Long Boiled down Poems
Long Boiled down Poems. Below are the most popular long Boiled down by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boiled down poems by poem length and keyword.
Mr Dromedary
Looked so forlorn today.
He tried to fathom out
Why he was being sent away.
A magnitude of questions
Stormed around his anxious head.
Is it my wonky gait?
Is it something I've done or said?
Is it because my regurgitated
Cud could fill a barrel?
Are my eyelashes too long?
Is it my shaggy apparel?
So many fears and insecurities
Occupied this camel.
He even contemplated
His unflossed enamel!
His severe lack of confidence
Kept his Dulla small.
Is this why the girls don't
Gel with me during mating call?
Had he strayed too many times
From the leadings of the boss?
He was in a quandary.
He was truly at a loss.
And all it boiled down to
Was another wildlife resort
Needed Mr Dromedary
To expand his sort.
A Silent Drum
This planet's song
Ironman Ozzys gone
Feeling for nickels
Licensed to shrill
Deep down in angel trumpets
Acoustic film spilling waves of anxious delight
My soul then released
To the fire of the sun
The show of love
Guns of purpose
There goes Penelope
With worries in her face
Sadness train
On the tracks of changing the human race
Remembered the images
All sorted out
Only in your brain
She wilted perfectly
Shadows of the wind
Desire has never changed
Shuffling power like playing cards
The Jack of someone of hearts
Caressing cares of a winter's romance
Boiled down
Secrets live in secret caves
They leave no signs
The celestial satellites
silk black burnt grass
Resident calm and bound
Iam going wild
For LSD
Fighting things too small too big
too wild to save
A system of fate
Is secure safe
Trust or dare
A capacity to really know
We are your scrap fight
How'd I get so far away... from fun
It feels like the zombie apocalypse
Under Summers sheer hot sun
Surrounded by mistakes
The attracted eye
Foolishly smitten Cast away the troubles of the past
Beware to myself
Iam mind
She turned me on Cornered by a book Bibled and inner desired
Trapped my style bookends to kill
A desperate mile
I've been in and out of some inner rage
Waiting.pays off
But does nothing forward to advance
Maybe I should be burning sage
Sad flowers float upon the soon frozen pond
The start of life
Life ground down to powder
Poison a fair price To live
On the skip of sacrifice
Iam in love
Iam in love
Loving of that moment
Its never ending loop
Yesterday fell
Into a mess
I can live without a floor
Discover them chances
Lifes fight for right
Sorry I had a war to fight
Feeling naked to my soul
Sharing nothing but a friend
A friend who will enjoy a fresh poem
We are just energy they say,
I don't see it that way,
It cannot be all that matters to Him on this earth He has made,
There is so much more than just energy involved,
Yes, it plays a part, but that can't be all,
We have an all loving God of purpose who made all elements to create,
If we were just energy do you honestly think he would have gone out of His way?,
Putting so much love and detail into everything on this earth,
If it all just boiled down to energy then please tell me what's its worth?,
If in the end... that's all we become?,
It doesn't make sense... when it's only part of it all,
Waiting for life to come to me,
the clock ticked down to one
With barely but a second left,
my tendency to run
With nothing left but one last tick,
all motion seemed to stop
Perspective changed, then rearranged,
a lifetime on the spot
My eyes won’t blink, the fear too great,
of staying closed for good
As from a distant galaxy,
I finally understood
All life had boiled down to this,
eternity defined
When everything that ever was,
together crossed my mind
I left the past and future mired,
to breed and then deceive
And took this present life unbound
—unto my soul reprieved
(The New Room: May, 2022)
I was walking the streets
Of magnificent city with elegant
Skyscraper buildings and sidewalks
Enveloped in the veil of colorful
Blooming summer flowers all over
I was window shopping for unusual
Pretty things that I couldn’t afford
And I saw the most beautiful shoes
Behind the glass on a dark pedestal
They were sitting on a throne dignified
Like a royal couple during coronation
Elevated high with the light behind
Echoing an impression of sunrise
I stared at them frozen in awe
I could feel soft brown leather
To the touch of my fingertips
I was devouring them with my eyes
Alluring color and texture as pure
Perfection of shape and elegant form
I was glued to the window for long
Admiring the shoes and etching
The image of beauty in my soul
I desired the shoes more than I
Desired anything else before
But I knew I couldn’t afford them
Anger boiled down my throat
I hated this unfair petty world
That gave so much to some
And almost nothing to others
All I could think is the leather
Softer than a baby’s feet
That never walked before
I strolled away sad and upset
Overwhelmed by the feelings
Of misery anger, and despair
I crossed the major square
Suddenly I heard a loud scream
And a squeaking noise coming
From the tall building corner
I run towards it and just before
I reached the edge of the street
On a black asphalt I saw
A pool of blood and the shoes
The same ones I admired
Just a few moments ago
I was taken aback by the power
Of the image in front of my eyes
All I could see were colors
Bright red color of blood
Pitch black matte of asphalt
And soft brown silky leather
I stood there hypnotized
but then I was awakened
By something else
That have not noticed yet
I saw a young man without legs
Laying on a dirty dark cement
A few feet away from beautiful
Soft brown leather shoes soaked
In blood in dark gothic pattern
I saw a man who will no longer
Need the shoes I desired so much
I walked away quiet and ashamed
I no longer wanted the shoes
I cried and tears run down my face
Sad for the man, who had no legs
Look at my Buddy Bear.
Missing an eye, still has his grin,
he has his grandpa’s hair
with bare spots on his head and chin.
Bud heard my ev’ry prayer.
He’s been to ev’ry place I’ve been.
For my gramps Bud was named.
At church, we three sat side by side;
I took him unashamed.
The notes we sang were sour; we tried;
no music skill we claimed.
A bass, Granbuddy sang with pride.
One cool night we all slept
in Cousin Eddie’s big backyard.
The wind grew strong. It swept
our tent and blew the fire off guard.
We all were fine except...
my Buddy's head was somewhat charred.
Granbud took my teddy
saying Gramma could make repairs.
I overheard Eddie
say only children play with bears.
I was almost ready
to sock it to him unawares.
I walked away from there
and never asked for Bud again.
Don’t think I didn’t care.
I guess it boiled down to chagrin
not wanting folks to stare
at big boy with a teddy friend.
I’d watched them put my guy
in a drawer in their chifferobe.
Only once did I spy
to take the quickest peek and probe
for a loose button eye
I’ve carried with me 'round the globe.
HM
This is a pencil
This was his challenge to
a different understanding..
A proper challenge..I might add..
which can be boiled down to
a choice of perception..
We appear to live in a world
of separation..of duality..
and common sense asserts:
yes..this indeed is
a pencil..
A different knowing
is suggesting a
new..yet quite old
perception..
Our inner subjectivity
questions the solid object
said of our pencil over there..
To then discover:
the pencil is made of our
seeing and touching and thinking..
these not separated
from the "I"
that is perceiving..
The Oneness of "I"
asserts now and clears
with joy
centuries of illusory
perception...
I awake from winters slumber
As my sap begins to flow
My buds will shortly sprout
While my limbs begin to grow
I watch the many animals
That start to come around
To some I am a gym
While others lay quite sound
The birds will make their nest
In my many boughs
The weave each little nest
With great skill it's quite a show
I've stood the test of time
As the seasons come and go
When summer comes I'll be
The shade that you love so
There used to be some children
Who would climb my sturdy limbs
They'd play all day around me
Their joy to me were hymns
When fall comes to pass
I put on my favorite suit
With reds oranges and yellows
The owl will even give a hoot
My sap is what I'm famous for
It taste so sweet when boiled down
I tell you just one sip of it
Will make a smile right from a frown
Now When my days are through
My journey still goes on
I may become a bedstead
Or a table for someone
Someone may yet use me
For a ceiling or a floor
You see my wood is prized
For many things even a door
But now I will just stand here
For everyone to see
The majesty and wonder
Of me the Sugar Maple tree
Created 7/21/15 for the Trees Personified contest
Listen—
There’s a cauldron bubbling in the basement of my soul,
black as midnight, black like my melanin blacker than coal.
where syllables melt into molten gold.
into this cauldron I throw:
fragments of overheard conversations
on subway platforms at 2 AM,
the way light fractures through
broken storefront windows,
Steam rises the ghosts of every poem
I’ve swallowed instead of spoken,
every truth I’ve buried
beneath polite small talk
and careful smiles.
The heat is unbearable sometimes.
This alchemy of anguish threatens to crack me open,
spill my insides across the page
like an accident scene
Most magnificent and terrible.
But I keep stirring,
because somebody has to
transform the materials
of this messy, magnificent life
into something that might
make another soul feel
less alone in the dark.
against a world that tells us
our voices don’t matter,
from a fermented fabrication
Of societal freedom.
The recipe is ancient:
one part rage at injustice,
When the brew is ready,
it glows from within, open hearts,
serve it steaming
to anyone brave enough
to drink poetry
straight, no chaser.
This is my offering:
words that have been boiled down
to their essential truth,
distilled to their purest power,
ready to burn clean
through the pretense
and kindle something wild
in the chest of anyone
who’s forgotten
they have fire inside them.
So come Bring your broken pieces,
your beautiful disasters,
your questions with no answers.
Let’s make magic
from the mess of being human.
Let’s remember:
we are all poets
waiting to explode
into meaning.
Let’s brew rebellion
in a world that craves conformity.
For, steam still rises.
The cauldron of words keep coming,
Poetry hungry and alive,
demanding to be born.
“There are enormous possibilities for one to improve in life, as world is a great university and we are taught through text books of life’s experiences with sagacious sages and savants as our teachers and the precepts of great men who have left a great legacy behind.”-- ~By Poet~
As New Year dawns, promising a fresh start,
We pledge to see the graph of life rising in our chart.
At this time when all make resolutions many to be won,
I have boiled down my resolves to a single one.
All I wish is to be a better person in body and mind
To love others, forgive my enemies and be kind
This is something I have been striving all my life,
Get along even with my detractors without strife.
Train myself to be considerate to all without exception,
Be compassionate to the needy without expectation.
Live my life smooth without many a nagging care
And never let my heart sink into dull despair.
Scrub away all my glaring imperfections clean.
Bring healthy practices everyday into my routine.
Admire nature and tend it in all its attendant glory.
Add memorable and sweeter episodes to my life’s story.
Be a loving partner in whom my man can spy,
An ocean of love surging in my dewy eye.
To my children, ever remain as an adorable mother,
A confidante, a friend and guide, giving them succor.
Through words and deeds, show them the miracle of love.
Teach them to be thankful for the blessings from above.
Thus enact my role as a wife and mother in the best way possible,
Accepting, for my success and failure, I alone am responsible.