Long Compiling Poems
Long Compiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Compiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Compiling poems by poem length and keyword.
Working on compiling this book of grandpa wisdom,
Harder than choosing which old poems to include
Is cutting off the ongoing output of new ones!
But I do want to get it done,
And I really don’t want to ever do another,
So final thoughts keep building
Eager to rise and shine and make the cut,
A final cut which may never come
As long as grasping mind keeps grasping
For whatever it is an immaterial thing can hold.
But the reason for all these words
Is today I realized something important
Perhaps important enough to stem the tide of poems
If not the grasping mind.
Humans more than anything want security and comfort
And by extension to be happy
The happiness then becomes a goal
Symbolizing all the other basic needs
(while truth/self-actualization may be at the top of the pyramid, this in effect then puts it on few people’s list)
And yet this is what my poems aim for incessantly.
But the truth is enlightenment
Isn’t about worldly goals and values.
People talk about it like it will be a lasting peace
With endless, effortless happiness,
But this strikes me as more an ad campaign
Than the actual truth.
But I don’t know what enlightenment is,
My hunch being that it is like mercury
Pulled together by the cohesive force of its unity
Into small discreet spheres or moments of ineffability,
Rather than dispersing like a fog or fragrance
Across time and space
Which would thus be knowable
Or at least noticed.
Instead it goes unnoticed by everyone,
Even those supposedly searching for it,
The tiny spheres of momentary peace
Blending into every other,
Since all moments are by nature enlightened,
Until the seamless analog story we tell ourselves
Obscures its digital content.
And as I mentioned before,
Our stories are all about security and comfort
Not truth and its fundamental components.
So, where does this leave the poet,
A poet who really doesn't know,
Trying to reach others, who really don't care?
Alone, contentedly so, and perhaps at last
Able to make the final cut
See what comes next
In a life without need or time for story.
What is left in such a life you ask?
What comes next.
(12/6/24)
Sue’s purchased a huge baked bean mountain,
There’s ninety six tin’s - she’s been countin'
From midnight to morn
She’ll toot like a horn
There’s a flatulent stench I’m not doubtin!
Her neighbours they sure are not smiling
They’ve noticed how Sue is stockpiling
By hoarding loo rolls
And pasta in bowls
A report on Facebook they’re compiling
She claims all these things are ‘for me’
But sells them for an inflated fee
There’s a massive amount
In her e-bay account
It’s selfish I think you’ll agree!
Fiction poem but having seen stuff for sale on E bay it does have a ring of truth to it
04/02/20
04/02/20
Sprouted from the depth and leapt for the height
Tremendous epoch-making in sight
Just like a raw gem that transforms on motion
Our imaginations are like the ocean
Her noble mind in noble thoughts we see
Now, see hordes of hospitality over the fee
Sons and daughters home-like honied hive
Sweet sounds of joy as success rain remains
Compiling great students with learning domains
Here is the name; read as you may
Our chronicles of great history pave the way
Organized and industrious like ants in a row
Learners ring out laughter as bells echo
See them as they seize and pluck the day
Long time Shelton, Washington transplants...
also known as
noteworthy Trader Joe's patrons
bass sic lee did treble themselves
conducting taping jam session
assembling (boxing), compiling,
and hermetically sealing tight as a drum so,
a razor sharp machete blade got dull
trying to open in vain said holiday cheer
of awesome delicious goodies,
(especially the yummy
stuffed vine leaves with rice),
which holiday care package
received without fanfare
for this common man,
whose younger sister
(vibrant as Appalachian Spring),
nevertheless wiser sibling
Shari Harris-Dunning
a whiz (hard) at work
tantalizing, teasing, titillating
as a lead wrapper from home grown
organic foodstuffs, she and her bandmates
helped fit perfectly, meticulously,
and snugly together
analogous to outsize constituent components
of intricate jumbo puzzle pieces
amazingly, mathematically,
and thematically linkedin
bearing gifts subsequently mailed
(courtesy the United States Postal Service)
from Bend, Oregon
to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
Lemme amplify how creative, innovative,
and opinionative yours truly (me)
a humble wordsmith,
who exhibits his freestyle trademark
Scottish matted style avante-garde,
one run of the mill (by the Floss) bard
wannabe wants to rave about your card,
he presumes unbridled
posthumous fame will ensue
after his lovely bones disintegrate
courtesy cremation, which cremains
symbolically distributed across
all four points across the globe,
cuz the earth will solely serve him
as eternal terrestrial graveyard
ashes repurposed hard
to believe buzzfeeding, jump/
kick starting seeds of life
and white lily obliterating ill-starred
legacy which afflicted one mortal
named Matthew Scott Harris,
whose chronic assault
with mental health issues
undermined realizing his potential.
Into the void of cosmic oblivion
eventually goeth as masterly cell bait,
the once unique human
(cited above) as (e) scripted inevitable fate
of all creatures great and small
death promises to liberate
uniting one garden variety,
and generic soul
linkedin among Spiritus Mundi
a never ending tête-à-tête.
They texted on backlit marginalia,
phones dimming as the night grew older.
After a squabble, they tested their feelings.
“I am still the same woman,” she wrote,
mentioning all her good points.
He, drowsy and hung over,
“I have a list.”
He had listed the many reasons
she was great to be with -
quoted those.
“Thank you,” she said preening.
“I haven’t changed, you have!”
He added a few cons to a new list
he had secretly been compiling,
then some more.
The list grew longer.
“I’ve made another list.” He told her.
She took this as a good sign.
“Yes, go on…”
‘A change would be good’, he thought,
but wrote:
“I love you just the way you are.”
After the make-up chat,
he downloaded an adult video.
The winds of Winter wait,
Whispering to me of the approaching future,
But still far off, biding their time
Until this span of light and warmth has lasted out its stay.
Meantime, I engage myself in taking stock;
Compiling the days that define myself to myself
Enlarging the catalog so far as I can,
Building up a narrative.
So many memories
Like fireflies in a Summer's night
Flash through the dark spaces of my mind.
Childhood: Flash
Youth: Flash
Young Parenthood: Flash
Empty Nest: Flash.
Family, friends, events
Joys, sorrows, beginnings, endings -
All make their flickering passages;
All paint their images onto me
The particles dance and shift
Cells die to be replaced
The face in the mirror becomes my father's
Molecule by molecule
With each passing instant.
The particles dance and shift
Moving back towards the dark unknown
From which they came,
Yet somehow in the midst of it
The I that was
And am
And shall be
Remains to watch the long parade unfold.
And that parade, banal and fantastic,
Marches past that inside window where I watch to see myself pass by,
As some newer self shall do the same through all tomorrows
Until the day when all the marching stops for me -
And then, my fellow marchers,
O my many, varied Loves,
On that last Winter's day,
Where will we be,
Where will we be?
What musics shall we hear?
What wonders might we see?
The last couple of times we’ve had dinner with our family I have been enthralled
as we sit and talk around the table…by all the names I’m called.
Since James was given to me by my parents on the day that I was born.
like most people I’ve had many names…many hats that I have worn
In the moments our family spends together, however,
in all the conversations we have had…
Deborah calls me Jim…Damien, Trista Taylor, Aden and Ava call me PopPop…
while Bryan, Ali and Ryan call me Dad.
And I got to thinking…now that Damien and Trista are about to have a baby
(November 14th is the anticipated date)
although I don’t yet know what my great-granddaughter will call me…
I know it will be great.
Whatever name she chooses…I’ll add it to the list I’ve been compiling…
and just like Jim and Dad and PopPop…when I hear it
you can bet that I’ll be smiling.
Which makes me think…
although our birth certificate contains the first name to befall us…:
we spend the rest of our life trying to live up to
all the different names that people call us.
With the hope the people who say our name…whatever name
will always love…and never fear it…
and we will smile…feeling that same love…every time we hear it.
So when we’re gone…when our friends and family are seated around a table…
when only memories of us remain….
a smile will cross the face of everyone…
every time they say our name.
...One night when he was compiling
a list of wisdom that the prophet said,
he heard, in the darkness, his name spoken,
in a harried voice that would frighten the dead.
He turned, and from the shadows out stepped
Kel’vid the mason, sire of Dehlarain,
in one hand he held a long dagger,
on his face were the tight lines of pain.
He advanced slowly, not speaking a word,
Pelchag cried out,”I’m a servant of God!
Your daughter faced the justice that she earned,
she had broken our great prophet’s law!”
Kel’vid just froze, stared pure hate at him,
then spoke in a dark and gravelly tongue:
“No man of god would murder a woman
because she acted stupid, young, and dumb.
“At first I didn’t mind the new faith,
it seemed that it could clean up a few things,
but then you take away our alcohol,
and I noticed that things got disturbing.
“And then you steal music from all of us,
what kind of God would frown at such joy?
But still I was willing to put up with it,
even though it grated and annoyed.
“But to go and kill a man’s daughter…
all because of your damn jealousy!
You already had two whores in your bed,
but you just had to go out and get three!
“And now you lie and claim it was all God’s will,
that you just obey his ‘holy prophet,’
perhaps Gods will send a prophet someday,
nut it’s quite clear that he hasn’t yet.
“The old faith may have been rather corrupt,
but at least it stuck to its damned place!
Didn’t insert itself into a man’s home,
didn’t murder their daughters with hate.”
He then bent closed and whispered these words,
mere moments before the cleric did die,
“Know that I’m going to kill the prophet,
one follower at a time.”
Written: September 21, 2023
Shadows Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
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Shadows roamed free
Where inspiration whispered
Eviscerate the nebulous nexus of dreams
Find your niche in the unseen
Impalpable, deep, spatial, serene
Shadows lurched seraphically
Their slender limbs are in clear space.
In corners, they danced and played
A life metaphor in their opaque hoax
Inveigle in the shadows
Grim and gaunt, they enchanted
A kismet union amid shadows
The moon's grin inspires delight
A love song entwined two spirits
Compiling through the night
A subtle whisper symphony
Star-struck lovers meet overnight
Together, they dance under the moon
Aligning hearts erased tears
This celestial ballroom ignites love
Ghostly silhouettes caterwaul
Predicting the futile collapse
Clangor and penumbra persist
Cosmological contempt
They wear thick gossamer makeup
Corpulent umbra, unfair cover
Shaded depths becloud
Crestfallen, they seek a shroud
Find shelter with shades and phantoms
Their spirit was freed in the darkness
Eternal whispers In the dusk
shadows extend within moments.
Dramatic dance that steals time
They weave magic in a whisper concert
With lightness, silence the breath
Gentle fall, evoking angel feathers
Weary earth fighters find peace
Its loving hug provides relief
Rustic tunes, deep insights.
If only for a moment,
I could swoop you away.
I’d plan an entire night,
Easing the stress of the day.
Fresh cut roses in a vase,
And a candle lit dinner.
My mind races with thoughts,
And girl, you’re the winner.
Delve into this ecstasy,
For my love’s not a mirage.
After your lovely dinner,
I’d give you a massage.
Take the load off your feet,
And let my fingers flow.
Lets just sail away,
To wherever this may go.
I want to see you chill,
And clear out your head.
Relaxing with no worries,
As the best lies ahead.
With a cluster of grapes,
And a little red wine.
A hint of soft music,
For you to unwind.
Releasing your tension,
I like to see you smiling.
And the layers of fun,
Are just now compiling.
A late walk on the beach,
Unforgettable memories on sand.
I’d be your noble servant,
Every wish at your command.
If you need to get away,
Come spend an evening with me.
Our action’s would write a book,
Of the greatest love poetry.