Long Consequent Poems
Long Consequent Poems. Below are the most popular long Consequent by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Consequent poems by poem length and keyword.
The ocean moon as symbol of soul,
divine vapor and breath of whole.
Incarnated in that formidable eye,
to attain the summit seen in that sky.
Ceaselessly twilight unite,
assisting that love affair so bright.
Surpassing human weakness,
falling just short in divine greatness.
By sleep the soul so vigorous,
free from senses lustrous.
Hindered deity by bondage of mind,
in sleep behold those wonders kind.
The ability to see the pouring bliss,
the miracle loves wisdom kiss.
Dimly waking the mind inevitable
tincture purpose creditable.
Space and time in consequent principle,
spirit wheel season disciple.
Clouds of egos illusion to realize,
true purpose endeavors penetrates.
Phoebus the innocent cosmic child,
is alluring that pondering mind.
Learning and not gaining the knowledge of truth,
virtues loss that talent is sold by reason proof.
The intellect in doubt when stupidity is confident,
the ignorance and its conscientious consequent.
The atheist’s ego and stress to believe in higher power,
recognized by being corrected and turning sour.
The loss of integrity by prudent act of knowledge,
but foolish expose that folly inferior grudge.
Delight of senseless proof in fact,
killing the potential of embrace in act.
Emotional intelligence the sphere of love,
believing or not are desperations for all above.
The power to control needs a story told,
ageless entities forever bold.
Entities of numbers have endless frames,
giving scientist room to theoretic claims.
Belief is the freewill of individuality,
where big bang becomes a lollipop sanctuary.
Expensive education the holy drag,
where every degree is a smoking ***.
By turning times to become a admired elite,
the evolution to turn into a Aphrodite.
The consequence of ego’s appetite,
making love to ones owns satisfied.
To find an island floating somewhere in the middle of the ocean shall I go following the water as it flows? In spring, as a flower with the color of scarlet, violet, or canary; in summer, mount on the cloud passing by; in autumn, drifting along a secluded inlet for a while, then as a fallen leaf, shall I go following the water as it flows and find an island floating somewhere in the middle of an ocean?
To recover a long gone lost time shall I become a moon and stars and trail the traces of ever so many bitter and sweet memories? From a remote village in a deep mountain, send my regards through a bird’s song and await the good news coming with a cricket’s chirp, and if it become that there is no story left to tell or hear any news from the other side of mountain consider it as the time to let my dear memories go, or shall I remain as a moon and the stars in the night and trail the traces of my memories to recover a long lost time?
Then, one day, a high wind rises from the nether world, in jet-black armor, mounted on a black charger holding a lance under his arm, rushes at me, and pierces and scatters the worries, anguishes, and pains that of this worthless life has had well acquainted with, with his lance and horse’s hooves, I shall stand on the top of the hill as fluttering weather-beaten shreds of banner, and when the wind falls I shall live as neither the sun, no a moon nor the stars, but without a word, the will, or the cognition, on other side of paramita* the land of eternity.
*Nirvana [Paramita]: 1. Buddhism: freedom from the endless cycle of personal reincarnations, with their consequent suffering, as a result of the extinction of individual passion, hatred, and delusion: attained by the Arhat as his goal, but postponed by the Bodhisattava. 2. Hinduism: salvation through the union of Atman with Brahma; moksha 3. a state of freedom from pain, worry, and the external world. The Random House College Dictionary. 1980. U.S.A.
I see moon-leaves on trees
Your cascade of hair too
I see passion in a blue spree
Waiting for me and you
And I say to myself in wonder
What a moonlight splendor
I look at starlit mystic sky
Sprinkling love in your eye
So very close to me
Exciting the lips of my sea
Purple dreams everywhere
I say to myself in wonder
How beautiful you are
Golden silence of moon
In your look a lagoon
I will write a poem on you
You on me
And we both of us will be
In our moon beam destiny
On me and you
Moonlit dew
Asking us to say
I love you
I say to myself in wonder
In your touch my harbour
Now let us go to the boat
In our moonlit coat
We two will be one
Except the moon none
Will paint our passion plunder
I say to myself in wonder
What a moment to surrender
Our joyous existence
In a pink to each other
And to our heart’s content
Drink the unique nectar
Of our merger together
I say to myself in wonder
What a fusion fire here
In the moony infinity
We will feel and see
The intensity of our deep night
In the clashes
And the consequent flashes
Of ecstasy
That shakes the gravity
Into a sudden full empty
I say to myself in wonder
What an ocean we are
_____________________________
18/12/2016
We tender that special moment that was well earned, spent in our fabled youth's labyrinth passages beholden to young hearts locked in eternal time for e'er so oft consequent the key of memories call. It beckons me now in subsequent years of a pensive soul tryst with thyself. Loneliness fades grasped by natures blooming redolences proffering counsel to evaporate my soul resplendent aspiration to utterance, awakening welcomed birds to flight and favor a dusky crown bejeweled with distant stars flickering arousal as a moon in its laborious mood o'er guiding men to sort out words of worn-out paper neatly tucked away neath backseats of a row vehicles parked on a hillside crowded lane. A cooled engine warms my car as I leave behind a season of mist and mellow fruitfulness.
2020 January 28
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” By John Keats
When the parents are gone,
the kids survive by heeding advice and carry on
their wishes by honoring their true intent;
flowers sprout and then bloom,
never living their fragile, little ones to a fateful gloom...
as sunshine nurtures them!
Glimpses may not give us a full image,
but they can reveal their glossary of life and death,
and it depends on us how to put it
into a consequent sentence and give meaning to it;
our parents raised us up to a certain standard,
hoping we'd pick up the slack where they left off!
And will we be elated by parental pride,
by doing all things that are beautiful and honorable...
great things that endow us with exuberance and fortitude,
to conquer every boundary and win every battle?
History can take us there, showing us the ones who fearlessly dared:
Moses who bashed rebellion and Jesus who lashed the whip!
Many will stumbled on life's deception,
others will cautiously follow its trail to wisdom,
to find themselves acclaimed by glory
and flourishing in their endeavors: they will find immortality;
and if anyone was deceived by the notion...
that nothing outlasts us, they are completely wrong!
There's no greater joy than remembering
how our parents leaded a religious life without a spot,
believing that obedience was a reward for longevity; and was
God ever put out of their thoughts...not fortifying
their spirits and making them stand on a solid rock?
Foolish persons shouldn't be pitied for their self-inflicted wounds!
The kids can survive by heeding advice, unfraidly facing their challenges,
alleviating their fears with the words that they received from the elders:
walking on a straight path, avoiding danger and harm, to live a golden youth
and a longer life...when most youngsters lose these to drugs and lust;
and with no gray hair on their heads and no stories to tell their granchildren,
who are the victorious ones that should declare thier well-merited crown?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Tonight i come i write as not me
but for thee
With fashioned , gifted , borrowed ,
lender pen
On behalf of or partial to other's
those who no longer , longer nigh
As raven , ashen , dust , decaying
are they having had their life their
day in earthly court
So if yee dead have something
wished for i to say
Then speak through me drive my
hand force my pen your story tale
to tell , lest it be left untold
Tell me of the very moment a tear
drowned trickle beaming smilling
upon your face
Whence i your first born baby
entered exited head a first
What joy it was or felt to be
a father of a new born innocent
infant birthed
To witness wife as mother screaming
crying tears of joy handed cradling
child on breast so close and tender
to chest
Tonight i write impartial on and
for the family swelling tree's behalf
As fallen leaf in felling autumnal
setting each leaf asides
Like only running water son or
daughter , mother , father can
like water the influence of ink
doth feel
For love of one another once
crosses tears apart
Till sitting in a garden shed
in silent contemplation is
the only hobby worth of
consequent
Once stationery becomes one
tool swapping spade for pen
in a den of ubiquity
And the waterfall the quill still
wetting is fallen fateful closely
met
With imagery to overcome and
match said sorrow both head
to head and face on face
Terminating in everlasting , restful
grace for all and everyone no less
blessed
Traversing forests, deserts, and over plains, baked naked out in the sun,
forlorn, a child sobbing in the rain, or teardrops from heaven falling..,
Imagine just a moment, futility of time,
scrutinise what balance left for self, for humanity
In an age, a place where passion died,
then we ought not to fail but,
inexplicably blind - we do
Like teardrops falling from heaven, where we played, where we cried,
It is not unending this fate, It is not completely of our own undertaking, this given mortality..,
The strangest lie ever conceived - for ourselves by ourselves this odd endeavour,
Look for truth, push for truth, personal integrity cannot perish - ever,
And break the barriers of our lies,
Love seemed to always be the answer, study, practice the middle path,
so engage, indulge in life as best you can, avoid the karma of consequent wrath,
You have to give it, to receive it anyway, which is sufficient and sublime,
Fill your heart, don't destroy another's which is a sin,
Follow self, one's own instinct which is sufficient doctrine,
It's better by design
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
December 2003
With a deafening thunder
and blazing lightning,
Amidst a swirling clouds
of dark ominous smoke,
He appeared suddenly
Smack in front of me -
A most hideous being
who appeared neither
human nor a beast.
With a swift sleight of hand,
Before I could even cry out:
"Stop it. Oh God, please stop"
He plucked my heart out
and held it in his hairy filthy hand.
Oh, why he has to take it out?
My only possession, my only wealth,
The only thing that beat against
my frail, long worn-out chest,
Assuring its constant company
in this lonely journey of my life.
But heedless of my pleadings,
He tossed my heart
into the gutter
with a gut-wrenching laugh!
I asked this foul fiend:
Who art thou?
Why did thou taketh my heart away?
With a guttural voice he spoke thus:
I am the devil! Lord of the Hell,
I am the impetus that steers
the course of affairs in this world;
With me on your side,
You'll get the most out of a strife.
With Adam, the first man,
I came hither and residing since.
An ardent companion of those
who coveteth glory in life"
He bent down,
And with his flaming eyes
peered into mine,
Spitting foul breath into my face, he sneered:
But this heart!
This heart is a hindrance,
A barrier, the core of love and humility,
Where you feel the joys and woes of life.
Nah, there's no need for it.
Not in this world,
Where the mind reigns supreme;
Not in this age,
Where vices prevail unrestrained -
The age of decadence, KALIYUGA!*
He half turned to go,
But then he paused,
Turned back and looked at me.
Never have I seen
such a heavenly sight,
Now transformed into an angel,
He extended gracefully
his milky-white delicate hand
And whispered softly
on the breath of the breeze:
Give me thy soul,
And I will give thee the world!
~Dark & Twisted#2 contest by Nathan D
*(KALI-YUGA- Age of vice, is the last of four stages the world goes
through as part of the cycle of Yugas (ages) described in the Sanskrit Scriptures -
an era of decay in values and the consequent havoc.)
Turbocharged you refuse to stop at the sentry
Full speed ahead on the racetrack of manipulation
Safety belt suspending the breaks in free flight
Airbag punctured long ago in rapid disconnect
I put up traffic lights for you at so many T-junctions
Set boundaries and barriers on both sides of the road
Built bridges and roundabouts and paid traffic fines
But violations kept coming and you crossed the red line
Some say you are too young to have a driving licence
And recite chaos theory for your very own highway to hell
De-rooted yield signs lie broken next to strewn promises
Sweet child now it is time to gather your scrap heap alone
I won’t be drawn into further collusion and enablement
Must wave the chequered flag of surrender of abused trust
You will crash on and on until you take consequent charge
I will not rescue you any longer but secure my own lane
30th January 2020