Long Concentration Poems
Long Concentration Poems. Below are the most popular long Concentration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Concentration poems by poem length and keyword.
I find that modern concentration camps
are now hygienically focused,
fully concentrated upon themselves.
There, every glass wall is a two-way mirror
for the neatly dressed minds of swamp dwellers,
thay who slave away
weaving truth and lies together.
Nevertheless, germaphobia feels dirty all the same.
The eye in the pyramid has gone blind.
Under Benjamine Franklin’s bed
the minted scrimshaw of crisp 100-dollar bills
is chewed down to a dry-mouthed pulp.
Upon the hilly fields of Gettysburg
blood has grown a greener grass,
and yet,
on moonless nights
armies still madly charge at each other.
Call back the horses!
Let the dead fight on.
if you find yourself within those wall-less places
think of the road-kills, whole families of them,
and all they have to wear now
are flea-ridden striped pajamas.
The river is notorious
For filth and trash and slime,
With rumors of dead bodies floating
Once upon a time.
I’ve witnessed homeless people
Dumping urine (maybe worse)
Into water which you’d think
No normal person would immerse.
Yet yesterday I spotted both
A kayak and a boat
Which were following a swimmer
Stroking hard to stay afloat.
Baring skin as white as chalk
(No wetsuit acting as a shield),
She proceeded through the current,
Her emotions well-concealed.
For if she felt some revulsion
Or exuberance or fear
Maybe all her concentration
Helped to make them disappear.
As we watchers on the promenade
Did marvel in our masks
I reflected on how people are
So varied in their tasks.
As touch-me-not shrinks of threats, fear, to our mind, warning brings,
Fear is not always defeatist; it has prophetic rings;
Fear has been, from ancient past, part of human unfolding,
Has been functioning, in mortal growth, like strong scaffolding...!
Threats of the past, though diminished, we have phobias now,
Thousands of such are ever with us, like arrows with bow;
Philosophies we may speak; Theologies we might write,
Allodoxaphobia too, within, shines very bright...!
Xenoglossophobia - fear of linguistic mistakes,
While composing our poems shake us, often, like earthquakes;
Baseless fears, like thundering and lightning, threaten sometimes,
Life at day too seems nightmares as though we've committed crimes...!
Fear must not overpower me; it should be vice versa,
Midst eternal angst, I must not lose my inertia;
If lion's portion of life is occupied by sheer fear,
What's left? In what sphere is the gear? How, this I'd steer and cheer...?
I must know what causes, in me, fear; why does it do so?
Aren't there ways of optimism that would, for me, new ways show?
Should I ever suffer, like slaves in concentration camps?
Or, with divine vitality light up my inner lamps...???
11 August 2022
‘Sincerity claims focusing concentration not allowing dilution’ - Poet
SINCERE
Dear sweetheart, sweet pie,
Never think to bid bye !
My passion to pierce and tingle !
You are the unique Moon! Single:
mesmerising
and surprising
Prominent
eminent
in sparkling starry sky.
Won’t care for evening stars,
coming in life and passing by.
Not for ‘his’ or ‘her’ but for ‘Ours.’
Me loyal and loud, never shy .
Romance rippling in pearly bubble.
Heart beats dance, prance: Rhythm double.
Ideal couple we will turn.
Environ shiny, not auburn.
We : Entwined in joy or trouble.
Emotive urge surging in amorous flow
My only Moon glistening in glorious glow.
Make sure, we are always made for each other,
walking on beach, clams of love to gather.
Romance of love will never die !
You are my sweetheart ! My sweet pie !
Beatitudes for the Silent
Beatitudes for the ailing hearts
Gratitude for those who have been there from the start
Attitude from those who are willing to depart
Platitudes for those who just want to seem smart
Commendations for those who aren’t competing for validification
Inspiration on offer for she who is looking for elation
Co-modification of a profiteering person who is subverting the situation
Simplification of a narrative that is too complex for pronunciation
Limitations of my mind in terms of articulating conceptual theories
Imitations of mankind by artificial intelligence seems quite dreary
Complications of the refined while I am discarding Timothy Leary
Invocations of the defined as all this contemplation makes me weary
Overpopulation is ironic as we sit there isolated
Aggravation feels moronic as they can’t see the facts that have been stated
Admiration for the iconic statements that seem complicated
Defamation for the sardonic who seem to be elated
Aspirational implications for those in surplus of self belief
Exasperation for the rumination that propels you toward grief
Adaptational genetics of innovation that make you exclaim in disbelief
Congregational phonetics that have been designed by mischief
Resigned to fate I must deliberate on more contentious topics
Designed to hate the human race is self centred and myopic
Defined by love in some debates while writing a biopic
Inclined to state the truth I look for concentration that’s symbiotic
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Children use their imaginations
When given boxes from the store.
They absolutely amaze me with their creations.
You can see the concentration.
The first to emerge is a taxi cab with a wind
Shield, headlights, seats, and doors.
Children use their imaginations.
Here's a train at the station picking up
Passengers going to all destinations.
What a way to explore.
They absolutely amaze me with their creations.
We were given an invitation
To attend tea in a full equipped kitchen with
Fresh muffins and more.
Children use their imaginations.
The library of books and super decorations
Reminded me of my own education.
Our children's hearts soar.
They absolutely amaze me with their creations.
It was awesome to see their dedication,
But what was even more fantastic was the fun,
And sharing without one uproar.
Children use their imaginations.
They absolutely amaze me with their creations.
Imagine the child
Whom on a daily basis
The only validation or commendation
They were ever given
Was that they were told
They were simply , less in fact
Good for nothing at all
You lack the basic concentration and skills
Required to contribute in order
To your own educational progression
A so called educator teacher themselves
Failed in their capacity and duty to read
And take the time to out
To investigate the fine print and clause
Regarding individuality and creativity
Because if they did
They would then save themselves
The future humiliation that lies ahead
When eventually the 1
Who they let slip through their nett
Comes back to haunt and bite them
And they do not only fail to thank them
Or mention them but rather instead
Smile and have a laugh at their expense
Without even having to do much as
Say a word or mention
Their name at all
Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre,
the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade
figuratively swoop down
to announce re: inspection
of apartment unit B44
whenever they deem appropriate.
Thus series of unfortunate events
(linkedin with bull limey
Lemony Snicket bro)
got sidelined nsync with
contracting a minor bout
with deadly Amish Flu
symptoms found garden variety reasonable rhymer
bedridden feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),
incapacitated to craft signature poetry writing.
An honest to dog confession
regarding hiatus spewing forth
vociferous versatile vocabulary
mine words - worth their weight in gold
(told woofer I do not know), nevertheless
included perusing a gamut of reading material.
The passion to engross intellect
witnessed courtesy immersing
attention, concentration, excitation
gratification, intoxication;
knowledge prized more precious
than fine spun gold.
Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)
elusive notions that flit
to and fro hither and yon
(analogous to ping pong ball)
within parameters of
microscopically crenellated
sixty plus shades of gray matter
also constitutes fervent interest.
A very loyal woman was Miep Jan Gies,
Brave, caring, and really very wise -
She was confident and daring - On her some lives depended
Now, following her story, so many minds have mended.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Considering the worsening situation for the Jews, the Franks decided to go into hiding in the secret annex of their office building. Miep gladly agreed to be a helper, bringing them food that she would gather from different grocers with ration cards.
She and her co-workers were able to keep the family hidden for over two years, but eventually they were betrayed. The annex was raided by the Nazis on August 4, 1944, and the occupants were sent to concentration camps. Miep found Anne Frank's diary and put it away for the family's return.
She was a great source of hope and motivation for the Franks; they couldn’t have lasted long without Miep’s help.
Ruth and her six year old daughter Annie, were moving along the countryside by Train. Ruth was reminiscing. She was staring deeply into her six year old daughter's beautiful brown eyes. Ruth was feeling emotional, and had a deep sorrow filling up her worried heart. The train proceeded. She clutched her daughter close to her with a special mother daughter bond. Anne, her daughter, looked up at her, innocently and asked, "Mommy why are you so sad?" She kept repeating, until her mom answered her. Not wanting to worry her, she replied, "Honey your Mommy is not sad." The six year old intelligently asked, " Mommy then why were you crying?" Her mom replied, " I'm OK sweetheart, now relax, and hold me." Ruth was experiencing a flood of thoughts of Annie growing up as a child. She was asking Annie if she remembered the first time she told her that she loved her. Annie said, " Yes Mommy I remember." Ruth kept a special Diary of times and dates, of special moments she and Annie shared. Ruth thought of Annie's first birthday, when she took her first steps, and was falling forward as she caught her, preventing her from hurting herself. Ruth reached in her jacket and said to Annie, " Honey, always have with you this diary. Annie took the diary and started looking through it. She said, "Mommy this is so special, thank you Mommy." Annies dad was imprisoned, and it added to Ruth's turmoil inside. She was trying to ascertain his whereabouts but was difficult to do so. Annie kept reminding Ruth of her father. She constantly was asking, " Where's Daddy Mommy?" " We will be with him soon." Was her repeated reply. The train made its way through and a Loud whistle blew. It started slowing down, and just before it stopped the whistle blew again. Ruth looked at Annie and said to her, " Always remember honey your Daddy and Mommy, will always love you. Promise me you will never forget." Annie replied, " I promise Mommy to remember." As the Caboose door opened Ruth held Annie's hand. Annie asked her Mom, "Mommy where are we?" Her Mom replied, " We are going to see Daddy and Grandpa, and Grandma." Ruth was shaking inside, and the journey was finally over. The SS Nazi Guards motioned them forward, and directed them into The Auschwitz Concentration Camp.
Michael Tor