Long Blinkers Poems
Long Blinkers Poems. Below are the most popular long Blinkers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blinkers poems by poem length and keyword.
Potpourri of collections
Hug of affections
Season of winters
Track of sprinters
Road of cars
Street of bars
Pad of flies
Pod of eyes
Tin of sardines
Western of jeans
View of lens
Peck of hens
Pulpit of preachers
Lesson of teachers
Smack of bottoms
Perfume of blossoms
Fist of thugs
Bed of bugs
Table of logs
Circle of cogs
Score of musicians
Face of beauticians
Kiss of loves
Peace of doves
Whistling of birds
Conversation of words
Blind of blinkers
Twitch of winkers
Curve of bends
Finale of ends
~~~
Inspired by “An Exaltation of Larks” by James Lipton
A wagon full of them
happened to pass by mine
at dawn
Their voices raised as one
attuned to match the demands
of the current social trends
"Jump on Johnny jump on"
they beckoned invitingly at me
A very different tune to their staple
"Go home Johnny just go back where you came from"
Taken aback as I was, I reckoned
such a chance could come handy
in time
Sure beats the "crawl under that rock
Johnny play dead for now"
"Just while the flights are cancelled
at least"
So I quickly jumped on that bandwagon
without a second thought,
that's what I did
Went along for the ride and pledged
my loyalty to them on that day
Out on some patriotic duty
or so, that's the claim they made
A joint noble cause, I figured
could make a fertile ground
to sow the seed of a much needed
united front
It sure felt good to be included
for a little while
Until their strongman deemed it
the perfect time to gorge my eyes out,
much to my utter dismay
He swore it was proof of dedication
Anything to fit in, I thought to myself
But I soon found out thinking
wasn't allowed either
There was a ready made agenda
to be followed by all of us, in place
Worded just right to fit its purpose
All we had to do was regurgitate it
over and over on demand
Till it turned into our only truth
And to be sure to spread it about
Anyone who disagreed with it
was bound to be a traitor of sorts
It was the way of the order
or the highway
To make the cut all you had to do
was strap on a pair of blinkers
"Rest your sights on the insides of
the glorious tunnel, to reset your view
Then all will be well with you!"
That was our slogan by the way
Rather catchy don't you think?
Unfortunately my conscience
wouldn't have any of it
Being brainwashed somehow
failed to catch its fancy
I soon found myself longing for the old songs
"Crawl under that rock Johnny play dead for now"
"At least until the flights are back on air"
Then it will be "go home Johnny!
just go back where you came from"
Fitting in, for sure carried a price tag
too heavy for my pocket
Form:
The clad ivy charms, warms the walls,
The frontage that welcomes the fold and their outsiders,
Specifying age and strength of delicate beauty,
Which accounts for that non-existent love:
History sides with them, is by their shoes,
Shows no retrogressive signs or playbacks,
For the aestheticism in which they pray and hear,
To live purely and submit to god’s will.
Massive old stones consummate the building,
Mark the sentinels of theology and doctrine,
The concept of god masoned out unchangeable,
Resistant to space and time:
Indestructible by humankind,
Unbreakable and long-lasting,
Toughened by independent and culinary monks,
Near to their hearts quandaries, contemplations;
Their pontifications ring true, bold and sold,
As the solid building structure imposes itself on nature’s garden.
Freelance lawns embrace the abbey,
Set the monks with their own position,
To roam, regenerate, prune and prime,
Sing within the vastness betrothed.
Still they go on in routine and consecration,
Chants, strings and accords of beauty,
Unwilling to journey out with themselves,
Steadfast by blinkers on life’s dynamics and rhyme.
Does god exist here as effectual,
Or is it not just the building and its surroundings?
Setting the seal on their mind thoughts,
Enabling that peace of mind,
Exemplary of that security:
That supreme veto of homelessness and weathering,
Absolute with promise of brotherly abode,
Proficient in giving freedom to make living and home,
As the construction would never make your life for you,
Against your free will, your right and personal pride,
Always proffering your dexterous gestures and movements.
Déjà vu tells us life’s an illusion,
being a thought projection of our mind,
stupor being cause of our confusion,
so we flounder about, as though we’re blind.
If time is real, then how do we see,
events and places, where we’ve not yet been?
If with this postulation we agree,
in tranquil silence, the truth we may glean.
Just as blinkers cover a horse’s eyes,
that it should focus in one direction,
let’s take earth life as a school, where soul tries
to ascend by consciousness correction.
This hypothesis suggests, we’re not this.
How may truth be known, till we feel pure bliss?
How may truth be known, till we feel pure bliss,
as sublime joy that does not come and go?
Scriptures affirm that Divine Mother’s kiss
may be graced upon us in stillness slow.
Path any, if we are to transcend thought,
to get to the source, wherefrom life breath flows,
entering silence, becoming self-taught,
we garner wisdom, our true being knows.
Divine magnetism begins to fill form,
which we may call Holy Spirit or chi
and as we are swept away in this storm,
our false ego falls and we clearly see.
Time and space dissolve and all becomes one;
within us glows light, of the central sun.
Within us glows light, of the central sun,
representing the truth transcendental,
known in waking state, when we come undone,
choosing to become mindful and gentle.
Thoughts dualistic make us eristic,
which loosely translated, is the ego
but if we wish to become a mystic,
cravings of lower mind, we must let go.
Made in God’s image, we are living light,
affirmed in the scriptures time and again
and bliss cascades within us day and night,
provided our heart’s cleansed from feral stain.
That we’re in a dream, is our conclusion;
déjà vu tells us life’s an illusion.
I walked a long time on this earth with blinkers on my eyes
When one day suddenly I was struck by a bolt from the sky
Hey you down there what do you think of yourself?
I’m going to take away your health and your wealth
I had strutted like a peacock and preyed like a panther
On the weak and the humble and on those who did’nt matter
Down went my scrips and I went broke
My heart could’nt take it and I got a stroke
Strapped to the bed, my body turned to lead
All I could wish for was to be dead
In my anguish I cried out aloud
Oh God if possible please lift up this dark cloud
I am sorry it is to you I have caused utter grief
Please give me another chance, I’ll turn over a new leaf
God made me swallow a bitter pill indeed
To put aright all my misdeeds
But then He took away all my ills
And within me a new spirit instilled
The worst kind of loyalty, is often
meted out blindly
It’s an entrapment, and it always
ends badly
I once thought to try it on for size
But I couldn’t afford its high price
I found it made a rather merciless
and relentlessly evil master
Pushes its ardent fans, with all the strength it can muster
Under its spell they are suddenly rendered senseless
It appears they deem common sense as rather useless
Happy to replace it with a pair of blinkers in the end
Soon tunnel vision sets in, to mess with the head
Goes ahead and trades in all logic for herd mentality
That stubbornly refuses to face reality
Pretends to honour patriotic duty with such fake regality
Yet another crafty way to justify injustice
And satisfy the lust for collective prejudice
In the end it's bound to kill a nation's rich heritage
as moral decay spreads down each lineage
A fruitful legacy lost just to appease entitlement
And blissful ignorance relished as divertissement
Such a waste and a steep decline to self sabotage
It's a tragedy within a mixed media collage
A strange reality where biased perceptions are well renowned
In a world where critical thinking has long since been renounced
Form:
As the old proverb prevails, " love comes unexpectedly"
hyperthetically speaking,exactly what happened to me
hurting decieving initially, then having to lay my cards
ending an eight year relationship,unspeakably so hard.
A feeling of selfishness,that i needed to explain
to make her see true love i found,obviously causing pain
i didn`t jump in to this,with my blinkers on
knowing that the pain inflicted, was definately wrong
But looking back in hindsight,i wouldn`t change a thing
the love,happiness and caring is what my Skinbob brings
i didn`t really get a chance, to put across the full tail
i had to explain the full issue over in an e mail.
I have no regrets at all,i did find my soulmate
we`ll be together forever,with memories to create
inseperable together,our siblings flown the nest
now i will do my utmost, to give my love the best.
Frank Herrera`s
Contest Name The CrossRoads of your Life
fruitful is each breath, unpremeditational
dolphins jumping calm sea diagonal
as bumble bee pauses on swaying daisy
industry’s pollen for human folk’s honey
we all are lucky, don’t you see ?
sun rising each morn or hiding in winter
eclipsed by nebula, floating arbitrary blinkers
circling purest love within core soaring
unexpected finches settle, chirping linger
fertile soil unsolicited beneath our feet fortuitous is Gaia, gravity’s a blue-green feat
coffee’s black, sweet an incidental treat
incremental is our luck, not accidental
dribbling raindrops on window pane inadvertent
allow scribbles of verses in puddle concerted wings of wind float seeds, land lacy across loam
nothings by chance, sometimes we roam
naught’s coincidental, every positive serendipity underscores a negative
balance of forces appears chance, though every cookie’s appearance is
ALL’s intention dance
fortuitously I uncovered ageless trace of own
sixty-fourth gene codon, gleaning my life’s purpose previously unseen —- to be
transformational-inspirational poetry was genome’s message unhesitational ~
seemed random, opportune gift graces
unveiling heavenly aces
____________________________
SECOND PLACEMENT : Premier Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
April 26
Slow hand
Drizzle coats the billboard
sitting on that desolate stretch of highway
waiting for someone to read
or at least hide behind, parked car, back seat
steamed windows, sighs just above a holler,
a collar unbuttoned,
casual abundance with the radio on
seeking a Clapton tune
as nimble fingers
show the difference between a slow hand
and a destined position,
where rain doesn’t matter
because it is just as wet inside
though hotter than an August day,
perspiring in the friction
when love hits the four way flashers
blinkers accelerate, left, right, faster,
names are called, tears are cried
and the road home now beckons
just as advertised . . .
The Door Wolf.
And, what of the waxing Moons
Its flood, of relentless tides, that time
of scar faced pit dogs, long sharp toothed,
their belly grumbling handlers, eager
to chalk a death line, on cold ale stained flag stones hard.
While in bleakness yard, belly tumbling hags squeeze, last drops out of well gripped ****, for the blind pups bellies,
babies must wait, in so many ways they are a benefit, against the door Wolf.
And what of pale, deep eyed children
Barefoot in waste lands of snow
Thin as cotton threads, as are their ragged clothes !
Their belly grumbling quenched, by easy swallowed earth worms, to placate the parasitic worms hidden within.
Ahh, all in ! to the avoid the door wolf.
And what of the well heeled lace lover,
hovering in trinkets of silver, and cups spilling with distain, against the scroungers pain ?
With, Parisiene perfume, to muffle the drum
Hum drum stench, from a piss trench
soaked and brandyied to sleep.
Her blinkers finaly, blinked blank.
Those waxed, and wained Moons !
Now cobwebbed in long past night skies.