Long Contemplation Poems
Long Contemplation Poems. Below are the most popular long Contemplation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contemplation poems by poem length and keyword.
I thought I loved you
But I am beginning to love you more
And more
I am beginning to think about you more
And more
I am beginning to dream of you more
And more
I imagine loving you
Until the end of time
Until all the bells chime
Until I love you more
And more
Until I think of you more
And more
Until I dream of you more
And more
No, it’s not infatuation
No, it’s not adoration
No, it’s not passion
No, it’s not compassion
No, it’s not devotion
No, it’s not admiration
No, it’s not contemplation
No, it’s not affection
But it’s true, mutual and unrequited love
Raw feelings coming from above
Flowing through my brain
Dancing in my veins
Giving me sweet pain
And strength to break the chains
So we can fall in love again
And again until eternity, in Heaven.
Copyright © November 2002, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
The traveller’s regrets
He has been a sailor all his life, a traveller trying to find
the boy he left behind, the haste to become an adult
an Autumnal leaf falls into the stream follow its course
but sometimes, there is a tiny inlet where it gets stuck
with other debris before getting loose again and drifting
to where the stream meets a river that ends in the sea
where mighty rivers add nothing but mudbanks that
are full of nutrients and attract edible snappers.
Often, he senses the world ache of the futility of life
to stop for a little while for inaudible contemplation
not to hunger for what he cannot acquire, the ease
of a life well lived.
He thinks the boy will know, who has lived long enough
not to chase rainbows, a fleur-de-lys is but pretty and
disappears from view in a dreamy haze.
Perhaps it was the voyage that mattered and not how
it ends.
That barefoot girl runs on the smooth, red sand as a gazelle in the wild,
she hears terrifying screams coming from the shore while the surf arises:
is somebody about to drown? There are no safeguards
watching from their posts, it's after closing time!
Her pale face shows panic, but is that her child?
There are some people on the beach, the Seaside's distant bells chime...
hardly anyone had paid attention to the peaceful surroundings
being occupied with their thoughts of contemplation on dreams;
seagulls gathered on rocks, take flight seeing her coming:
she starts shouting, " Call an ambulance! The child is drowning! "
Everybody realizes the seriousness of the matter,
and as if in an act of prayer, their gaze wanders far...
reaching the fearless swimmer fighting off waves, searching hard;
and with great stamina and strong will of mind, she will not be afraid!
Her kindness is a love that will save any life experiencing extreme dire;
it's the most difficult challenge she faces and will remember a lifetime!
Entered in Eve Roper's contest,
" Oil Paintings 4 & 5 "
My Pick: Oil Painting # 2
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
CONTEMPLATION
Serene Sublime Soul solely steady.
Neither to grab nor to be greedy.
On journey of life to get ready
to serve by giving to the needy.
Best sentence to speak or listen:
‘I love you’. always to glisten.
On journey of life supreme bliss in
heart surpassing lust: Love is pristine.
Emerald emotion! Love lavender
Possessive dependence: Great wonder.
On journey of life, charm and splendour.
Domination followed by surrender.
Rushing friction,squabble, divergence.
Dispute dissipation leave strain and stress
On journey of life clash more or less.
Conflict overpowered by embrace.
Society runs, slips, slides through lies.
Engrossed encompassed by rude malice.
On journey of life meanness and vice.
Conquered by ruthless Truth ! Not to entice.
When appeared divisive disunion
All around quarrel-separation
On journey of life normal tension.
Unity is the ultimate solution.
10/29/22
Rotate Consciousness Polarity
Ninth place in premier contest
Contest by Unseeking Seeker
Cardinal zodiac sign of intractable psychic quality
An archetype of self-mastery and perseverance
Prepared always to take discerned control of destiny
Ruled by the planet Saturn, the strength of trait lies
In the innate sense of duty and responsibility, making
Capable achiever being ambitious and determined
Oriented toward contemplation with inner awareness
Regarded as down to earth, practical and pragmatic
Not faltering to face with fortitude the days of winter.
April 1, 2021
Contest : Star Sign Acrostics
Sponsor : Charlotte Puddifoot
To President Joe Biden
Anecdote : It is an ode to poetry, nothing personal, nothing satirical, and the ultrasound is a personal experience of further need in contemplation of my left breast, where unwanted growths gave me a huge dilemma of metaphorical islands, benign or cancerous, does not matter.
Shawna has a sharp shape , robust figurative speech
Strange, nosy, but arrogant, stern and stubborn in beauty.
Her newly wed face had a bridal glow, sunlight mystery
She is particular in her pink dresses, pink lipsticks
and in her pink stones in carved jewels.
I remembered her through the legacy of thirteen years
Hospital floors are shiny, hinting in polished and polishing epigraphs
Reasons. Limiting definitions. Wanted and fine-tuned reasons.
The soap opera in happening time on the TV screen
mounted on the higher end, had an obnoxious hetero-mixture in latency
Las Vegas casinos or improper door fixation in pious inter-courses, timely or otherwise or whatever.
Always an earned longevity in otherwise, other way, in urging other needs.
No one permit it though
The janitors in duty, or the front desk attendants
All were busy too, belonging somewhere elsewhere.
Then I realized, I was wrongly -matched in my pairs of shoes
No one spared the other control, endless saga of two edged folding.
Although, I am a success story of a substantial assimilation of homo-sapiens tribal affair.
I have two eyes, two hands and two strong feet,
Strong, sensible and rational in a rationalizing world.
In the wider sense, too.
I did not recall Shawna , it was still a cloudy aftermath, till that pausing time.
But the end time was drawing closer and closer..
In the beforehand receipt of the ultrasound , and with the post one also.
So that doctor can convert these images into information
humane information
A rusty bastard life earning generous aristocrat reason
To keep it ongoing in Shawna's impeccable life
and in mine too, with my formal prosecutions of cacophony
of falling short in paired shoes.
Therefore the sonic time can heal and deal and reveal
The eternal research question of
The supplicating feminine weep hole.
A single ray shone light through a knothole and anchored his thoughts
At daybreak for the spider-web’s shadow enlightened the beach hut
Tim had lived in a mansion but hardship had unburdened his soul
He was happy because the sun had risen once more over the waves
Time for reflection prayer morning and gratitude in solemn meditation
Nature had given him sight while thick lenses made up for short vision
A glimpse in the day of a sea faring poet
Like driftwood he floated in his quiet mind
Mist ascended as he cleared misgivings and screaming resentments
A ship’s foghorn reminded him that he was able to hear and to listen
It seemed only yesteryear that he had crafted an old-fashioned ear trumpet
From a magnificent sea shell gently covered in iridescent mother of pearl
He paid attention to his small surroundings enchanted by sounds of the tide
An inner world of contemplation followed the shore line straight to his soul
A silent reminder for a washed away scribe
Like whispering chants of today and tomorrow
He licked his lips and tasted salt and the voyage towards freedom
Embraced sea weed small pebbles and fragments of innocent time
Finely ground sand caressed his foundations and rooted his passion
Balanced roots of adventure with a medley of fragrance’s scent
Sea gulls guided his awakening in his modest harmony’s shelter
In his heart he touched a dolphin roaming the cusp of his being
Tim could be whatever he wanted as long acquiescing
Auspicious thankfulness to tame misguided intemperance
Content with what once had been and was and might be or not
He stepped outside into a realm of lightness and nourishment
Gathered what the ocean offered and collected tinder and planks
Wreckage from riding the crest too ambitiously and close to the wind
Kindling was generous and kind to him on this fine passionate morning
And fire burst into life crackled surged and sputtered and never went out
He had vowed to live on terms of beginnings and ends
Until night would fall for eternity and one final breath
22nd July 2019
-
ENERGY- Destruction precedes creation, quoth Picasso
ATMOSPHERE- Earthen demigods, this is the way
Has no one informed you?
STRATOSPHERE - The earth was broken before there was light
Everything comes forth through the birth canal
Pain before joy. Tuesday before Wednesday
BIOSPHERE - Resistance is futile. Denial is cliche
Stop asking
Every talented sophomore cannot be He
Rendering creation as vulgar
KINGDOM - Friction heralds the fruit to come
Friday’s blank page intimidates
The white canvas pisseth on your palette
Indeed, upon all who dare step up
Is everybody listening?
CONSCIOUSNESS - Listen to the unborn voices and do your job
Water the seedlings pining for your attention
Quit ticking them off with sundry excuses
Because their affection for you ends on Saturday
And don’t get angry, this is your Universe
Draw nigh and look busy in front of it
CONTEMPLATION - A Creator has created Creators
In His image He has created Them
Life is art, quoth Goethe
All art is a self-portrait, quoth Wiley
The painterly sky is clarion on Sunday
When I say He, take it personally
This is the way
Without malice nor forth-thought,
no wide dee what aye will write
and thus would gladly take suggestions,
hence coon sitter this
manifesting poetic effort an in vite
unusual, yes, boot
oft times mental blitzkrieg
brainstorm relapses (pondering)
the same trite,
hence on a whim aye pulled
out all the stops in an effort
to zero in on an in site
full topic in situ, which need
not be politically wrong or right
and trying to tow the line (to avoid
upsetting some person,
faction, ethnicity...quite
impossible, and...oh gnome hatter
that any individual
could share unpleasant
worldly news, (aye avoid
gloom of neigh sayers),
and much prefer to weigh in on
the contemplation of a personal plight,
which sudden on rush of ideas
(akin to an emotional tsunami)
usually occurring at night,
whereby an indomitable surges
of overwhelming might
flashes thru my consciousness light
ting up thine entire cerebral circuitboard,
whereupon this white knight
feels mounted up a wild steed
with fiery eyes that seem to ignite
reining up on hind quarters
to an exceptional height
and now reached a writer impasse, I abhor,
where flow of bubbling ideas
find me marooned as if
stranded on a sand bar
came to screeching stop, thence desperation
analogous caught in a traffic,
and ready to jump out the car
or perhaps feeling
a day late, and dollar
short aghast that glib flow, an exception
that showed me as a
false prophet with no exemplar
of English language with prospects
landing deal as best selling author far
remote then getting struck
by lightening twice starkly aware
ma fingers could not even play
a one string guitar.