Long Brainchild Poems
Long Brainchild Poems. Below are the most popular long Brainchild by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brainchild poems by poem length and keyword.
Prior to intent, in the unmanifest,
where creative will of God reverberates,
in us as the Monad, in peace and at rest,
the seed of desire in our heart then gyrates,
bringing about creation at God’s behest,
enacting its role till the desire abates,
whence heart quiescent it returns to the source,
in time dissolved stillness without use of force.
Ego indulgence is a brainchild of mind,
which labours within the matrix of space-time,
so to be free, head and heart must be aligned,
whence all that is then left, is God’s bliss beat chime,
melding with which, ego cravings are declined,
that all nodes tango dancing, conjure a rhyme,
enabling us then to reclaim Monad’s light,
which mirrors God’s heartbeat, throbbing with delight.
Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask.
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind.
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.
Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.
On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.
We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.
June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.
it took more than myself to save me
i was a narcissist without an independent confidence
with the wrong type of thinking in my brain, i chose to take the plunge
all i got in the end was the honest answer to my imagination's figments
it took more than myself to save me
i was a brainchild genius without a blueprint's thorough thought
with the wrong mode of strategy written lack legibility, i chose to jump right in
all i got in the end was a sweat stained pillowcase and icy drool by sunrise
it took more than myself to save me
i was grown man without a clue as to how to properly display my presentation
with the wrong method of approach, i chose to pursue and go for it
all i got in the end was a broken heart and my own lonely space to stare in
it took more than myself to save me
i was a lost soul without any type of concept of an adequate plan
with nothing left in my arsenal but an overwhelming collection of prayers, i decided to just fall to my knees, let go, and let God
what i got in the end was the naked truth and a slap in the face as a wake up call
All my life, a singular scheme,
I've chased the wind, a lofty dream.
But how to describe the spirit's gleam,
without them saying I'm so naive?
Things the senses cannot perceive,
are the hardest to believe.
So how to explain the foresight,
in hours of quiet, sacred light?
When transported to that divine height,
to witness a revelation like a joyride.
How to describe what's felt inside,
where words alone cannot confide?
They say it's a mental disease,
"a fool's Paradise" you live with ease.
For years, alone, I've sought release,
pushing through the lofty route.
Talking to visions, calling out,
birthing something, despite doubt.
I conceived a brainchild from the air,
a novelty of which few are aware.
A lofty dream, a vision to share,
a creation that blew the mind.
From nothing, I made a new kind,
a masterpiece for all to find.
Your call is important to us
Says this smarmy bland voice
So please stay on the Line
As if we have any choice
They don’t have many staff now
Just a multi purpose call centre
The logical result of the work
Of that thrice cursed inventor
Whose greatest brainchild was
The automated answer machine
One of the greatest time wasters
This world has sadly ever seen.
How many die of apoplexy
Not having the resolve
To keep on waiting for
Their query to be solved.
I hope that inventor met
An excruciating painful death
Lingering hour after hour
Before taking his last breath
All the time hearing
Over and over again
Your death is important to us
We just don’t know when
Mein kampf synonymous as a blooper
Writer of these words,
a former Lower Providence inhabitant,
who dwelled within darkest depths
of Dante Alighieri's inferno
for most of his outlandish, impish,
and devilish growing up years
witnessed microscopic scrimmage,
where spermatozoan with most forcefulness
muscled itself handedly,
magnificently, and splendidly
envision unicellular olympic competition,
yours truly swimmingly
begot during the heat
of parents being passionately fruitful
courtesy diploid erogenous frisson
between my then searingly
robust virile father and fecund mother
~ late March/early April 1958
ushered seminal moment
post ova fertilization realization
courtesy male gamete
penetrating zona pellucida
a glycoprotein layer surrounding the oocyte
triggering cell bait multiplication
subsequently yielding male
gendered offspring and sole son
hashtagged as uber twittering, snapchatting,
shutterflying super duper
cute little boy with short strawberry blond hair,
whose solitudinarian nature
became quite evident when he displayed
acute social withdrawal
upon off fish shill commencement
getting schooled as a grouper
by mister Hooper,
who made his debut
appearance on Sesame Street
November 10, 1969
as storied and staple long time resident
on above named television show
until March 18, 1983,
beloved by adults and children alike
within make believe community
(a conglomerate of real and imaginary locales)
peopled with proprietary named characters
for any of a number of humorously grotesque
glove or rod puppets and marionettes,
chiefly representing animals,
first popularized, idolized,
dramatized, capitalized, and actualized
by the children's television programme
Sesame Street (1969-) and more recently
in The Muppet Show (1976-80).
Also: a toy made to resemble one of these
ingenious brainchild of Jim Maury Henson
an American puppeteer, animator, actor,
and filmmaker who achieved worldwide
notability as the creator of the Muppets
which series originated as two pilot episodes
produced by Henson for ABC in 1974 and 1975.
Henson's shocking, sudden death occurred on May 16, 1990 of organ failure resulting from streptococcal toxic shock syndrome. An emotional memorial service was held five days later at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City.
Those words
Yes I wrote those words
But I could not remember when I wrote them
Wild thoughts flew into my head
Like mad rabbits
And my mind expanded like the cosmos
Yet I could not remember
When
I wrote those words
With inspiration from God
And I wrote those words
Like I was tutored by the Muses
Beautiful words
Which I said to the young lady
Some were true
But most was not
The words were matured due to the experience I brought
Yes I lied
I can not hide
To seek attention
And can I mention
That the words I wrote was a brainchild of my mind
Because when you find wisdom
You leave all that wisecracks behind
I will wrote on till a grow and gray
I will pray that this wonderful talent
Will stay
Words can deceive
And It may make one wiser
Words can be harsh
But some are nicer
Long interminable hours...
of darkness doth not compute
alternately titled:
The descent of dusk affects grapefruit
size or two (approximated
as clenched fisted) cerebral
specifically type of nervous tissue,
which made up of cells
called neurons and glial cells,
the brain a complex organ
that contains billions
of neurons and glial cells,
which work together
to process information,
control bodily functions,
and supports cognitive abilities
and priceless precious part of body
more precious than most any loot
far more powerful
than any "intelligent machine"
(take that artificial intelligence buffs)
with the ways and means to reboot
tightly integrated and neatly linkedin
snug as a bug in a rug donning a zootsuit.
The outer limits of the twilight zone
yields descent of dark shadows,
where the edge of night bleeds
and encompasses an infinite swath.
Circadian rhythm plays wickety wack
courtesy the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN)
analogous to a disc jockey playing a track
which just so happens to be
top of the billboard chart
band named Quack,
a host of indigenous Africans
as a gentle jab to KISS
paint their faces nonblack,
and the lead singer with a knack
to bring down the house,
which venue located in "Hackensack"
primarily refers to a city in New Jersey,
but the name's meaning comes
from an Algonquian (Lenape) word
meaning "mouth of a river,"
or possibly "stony ground" or "stream
that unites with another on low ground,"
according to sources like Dictionary.com,
Wikipedia, and Downtown Hackensack,
and interestingly enough the name given
by the Achkinckeshacky tribe,
also known as the Hackensacks,
who lived in the area
manifold times larger than the ENIAC
ENIAC - the acronym for
Electronic Numerical Integrator
And Computer refers
to one of the first electronic,
general-purpose digital computers,
developed for the U.S. Army
during World War II and built
to calculate artillery firing tables,
but completed after the war ended,
with its first task being
hydrogen bomb calculations
the brainchild of more than one brainiac.
Even now, Pigeons stool surprised
while ensconced in dovecote
whose twittering translated as coo coo not bright
asper Icarus aiming for mythic cull magic did excite
popularized notion to take winged flight
And for twenty first century mortal to wax poetic
this January 2018 bitterly, brutally day and night
Stymied sans principle
contradicted laws of Physics
soaring to limitless height
Away from temporal axon light
Into the infinite cosmic dendrite
Realization to soar above heavenly vault
spectacular sight
Brainchild of anonymous genius minds
left stratospheric legacy
To witness awesome might
break away, sans gravity
tacit Obeisance acknowledged
this hundred year plus anniversary
Aero planes success got off the ground
Pardon saying may come across as trite
More than a century elapsed
since machines first attempt to remain aloft
Man made invention glittered silvery white
Beauty, grace and poetry in motion
excises Luddite trace
Despite countless fatal crashes
Tragedy to those loved ones lost in fiery plight
Invisible ethereal essences dwell
and hover some place
Occupy a netherworld housed
with fellow nymph and sprite
Return to Earth to deliver miracles
and prevent near disasters
Although many a skeptic
may ascribe phenomena to luck despite
Angelic visage impossible to dispute quite.
A plethora of attention
focused on twentieth anniversary
regarding terrorist attacks
upon American soil nine eleven
two thousand and one,
thus Schwenksville poet
opted for his best métier write.
While riding atop a yak
both feet went wickety wack
trudging beast of burden a throwback
to the brainchild
of John Mauchly and J. Presper Eckert
devised Electronic Numerical
Integrator and Computer
otherwise dubbed ENIAC
cumbersome invention
programing machine no easy knack
also impossible mission or fit in pocket
book versus handy to tote
laptop perfect fit inside day pack.
As an aging long haired
pencil neck geek baby boomer
who reckons himself
as schleppy (snoop doggy dog) self groomer
cannot escape scornful passersby
sneering, snickering and snorting
at me, an utter embarrassment to humanity,
who also sports sophomoric humor.
Unfair for yours truly
to saddle anonymous readers
which travails of mine
analogous overburdening
an old decrepit ass,
hence lumpenproletariat
marxist (brother) fellow,
whose insensitivity
could be interpreted as crass
subsequently aiming figurative sights
upon fresh fields,
where leaves of grass
harvested by me one
Norwegian bachelor farmer wannabe
ofttimes dashes off to Lake Woebegone
to escape madding crowds who harass
him, cuz he accentuates whole foods
with plenty of fiber to avoid
experiencing lower gastrointestinal impasse
acquiring moniker windbag
courtesy humongous formed rectal mass
necessitating the expertise of Nass
(another name for Nishga -
a member of a branch
of Tsimshian people
of British Columbia inhabiting Nass
River basin and/or dialect of Tsimshian
spoken by Nishga)
homeopathic remedies outclass
those of 21st century medicine,
said indigenous people
interpret objection toward their
age old medicinal practice as sass
even consider disagreement violation,
a figurative criminal mind to trespass
and the subject in question
a veritable, (albeit harmless) wiseass.