Long Contemplative Poems
Long Contemplative Poems. Below are the most popular long Contemplative by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contemplative poems by poem length and keyword.
Random chain of events
preceded occurrence re:
guarding existence of me
interminable fits and starts
concerning self destruction
inherent within one measly
self important species.
Yours truly synonymous
with any chance reader
(of course inclusive those
untold past multitudes,
who trod upon this oblate
spheroid preceding one
anonymous groveling,
middling sniveling modest
*****sapien) pursuant
upon unknown destination
giving contemplative,
introspective, speculative...
pause every now and again,
asper bajillion prior
bipedal hominids, whose
individual deliberate or
random natural biological
impulses wrought sons
and/or daughters, whose
subsequent call, sans their
wild procreative proclivities
unwittingly begat the
unique chromosomal
combinations inscribed genes
imbuing each of us with
transient occupancy to revel,
relish, reckon very finite
number of orbitz around
nearest star, how longevity
(till mortality – leisurely
and/or vocationally)
expended, yet anatomically,
biochemically, physiologically...
linkedin with avast
gamut incorporating
unknowable determinants sole
fully cobbling wide, whirled
webbing, (albeit skein
microscopic) comprising
resultant Deoxyribonucleic
amalgamations, combinations,
emulations...throughout
untold generations eventually
giving (swell pregnant)
rise to healthy progeny
predicated on an uneventful
tragic mishap in utero
preceding parturition, which
miraculous seminal fertilization
regarding series of
fortunate events delineating
quintessentially strapping
robust tot destined (years later)
to continue human
species, thus I ponder
tremendous steep odds (analogous
to drawing winning lottery
ticket), when reproductive
processes diploid propagating
one after another ongoing
generation, yet in retrospect
every cellular T-Mobile
chance coupling attendant on
haphazard spontaneous
buzzfeeding circumstances
promulgating prolific primal
precedents begetting each
individual necessitating tenuous
fluke (worm hungers) engaging,
engendering, engineering...
(similar to science experiment)
endowing penultimate on the fly
fusion between two haploid cells
impossible to explain convincingly,
(asper in my mind) the notion
predestination intervenes
likened to invisible hand.
the celebrated sailing frog
from Montgomery County
went a court'n, or so the tale iz toad
to a grand ole mansion built around 1910,
and e'en 'pon
being razed ~2012 ah no dummy
sea worthiness still plainly showed,
twas February 28th, 1968,
when my father
bought the house at 324 Level Road
majority deuce score plus nineteen years,
rush back with unfettered exuberant zeal
this aging elf spent psalm tranquil
May days sung sotto voce
atop memorialized, prized,
shingled out, ship-shape valued,
venerated, vip voted faux vulgar demesne
"Glen Elm" named private
100+ acre wooded common weal
many a pitch perfect spring day
found yours truly
frankly basking atop spacious roof
oft times begging the cosmic force
irrationally lyft ting this Earthlinked bing,
this uber dreamer
willingly taken with "poof"
(magic amazing dragons)
presuming my absence,
would not be missed and whereabouts
no cause for alarm,
but usual antics of contemplative goof
ball, and aware
a minor for hair (Sunkist) gold
Helios innocently beckoned,
this then sole Sol tanned
within the solar raised fold
surrendering while atop
the multi acred roof where any cold
melted away, whence became bathed
like a bronze statue of auld.
zip pose zing the weather forecast
donned wafted air
fragrant with flowered flora
visibility for miles
if ether crystal clear,
this high da way countless yards
off the ground presented flare
approximating pristine floral display
with powerfully poignant immunity
against cackling, jeering, scowling,
If a day starts/ ends without me,
I would be totally happy and free
Free from worries and anxieties
Temptations and negativities
The world is temporary
Life has to be returned
No regrets to be carried on
For eternal offers more
I Have been in this world long before
And I thought my purpose was done for
Though not sure what it takes me for
Trusting his will to lead me to that door
Glad I was here to be with you
Spending moments from the day and through
Fights and hurting feelings a test of pro
In dealing with things smoothly and true
Forgiveness is laid out for you
Forgive me for not speaking it to you
Deep in my heart, I engraved it with love
May heaven bless you more my love
A sinner should humbly ask
Forgiveness from your heart
Failings and incapacity that troubled your heart
My dear, I do not know how to start
Courage I should have summon
Fears should have been outcast
Creativity should have been cultivated
But I was and always not a perfect one
Blessed I was with you
To match and be compatible with you
You deal the things from here and fro
To which I do not like to do
I thank all the people surrounding me
A gift or a blessing for me
Measure them in any of their length
But for me, they serve my very strength
Bless all those who desire Peace and happiness may they acquire
This humble servant who longs and cry
May God bless all your heart’s desires.
Beneath the cloak of night, where stars waltz in eternal dances,
A sweet obsession is born, like a flame that knows no end,
In a golden cage, where desires are ensnared in webs of mystery,
Without the key of enchantment, they remain captive in the labyrinth of oblivion.
The earthly roots of longing pull me into the depths,
Where ghosts of the past whisper unknown secrets to me,
Stolen dreams disperse like feathers on winds, free and ephemeral,
Burying memories that weigh me down with sleepless, restless nights.
In this obscene game of seeking illusory happiness, I lose myself,
An eternal spectacle of the soul longing for belonging,
Reflecting the need to be part of a greater whole,
A magnificent chaos that absorbs me, leaving me without refuge.
Ritual repetitions of murmured thoughts penetrate my mind,
Magical alliterations cloak the movements of my weary soul,
On a journey to the invisible universe, where I seek solace,
Mystical and contemplative, I immerse in cosmic nostalgia.
In the depths of existential solitude, I find my roots,
The connection to all that was and will be, an unseen thread of light,
Like a subterranean river of emotions and thoughts flowing continuously,
My soul entwines with the infinite, in an eternal symphony.
The first time I thought of him
His name was playing shortstop;
Too few siesta’s spent, he’s found eighteen.
Stingy Time did swiftly pass us forth,
Spinning nurture, spanning missteps,
Till foundation definition was writ soul-side.
Sparkling child, Number One,
All expectations overthrown
Set the mold against the measure
No one can meet, nor treasure find,
To manifest such precious boy,
Announcer of next family tone.
Since crawling days no motor
Stopped the quest for dinosaurs and sharks.
Pets for none, terror for most,
Hardly fodder for a lesser lad,
As he pursued magnificent fiendish friends
At intensity predicting future scope.
Relentless, that full pursuit, the intrepid ‘tween
Dog-chased antiquities' cold blooded beasts
And much maligned circling jaws of wet death.
High School contributed a Docent step,
To hear, close beside, bold lion roar at feeding time.
No tremble there, nor sweating palm, just awe-filled chill
Affirming joy in long sought thrills
Replaced with focused urgent yearning,
Bent to learn to read the fearful roar as script
Acknowledging coexistent travels
‘round stale Earth’s ailing wonder grounds,
Emulating lost garden’s destiny Divine.
And so, forthwith, traveling north to
Lumberjack U. to accelerate in craft,
Prized manhood horizon near at hand,
We’ll follow unabatedly our rising squire
As, pursing lip to coronet, coaxing contemplative calm,
He envisages trumpeting Eden’s second dawn.
Core of consciousness
Self aware awareness
Absorbed in the flow of attention
In enabled spectrum of vibration
Wherein we are alive & present
Through mind & body cognisant
There are three frequency bands
In the continuum where we stand
Satva & Rajas & Tamas
Orbit of attention therein continuous
So unless we choose to focus
Reflex instinct determines our locus
As we shift through waking & dreaming
Deep sleep and Turiya whilst meditating
We recognise that it is our innate priority
Which determines attention flow affinity
It being thus the consciousness fulcrum
Deciding flow of our attention pendulum
There being no instant remedy
To get to the Satvik frequency
Save continuous contemplative correction
Making our orientation unbroken meditation
Surrendering to the divine by simply allowing
Imbibing rapturous bliss within electrifying
The non-doer doing we do is to simply align
With the subtle pulsations of the divine
As we weed out gross ferality layer by layer
Stilling our being in earnest & fervent prayer
Seeking nothing save unbroken connection
That attention resonates with the Ohm vibration
Boundaries blur between form & formlessness
As subject & object merge the field is oneness
04-August-2020
MaryAnn Sage
Approximately one and a half score minus seven years ago
this then naïve and innocent early twenty something,
now a middle aged, diamond in the rough, jaded
two plus decades slavish married male did not realize
his fare maiden perfect form, she a capricorn
(who also shared same January 13th birthday as myself,
though a half dozen years Mycenae senior
hovered in mine immediate proximity,
a mere hello kitty whisker away,
which accompanying cat’s eye soft nose a pet smart appetite
saw me weight tool screwed up
to revere mother of pearl opal mate ideal beau
now ex post facto finds yours truly ruing foregone soul mate to crow
in vain, though I cannot help pining and lamenting where art thou – dow
ting she (MaryAnn Sage, a young whirled, wide webbed childless divorcee,
a couple of years shy of thirty)
ponders whereabouts of this contemplative, furtive
* * * * * * * * * *
Written February 04, 2025, For contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: Let the vintage box gather dust; it seems like no one will ever open it or discover it. By Poet
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unseal all that unscathed trove of
treasured stories,
where the sweet fragrance of rejuvenating
Petrichor soaks the atmosphere.
A captivating aroma saturates
the serene and radiant
space of the attic.
whispers of memories linger
in every nook
where neglect softly nestles.
Gentle whispers of tales emerge from
a soothing sanctuary
seamlessly woven together.
Wicker wonders once filled with warmth,
now stand still,
cloaked in contemplative musings
that meander quietly by.
Revitalized by luminous, enchanting nights,
they bask in the brilliance
of the extraordinary stars above.
In the den, the resonance of
ancestral wisdom persists.
Graceful faces are captured in
the gentle passage of time.
Stories of celebration and
joyous laughter is woven together—
Imprints on lives marked by,
both strength and restraint.
With sorrow unearthed,
from this timeworn attic,
epiphany unfurls amidst,
despair and anguish—a beacon.
Fossils of joy cradle
our suffering when,
memories surge forth,
akin to an unrelenting tide.
We are truly blessed with splendid scenery in this great nation,
Overwhelming our senses with awe and inspiration!
Visitors to such places may view them with a differing perception,
And the spectacular Grand Canyon is certainly no exception!
A preacher, for example, might fall upon his knees in exaltation,
Praising and glorifying The Lord for His magnificent Creation!
He'll be inspired to concoct a sermon for his languid congregation,
That'll bring them leaping from their pews in rousing exultation!
The artist no doubt will view it with a practiced eye and gush,
About the masterpiece he'll create with his paint and brush.
As he critically eyeballs the colorful vista so breathtaking,
He'll exclaim, "'Tis a marvelous canvas in the making!"
The contemplative poet will ponder the scene and then,
Create volumes of flowing verse from his prolific pen!
The musician becomes enthralled standing on that high plateau.
He hears a symphony as the waters flow in the watercourse below!
An old cowpoke marveled at the scene and scratched his brow,
Saying to no one in particular, "One helluva place to lose a cow!"
From the rocky coast of Maine to the San Diego Bay,
Ain't no two people gonna see things in exactly the same way!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
A city lad ran away from home
The whole wide world to explore and roam
Sure that somewhere else he'd find
The fortune he had for himself in mind...
At first he thought to try the sea
On board a big sailing ship
Harsh winds blew it far off course
Where his prospects took a dip...
Washed ashore in the Orient
He tried his hand in the bazaar
Stayed there several years, near four
Left with a few coins in an exotic jar...
Sought his destiny in foreign legions
Soon deployed to woe-begone regions
Joined a monastery, lived the life of a monk
Didn't want to end up a contemplative hunk...
Wherever he went, whatever he tried
He did his best, but his hope always died
'Till one day, broke, despondent and alone
Shamefacedly, he stole his way home...
No longer a lad now, but a jaded fellow
He thought to ease up, kick back, be mellow
And lo and behold, just after that decision
A fortune fell into his lap he hadn't envisioned
Digging up weeds in his garden, he found a chest
Filled with gold and silver, among the rest
Of the precious gems buried next to his home
That he had once left, the wide world to roam...
The moral of this story should be clear to you and me
Don't run after fortune, over land, over sea
Your ship docks at your very door
Right there where you started, at home, for free