Long Cogitation Poems
Long Cogitation Poems. Below are the most popular long Cogitation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cogitation poems by poem length and keyword.
One day I sat before a time face-to-face struggling to puzzle out
from a conundrum the time threw at me. Since the riddle was
a mind bothering one I felt like Oedipus walking through a gorge
touching the surface of rough rocks to feel something that may
inspire him to find an answer to Sphinx’s riddle.
The riddle that the time threw at me was “How long does it takes to get rid of all irrationality of the world and all agonies of humankind from surface of the earth?” My answer was “Several thousand… tens of thousands… hundreds of thousands of years…. Rather, over the billions of billions to the other side of eternity?”
The time said to me “O helpless stupid idiot! If you vanish, in other words, at the moment you stop your breathing, everything, whatever the things that bother you, whatever things that torment you, will vanish at the same time;
the bitter roots live in your heart as the colorful flowers named anguish blooming by a path of cogitation: the luring scent named anxiety comes from a deep swamp, traps you and never let you go. And all those miseries, you must know, will vanish without a trace as you stop your breath.”
After the time gave me a severe scolding he shoved me roughly from the back
with his strong hand that, no matter how much you plead for his mercy or kick
and struggle, will never turn back once he moves forward or returns the thing
that once he confiscated from you. I was fallen into the abyss of pitch darkness with tremendous speed as if a piece of shattered star sucks into a block hole.
Is life itself merely a matter of perspective?
Does cogitation dwarf the poet's reflexive?
If only my words could spread across the paper.
Build a punter world faded from a barren taper.
Has tied together details with his utterance.
This ringed world is bathed in such radiance.
There, as it blazed, the finest fury was sown.
The glories of lofty notions must be shown.
His clever mind shows words to shove.
The fading sun's beams, the genesis of love
Spur one's heart to beat with goodness.
The globe's first torn-and-wrung governess
Or daydreams when yield is in full flow.
The width of this real mental orbit grows.
the same as in this busy, boisterous space.
My mind rises, free of servitude in place.
It might happen with each passing year.
My name, my life, and my manner endear.
And amid the dust of a poet's silent rest,
Maintain contact with the wise and best!
Exert one obedient deed in one fading hour.
Or heal a fading face with a genuine flower.
My lines are fortunate despite a tight scope.
for their nimble date, on the apex and slope.
Still, this verse is my finest leisure option.
It follows a sly path across the attraction.
One time only, deny a brood urge to revive.
Chase only a sigh or lull a worry not alive.
From brick and frame to flowery blitheness.
Our walks have bred humility and forgiveness.
While conversing, I softly stroked your face.
He commands us to protect this holy place!
Written: February 04, 2023
Deep in contemplation, or was it cogitation,
maybe intuition, Alice had a premonition,
something's round the corner,
and she's come to warn yer,
doing all she can, before it hits the fan,
for she has seen a vision, more than a vague suspicion,
it's a strong affirmation of a predetermination,
and believe me when I say,
"Whatever omen she thought she saw,
it's on it's way here today,
and will soon be knocking down your door.
As, mirrored in her eye's mind,
all the portents are aligned,
maybe it's madness or mayhaps fun
there's nowhere to hide, nowhere to run."
Now, somehow, Alice springs eternal,
in the human breast,
and, with my heart on my sleeve,
aren't you glad I got it off my chest.
I craft poems by evening time since I can't slumber.
I'm dreary of the one with a springtime splendor.
I'm lacking in rest, shrewdness, and moral dignity.
I've lost my aware vicinity and spotless anger.
We are not blinded by flies, owls, or moral agony.
It's not the fatal quiet or the sun's loss that's injury.
This isn't a chorus wraiths in the lush hedging.
The drab caveats of another day induce dark dubiety.
Nebulae, stars, neutrons, and quasars are all fledgling.
Dismal holes with some pale and green dwarf lighting
Blooms to be merely seen or to be picked in billion years.
This is the chronicle of the star nights, every evening.
Every night blurs you from my sight, yet, shed the tear.
I wish for a splendid twilight and consistent star seer.
I trust the rife angel's whisper and recall our discourse.
My awe, once the chalice in grasp was deep, rest clear.
Our spurn requital to God wanes our sole act of alertness.
While ebbing pristine streets toward the swift darkness
We scrutinize the cosmos, yet we are witless of his might.
Due to the safety risks of glass shards bits in the chalice
Wishing I had a hundred mates to gather around light.
My soul suffers in a gentlefolk that scorns peace bight.
Yet I shudder at the cogitation of starving to death alone.
Life is amazingly brief not to raise a chalice to reunite.
Written: January 17, 2022
The Chalice of Night Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
This head is continually exercised,
The straining of the intellect,
The wearying of my limbs
The waves of thoughts rushing like a volcano.
The glimmering of my eyes,
The flights of imagination,
I vex the brain to unravel mysteries
I provoke my heart to go down into depths too deep
I speak to myself like a lunatic,
I rush to my desk repeating sustained thoughts.
Words are the tools.
Sometimes too heavy I dare not say,
I weave them together and cared less for criticism.
There are depths I cannot reach,
There are heights I cannot climb.
The mind is like an ocean too deep,
There are dark alleys,
There are beams and rays
Oh! this cavernous profundity.
Written: June 21, 2023
______________________________________________________________
I ride the guide of cogitation, swift and free.
Through cosmic realms, where wonders we see
Past celestial wonders, my mind takes flight,
Where galaxies twinkle in celestial light.
Through the milky pastures I ride, with awe and delight,
Where ceaselessly merge in eternal sight.
Forever traversing this celestial train,
Through the boundless heavens, I find no restraint.
I glide through stars as gems in the night.
Their brilliance guided my journey delight.
Through nebulae and supernovae, I soar.
Witnessing the birth of stars forevermore.
The whimsy line carries me on its track,
To places unknown, where time doesn't hold back.
I travel through dimensions beyond human grasp.
To realms where infinity secrets are clasped.
The cease of the line, the cease of time,
My destination is unknown, yet sublime.
I ride the train of whim, a traveler of the mind,
Exploring the mysteries of the universe, undefined
With each passing moment, my knowledge expands.
As I ride through the cosmos, held in its hands.
I witness the dance of planets in unblemished harmony.
Their orbits intertwine, creating a celestial symphony.
Through the vast expanse, my spirit is ignited.
As I ride the guide of admiration, my dreams are invited.
To travel beyond boundaries, to explore the unknown,
To find the answers to questions never before shown.
just thinking … that emotion is the new reason
unadulterated feeling removed from the brink of
a showcase of intuition relieved and narrated by
the heart at the threshold of sentiment and passion
conscience on the royal road to magic sensations
when the hyena of analysis morphs into a dolphin
a unicorn pokes the terrified bubble of the mind
and driftwood flies to the tune of a universal soul
recycled trash dissolves the mental heap of tips
of an iceberg polar bears and penguins transcend
madness as cure for insanity and crazy bedlam
if you discard the straightjacket of conjecture
refute the shackles prise open trapdoor’s springs
refuse to mediate between prescriptions and levitation
encourage the sleeping giant to rise to the challenge
stop to engage with a dangerous theatre of rationale
when bells and whistles chime and synapses jingle
and an inner pied piper heals the rat race of cogitation
the cogs of internal hamster wheels come off the trolley
spin on an axis of intuition and alite from just thinking
30th December 2020
Your castle has a moat
to mark for the unawares
the point of danger,
the change of rule.
My fort has a juice box
Your castle has a drawbridge
to allow in only those
who pass the "Hark! Who goes"
test and cause the chains
to move.
My fort has peak roof
for peeking out
and, on occasion
for peeking in.
But only for the Lucky Few
and only in the Lucky Few
moments when all is well,
for a spell.
Your castle has
both balustrade and colonnade,
meurtrière 'n its parapets
for staving off the storms
and againststanding and
withstanding arméd swarms.
My fort has a
pair a pets:
this fluffster at my calf,
snoring and this stuffster
in crook of arm;
well-worn, with eye
missing but stuffed
animals see with squishy bits
inside, not these button eyes.
Your castle has barbican and portcullis.
My fort has a wittle wiccan. Jealous?
Your castle has both crenellation and machicolation.
My fort has an introvert's narration and ceaseless cogitation.
Your castle has walls of
stone, long-charred by dragon
breath. With dents by dint
of Minotaur and Harpy.
My fort is cotton batting,
linen for winnin'
battles with monsters
greater than your gods.
Unsettling premonition kickstarts fiendish abomination
Consider the following
dogmatic, enigmatic, fantastic,
idiotic, jargonistic, kimetic, linguistic,
narcissistic, opportunistic,
poetic, quixotic, rhapsodistic,
scholastic, transformistic,
universalistic agglomeration
as an abbreviation
overactive imagination
wrought demonic manifestation
unaware reading dictionary
could engender garrison housing
Century 21 ghostly conjuration
paranormal shenanigans this
Lake Wobegon resident
grudgingly attests perturbation
disembodied spirit betook
(analogous to Casper
the friendly ghost)
"FAKE" spooky introduction
primarily cause ethereal
phantom of the opera mine
diaphanous doppelganger actualization
forcing agonizing confrontation
blindly highlighting spectacular illumination
constituting undeniable declaration,
whereby stagnant existence
aligned stark juxtaposition
courtesy faux charade, escapade, facade...,
gimcrackery literary affectation
yielded (still does) negation
to befriend prospective logophile,
essentially begetting immediate amputation
as posited a posteriori said acquisition
regarding, kneading, experiencing...
inclusiveness feeling reviled discrimination
foisted linkedin with nonestablishmentarian
progressive, liberal, agnostic Unitarian
paradigm upbringing birth parents
decreed ideal articulation
to foster independent cogitation
among yours truly, and his two sisters,
at one time felt veneration
marble lustrous bead
felt towards (guess who) second born
only brother gifted with affliction
diagnosed recent as
schizoid personality disorder,
a mental health condition,
whereat emotional affinity
toward kin folk sundered
buzzfeeding self cannibalization
predicated on inchoate
in utero causation
insync with adaptation
(actually Putin on Ritz key conspiracy
incorporating Russian collusion)
in tandem with basket of deplorables
little rock and rolling
witnesses regeneration
frothy heady windblown
dyed in wool Taj Mahal size
pompadour toupee coronation
ego freezing troll defies decapitation
barley bubbling within hopscotching
mucky swamp characterization
capital hillbilly Phoenix
resembling archeopteryx alights
shrill screeching, digging lame talons
into trumpeting paunchy underbelly.
Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
of contrived information
all details bu...bu...bull...low knee
within this poetic missive
after spending a lifetime crunch
ching numbers, the following
singularly just my hunch,
but despite minuscule
approximate i.e. kid size lunch
meal, (sans two clenched fists,
and weighing about 1.5 kilograms),
not much to munch,
yet if smacked in the kisser
by a pugilist visited
square in the jaw deadly (Judy hush
hiss) sucker punch
whereby the unlucky
recipient may see "unlucky stars"
after brows severely scrunched,
thee above poppycock, and potentially
"FAKE" though (Ripley deed lee)
believe able to ye,
nonetheless behooves me
to segue-way (by Segway) to pre
sent a "TRUE" revelation see
(gnome hatter, aye
cheese silly contradict
mice elf alias Stuart Little) prithee
please just accept what I write
with a grain of salt
(from the Sultan Sea),
cuz yawl do yarself grave
injury and lodge a gree
vance against this harmless
right ham handed cree
chore from the outer limits
of the twilight zone, thus
I STRONGLY ADVISE thee,
NOT to stake eh knee
un mensch chin hubble cogitation,
and figuratively swallow,
hook, conga line
and sinker thine highly suspect re
dunk yule us gobbledygook mee
cully (meekly) reed this
more so asthma
childish entertainment, hence oak key
jist put aside any urgent task
to revel as sigh bee
devil logical syntax
with sum man tricks
playfully wasting yar
precious time free
cully (freakily) inventing outlandish nee
incoherent yawping, towering,
and brutally butchering,
Brooklyn speak (homer over
mayor later mother), she
nearly always... er added
letters "er" at'er the ender
her sentences - er stain?