Long Contemplations Poems
Long Contemplations Poems. Below are the most popular long Contemplations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contemplations poems by poem length and keyword.
I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.
I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.
And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.
That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.
And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.
Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest.
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
Contemplation is what is required to maintain a healthy mind. With it, you will have the power to communicate. Without it, you will join that ever increasing group of zombies you will pass by almost everyday of your living existence.
Contemplate that you are not what you think you are, but rather, you are what you think others think you are.
Contemplate the fact that we are really only prisoners in this world, like a person in for life. Our reality, accept it or not, nobody gets out of this world ALIVE.
Contemplate that the question really is 2bpositive, or NOT 2bpositive, that IS the (only real) question.
Contemplate that ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies is better than asking those questions and NOT knowing you're getting (only) lies.
Contemplate that being free is not doing what you want to do. True freedom, is the strength of character and fortitude to do what you DON'T want to do.
Contemplate that if you contemplate, you must be alive. However, if you elevate yourself as a giving human being as well due to your contemplating, you can be confident that you probably have a healthy soul as well.
Contemplate that the answers for the mysteries of life that you always sought , won't be that long in coming. These answers are only as far away as your remaining time in this world.
Contemplate what is the worst thing that man can do to you in this world, that your death ultimately cannot make up for.
Contemplate that although human nature is to acquire, on your way to meet your Maker, ultimately, you'll no longer have a need for pockets.
Contemplate that the value of the one true friend waiting for you tomorrow, outweighs the 100 friends you think you have today.
Contemplate that with age comes wisdom and with wisdom power--does not always guarantee--that with this newly acquired power will come wisdom.
Contemplate and if you have the brain to really contemplate, then you'll continue to contemplate and reset your life's navigational and logistic apparatus accordingly.
contemplation is like a fascination
only you control, its illumination
and decide its dissemination
hopefully, without discrimination
it is a place to go
a place to show
but most of all
THE place to grow..............
Form:
A great sorrow is consuming me, tearing me
from inside causing insanity. But you're the
one who pulled me from my misery, and I'll
walk through hell to make sure they don't take
you away from me. They say that my
expression of feeling is shown inappropriately,
they say it's a sign of a teenage impurity. But
it's what's deep inside that they can't see, all
these feelings down inside of me.
As my world falls away, and I've yet to see a
reason, all my emotions begin to decay and my
feelings go on the run. And I'm scared to be the
only one, whose hourglass is half full before all
is said and done. These thoughts trickle down,
as all of your pain fills the air around. I guess
time is catching up behind me, but that doesn't
mean these problems are gonna control me.
Again I found myself wandering around in the
dark, filled with my anger, agony and the pain
that comes with being apart. My thought I'm
thinking, I hope aren't misleading, I only want
what's best for you, not what's best for me to
do. I'm tired of all the false accusations, all the
misinterpreted contemplations. It has darkened
the light in my eye and created a hole in my soul,
but I'm still fighting hard not to lose control.
I told you I'd always be there for you, to always
help you to fight the pain you're suffering through.
But now I'm confused as to what to do, consumed
by guilt of the pain I'm causing you. My heart feels
as though it wants to shatter into ash, as if my
body, mind, and soul were made of glass. I'm here
today only knowing that because of this I may be
gone tomorrow, this thought fills me with anger, pain,
and the greatest of sorrow.
I've been knocked from grace, and cast into hell, the
agony eating away at my shell. It has come to the
point that at times I feel dead inside, running isn't an
option since theirs nowhere to hide. Crying out, because
I made you cry, the pain this has caused you is killing
me inside. When you cry I cry, 'cause deep down apart
of me is trying to die, and there is no explanation, and
no reason why.
Awakening Contemplations
Perception of reality changing in a second
The Invention of congeniality as I wait for you to beckon
The Australian informality of “yeah whatever you reckon!”
The North Korean missile strikes looking to constantly threaten
World stability and Universal peace
The unpaid rent, a broken lease
A reason to vent, an estranged niece
A persistent strain of thought that simply will not cease
Chemical warfare and secluded drone strikes
A Ukrainian counteroffensive in the middle of the night
The oppressed peoples will to stand up and fight
Searching for a future that has the potential to be bright
Ghengis Khan, Nostradamus and Shakespeare
No intention to harm , only to disqualify your fears
An isolated old woman breaking down in tears
A forlorn ex-revolutionary marvelling at the passing of the years
The recollection of youth passing by far too quickly
A monsterous uncouth agent described only as prickly
The bubonic plague recreated and the people are sickly
The presidential race and how it’s run politically
Beauty and science and history and mathematics
All by the bass note as it sounds that fantastic
We revere what William Wordsworth wrote and produce more ecstatics
As the oceans and rivers fill up with plastic
Daring souls on the edge of inventions and ideas
The whole on the ledge, financial systems in arrears
Climate change deniers red faced as the carbon emission clears
Interpol debased as the criminal network sneers
Apathetic resignation as life passes you by
Magnetic mutations as people begin to ask why ?
Frenetic contemplations as salt water flows from my eyes
Epic considerations as the elderly prepare to die
An evening with Shostakovitz and classical relief
An interim meeting with a dogmatic thief
A tight fit unit bringing Humanitarian Relief
A man that doesn’t know his own philosophical and spiritual beliefs
There’s a a path that is right and a path that is taken
As you arrive at your future self quite visibly shaken
There’s nothing left but what remains to be mistaken
And the epiphanies experienced as your soul begins to awaken
Copywrite 2023 Elizabeth Moroz
My thoughts reflecting upon a year that is about to pass into history. Each month bringing its own joy, sorrow, and contemplations. I have written It in the form of a couplet, adopting a 12 syllable meter per line of verse which can also be called Alexandrine. My thoughts are mostly based on Indian weather conditions which are diverse and complex in nature.
My resolution for the New Year was anew,
Then the time to break the resolution was due;
As the new year grew old again, so did my will,
A few clichéd preachings and the routine drill;
It was the month January, new was the year,
Armed with newer resolutions, I had no fear;
The month was gone, shortish February was here,
To grapple with resolutions, mind’s still unclear;
March, beware of the Ides, they bring nothing but gloom,
It was also the time for the flowers to bloom;
You should never forget the trusting April Fool,
Do not be deceived by friends, remain ever cool;
May, dedicated to labour, union’s call,
Yet, most reactions to work, often whimsical;
Summer was upon us as we reached mid-year June,
People could not bear the heat and were out of tune;
Just as I came to terms with the heat of tropics,
‘twas time to discuss rain and related topics;
Wet July had come, quenching, and never too soon,
The topics to discuss changed to stormy monsoon;
August, too rainy, no Sun, no blue sky, no fun,
Yet, vibrant shades of green filled uninspiring dunne;
The weather can get cyclonic, come September,
The havoc it caused was something to remember;
The ancient name for October, Winterfylleth,
Romans chose Octo to name the eighth for the tenth;
November, orphan nobody wants, damp and cold,
Uninspiring, barren too, nothing to behold;
Snowy December brought with it end of the year,
Heralding celebrations for X’mas, and New year;
Another year passes, promised all so much joy,
Delivered pain, hate, and too little to enjoy;
Why new hopes are always linked to resolutions,
Love forever primal fear confabulations;
If character, attitude is impeccable,
That’s when hope matches success glorifiable;
mbfarookh
I rested my morose attitude and crafted a positive outlook
which I needed to inspire my contemplations ,
I then stepped out turning the page before the next chapter
to help clear my feelings from the shelf full of mundane concepts
and perhaps distill my perceptions to remove some burden clouds.
Near the end of the path to the lake I paused to wonder
Not that I couldn’t wonder while walking but it’s unlikely,
To grasp what my senses focus on I must have full attention
Walking clears the mind and nourishes the heart subtlety
The sun was cracking thru those repulsive clouds
laying out its long glow upon the gentle rippling tides,
Stillness was in the air and I was alone which prospered me
Peace was undisturbed and I was at the center of tranquility
The wind did not whisper, touches of warmth were absent from the falling sun
Nature was drawing its curtains, summoning its young to prepare for bed
As the night drew nigh, sights of birds returning home were not seen
The time standing here had been of no value, other than fresh air.
Stepping out is a must because all that lies outside would not be sighted
To not have been out would be depriving to my curious mind
I would have pondered as to what I may have missed in view
then brood during the evening having choked that opportunity.
About to turn back to the path I took one more glance around the lake
Something appeared to be a rising above the distant tree tops
It was a gull flying and heading towards the water, most likely to land
Just behind him was an exceptional sight of five swans in flight.
It reminded me of the ‘blue angels’ jets ever so evenly airborne
The sounds of flapping wings became louder as they approached
I lost all sense of where I stood and dropped my hapless attitude
Of all moments before at this lake, this was the utmost pleasurable.
This moment of awe took away all my reflections of negativity’s
Inspired from my look back before departing I summarize my thoughts to say
Never underestimate what may be until you change your attitude and step out.
I rested my morose attitude and crafted a positive outlook
which I needed to inspire my contemplations ,
I then stepped out turning the page before the next chapter
to help clear my feelings from the shelf full of mundane concepts
and perhaps distill my perceptions to remove some burden clouds.
Near the end of the path to the lake I paused to wonder
Not that I couldn’t wonder while walking but it’s unlikely,
To grasp what my senses focus on I must have full attention
Walking clears the mind and nourishes the heart subtlety
The sun was cracking thru those repulsive clouds
laying out its long glow upon the gentle rippling tides,
Stillness was in the air and I was alone which prospered me
Peace was undisturbed and I was at the center of tranquility
The wind did not whisper, touches of warmth were absent from the falling sun
Nature was drawing its curtains, summoning its young to prepare for bed
As the night drew nigh, sights of birds returning home were not seen
The time standing here had been of no value, other than fresh air.
Stepping out is a must because all that lies outside would not be sighted
To not have been out would be depriving to my curious mind
I would have pondered as to what I may have missed in view
then brood during the evening having choked that opportunity.
About to turn back to the path I took one more glance around the lake
Something appeared to be a rising above the distant tree tops
It was a gull flying and heading towards the water, most likely to land
Just behind him was an exceptional sight of five swans in flight.
It reminded me of the ‘blue angels’ jets ever so evenly airborne
The sounds of flapping wings became louder as they approached
I lost all sense of where I stood and dropped my hapless attitude
Of all moments before at this lake, this was the utmost pleasurable.
This moment of awe took away all my reflections of negativity’s
Inspired from my look back before departing I summarize my thoughts to say
Never underestimate what may be until you change your attitude and step out.
Bendy old whales taste like snails doing a backflip. But swarms of over eighty nine peonies are closely followed by nine bulls, an elephant tribe, a beetle colony and a party of laughing butterflies. Whose aerial display party was angled to the left in the sky with a north easterly breeze catching the cute curtains and shifting the might of the beasts in airborne state. Like undulating flights of the uniquely formed umbrellas. With wingspans measuring over two thousand kilometers. And kilometres are neither kale nor kaleidoscopic kitchens. So watch out for the breeze block ballet which often entertains sand at high tide. But disposable barbecues can be used as a hang glider if sufficient cello tape is applied to fix the wings. And the throttle can only ever be made by a six foot horn of a walrus. Stifle no swamp who is attempting a speech. And speeches by swamps are very very important. They tell the people not to drop nail polish in bowls for the bowls can get upset and cry which then causes creaky creamy bowmen to sink apples and donut cakes with piercing shots. Such a playful pudding is playing pivotal ping pong in a very talented way. It really is quite acrobatic you see. And a maze on a plate can only ever be cleared with a salt shaker and a hooded pepper grinder whose antics in the woods please the woodpeckers who have a six hour break from peck peck peck to watch the scenes in bemused contemplations. So the little pretty whale is in a flowery dress today. Good. That will please Mr shark whose love of female forms could stem from a wild neolithic neem but not a norm. Really not. Chasing skirts round and around. Wow. Interesting isn't it? And a foregone conclusion is skin to a fox falling over a peanut while a crispy wafer laughs. Hahaha drooling drive deciphering dreams. Hahaha mist in a bath of gravy. Xxxxx tyrannosaurus training teacups. Xxxxx organizationally z z z z z z z at a left over left-handed angle of a righteous right-handed rigmarole rink. Z 46% plus 293 degrees is a delightful sunbathing pan of whipped cream. Z z z z
Form:
(This time I've quoted my own poem titles. Everything in quotes is a title.)
"Dear reader," again, this monolog persists.
We're no longer "sparring" with figurative fists.
"The blood of an Englishman" is my last token,
"cursive curtsies" for "love unspoken."
"The magic of your arms" is now "unattainable,"
"man glitter"'s sloughing unexplainable.
"Footprints in time" lead to your "home garden,"
now overgrown with common weeds to pardon.
"This is the place" where "pruning" is "timeless,"
and "ballroom backgrounds" are forever rhymeless.
Briars pull me close with roaming stickers.
"The stars in the sky" "wake me" with sharp "flickers."
Doves' worn "coos" sound more like "snoring."
"The shape of water" is a tsunami pouring.
"The balcony bows" like "uncommon courtesy,"
"bolstered" hardwood buckling to be free.
"A safe place to hide" is looking vastly glum.
I cling to the shadows like "coffee table gum."
"Winter contemplations" are an everyday thing,
like "blackout poetry---detached," a missing ring.
"Forsaken" "spiderwebs" hold your "signature scent,"
though they are as broken as bent.
"Winter twigs wither" like a limp "paper boat"
immersed in a "defenseless," old moat.
"All that remains" "for the headstrong and wrong"
is a broken cassette withholding our song.
"I will care for you" like a "scarecrow in still life."
"The widow's pew" has gained a haggard wife.
"Birds through obscurity" perceptively lag.
"Goodbye, love..." I impart to you "freedom's flag."
Don't "call back the curtain" to yesterday.
"Installments of lost time" are impossible to pay.
I'll be as strong and "brave" as the mighty ant.
Then came the "thought thief..." "Will I if I can't?"
"No proper goodbye" would satisfy my "appetite."
A morsel on the path to "winter's endless night."
"Maybe" the "earth meets firmament" on the brink.
A "snow globe refreshment" will be my last drink.
The "typewriter" points "westward," and there it shines,
"clinging to (these last) undulating lines."
9-25-2023
Monopolising Youth And Sorrow
Elevations of my soul soar toward the remnants of a dream
Revelations on growing old pour out from behind a stifled scream
Contemplations on what is sold when they are looking to demean
Vaccinations for a cold that conjures up something else that we need to clean
Hybrid inflections of my own vocal intonations spoken loud
Cybrid reflections of the local community standing proud
I hid my good intentions in humility so it went unnoticed like a cloud
Then rid my inane inventions of the need to be read aloud
Placating a crying child at the latest social sense of some injustice felt
Berating a sighing wild woman for some recompense for what she’s dealt
Negating a dying portion of my defense that can’t be helped
Aggregating a lying fortune teller for the notches upon her animal pelt
Cascading waterfalls that know it all as each droplet begins to fall
Crusading commissioners that show their hand and try to remain standing tall
Parading provisioners that refuse to give an inch of kindness or at all
Degrading derisioners that choose to refuse to relent and constantly show their gall
Light to bear an obvious burden that will not go away
Sight to tear a ludicrous sermon to pieces on a sacred Sunday
Delight to wear the luminous speakers thoughts who has something to say
Insight to hear the subtle sounds of discernment and decay
A subtle refine of elegance blazed across the sky
The trouble in the recompense of someone always asking why
A bubble of sorrowful defence as I’m so inclined to cry
As the rubble of their pretence makes me report another wide eyed sigh
Wisdom and the benevolence that Rumi writes of constantly
Children get through a broken fence as I stand there observing solemnly
Give them a solid defense as they don’t stand a chance without it properly
As the system relents and continues to dance around the next monopoly
The End Copyright