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.
A image whispers through my contemplations
I feel like I’ve awakened in a dream of the past
Emotions surround me, gracing me with prayers
Bidding me wisdom from this reflection elapsed
A representation of what once gave me joy
Selections of melodies gone now, but recalled
With this tender rendition of long-ago moments
Sweet echoes singing softly as I listen intently
A replication gently touches my inner affections
Reminding me that I’ve been blessed with memories
Some that will always appeal to my compassion
Some that encourage me to keep loving with passion
A vision of some moment that has passed from my mind
Valuable beauty filling my heart with inspiration and delight
Little memorials of all the things that have gone by me
Adventures in living that reassure and fill me with sensibility
A portrayal of living that enlivens my sense of reception
Waking within me that charming remembrance of elation
The way that if feels to know acceptance and assurance
Feelings that come back with a glimpse at this picture
A depiction of the moment when I was so alive with anticipation
Yearning for the heartfelt fervor that brightens the moments
Soothing the broken heart and heartening the discouraged
Comforting the one who hurts and encouraging the hopeless one
A personification of satisfaction from hope, faith and love
All that comes from knowing the grace and mercy of God above
Sent to reassure anyone who sees this impression of an earlier time
A moment that stirred up feelings which will always hold adoration for…
A memory caught in a photo
Life secretly offering fleeting moments of happiness… but the underlying sadness creeps through; the grief of human condition always seeps through from the unconscious. I always imagined it as the watery liquid separating from the unctuous and the solid matter of the brain as a pervading force that relentlessly pursued my happiness.
I am reminded often that this life offers no protracted security of contentment only taunting bits of joy.
Is that what we must satisfy ourselves with then? We are to be grateful solely for the passing seconds of joy.
In this life we are offered only an empire of dirt and the subconscious encumbered with the knowledge that we are merely destined become part of that empire.
Contemplations For Joanna
Propulsion forward through the entropy toward the finish line
Expulsion toward nothingness from a population in decline
Repulsion formed at courts of corruption by the degradation of mankind
Convulsions inward turning as we strive for the refine
Emblematic overtures containing muse inspired compositions
Hippocratic underscores as medics train the next physician
Beaurocratic paper wars that only perpetuate division
Problematic pain forewarned as they complicate decisions
Bereft alone defiant and cold am I a mirror of the times?
The heft of clones insurgent and bold shimmer and blur the lines
Of scientific ethics and progress’s path toward whatever is redefined
I can’t bemoan the young or old of their right to choose not to heed the signs
Retrospective consideration for what cannot now be changed
Circumspective commiseration for the broken, poor and maimed
Introspective observation for those left out in the philosophical rain
Irrespective of their willingness to endure the tough topographical terrain
Mandatory monuments erected in effigy’s of history’s celebrated men
Placatory compliments detected as they try to mass converge and then defend
Allegory statements rejected as he crucifies his friend
Laboratory engagements infected by the genomes final end
Abrasive conversation that hurts the sensitive of soul and sound
Pervasive consternations that work their way through the mind then come back around
Evasive rules of aberration as they put me in the ground
Invasive tools of interrogation remove the wise from the profound
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz 2025
Love has cast it's eye
in mans direction
will I choose it's life
or insurrection
to look upon ones heart
and see what's needed
with it's contemplations
so sweetly seeded
That divinity within
can be created
and formerly in maddness
reject the thing as hated
but so melodious is it's song
I pause to listen
to meditate upon the things
I might be missing
the rapture of it's music
has turned my soul
to meditate upon the things
that make us whole
In wonder I have looked
upon it's face
towards it's calling I want
my heart to race
deftly my mind argues loudly
for it's ejection
rebuild my castles wall
and it's defection
what decision I will make
or what to do
to listen to it's call
or pass on through
temperament and habits
hard to break
and to repel this melody
so makes me quake
Such spectral beauty
lays within it's frame
and so brightly burns
it's blissful flame
In thanks and praise
to my God above
for the gift of knowing
God is love
Ps 34:18 Ps 139:23 Ps 4:4 1Jn 4:7-21
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
On your pale hard tummy, lined up so neat I row,
with the queens permission bloomers in plastic on E Bay.
Those spears and swords used as pens, two brown, one pink and deep cobalt that blue...
You reach out to rediscover the other I am that wandering traveler
Scribbling tonight in frantic haste covered in your yellow Van Gogh paste.
Are you sneaky and secretive in your nutritive contemplations.
Do you want to wander under the stars for a little while?
Between the pulse of the sun today and light Tommie is heavy and full this night.
Basking golden in a silence that will never leave upon awaking then woman thus come when it does.
Imagining all kinds of your imaginings...
Lips between those short Greek words that only you could find monotheist use for, alas because of you, I squirm.
And you and they on some named flatulent horse of a book.
Look at me and it comes in a hurry blurry haze all over us
and when I do you as want by your will, I am properly twisted
What a wonder! Nothing was written! Absolutely free!
Bee, sea, tree - I can create whatever I want to see.
Receptively blank as the almighty designed it well,
It can in each sketch His miraculous mysteries spell...!
Tabula rasa, John Locke calls it - no readymade concepts,
Like nectar in a flower, facts fill in all its contents;
The environment like my mother nurses my actions,
My caring and rearing enable all my attractions...!
I am like a natural child, devoid of compulsions,
My growing intelligence expulses all convulsions;
The Blank Slate - nature's hardware - analyzes all awareness,
My contemplations - software - set them rightly in fairness...!!!
06 February 2023
The simple illuminations of my contemplations
Hues my confuse and delude
While delusions are miss-construed
Images previewed and reviewed
As levels of altitude are determined by attitude
Only the prelude
Solitude, confinement
Far beyond heaven sent
My future residence
The higher my regiment
My body’s irrelevant
My soul’s the essence
Spirits presence
Determines my relevance
To my future ahead
Instead, of thinking
I dream, of my ambition
Making the transition am I
Preparing to fly
Soar, as I see myself
Above the rest
Reaching my goals,
Satan, my adversary
My God with me
For I AM - the visionary
We are the suicide boys
One day we fly
The next we die
We are the dreams than never get seen
We are the dead end traps
Wrap your mind around the ideas
Of too much contemplations
With no destinations
No place to belong
No place where we can sing lullaby songs
Other than our suicidal dreams
No place to scream
So we hang around
Headless dancing bastards
Mindless souls tell no tales
The forests stand majestically tall
As we hang from limbs
Of ancient trees
Raindrops fall
As we are left hanging around
The suicide boys
The train stations sit silent
Paris streets sit empty
The forests echo our screams
White laced angels dance overhead
Yoga moves save not our hanging heads
We all had sad hearts when we were young
We all had suicidal dreams
Fantasies that kill you, if one dares
Never ask
Never tell
Suicide boys hanging from the trees
Musical killings drifting in the breeze
Our songs will echo long after
As we are left hanging around
We can’t breathe so set us free
From hanging trees
The suicide boys
Of 1983
Inspired while listening to this video
Magic Man - Paris
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yteXdnQQSUc
I toss and turn, mumbling
To a sleepy thought, a memory
I ponder and wonder fills my dreams
Echoing light through the silence
Lifting my heart above the uproar
Details, darkness surrounds me
I collect words, sentences, stanzas
Breathless feelings poured out on tongues
Dissecting the emotion, the sensations
Moods of hope and elation, opinions
Heartbreak and heartbeats pounding
Gentle whispers, sighing, gasping, panting
I lift up songs, psalms – living ideas
Poetry flowing from my inspirations
Contemplations of joy, joking with me
Exhilarating impressions of grace, awakening
Light, reflecting all the sorrows, the peace
Promises of healing and happiness
I write only what I know and believe
Will I caress a soul with my pen?
Does the poem whisper kindness?
Does it smell of roses or stink like rotting?
I write only what I know and imagine
Lasting judgements, stirring up faith
I land on the moon with my rocket
Soar from the mountains, passing oak trees
Seeking the passion that succeeds
In breaking all the doubt, the heavy hands
Weighing art with tools of perfection
Will I be blessed with sharp suppression?
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
July 9, 2022
An exuberant falcon she is, isn’t she?
Being the aviator of my flight of thoughts.
Cares less she to heed, whenever in adoration, I
Do call her for a chat - she is a mischievous trickster.
Every time she dawdles, I give her a gentle prod;
For then, she arrives in ripples of reasoning,
Gleaming in reflections of my own contemplations.
Hues of insights kindle my mind’s spectrum as
I follow her to the unexplored layers of landscape - a
Journey for the moment - as we drift across the
Kaleidoscope of nature, when through seamless
Loops of thoughts, I crochet and disperse my ink
Meandering over dreamy mangroves of my mind.
Now she’s disappeared, but where’s she gone?
Oh, she can vanish in a flash like a lightning! - a
Playful penguin - it’s hard to grab her attention; the
Quick-witted queen of my boundless imagi-Nation, who
Refills my thought pot and sows fresh seeds of fancy.
Sometimes with her capricious flaps, she glides away
To coax her to stay back more is beyond my ability.
Upon the labyrinth of life, we travel together.
Voices of many a mind, whispering and rumbling,
We hear as we ponder on the vast sea of life. My
Xanadu of inspiration, when she appears out of nowhere.
Yes, she feeds my brief reveries with pearls of perception - a
Zealous advocate, she is, of my passionate ink.