Long Celled Poems
Long Celled Poems. Below are the most popular long Celled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Celled poems by poem length and keyword.
I was born of a singularity –
A 14 billion year-old silent explosion,
Minuscule yet massive;
Unimaginably dense
I somehow expanded –
An infinite void,
Spawning colorful clouds
Of cosmic gas and dust
I was trillions of blinding stars
Collapsing and exploding,
Raining elemental sparks
Across the great expanse
I suddenly became stable,
Pressed by invisible forces;
Molten from trembling plates;
Cooled and carved by moving ice
I was synthesized in the oceans –
A hopeful spiraling helix,
Single celled and brainless,
Growing ever more complex
I was a bipedal stranger,
Learning of tools and fire;
I hunted and fished the earth,
Uttering the first of human sounds
I am the universe in deep contemplation;
I am consciousness sprung from the inanimate;
I am carbon-based collection of stardust,
United with myself in the vastness of space.
We humans like all creatures to have a purpose, an aim,
From one-celled amoebas to fungi-spore glebas,
They need a good reason to compete in life's game.
Consider cats: They school us in hygiene
Licking their paws and their fur shiny clean.
And how 'bout tiny ants, who teach us industry,
Or lions and their bravery--and foxes with their knavery?
But what reason have seahorses to be in the sea?
What can they teach us? How can they enlighten you or me?
Can they sing or dance? Can they 'cut a rug' in the water?
And if they can't, do you really think they should ought to?
Well, please know that things aren't quite what they seem.
Seahorses are special, unique, and highly esteemed;
In the eye of the sea, they're jewels, all sparkle and gleam.
See the distinctive manner wherewith these fish swim:
Upright! propelling themselves ever higher via dorsal fins.
Then there's the spectacle of seahorse sex and mating--
No other males on the planet hold the eggs while waiting
To release them of a sudden by the thousands at a time,
And then go back at it with their 'exes' on the turn of a dime.
All this leads up to how traditional Chinese physicians
Prescribe 'seahorses' for whatever their patients get sick in:
Everything from wheezing and pain to inducing labor,
With TCM's** practitioners, these fish are ever in favor.
It's clear, my fellow humans,
From Peking to Paris and on to Toulouse,
Seahorses can certainly be put to very good use...
*****
...Prompting this little 'caboose:'
Let US ask this question: Is human activity equally productive?
---Or do WE choose to engage in things far more destructive?
April 19, 2018
**TCM = Traditional Chinese Medicine
Two brain cells walked into a bar
one disagreed with what the other said
but both agreed he could say it.
One said: “What if you said it like this?”
and they argued the value of words,
those that were spoken, those that were heard.
Into the fray marched a whole brain of grey
asking: “What makes you say the things that you say?”
and “Why when you say them, do you say them that way?”
Then came the head with the eyes and the chin
said “I dare you to say the whole thing again.”
“I doubt that you could, not that you would.”
And so the two brain cells, over pizza and beer
repeated the sounds in an effort to hear
the pounding of hoof beats, the shriek in the night
the sound of the words giving emptiness sight.
Then they consorted with the head and the brain
comparing conclusions though none were the same
the hoof beats to rescue or battles retreat
or maybe the sound of a child’s dancing feet.
Was the shriek one of fear, or a mother’s surprise
the first time she gazed into babies blue eyes.
They agreed to the meaning of the words that were read
but couldn’t agree - what was heard, what was said.
Time would continue, the battle would rage
should the words be delivered by mouth or by page
could the speaker be brilliant, the audience dense
the reader confused, the words make no sense.
The bar is still open, though the patrons don’t know it
to honor the memory of the two brain-celled poet.
John G. Lawless
9/10/2014
Silences
Down the halls, walking among the walls
of silence, mine and Of, and wonder?,
should I speak in words of thunder,
shatter the empty spaces of either,
or quietly refrain and do neither,
display nothing of what lies behind
those empty spaces - by kind?
Winds so silent, scream, on their way
down the hallways of my brain,
tearing to shreds, what is left
of the curtains that hide emotions.
Hide from those seekers of the soul,
who might care to know
what it is that protects the weakened spirit.
A spirit that waits for a sound so soft,
so pure, so innocent, it enlightens,
lightens the beating heart so heavy
with sadness, creating depressions
that are but gigantic holes
in the life of what is left
of a living being.
An organism - reaching beyond,
beyond it's single celled existence,
beyond it;s sterile, four cornered room -
am I, reaching out, trying to be more then
the nucleus of a protozoan, I am becoming,
more then the vapours of Saint Elmo's fire,
reaching out for warmth, passion, compassion.
B. J. "A" 2
December 24th 2010
The things which make my blood rise
surge and boil, bringing a witches cauldron’s
of hell fire, to the for…are not the natural things like sunrise
or the beauty of a pasture green, or golden
No, for me it is all, the daily injustices that men promote
as women implore…
Beauty soothes my heart and calms my ragged breath.
But, a man who thinks he’s better than another
bringing his ‘truth’ to bear, with the force of power,
stepping on the crowns of those, seen as lesser,
now that…causes blood to pink the whites of my eyes
as a woman, I explore..
In a universal culture where men hold sway
with swaggering strides and violent threats,
the smaller, finer, delicate things like diatoms*
in water are crushed, destroyed, forgotten, in the roil*
of war…
Man who must focus worship on themselves
denying the wet, warm, womb of the Mother,
men who mouth protection, as the reason for their gore,
men who would have more than their fair share
and tout* dominion* as their just deserts*…
men such as these..these men, encourage war..
and return to us our dead children
wrapped in the flags of nationalism..
for with the self granted pride of man
they bring war..
Bring us back to the days before,
before we saw ourselves as separate
to the interlocked and laced days,
when each form was blessed.
Let my heart ease, let my blood calm,
take the taint of pride from me and mankind
and let each and everyone see the value
of peace through unity..
*untoward / causing misfortune *diatoms/ one-celled alga *roil /make somebody angry
*tout / praise somebody or something *dominion / ruling control
*deserts / something somebody deserves
I saw a woman from the valley
Unclear to many, she stood solely
She has swam an ocean and cried boldly,
As she courted and battled her youths coldly.
Chained and celled, she once told
I listened to her stories of the once known bold
She whispered time of the oldest gold
I shivered to the freezing cold.
Scars drifted her in her time of glee
But her words will always be free
And as she saw night and day far from the sea
She never once dreamt to flee.
Her spear does not bleed nor bow
She hears voices of mens only vow
She speaks words never heard till now
As she stood at the world's last standing brow
Only when yours truly busies himself...
Feigning to emulate NON GMO
garden variety English major oh just so
ho-hum, this ousted son and cingular bro
biological byproduct of papa's yoyo
after mama taut Peppy how to grow
big and become vein, her issuing blow
by blow stroke, thence pecker
imitated fountainhead
unleashing at apropos
time outburst analogous when an arrow
loosed from archer's bow
shooting off about hip height mo'
than bajillion microscopic
one celled lil longfellow
(Oh Henry...! wad art thou doing?)
just hmm... giving mutual sin O
Job whelp... subsequently
little squirt begot
sole son this all because sticky clot
hit bullseye right on the dot
nope, no where near size of ergot
spore, yet radiating
burning temperature more hot than...,
liquified gold prior
bitta bing bitta bang forged into ingot,
now just little more about fertilized
ova, I wanna jot
potential pluperfect parasite (me)
acquired, cultivated, fashioned...
one after another deft bon mot
while in utero until umbilical cord
severed than christened newborn tot.
Now fast forward blaw blaw blaw
when I began to clamor and claw
nope, cuz I ne'er learned how to draw,
the least significant genetic flaw,
cue laugh track and prerecorded guffaw
similar to popular nineteen
seventies television hee haw
laughter muted upon meeting
battle axe mother in law
another story... genre mccaw braw,
she excelled spewing vitriol out her maw,
thence I slowly must heard,
mixed metaphors and mastered...pshaw
modesty keeps me from bragging
yea - boot as a non sequitur
non secretor, yukon call me
the word wrangler outlaw
lo never cussing out anybody,
I can more easily whip out pistol
if captive audience
critiques mein arcane saw
jeering (matt speak feeble attempt
at wordplay - i.e. soldiering)
receiving affirmative nod
courtesy none other
than quick draw mcgraw
now ye butter listen (er... read) up
and don't blather and beast not shtupp
to conquer, when ya hear bit ching pup
that maybe be yipping faux ruse
to empty pocket inner empty cup.
I Am An Alien
I am an alien to this world
Born of atoms created billions of years ago
Atoms which drifted through time
Across millions of light years of space
Not connecting until they came upon a blue green planet
Random events brought them together
Giving them the breath of life
The freedom to exist together yet on their own
Combining into chains and molecules
Until two one celled inhabitants of human bodies combined
That random event mixed just perfectly
And that spark of life once again ignited
I was born not long after
A member of the human species
Still an alien whose life began in the darkness of space
In the millionth of a second when nothing became everything
And I was created.
S tars perfectly align [cohabitation]
e ndless-spaces posing, [a-vast] cosmic, ecliptic, dance of
[c ast], at it's (station parting as chaotic entropy).
P ulling g a laxies together, a [tapestry] in intrinsic entrance of (separate positions adorning culled existence).
A fter eons of celeStial [tide], weaving fate's intricate [thread of] abode to abide (stretching partition arearing capacities extension).
C osmic wonders emerge, in this theater that the universe has advanced as (spreading propellant aortic celled expanse) .
E nergy transfered, transposedly, written and read as (s-ystem p-artition a-spiring c-onnection e-xistensibly.)
Life is a smile of a newborn in mother's arms
Arts and crafts of stained glass from grains of sand
Freedom of a chick on its very first flight
Love of a mother scurrying beside a young fawn
Float on a lotus pond in style of white swans
Lyrics of nature scripted in nightingale's song
Painting in vermilion tints rising on meadows of fall
Rivers rushing down from spring mountaintops
Romance in lover's eyes watching a new dawn
Wonder in breath of a single-celled amoeba
September 14, 2019
HM: Strand special 5 by Brian Strand
Life poetry contest; Sponsor: Ironic Zink