree
Resolve all conflicts in love’s womb
Witness then our heart lotus bloom
Be at peace, joyous and carefree
For life’s merely a lucid dream
Frolic with joy on love’s moonbeam
Use soul’s eye, mirrorlessly see
Our true Self is pure living light
Always drenched in bliss beat’s delight
Simple is the way to be free
Unshackle soul from our mind tree
Make head and heart with love agree
Be at peace, joyous and carefree
Use soul’s eye, mirrorlessly see