Long Contemplating Poems
Long Contemplating Poems. Below are the most popular long Contemplating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contemplating poems by poem length and keyword.
Quiet Stillness
There two words pervade my life
consuming the very act of living.
I love these two words
if it's possible to love words.
The quiet of my heart
beating softly, rhythmicly, unnoticed
but sustaining me;
The stillness of my soul,
meditating, contemplating creation
and the wonders of the Creator.
The quiet stillness
overwhelms and enthralls me
bringing me visions of hope and love.
The sanctuary of prayer is within,
overcoming all obstacles,
embracing all potential,
maintaing and spurring me onward
to who I am
and giving me promise and hope
to who I can yet be
in my sacred place,
my quiet stillness.
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
I rejoice where peace is sacred to tease;
Where people draw lots to prove I'm insane...
To beat countless weep into sleep at ease
Without mastery of such acts deep down brain.
I rejoice nonstop...
Praise wriggles every sweat's drop
Till my voice can't pop.
I rejoice where reasoning is far a cure;
Where insanity peeps gut to be gone...
To keep off every thought which seems obscure,
Contemplating of how easier than done.
I rejoice undone...
Praise hails Almighty off fun,
Till my thoughts be gone.
I wish Wems a good day for this new age,
With pleasure well placed out of clock's hands rage...
Counting down seconds each time,
Cum minutes-hours till prime
Dates months of seasons in-out of life's gauge.
Be happy my good friends,
How time of season comes;
Past years- how each blends-
Today's wishes... for joy drums...
The name
mistakenly saintly,
the other one
a rite-of-life,
a gauche passage
for some, for most
the contract costly,
imprints its meaning
post firey baptismal dive
to rise again somehow
from each our own
calamities, the personal
cataclysm we confront
or shun in a parallel life
of optimism, there each one
observes what was and lingers
to kiss the font of the child
within every one, each their own
version of the meaning
of catechism,
forgotten by most,
yet a lingering malaise
swims in their waking,
a sense of de je vu,
these are the incorrigible
pushing the envelope,
the timestamp licked
and mailed off
to other voices
that do not speak,
that do not arrive
through lips, yet
open sleeping minds
and hold the eyelids
to peer directly into
and through to meet
that thing that powers
the brain within,
to shine its glistening
luminescence, one
senses that thing
which is forgotten within,
is commissioned
to win the race of life,
and lose and then,
win again -
the losses mailed off
in worldly corrupted
creative ways, didactic,
where one revisits
as a dark shadow,
standing with all
those other
dark shadows,
frankly contemplating
conversion, and the
salt-strewn stinging
many paths of logic
through those
illogical clues
breadcrumbed
by all those
other shadows,
the eternal puzzle
of understanding
the life viewed standing
under lamplight;
in the disillusioned
poetic world,
we must forever
cultivate our garden,
that never-ending dream;
all is for the best, romantic
cliches and adventures,
falls and risings;
for those who think
they are normal
and above it all,
above the others -
all is never normal,
all is as it should be,
all is for the best,
we stumble and we fall,
some stay where they are,
others get up again and again;
all is as it should be,
all is for the best,
ou l'Optimisme,
Candide
a muse
amused
Candide,
all is as it should be
all is for the best
Candide Diderot. ‘24
'Twas the night before Christmas at the North Pole.
Santa paced to and fro contemplating his role.
Things were in disarray and Mz Claus was on his case,
Chiding him about working just one day a year was a disgrace!
He'd been doing his routine for two-hundred years or so,
And wanted to retire to the South Pole and take it slow!
His reindeer were getting old and fat and slowing down,
Especially Rudolph, the red-nosed one, of world renown!
The shafts and runners on his sleigh needed much repair.
Dealing with his slothful elves left him in deep despair!
They went on strike and there were few toys on the shelves.
Kids might have to go to Walmart for toys, fending for themselves!
He tired of kids peeing on his lap during whimpering interviews,
And getting stuck and rumpling his suit in all those sooty flues!
He was getting fed up with the usual snacks of cookies and milk;
Santa much preferred salami and cheese or something of that ilk.
Due to climate change, the Pole was thawing, adding to his woes.
All too soon his whole operation could be afloat on Arctic floes!
But despite his problems Santa saddled his cranky but faithful deer,
Determined to visit each girl and boy to deliver joy and good cheer!
Entry for Joseph May's "The Night Before" Contest
(22 November 2019)
Placed No. 3 in the contest
Oh pale rider who wanders the dry desert plains of my soul.
Why do you torment me?
Like a ravenous wolf, devouring my spirit;
Knowing that I fear you.
Your helpmate; hopelessness continuously entering my loneliness;
As they waltz the dance of death.
Yet my mind is comforted by your ceaseless beckoning,
A voice sweet and mellow as a nightingale;
Causing me to drift away from the world that rejects me…..
How tempting you are
Enticing me with the unknown, the other side….
How peaceful it seems…
The choice I have made, to join you in the mysterious abyss.…
The windows to my soul…. They close……
Shutting out the tedious dull light….
I feel your usher, darkness, welcome me with a warm embrace…
I hope I am as welcome ;
As I have welcomed you?
I long for you….
Goodbye miserable world…..
Receive me……
I came out in the real world
To reunite with my soul I once had but lost
To reach out and feel your world
Of which I was once part of those you loved most
I came out in the open
To remind you of my past
A past I never wanted to happen
A past I never wanted to last
It is easier to forgive than to forget
Or cease repining from my visceral offense
But it is never my personal end not to regret
Hurting the hearts of my believers and friends condensed
By now I am like a flower defoliating
And have aged because of the past
But I'm still here standing and contemplating
After long years of silence, being an unbearable outcast
My words are not enough to make up
But the one good person you once knew is still inside of me
It is with honesty and sincerity that I showed up
Came back and still have a good grip of my real me... just me!
The pirate ship named Legend Of The Sea sails in the agitated waves of the Caribbean Sea. Captain Conrad, the corsary most dreared of the zone, was thinking about his dearly loved one named Chandra. It was about five years he did not see her. Meanwhile, Chandra was in an isolated island thinking about Conrad.
They cannot stop thinking about the most longed moment when they encounter again. One of the pirates warned to Conrad that another pirate ship was approaching them. Conrad gave the command of attack the ship. It was a fiery combat. Conrad won the battle. The day to see Chandra again was more closer than ever.
Stars in the sky was shining more brighter than ever. Chandra was in the beach shore contemplating the sky when she saw The Legend Of The Sea. The joy she felt at her heart was indescribable. Her loved one already came back after many years. When finally Conrad got out from the pirate ship, he ran to hug and kiss Chandra.
Only the stars and the enigmatic moon were the witness of the ardent love demonstrations of Conrad and Chandra. The dawn was in the horizon when Conrad and Chandra left the island on The Legend Of The Sea without let knowing anybody their port destiny.
Nayda Ivette
12-27-2015
Things like that happen all the time.
I once spent hours looking for a cat which slept unlost
in a spare room he wasn’t allowed in.
A single thump on the wrong ceiling
told me he was present - if not correct - and ready for life.
And I could sleep.
The thing is, the unsuspected tears through strategies
like meteors off course.
For instance, I dream myself in colour.
Hair - brown, frame - tense in clothes donated
uncharitably and long ago to the young and retro.
I awake not to the candlelight of sepia
but an intense digital glare. Hair-white,
skin toned by stuff I can’t afford.
You could argue that, in reality,
I sleep lithe and dark in a locked room,
alive somewhere after nine pm and halfway
through something I was watching.
Mirrors are chances to rethink.
Consider all the times you observed yourself
contemplating death, divorce,
or what it means to waive defences against
life which occupies you - curls up till it’s ready for itself.
Next time you stare into your eyes,
dare to rummage through the jumbled stuff.
That suit is there, with its impossible
zips and in-stripes – already bagged
with your coloured hair and the way you sigh
or smile or cry in glass.
My dreams are seldom of what happened.
Often, I am happy at last with a man I couldn’t have,
or stepping out in impossible heels
and a perfect sense of just how good I look.
The rubbish chute of years does not begin
from the rooms where I sleep.
Praying from the heart
Whispered thoughts, yearnings
Breathed into the sanctuary
Or the pillow or the ear
Of one who will listen to your
Hopeful prayer
Praying from the lips
Naked beliefs, feelings
Bright as crimson that pours
From the veins of the One
Who gave us a chance
To be reborn
Praying from the silence
That glimmers on stardust
Arrayed in brilliant gladness
Exhilaration flowing like rainfall
Against a soft cheek, teary
From elated faith
Praying from the grace
That colors souls in hues of light
Soft and gentle, like a caress
Of inspiration and compassion
Dancing with laughter
From a joyful thought
Praying from the plans
Of a spirit that understands
Psalms of thanksgiving and peace
Come to life on the conviction
Of those who choose to listen
To the Spirit’s direction
Praying from the insight
Of a holy, healing hope
Kindness overflows in rich floods
Of beauty, brilliance and goodness
That comes from heeding
The answers He bestows
Praying from the spirit
With tender assurance you’re giving
All your best, your hope and faith
The love that you possess
Because He blessed you with
Love that is fully alive!
On the inside, you can know
Your prayer is touching God’s spirit
And you can be certain that He is willing
To answer those prayers you’re contemplating
With the promise of a heavenly guide
Who is always by your side!
The Holy Spirit is always
Making intercession for us
Luke 11:13
If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?