Long Chaotically Poems

Long Chaotically Poems. Below are the most popular long Chaotically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chaotically poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member On the peaks of destiny where the clouds of promises are torn apart

On the peaks of destiny where the clouds of promises are torn apart,
I offered you my heart as an atlas of fabulous worlds.
The fervor of our love, a shooting star, dazzling and then, just a pale memory,
Now I remain like a monk in the cell of contemplation, breathing life into the charcoal of the past.
Ah, how the dream that's parted from the soil agonizes me, in times past, in another world,
Where dawns are unspoken flowers and the stars, songs for the wanderers of sublime paths.
I call out to you at twilight when the evening star becomes the mistress of my dreams,
And my heavy eyelids fall like autumn leaves, a whisper of secret in the wind.
But this phantom of yearning takes flight, dissolves into the cold nothingness,
An alphabet of dreams that scatter on the wings of the twilight.
And my soul, famished for your echoes, accentuates the silence with your name,
Descending into the cavity of every longing, gearing up for a new fast.
From my knees, fallen in dust at twilight altars, no saint has answered,
Each prayer, a cry that vanishes into the celestial tear of the night.
They look away when I search in vain for the understanding of my sin,
That simple, inevitable sin: to have loved you, ah, too much.
Seeking comfort, a ray, a divine temptation, a simple burden that never ends,
But years flow, running like water in a stream, melting on the sky of my mornings like candles in the night.
Stranger in my own ode, I wander in memories, where I was in a fairy tale, an unshaken king,
Where tomorrow, I will wander among shadows, chaotically and endlessly searching.
On the foreign road of living being, solitude will be the most faithful brother,
In the finished return to oneself, I await a word from you, a sign, a leap from the great perhaps.
In this desolation that will envelop me, where the ships of my thoughts will break,
I wait, to slide into sleep on the sound of a whisper, soothing a fate that dims within me at night.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Periapsis

it's like you're the earth, and I'm the moon,
I can't keep myself from revolving around you,
your orbital pull I can't quite resist
so I'll bide my time till periapsis
but on this periodic orbital trip,
my time with you I'll surely miss,
although I know we'll be close to one another,
we'll still end up without eachother,
but forever in this nether 
you and I will spin together,
our push and pull guide manifolds
in complex planes our boundaries wane 
trajectories chaotically change
because this two body problem
isn't as simple as it would seem
this anxiety always finds me when
I think of you and me
© Ash Miller  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Nature - a Tough Task Master

They swarm from a hole in the ground
Some running left some right
Some straight ahead others double back

They charge they bustle chaotically frantically
Can this be their last day?
Is there a plan? Maybe it’s just a panic attack 

The mayhem continues the bustle unabated
They cover the available land
Is that the plan? I can’t see it

Each having found their spot they settle
They shuffle they shuffle
Side to side moving but the slightest bit

They begin to stir agitated agitated
They surge forward a maddened army
Renting the air with a blood curdling battle cry

Toot Toot
It’s on time today
Off to work now, bye!

July 5 2019
Tri-Con
Emile Pinet
Form: Verse

Premium Member Contrarian Chords Another Satie Tribute

bizarre beauty
subtle&
          slow
evoking
     the visual
       in intervals
                of
                   silence
on the cusp
of melody

ambiance
          bespoke&synchronised
         musique
       de furniture
         gentle&repetitive

strange
         sounds
             exposed
in
   a
     toned
         atmosphere
complementary
with
a sense
          of calm
             in the surreal
                     &absurd

effortlessly
unified
      in a minimalist
                      tapestry

neutralized
            melody
     chaotically
                        created
pathos
     laden
           in a collage
                of
eccentricity
Form: Ekphrasis

A Poem About Not Wanting To Remember

My life was my book, 
every word scribbled onto the pages were 
memories in my mind, every letter was a choice I decided to make 
and every page turned was a new day full of old experiences,
it wasn’t a printed book, It was handwritten,
perfect for me to chaotically scribble every 
mistake I made and cross out the things 
I didn’t want to remember. 
But no matter how many lines were crossed 
over the thin sheet it was never enough 
to erase them, 
so I decided that I’d had enough. 
My book hadn’t been finished but I was done with remembering, 
I’d closed the chapter and told myself I’d never 
look at that ink again, 
because I was afraid if I smudged it, it’d be left on my skin forever.


Premium Member Deep Listening

Earth can hear you
better when invited
to wisely engage,
to co-invest in healthy experiences
and wealthy images
of our mutual care
and strained
constrained neglect.

She watches
as you wonder
again

If humanity
fully defines what Earth's animals are
together on our best Earth Day
because our DNA roots grow back
into prime sacred relationship
of win/win balanced oxygen
synergizing hydrogen.

She invites us to stop
degenerating toxic alternative universes

Loser egos inside
eco-asystemic losses

Chaotically swirling
against organizing organic life

Wiped out by industrial ammonia
and disempowering bleach

Like acidic agents of Orange
with pits
and poisons
of privileged pukey Peach.

J W Earnings

#JWME

Joyous, generous, kindhearted, marvelous, musically talented, and handsome with self-esteem issues - placing my feet in other people's shoes to experience and feel their hues of blues 

Wonderful, crazy cool, chaotically peaceful, mellowly untamed, lost, but found...God's chosen child to fulfill His word somehow...someday, prosperity, fame, and fortune will surround me...success at my finger tips, getting my man grips as I mend friendships with God's advice, corrections and tips in mind...letting time unwind, wishing that my daydreaming come true by actions and interactions 

Essence of faith fibers...good and bad traits shape my inner and outer being...meeting new zealous horizons that embrace change, which is a challenging chore and oh so much more 
Awesome good apple of the bunch and God's mild, wild child...a poet and lyricist that had his verses erased online or misplaced in who-knows-where 
Rapt up in rue, yet a light to this world of woe...my mission is to fulfill God's Word - His tranquil truth is not sugarcoated by deceptive lies
Not afraid to speak my mind through verses and lyrics
Introvert and extrovert...shy in person at first, then I open up confidently and jabber on and on 24/7...I do listen to others' point of view, but I have a lot to say about a lot of things that has to do with writing, singing, music, etc. - anything goes as long as I go my own flow and His flow, not anyone else's flows that are in unison in rows to and fro...I make friends and foes, but I love all - fat or skinny, small or tall 
Nostalgic nights and delightful days inspire me to engage in writing and singing day in and day out without a smear of doubt...no sleep placed in eyelids tonight, so I'm fighting the mighty fight 
Gracious and glorious...kinda lazy, yet so busy all the time in all aspects of life - bipolar is the condition I have...and an indecisive, yet creative-logical Gemini 
So picky, yet forgiving and eccentric elegantly...a handsome soul that's full of humility and modesty in all honesty...I have a young heart that is of bliss, XO and art
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member The Turning Sphere

The turning sphere of history remains without merit
Until we earn again for ourselves that which we inherit;
The open window admits the gifter and the grifter. 

Passionate pages seeking to be filled with meaning,
Accept copy and paste solutions without fact checking;
The illusion’s brilliance blinds.

Freedoms won with the sacrifice of patriots inveterate 
Are ceded to a siren’s song by a servile electorate;
A vote for the melody no matter the lyrics. 

The anomaly becomes a tool to indict a group
By extrapolation in a never ending loop;
So many so willingly led by so few.

A kaleidoscope of human mutations vying chaotically to be begot.
Is this what six billion years of random opportunism has wrought;
*****sapiens, the symphony, played to discordant notes?

Premium Member Violence Sorting

Written: December 15, 2023
           _____________________________________________

It is undeniable that anguish prevails
It hovers close to a lilting voice
There are no strains to rejoice
Once the beat soars, its genesis tweaks.

Giving alms is obvious
Beyond the ethics of the tithing ritual
Coins jingle, evoking a sound
A decrease in the supply of food.

Newborns lack hearing and verbal ability
The elderly sage dresses chaotically
Elfin babies desire soft touch and warmth
Akin to their late mother's calming palm.

Completely lacking in decency
Deep, the ears were concealed
Whilst untamed jaws sow turmoil
It sinks as a modest, rusted nail.

The crowd heartily jeered
Tears fell over their faces relentlessly
Failure was diligently earned
Mass disgust reached high levels.
 
The whips roared with mirth
Frames grudgingly bore this duty
Correct ideals will be reinstated
Inept debt must be repaid in full.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member On a rope woven from ancestral nightmares and the greed of shadow monsters

On a rope woven from ancestral nightmares and the greed of shadow monsters,
I step with bare feet, while my thoughts dance chaotically in a penumbra,
Between dream and reality, between sky and earth, between here and beyond myself,
I float suspended in the cold air, and the city below reveals its posthumous secrets.
They always whispered not to look down, but my rebellious eyes refuse to listen,
Contemplating the macabre spectacle of black flames engulfing the hidden streets,
I am the pyromaniac of dreams, the incendiary of outdated and dull reality,
As the wind whistles through my bones at ten thousand meters high, in cascades.
Perhaps I am caught in a dream that dreams another dream which in turn dreams,
And this rope is just an illusion balancing between precarious worlds,
Should I turn back to monotonous safety or risk it all in a single moment?
But the question melts into the void, for the time of decision already precipitates...
The black flames now rise towards me like serpents hungry for infinity,
While the poet in me dances on the border between present and myth,
It's too late to choose a path, for the choice was made long ago in silence,
When I lit the first match of transformation, knowing reality would perish.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

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