Long Complex Poems
Long Complex Poems. Below are the most popular long Complex by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Complex poems by poem length and keyword.
The poem "VANTABLACK" exhibits a profound exploration of emotions and existential themes. As a poet, one would appreciate the nuanced use of language and the depth of introspection conveyed through the verses.
The title, "VANTABLACK," immediately draws attention to the darkest substance known, emphasizing a profound sense of darkness or void that permeates the poem. The tumultuous street and the notion in flight evoke a sense of chaos and uncertainty, setting the stage for the emotional journey that follows.
The poet skillfully employs imagery and metaphor to convey the complex emotions experienced. The notion that "hastens in haste" and then "averts its gaze" suggests a fleeting and elusive quality, mirroring the transient nature of emotions. The descent of the heart's echo into a "crimson abyss" hints at the depth of emotional turmoil, perhaps symbolizing pain or longing.
The lines "Your name, I called, yet emptiness replied" and "A bloom of yours, I drew, withering away" express a sense of loss and unfulfilled connection. The act of calling a name and drawing a bloom implies a desire for presence and beauty, but the responses are characterized by emptiness and withering, adding a layer of melancholy.
The exploration of choices in the lines "Life's lines extend before me, To choose, where your love resides" delves into the existential theme of navigating through life's possibilities and seeking love. The word "resides" suggests a search for a meaningful connection within the vastness of life.
The recurring ritual mentioned in "This ritual unfolds each day" implies a cyclical nature of introspection and perhaps a daily struggle with emotions. The poet peers within, describing it as a "melancholy abode," suggesting that the internal landscape is characterized by sadness.
The concluding lines, "Where my heart, a vantablack canvas, remains," encapsulate the essence of the poem. The heart being a "vantablack canvas" signifies an emotional void, absorbing and reflecting no light, emphasizing the depth of emotional darkness or emptiness.
As a poet, one might commend the poet for the rich tapestry of emotions woven through carefully chosen words and metaphors. The poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of connections, and the existential quest for meaning in the face of emotional voids.
Oh dear Muse, help me write this verse for thee
Give me the strength to write, and fulfill my destiny.
The lines and rimes that below will be read,
Come from the mind of a disturbed head.
A poet who will share a captivating tail,
And he hopes on this mission he won’t fail.
The story goes back in space and time: long ago,
In far away kingdom a newborn is about to show.
Little fragile boy showing his face to the world,
At least that how this poor poet’s heard.
Little William was his name of course until he grew,
Than William it became, but still “little” to a few.
As the years passed by William got much smarter
Than any man, and that’s why he left to go farther.
He left his village seeking the final, untainted truth:
“Why are we here, why does every man have a LIFE?”
He searched high and low, but still didn’t find a clue,
To his question. But someone can answer it… but whom?
Trying to figure out the truth he stumbled upon a cave.
Entering he found traces of a speech once home he gave.
Who was the strange admirer? Who’s home hath he found?
He suddenly felt a short breeze and slowly turned around.
He was rendered speechless by the sight he had to face,
It was himself, like in the mirror; he had seen his own face.
Stiff as a board he’d stare at his twin, searching a mismatch
But futile, none was found. “So you’ve made the big catch”
The fellow said, “Are you happy now? Or confused?”
For you see, it was indeed himself, who he had faced.
He, the twin was his soul’s other side, the wise one.
Once he understood, whiteout a breath the twin had gone.
Gone away, leaving William alone, but pondering,
He had noticed a piece of paper with some writing.
It was a speech he gave, a speech very long ago,
About his first true love, about passion and grace.
He understood, now a new challenge he would face.
His mission was to tell the world the secret, hidden
Truth: Love. Love is the answer he had been given.
So simple yet so complex, so easy than again intricate.
Knowing, that no one would accept love, only hate.
Poor William could not cope with the burden so heavy,
So he rested his head, and slept for an entire eternity,
Leaving the people to wonder and continue searching,
Knowing, that they will never experience such a true feeling.
Sad story, but true, oh Muse I tell thee…
William was non other, than poor old me.
A magical chemical infatuation
to disregard the tradition
of natures connectivity and diversity
dragged to the will of its subjugation
to dig into the complex cells intimacy
its mass increments of the yields
killing off the birds and the insects
for the sake of crop conformity
in the unnatural fields
A perfectly poisonous promise
released in defusable clouds
through the early morning mists
chugged and pumped out grotesque deformity
in silent avenues of crop conformity
the deathly dew eliminates
all so ripe so well protected
in latent morbidity awaits
Layers by "half-life" lifeless inherited
in this chemists manufacturing of a chemical romance
the inorganic compounds of devastation
bound by an economical tourniquet
to plough again the blighted earth
split breakdown the biological integration
a quick fix to be persuaded
a million years of evolution
the symbiosis of the world in Gods hand
was not a patent so diligently as patiently perfected
or so insidiously infected in the land
Mechanized desert to produce the taste
a tasteless morsel of a savored remembrance
to its colour yet another substance added
organophosphates persistently digested
concentrations in environmental compartments
disarrange the circles tilt the balance
the enemy is natures necessity
needs be defeated
swap it over transmit a hell-bent malignancy
Collusion's by crude oil alchemy
improving on a profitable perimeter
this chemical romance of manufactured efficiency
O = HO - P - HO - NH - O - OH ! OH !
take a look at what marvelous science has made !
broad spectrum killer
needs be to murder off bio-diversity
and 5-enolpyruvylshikimate-3 phosphate synthase
is so much better
so much cleverer than natures ways
so taint the population with polluted fodders feed
killing off the birds and the bees
killing off the fish, the insects and the fungi
and killing off our babies
So perfectly formed
and so perfectly preserved
perfectly free of any blemish
all sitting on the billion shelves
of a million supermarkets
So perfectly wrapped
and so perfectly presented
the perfectly picture of health
and in its cells something so insidious
and the perfectly poisonous
is its promise
So perfectly formed
and so perfectly preserved
perfectly free of any blemish
all sitting on the billion shelves
of a million supermarkets
The idea of a living constitution
has the same forensic indeterminacy
as a committed dream.
I am content to trust this dream to the end
to have it fill my cup of hope all day and night.
I am content to receive its order
to hasten to obey without a pause.
But, the old voice sounds
unrelentingly in the chamber: Do not
compromise. Punish.
Crucify him.
The infirm musing of a perpetual dreamer
rising up with eyes wild for relief.
I am content with the terror and anticipation that
keeps turns by watching me:
Justice, once imagined, cannot be undone.
I have been left to think along these lines
to look for the abandonment of arcane unfairness
months after months.
The months
burn up as a fading lantern
homage to the majesty of the absurd:
A muse easy to bear, Camusian laughter to
suffering’s exalted well —
what single rule might break the dry spell?
Sometimes the unforeseen, the unpredictable
springs in the heart of justice
bending its way upward
again and yet again
towards a distant point
all unaccountably, into the strengthening clasp
of fresh now-born idea,
nearer to binding faith
than wild dismembering injustice.
When the far-distant element
of suffering humanity
looms out more clear;
the faint, far, complex notes of hope
its head moves near
and new flicks of justice’s well
unfolds beyond the known.
Is there any new depth to this well?
Say, what is its true nature?
Quietly nature covers over
the dying bird and the dead rover.
If justice’s dead, it is as though
a robin died beneath the snow
tucked away neatly, whose bright eyes
once stared with impudent surprise
at every tit-bit flung to her.
Now every season we must bear
to live without its whistled air,
for law lives beneath the Spring,
like a sequestered paradise
exiled from the steady hammer of faith,
a trackless rice field
ever trudging through groves of
crouching, unconquered territories.
Oh enchanted universe
conqueror of earth’s stadium
in your wild, singing glory
the faults you committed live.
Come hear my sharpened cries
surely, you can hear my note of crisis.
Ceaselessly I raise my cry.
My cry ascends and floats away
scattered by whirling winds afar.
* “Endure what you suffer as being a father’s punishment.” (Heb. 12:5b-7)
Author's note: written on the anniversary of Harvard's abuse of my human rights
Titanium,
Strong mental minded, behind it
Looking for the lost and found, but can't find it.
Sharp energy intense, timed it
No one can see the future - I guess we’re all blinded.
Strong like gorilla, softer than blue, skys above your head sunny afternoon.
Delicate delight, delicious every bite big appetite appetizer for 2.
July, june, the order doesn’t matter after laughing so hard 3 ribs shatter through.
May I join you?
Actually, I have to go,
I can tell you only see the surface - alligator nose.
Warm hearts and chilly toes,
mild mannered mannequins minding their own business in business windows,
hot fashion, eyes froze.
Ah, if you insist, then I suppose
I'll have to take you UP on everything that grows.
We rose from the dirt - with beauty through battles
To win a war where victory is life itself.
The untold story writes itself
And hides from seeing eyes, just like itself
no one can witness when existence, fights itself
Because with death, comes birth, to life itself.
No winners
No losers
No champions
No heroes
...just life
Always adapting
Mutation miracles
Beautiful biology
Complex chemistry
Elegant elements
Unfathomable Universe
Sandbox fun, sandy hands holding ham sandwiches saran wrapped and packed tight tucked beside the ice and pink lemonade.
Sunshine, windy day...so windy the umbrella we brought almost blew away
And found a new place to stay with clouds grey.
Did you remember to think of me?
I forgot to think of you
I was too busy with the feelings I get, being in love with you.
If you only needed one, I’d offer you two,
It’s better to be safe than sorry, and feeling safe is what I want for you.
And if you wanted to, i’d probably want to, too,
Cause making you smile, is all, I ever want to do.
I’m the worst singer in the world, but here, I wrote a song for you,
Your voice is music to my ears, so this, is long overdue.
Ah-hah ahem - give me a second
Actually on second thought - let love be the orchestra,
Just read these words whenever your concerned
And the sounds of violin strings will bring you back where your supposed ta.
Hmm...too cheesy? I know, please don’t tease me,
Even my teeth are sensitive, and bright lights make me queasy.
Hey, no worries, let’s grab a quesadilla
Then have a race to see-uh
Who’s the fastest land animal, who invited the cheetah?
It hasn't been long
Since I've been on this Earth
And left the place to have my life start
The people I've known
The ones who've all grown
They’re all changing now, they are
Going along their path
Going to college and having kids
Or gaining knowledge with their many friends
As I sit helpless and depressed
Dormant in my bed
While my time grows less and less
And it seems so clear I see
That everyone’s doing better than me
I work for a wage
Doing dirty jobs
They push me like a slave
I just apologize and nod
I only afford pay rent with the money I make
Things don’t get cheaper, and the income doesn’t change
Sometimes I go to parties
Meet many people who’ve known each other all for so very long
I stand around, I don’t know anyone
Don’t know why I would even come
I feel complex
But simple minded
Everyone seems to easily make friends
It’s not that I can’t put myself out there
Just feel like a bother interacting with them
As I sit alone in a chair
Drinking a beer, and fake smiling along
I could see, so plainly
Everyone is doing better than me
The more I explain myself
The worst I seem to come across
I seem to rub people wrong
And I always seem to feel lost
When I frown they say I look angry
When I smile they say I look creepy
When I look at them, they turn away from me
When I turn away, they think I’m high-and-mighty
When I say hello, they say goodbye
When I say goodbye, they ask why
People wonder why I can’t just talk to people
I feel like I’m the only one who thinks it’s normal
They think something is wrong with me
I’m not the only one who’s awkward around people they meet
I express myself in all the wrong ways
Because when I feel unhappy, that’s when I need aid
Whenever I feel happy, there’s nothing I need to say
And still I look around and see
That everyone is doing better than me
I want to grow up
But I don’t want to leave everything behind
Except for who I use to be, to everyone else I’m still that guy
I wish I had friends but I suck at conversation
I wish I had success, but I need help to make it happen
If I could be who I would like to be
I’d already be that person instead of being me
I know that when we die, well go to the same place
So it doesn't really matter who really won the race
But still it causes me to grieve
Because everyone I know
Everyone is doing better than me
Memories tumble through my mind,
rolling aimless, some have been...
missing for a while.
I try to fill in the blanks. Others,
I sweep into already dusty corners.
You know, the ones far easier forgotten.
Tumbleweeds...my memories
have become tumbleweeds.
I take snapshots of the cherished ones,
file them away
giving them a home...
before they blow away in the savage wind.
I yell out to my own echoing voice -
"Did I tell you my mom liked to dance?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear her music, rock-and-roll,
her long hair bouncing with each step.
She doesn't dance anymore...
I see my step-father, hands dirty, working
always working, but sometimes
stopping to joke or tease.
Moments gone...memories fleeting...
begging them to stay
a little longer or at least
visit my dreams.
"Did I tell you my dad played drums?"
"Yes", I remember.
I hear rat-a-tat-tat in my head,
primal beats, rhythmic beats -
complex man, gentle soul...
I would sing at the top of my lungs while he played.
He never seemed to mind my shrill, little girl voice.
I miss him, I miss his drums. Music is not the same.
Nothing the same.
I close my eyes and another memory
blows through empty spaces.
My brother is racing his bike down the street FAST.
He is about ten, all skinny legs in his shorts.
"Where are you going?" I call after him, too late.
"Don't go, please don't go!"
He is gone and I wonder if he was ever here, there,
anywhere within my reach.
Some do go astray, I remind myself.
Missing memories...missing love -
loneliness finding a home in my heart
when least expected...
"Wait, come back", I yell to him. "I'm still here."
Ruminating, I ask myself if we ever know,
really know, the ones we love.
No, not really. I remember.
Frantic, I reach for the tumbleweeds, grasping.
I reach for my two earthly fathers who are long gone...
I see them, each so different yet loved. Then,
they blow away, missing again.
I chase them futilely. The savage wind still blows,
across grains of desert sand...
I will never know why, never know.
Tumbleweeds...my memories have become
tumbleweeds
blowing in a savage wind.
* one of my favorite early poems (maybe it doesn't seem happy, but
it includes some of my favorite memories)
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
March 2, 2012
Second Place in Chris Aechtner's Let the Masks Fall Contest
MY FATHER'S GENTLE HANDS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember my father’s hands as a plumber’s hands—fiercely strong, calloused, rough, knuckle-battered, and dirty after a long-day’s work. Those hands shoveled; unclogged drains and toilets; repaired leaks; and installed pipes, commodes, and bathtubs. Those hands provided.
I remember my father’s hands as a fisherman’s hands—perfectly patient, tenacious, self-confident, and unwavering as he held his fishing line and lure stabile, waiting for a fish to take the bait. “Keep your hands steady. Stay focused,” he prompted me when I asked him to teach me how to fish from his flat-bottom boat. Those hands fished longer than they ‘plumbed,’ rarely missing an opportunity to commune with nature, seldom losing a fish. Those hands fed.
I remember my father’s hands as a treasure hunter’s hands—firm, certain, and capable, listening intently to his metal detector’s tones learning to discriminate the sound a good coin makes compared to the choppy, broken sound a junk target makes. Those hands searched, discriminated, and found soulful answers to life’s complex questions and dilemmas.
I remember my father’s hands as gentle healing hands—kind and comforting as he wiped away the tears that sometimes streamed down my face. Without saying a word, those hands loved, consoled, and encouraged—always righting my world.
I remember my father’s hands—full of strength and hope as he took my trembling hands in his. Those hands gave me courage—the courage to reach up in search of everything impossible, leaving me with the unbridled sense that to do anything less was the greatest impossibility of all. Even now whenever I need courage, I can feel his hand around mine helping me to feel invincible once again.
In my mind’s eye, I often see my father’s hands—every line and every wrinkle. They told a story about the kind of man he was. I’ll remember my father’s hands for the remainder of my life. I’m grateful for him, for his enduring spirit and presence, which continues to grace my life despite his passing some years ago.
Dad's hands tell a tale
they did countless loving things
they touched and guided
they shaped and molded
they encouraged me to reach
they held the stars in place
they held rising sun
they sought deep understanding
they chased lonely moon
Titanium,
Strong mental-minded, behind it
Looking for the lost and found, where can I find it?
Sharp energy intense, timed it
No one can see the future - I guess we’re all blinded.
Strong like gorilla, softer than blue, skys above your head sunny afternoon
Delicate delight, delicious every bite big appetite appetizer for 2
July, June, the order doesn’t matter after laughing so hard 3 ribs shatter through
May I join you?
Actually, I have to go
I can tell you only see the surface, alligator nose
Warm hearts and chilly toes,
mild mannered mannequins minding their own business in business windows,
hot fashion, eyes froze.
Ah, if you insist, then i suppose
Il have to take you UP on everything that grows
We rose from the dirt - with beauty through battles
To win a war where victory is life itself
The untold story writes itself
And hides from seeing eyes, just like itself
no one can witness when existence, fights itself
Because with death, comes birth, to life itself
No winners
No losers
No champions
No heros
...just life
Always adapting
Mutation miracles
Beautiful biology
Complex chemistry
Elegant elements
Unfathomable Universe
Sandbox fun, sandy hands holding ham sandwiches saran wrapped and packed tight tucked beside the ice and pink lemonade
Sunshine, windy day...so windy the umbrella we brought almost blew away
And found a new place to stay with clouds gray.
Did you remember to think of me?
I forgot to think of you
I was too busy with the feelings I get, being in love with you.
If you only needed one, I'd offer you two
It’s better to be safe than sorry, and feeling safe is what I want for you
And if you wanted to, I'd probably want to, too,
Cuz making you smile, is all, I ever want to do
I’m the worst singer in the world, but here, I wrote a song for you
Your voice is music to my ears, so this, is long overdue
Ah-hah ahem - give me a second
Actually, on second thought - let love be the orchestra,
Just read these words whenever you're concerned
And the sounds of violin strings will bring you back where you're supposed ta
Hmm...too cheesey? I know, please don’t tease me
Even my teeth are sensitive, and bright lights make me queasy
Hey, no worries, let’s grab a quesadilla
Then have a race to see-uh
Who’s the fastest land animal, who invited the cheetah?
In the labyrinth of the human psyche, where thoughts roam free,
A boundless expanse of consciousness, vast as the endless sea.
Here, emotions swirl like tempests, fierce and wild,
As we navigate the depths of the mind, like an intrepid child.
Memories echo through the corridors of time,
Whispers of love, echoes of crime.
Each thought a universe, teeming with life,
A kaleidoscope of emotions, joy and strife.
In the quiet moments of introspection,
We confront our fears, our deepest reflection.
Doubts and insecurities, shadows that linger,
As we grapple with the questions that point to our inner.
Yet amidst the chaos, beauty finds its way,
In the poetry of our thoughts, where dreams sway.
Hope blooms like a flower in the desert's arid land,
Guiding us through the darkness, holding our hand.
From the depths of despair to the heights of elation,
We journey through the spectrum of human sensation.
Love, like a beacon, illuminates the night,
Bringing warmth to our souls, casting out the blight.
But even in moments of sorrow and pain,
There's a silver lining, a truth to gain.
For within the depths of our complex minds,
Resides the power to transcend, to leave the past behind.
So let us embrace the complexity of our thoughts,
For within them lies the key to unlock our plots.
In the tapestry of human cognition, we find our truth,
In the symphony of our thoughts, we find our youth.
So let us wander through this vast expanse,
Exploring the realms of human chance.
For in the depths of thought's embrace,
We find the essence of our grace.
In the whispers of the mind, secrets untold,
In the silent echoes, truths unfold.
In the dance of neurons, connections made,
In the symphony of thought, wisdom displayed.
In the recesses of memory, stories reside,
In the depths of emotion, worlds collide.
In the vast expanse of imagination, dreams take flight,
In the quiet contemplation, truths ignite.
In the tender embrace of empathy, souls unite,
In the fervent pursuit of knowledge, minds ignite.
In the rhythm of life, we find our beat,
In the tapestry of humanity, each thread unique.
So let us revel in the complexity of our minds,
For within them, the universe unwinds.
In the depths of thought, we find our truth,
In the vast expanse of consciousness, our youth.
Written by - Moonlit Whisper