Long Chimerical Poems
Long Chimerical Poems. Below are the most popular long Chimerical by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chimerical poems by poem length and keyword.
Echoes from the Realm of Forgetting
In the silent temple of my mind, a once-sacred tongue
Weaves its mantle of shadows over memory's altar,
Words, once whispered prayers to the gods of familiarity,
Now obscure incantations lost in time's labyrinth.
The river of my consciousness flows through canyons of mystery,
Carrying on its waves shattered syllables and wandering letters,
The language of ancestors, once elixir of ancestral wisdom,
Transforms into a chimerical mirage dancing at reality's edge.
I cling to invisible threads of understanding, a cosmic acrobat
On the fragile rope stretched between past and present,
While the vortex of eternity envelops me mercilessly,
Rewriting the codex of my soul with each breath of the universe.
Words metamorphose into butterflies of ephemeral light,
Flying towards unknown constellations of oblivion,
And I, a pilgrim lost on the paths of my own mind,
Vainly seek to decipher the hieroglyphs of a language that no longer exists.
In the deep crypts of my being, a mystical flame flickers,
Nourished by the ambrosia of long-lost knowledge,
A fragile bridge over the abyss between worlds,
Like a moonbeam piercing the veil between dimensions.
I am a master of a magic that unravels in the ether,
Like incense smoke rising to unknown heavens,
Suspended between the tangible realm and that of shadows,
Where words become echoes of an unfinished cosmic symphony.
In this alchemy of language transmuting into mystery,
Syllables melt in the crucible of expanded consciousness,
And I remain, an oracle of a tongue that transcends time,
Speaking in tones that reverberate through eternity's corridors.
Curling crests cassessing coastlines
backwash bumping beach breakers.
screeching Seagulls squark and scream
mocking maritime merrymakers.
Burning boogers brave blisterd backs
scorched surfers seek shoreline shade,
urbane under umpteen umberellas,
peacocks posed in a parasol parade.
Drifting dunes delight deserted
lovers, languorously lounging, lazily
craving comfort, coveting cool currents.
Hellishly humid, heat hovers hazily.
Spirited siblings, spades spanking
bucket bottoms, bulid
carefully carved chimerical castles,
infantile fantasies fulfilled.
Exposing exiled exoskeletons
turning tide tickles toes,
sun sinks slowly seaward
disclosing dusk's descending doze.
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes --
Freely to Roam! And what, the prescribed
destination or direction? Wherever the poet,
himself, deems worthy of fond or pertinent
affection –
Poetic Theme (extended metaphor)
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes –
Freely to Roam! And what the prescribed
destination or direction? Only those fond
and pertinent, giving affectionate-justification as
reason for procrastination – to linger in a moment's
subtle discovery – the courses followed only those
which the poet deems entrancingly divine – he seeks
heartfelt permanent encampment – or just an
amicable pause, in a neighboring field, fertile for
blooming enchantment; with his companion pen, to chronicle
canorous visuals, fervently inspired – or simply folksy,
lyrical rides; for the poet, alone, decides where his poetry lives
or temporarily abides –
(his muse, never far off – nearby, perhaps reflecting in the shade of a flowering
fruit tree: heaped in petals, not trying to hide – more enjoying the velvety feel of an
apple before the outer peel, though colorful, would be far too bitter for his present
aromatic meal) – muse and poet, composing through a single eye. Writing as one:
sharing new sights – sounds with scent – their mind dutifully toward poetry
bent – shades of detail, mellifluously transcending common scheme and rhyme –
incanting verse worthy of a brief performance, or immortal, blessed shrine –
It's all fair, such dulcet affair! All subjects! All seasons! – preferring spring, in which to self-lavish and spiritually entwine. Therefore, his paths are fanciful, never truthful as definitive
would define; often choosing glitter over harsh realty, yet can be a prophet and oracle if a troubling-time -- though never, a ruling class mime; – in this sense, he is a likable charlatan, a chimerical rebel...irreconcilable passion his soulful crime, therefore not ever exhibited, an atoning-word or act of sorrowful contrition – so loved by God, who gags at his counterpart, the lying politician.
Snatched away by a mock role.
Despair not.
Discard innocence — a troublesome memory disassociates.
Time recursively scrolls the memory:
Trying / Failing.
When was it lost?
In the combined turbulence
of the intersecting visual produced by
the mind’s perception of reality and self through eyes.
Caught thinking, dreaming:
“What is sleep?"
"I can’t know sleep — who is she?"
"I know she sounds ugly."
"I love sleep, but she doesn’t love me for real.”
Being seen through by another,
yet receiving recognition.
Redemption is still always possible.
Humanity doesn’t have to be some chimerical tragedy.
Alchemic deals made in belligerence,
producing mercurial blood.
The Queen's henchmen penetrate professionally the porous perimeter,
as a Phyrric victory I pacified your Lady's legion,
for both in the open,like charriots missing riders,decentralized command,the measure,
I, like you maneuver behind the superior shelter of Praetorian's protection,
Levy the lurid seige upon my country's citadel as incensed infidels do,
your cantankerous catapaults wasting pawns like pebbles punched by a storming sea,
an officer sacraficed sardonically, intrepidly,
so to decimate the dormant foots encumbering you,
audacious as an angered asp the timely tactic was,will it hasten your demise to me?
Mandatory machinations amongst this moonlight morass,palpable being Death's caress,
a zephyer like a frosty scythe grazes gingerly our anxious eyes,
tethering the still strategy of mens' mentation,
advancing positions predicted but unproven, an apocolyptic inevitability provoked,
fostering inclement suspense,
justice is now beyond principle,virtue survives only on victor's blade,
incantations made in fire for fear's sublimation,
The common denominator of this prommenade of predation is relentless domination,
manipulating the opposition,perception taunted and haunted
as the fox dictates the chimerical chase,
a vermillion heartbeat,virulent,lucious,with a thin hum of vincibility
lures you to na spot of fragile dominion,
divided forces tend to scream like burning forest
when ambushed along trails of a tedious pace,
When the harp chords chortle tears of tucker from a skulless head,recall with dire dignity
that you were vanquished in strong purpose,
the memory of your egregious exploits will depend on the degree of quater
afforded by my soveriegnty
given to this proud harem of prospective sybils
rescued by a king's necessary nemesis,
J.A.B. - Part Three -
I lost my ability to think for myself
As I sat atop the Church of Santa Maria de Idris
Carved into the cliffside while I sat sewn into its ridges
I had spent the former sun’s passage wandering the City of Stones
The hours loosened themselves as I passed beneath canopies of trailing vines
Draped over blanched bricks steeped
In shades of beige-and-brown-and-orange-and-grey
Vestiges of the past worn
Down each wall, each path
Woodwinds whistle and beckon me from the distance
But my anticipation allows no acquittance
I remain doggedly beholden to
The eventual night that promised to keep me alone
I lie in the sky yet remain fastened to the earth
My back chiseled by the jagged rock I chose as my resting place
My head suspended beyond its edge
So that the stars sleep beneath me and the city
Yellowed by the languor of its dim-lit paths
Hangs in the balance of our sweet nothingness
Zig-zagging-every-which-way
Like an I Spy book brought suddenly to life
Can you spot the soul in a world you know possesses none?
I speak of this not with any great anguish
But with a peculiar sense of contentment
One that has itself become the source of my gravest grief
For its mere existence renders mine worthless
I strain to reach into the dimness of memory
I blacken my mind to conjure my darkest fears
I even invite you into my mind
Dressed in every shade of my maladjustment
But none can hold a candle to the sight that lies before me
Along with the sharp ache impressed on my back
For the first time, physicality exceeds my once-thought-bottomless-imagination
And my mind affords me no liberation
Though I have always sought after some chimerical escape
Only here do I realize that such elusion is but another passage through delusion
And not the good kind
The kind that leaves me feeling childish and naive
As though in leaving I had mistaken distance for transcendence
Believing myself to be rising above it all
When all along I had been looking at the whole world upside down
I dwell in a plain longer than a day walk
I go round and round, in the same ring:
There is the ant mound, the broken chalk
And the creak where the sparrows sing,
If I had more than a day I could explore
away from here, where I see butterflies
Swarming over a chimerical seashore
Surrounding my kingdom, far from my eyes.
I hear the raindrops on the gray grass
Falling slowing and cleaning the dross,
dark clouds coming and they will pass
while heaven will retain its mortal gloss.
on the horizon, between the twin hills,
It is always chilly and beyond is the night.
I see the first star, it shines and thrills,
and the center dances with her light.
Form:
"Doughnut Man Seeks Insubstantial Woman of Substance"
Doughnut Man
seeks ghost whole
to fit his missing peace
Chimeric Dream Girl
seeks holesome man
who has her back
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Perfect” (12” … Remix)/ The The
https://youtu.be/ttKdwTDtifU
"People turn around with unseeing eyes
They're looking for something that doesn't exist
The world you once knew is being eaten up by rust
No-one has time for the past, but still, in God they trust
The future is now, but it's all going wrong
Bodies good for nothing, but it's to nothing they belong
People say their prayers and some work hard
If you give them all your money, they'll give you their hearts
This town ain't going like a ghost town
It's going like hell...."
chimeric
adj.
1. Relating to or being an organism, part, or molecule that is a chimera.
2. Relating to a monoclonal antibody produced from the cells of a nonhuman organism, usually in which a portion of the antibody has been replaced with a human sequence of amino acids. This is done in the laboratory by replacing part of the DNA sequence in the nonhuman cells with a sequence of human DNA.
chimeric
adj.
1.Of, relating to, or in the nature of an illusion; lacking reality:
chimerical, delusive, delusory, dreamlike, hallucinatory, illusive, illusory, phantasmagoric, phantasmal, phantasmic, visionary.
2. Existing only in the imagination:
chimerical, conceptual, fanciful, fantastic, fantastical, imaginary, notional, unreal, visionary.
LYRICS/ “Perfect”, The The
https://genius.com/The-the-perfect-lyrics
We're two lost clouds drifting off,
not knowing their destination;
will someone give us
a sense of direction?
For quite some time,
in chimerical rhyme,
we ride these familiar skies,
sending rain and storms
down to earth's surface
with such a spiteful mood...
until we feel full!
We dislike the presence
of cheerfulness and brightness,
and infuriate the clover
and daffodils fields,
or even the ingenious parrots
that transform their notes
into cantabile and joyful lyrics;
we burlesquily watch the hungry butterflies
hardly descending on any flower
to pick, with labor, their delightful pollen!
We're two lost clouds drifting off,
carefree and unaware of what occurs
below us...as if we're not a part
of this wonderful creation in which all exalt;
only superficial and nonexistent,
nonemotional and so obstinate!
in 1122 I’ll fall to the ground for you
princess O princess of rosemary dew
you know it takes two
to tango fandango
Delia – heartbound; foundling born tired
forsaken vixen of dying light
a submarine ghost
a rose dale long closed
infidel lost little girl still admired
her royal affairs of turquoise red
flew into the newborn on a death bed
into the rabbit hole of paranoia
that’s chimerical, that’s flamboyant
how easy can dreams come to an end
it’s noontide of deathless urban decay
in a separation station of her heyday
Delia’s timorous, cold like iron
living the fate of Sharon Tate
feeling redundant, Delia is
a scarecrow of the nameless river
her russet hair like abbatoir cleaver
it’s been a folly,
infamy,
end of me
end of a saint, soon-to-be sinner
she was the girl that was ill
Delia of the lavender hill
travelling light year by light year
Delia of the metasphere