Long Confining Poems
Long Confining Poems. Below are the most popular long Confining by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Confining poems by poem length and keyword.
I looked outside one morning as the day had just begun to see a grey sky overhead….dark clouds blotting out the sun.
Sadness seemed to blanket everything at the beginning of this day…the world seemed smaller…more confining as a storm was on its way.
Soon the sadness that had filled the clouds dropped to the Earth in rain…and I thought why the weather can change my mood…is difficult to explain.
Sometimes the rain makes me happy as I remember playing in it with Mom and Dad…other times when I am missing them…the raindrops make me sad.
The storm completed its visit around noon…and again…it’s difficult to explain how the sadness I was feeling…departed with the rain.
Once the skies cleared and I could see the sun would be shining for a while…it’s as if the sun took any sadness I was feeling…and replaced it with a smile.
What is this strange phenomenon I thought….what is the weather trying to say…perhaps that, in our life, there will be storms along the way.
And when a storm brings sadness…as some storms often do…It’s okay to be sad…knowing when the storm is through…
the clouds will break…the sun will shine…and happiness will return…
Perhaps this is the lesson the weather wants us all o learn.
That yes, we will experience storms…but eventually all storms wane…
And we must decide if our life is to be guided by the sun…
or determined by the rain.
Just as fire is a good slave but a bad master, our power to reason, analyse and discern is both liberating as well as confining. Relying upon experience, memory and vicarious knowing, thoughts as deductive intelligence, that dissect and bisect are useful only for functioning in the external domain of transience, as we navigate earth life. However, to harness the world within, we must necessarily rest the instrument of thought, shifting into deep inner silence, connecting instead of grasping, embracing instead of striving, one with the pulse of universal consciousness. As we be, so we are. As we are, so we become. We be to become.
pristine awareness
soiled not by narrow thought forms
sat-chit-ananda
18-April-2021
Moments of reflections - Haibun poetry contest
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Flying dreams keep me unaware of the stuff that might keep me in my place.
My eyes have no thought of opening, unaware they are shut,
My heart is pure happiness, in our safe spot.
Until I land hard in my body,
And my hands shake.
I gasp, and my eyes pop open.
My heart is beating rapidly,
I am now
Disturbed, and
Perturbed. I try to return
To the fly zone of ecstasy, but I am
Now starting to resume the earthly awareness
That I am squeezed into this confining shell
I cannot wait until tonight’s REM sleep
Hoping for a more graceful
Landing next time my soul
Returns.
History records the triumphs of the deserving heroes,not of tyrants,
on those eternal pages to remind Humankind of their sacrifice
that were immensely cherished and safely
sealed in its graceful memory;
let mine be regarded as such,
because my purpose is to expose greed and misery,
and all I ask of the dissident is to consider my plea:
to neither retaliate or harbor any bitterness for being so harsh,
while I am ready to achieve another milestone
marking this fateful day as my new dawn...
The fall of Socialism made way for Democracy,
the Berlin's was taken down away by hands seeking freedom,
where evil once had cultivated the idea of a supreme race;
and while some empires fall, others rise even greater than the previous ones!
I have seen one fall in my turbulent life-time, an empire built by the Czars,
and who thought I'd have been so lucky to witness this from a free country:
in which to worship God is not prohibited by any means;
and I express myself knowing no measure in sending massages across
an universe which believes more in materialism,
and hates the idea of being spiritual and liberal, but chooses conservatism...
Anyone can achieve another milestone
and have his or her name engraved in stone,
marble and bronze statues of the famous are put on a pedestal:
I read their plaques and admire them all;
will mine stand on a similar altitude,
or unfairly deny me the crown of laurels, confining me to solitude?
If so, no storm would lap against me, and no sun would scorch me,
and the lamp-posts with the evasive moon wouldn't gaze down in sympathy;
but my uncertain joy can't prevent this event from occurring tomorrow,
and whatever the historians decide, many will read my obituary...
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Every twilight the nightmares are the same
Of a dug up grave with my headstone
Inviting, like the insides of my favorite dream
With a soothing feel of finally finding rest
Most times I linger close to its edge
Wishing I could jump in and let it all end
At least in that small confining space
No one would reach in and hurt me anymore
It’s a perfect way out of all this pain
That tears and self hurts don’t do well to solve
Those who pretend to care would still leave
Leaving me broken than I was before
This night I would finally let go
Putting my foot in and allow it swallow me
Because in that small confining space
No one can reach in and hurt me anymore
I lie on a bed of grass, huddled beneath
this vast expanse of night sky
with the breeze passing in light swirls
over my upturned face,
all my senses alight.
I gaze at that smooth disc
of ardent argent,
unmarred by confining cloud
or pestiferous phase,
clear, full, and impossibly bright.
I wonder at what's brought me here,
to this point in my life;
so many, many questions to be asked;
and all posed to that strictest and secretive guide,
that which we style as a soul.
Rumination, on this field of earth
and in the endless fields of the mind,
provides precious few answers;
yet I continue, ever and anon, to question,
for such, it seems, is my lot.
Is all that's transpired due
to the designs of destiny,
fate's decree -
or simply
the cruel caprices of chance?
Is there a reason, dictated by eternity's will,
for a lone heart to suffer so;
for entwined stars to be torn apart,
one to soar, beautiful and shining,
and one to fall, scarred and dimmed?
The moon knows not,
nor answers my call;
distant and aloof, it returns my scrutiny,
impassive and serene, it quells
the raging storm inside me.
Quieted, I linger,
somehow unable to leave -
and for a time, remain,
entranced under the pale orb
that floats the night above.
When I was young I wasn't much into hugs
or prolonged touch..
I tolerated a peck on the cheek or a kiss
on the forehead before falling asleep..
Probably due to my older sis and her bear like
hugging, a mixture of love and her strength,
that often felt like a mugging..
Many a time I'd balk at requests to be hugged,
two bodies colliding.
It felt too intrusive to me and awkwardly confining.
My second husband changed this all and in time
my hugging dislike was solved.
He gave such secure and comforting hugs, my body
would melt with the strength of his love.
Once a client asked me for a hug at the end of his massage session.
This is a definite red flag for therapists in that profession.
In these recent years now I live alone, several hours from family
and my native home.
At times I miss the intimacy of a hug, that close and calming connection
that leaves one feeling snug.
I'm certain there's others who feel the same way. Why don't we have free
hugging stations for humans today?
You go to the gas station and get a free hug, while the car's tank is filling you also feel love!
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
In the depths of love's vast expanse,
A yearning burns, a desperate chance.
So close, yet words get caught in my throat,
Silent whispers, love's song left to float.
I hold her dear, her presence divine,
But how to show, this heart of mine?
Bound by fear, I watch her start to fade,
My grasp slipping, a love betrayed.
Bitter tears flow, as I fear her loss,
Prayers unanswered, a heavy cost.
Powerless, I stand, with trembling knees,
Lost in the labyrinth of unspeakable pleas.
A truth, so raw, it pierces my soul,
Destiny's riddle, beyond my control.
But loving her, it was never a mistake,
A flame that kindles, refusing to break.
Faith, be my beacon, in this darkened night,
Guide me through doubt, and grant me sight.
For love, eternal force, in every heart it dwells,
Grant me strength, to break these confining shells.
With passion's fire, I'll blaze a path anew,
Embrace vulnerability, sincere and true.
For love, it calls, with fervent devotion,
To find a way, to heal this love's emotion.
In the depths of love, a longing resides,
With faith as my compass, love's rise and tide,
Together we'll journey, through joy and strife,
A love made meaningful, sculpted by life.
What about China?
When they compel you to stay home,
imposing cloaks on nature's beauty
as a fellow friend becomes a foe
and the media unhorsed propaganda
Can we all all ask
what about china?
When old Brit's prime minister
masked tyranny by orders
confining millions to solitude
for the fear of his fickle frame
susceptible to the Wuhan's scourge
can we all ask,
what about China?
When confused men make projections
to feed the greed of the tech giants
or to maintain the cult of the pharmacy
as the media control our lives
as we surrender our freedom to fear
can we all ask
what about China?
So fast was the manipulations
so wide did it spread
so gullible were we all without reasons
to ascent to the communist schemes
who will ask my questions?
Are they clear of the scourge, and we are not?
Can we all ask
what about China?
Communism mocks you all
Perestroika and glasnost seeks revenge
so while your media makes the rouse
as ignorant men speculates,
turning humans to masked animals
obfuscating nature's beauty
can we all ask,
what about China?