Long Contentment Poems
Long Contentment Poems. Below are the most popular long Contentment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contentment poems by poem length and keyword.
Our beauty is hidden in our words!
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
Our content in contentment
hides within commitment toward integrity.
Our beauty is hidden in our words
said only toward ourselves.
Barometers of mental health
for how we are and are not feeling
beautiful,
good,
fair,
balanced,
just,
harmonious,
confluent,
content,
graceful,
like good mentors without external hypocrisy,
and sometimes not such good mentors.
Mentors with words redolent of harmonic peace,
or maybe sometimes too much non-violent peace,
passive aggressive surfing, searching back and forth,
or even violently imagining unworded diverse futures
of yourself,
those around you,
generalized economic and sociopathological
and therapeutic
States and Species of thrive or demise,
and planet Earth,
and our Universe,
sometimes a metaphysically closing system,
sometimes more beautifully opening
although with considerable stress
tipping points,
trimming tabs and scissors,
adjusting balance, halves of ecologic,
within our internal voices of environ-mental health
as hope for cultural beauty.
Humaned nature adds economic
and cultural
and psychological freedom to evolve
kindness of mutual subsidiary intention,
an active love of peaceful mind.
Nature is only limited by absence
of regenerative orthopraxis,
caring and nurturing,
economically and politically powerful values
exercised within the classroom of each day.
Ecotherapeutic voices in our nights
and days of reconnecting consciousness
create our daily practice
of natural systemic design,
this song of synergy,
creative universal intelligence.
Cooperative kindness and competitive unkindness
are capacities coincident to all of nature,
a polar range from regeneration through decomposition,
from synergy through negentropy,
Kindness and love self-optimize as "Truths of Beauty"
when we freely choose sufficiency of contentment,
with full will and ecojustice intent.
My words surf my beauty and hope and synergy,
in and out,
back and forth,
listening for my listening gracefilling bicameral heart
and comprehensive consciousness,
discovering contentment within my content,
form within my information,
ecobalancing function within form,
fractal frequencies within bioregenerative
self-optimizing function.
Surfing echo frequencies,
Earth's words of microwaving grace.
LETTER TO MY FUTURE SELF
Hello there, sweet Lady Jane,
So, it is three weeks before you turn seventy,
do you think you can honestly tell you found
your peace of mind, contentment, happiness?
Or are you still searching for answers to the
things you never understand and wondering
the what ifs, when you damn know there would
be no answers, no explanations, no clarifications.
Your children are giving you a party and all your
grandchildren will be there to celebrate you.
Do they make you proud for what they become?
Or do you still think you did not spend enough time
with them when you cannot turn back time or do
you still worry and wish something better for them?
All your siblings with their spouses, children and
grandchildren will join your family in celebrating
you reaching a major milestone, are you excited?
Or do you still feel like an outsider for your
mother, their mother treated you differently.
I know your life did not turn to be what you wanted,
as your life journey put you through many adversities
including sorrow and pain that you turned out to be
what you are meant to be, a strong willed woman.
You learned to let go the shadows that haunted you
and you accepted and embraced what life threw at you
becoming appreciative and thankful with your blessings.
In the past, you were asked many times what your plans
were for the next five years? ten years? for the future?
You had so many for you couldn’t get no satisfaction.
Now, you just whisper let it be, the words of wisdom.
Your dreams never materialized; but they never left you.
So at this time in your life you think you are never too old
to dream or create new ones by reinventing yourself.
You dare to live your life at its fullest and take a chance
to create your own happiness for it is a decision, a choice.
So, my sweet Lady Jane, it is nice to see you not worrying
about the future; but dancing and rocking to rock and roll
music, living like Ruby Tuesday, you come and go and
change every new day and you just imagine, living for today.
Ahhhh……..
11/22/21 Your Favorite Poem of 2021 Poetry
Chantelle Anne Cooke
9/18/21 Written and Submitted
Letter To Your Future Self Poetry
Silent One
NOTE: My pen name is Sweet Lady Jane
from the Rolling Stone's Lady Jane
Earth had offered Her eco-centric contract
of love and synergy,
awaiting ego's personal response each day,
each moment,
eager to optimize wealthy health care cooperations
of sacred grace.
Over an apparently inadequate lifetime
ego implied his competitive response:
I grow increasingly excited,
stimulated,
by this co-petitioning challenge
to frame our dissonance,
our operational riddles and puzzles,
games and illogistics
and dark strategies
Measured in statistical decomposition
of the odds for sustaining life
by perfecting hatred and fear
of death's dissociative decay.
I question Earth's right to positive resolution
and harmonic resonance,
as consonant co-governance
of enlightened ego empowering eco
to play win/win,
recreate without sin,
and co-passion nicely together
This co-petition against wasted anxious time
fully exercises my right of conscience,
to re-search 0-sum ego-partisanship
for absolute freedom from eco-dependence.
This co-petition asserts our human natural guild's unlovely preference
for contention over contentment
for sustained longing rather than resilient belonging
for uni-lateral freedom
rather than ego/eco bilateral interdependence.
EarthMother absorbed this richly contentious compost,
this dissembling over cooperative rights of assembly
and competition challenging associative eco-creation
as too inclusive recreation,
divisive of ego's omnipotent present place
in organic space
derived from eco's multisystemic functions
within history's healthiest seasons.
It seems to me,
said She,
Time has unfolded an eco-systemic co-tractive gift,
born of Her binomial grace
in bilaterally felt space,
a belonging response to mutually co-tribute with ego
gratitude for bicameral mutuality
and full freedom of co-scientific consciousness,
to conjoin time's eternal moment
of past personal ego
with future eco recentering life.
Post Scripted: "After all this time and space
repeating inhumane competitions and cooperative contractions,
deductive inducements to balance positive political space
with negative un-ecological economic time,
thank you for remembering why RightBrain felt eco-normics
gave birth to LeftBrain's verbal ego-petitions
in our first through last breathing moment
of win/win eco-operative identity."
Signed: Earth's Polypathic CoOperative Covenant
“The Shedding of our Skin”
I am writing about the transition from lost now found,
Darkness to light, one being into another, death to life,
Old skin to new skin.
Its like the rejuvenation of skin
The restoring of flesh over flesh of an open wound
And that does not happen all at once but over a duration of time.
Little by little not specific, but unpredictable start to finish.
My skin was tough, tough as leather
It had to be broken in, sat and stomped on over time
It was miss-used, abused
Unappreciated, contaminated and unpurified with uncleanliness toxic substances, people, places and things.
Miss-guided with ill desires and will
But by grace my transformation had begun
Before it was to late there was a death to life ending activated
In my darkest space, In my mess
The shedding of my skin had begun
There was a shift in my ways my desires my walk and talk
My mind and heart had started to align up with the whispers of Gods divine word.
My old skin of the one-track roads, addictions, attitudes and desires.
I no longer craved or desired
My mouth was filled with affirming empowerment for myself and others.
I was able to articulate the things I felt, thought, wanted, and needed, liked and disliked.
Speaking fluent in the moments with no more hesitation or reluctancy holding my words or fear.
I am shedding my broken past of my childhood strongholds and obstacles.
Letting go of my resentments and anything that has kept me in chains.
I’ve moved from complacency to contentment with a peace and understanding I cant explain.
Compelled to be of service and good works with a drive of passion energy and love.
I AM SHEDDING
No longer stagnant in my engrafted past
Now free and flying through the fog, trauma and strongholds that once hindered me and my growth in so many ways.
Today my mind is renewed with thoughts and visions of life and light.
My new skin enables me to persevere on in faith and hope.
Trusting and dreaming of an abundant life sober and free
To properly handle and face life gratefully
Overcoming any of its obstacles that may come up against me
I am shedding with new profound revelations and abilities
My shedding has provided me with a variety of new talents and gifts.
Something that my old skin would have never allowed....
Continuing to shed “The Shedding of my Skin”
Do you sometimes wonder
how to introduce what is out there to your soul and mind?
how to understand that which exists, in that period of time?
and in that present moment is real, and do you feel guilty if you leave it all behind?
Have you heard that your ego will prevent you
from being who you were meant to be?
And you get absorbed in society’s creations
but you find yourself confused, and unable to see.
And you might search the news
looking for those reads that will reaffirm what’s on your mind.
And you “stumble upon” absurd conspiracy theories
which you “miraculously” find.
Can you somehow see a reflection of who you are?
Or is the mirror broken, left far behind?
Can you ask yourself, honestly, sincerely, what the solution is for human kind?
Or do you get lost within the scope of your very own personal mind?
And as you sit there
do you blame others while looking for a system that creates the hurt?
Deep down you know the answer
it’s selfishness, hatred, power, and greed, which continue to subvert.
What is real and what is fake?
I often wonder what is true.
Yes I listen and I analyze
I use up a portion of my time to see it from a particular point of view.
For now I want to spend my time
searching within my soul for something that I’m unable in this world to find
which baffles me some of the time
because occasionally it’s born and exists deep within my very own mind.
I’m just a being, living and trying to be that which I foresee
searching for the spiritual in that which is before me
at times attempting to find meaning in mortality
with a burning desire to understand and see.
It is contentment which I pursue
Even look inside the cracks
But at times like these contentment hides
and the road ahead confuses me, so I retrace, as I retract.
Maybe I got it all wrong
Maybe some of it is right
Maybe my vision is blurry and foggy
Maybe at times I have trouble seeing the light.
I can take what is happening out there
interpret using knowledge, a view, and perhaps a belief
but often the truth is just not there, and the news really stinks as it permeates
and the nature of the many, rarely offer one relief.
And I’m left with the choice to accept, dissolve, or set it all aside
using my soul and my very own mind.
And after attempting to understand
I ultimately, usually, leave it all behind.
Form:
~ (~) About a teaspoon it takes me in the morning-coffee-that-is. (~) ~
~ (~) Cream more, sugar, a little-less, though truly I still do prefer my cup fresh brewed... its
superb when piping hot you know it sure is tasty. (~) ~
~ (~) Searching through those IM's e-mails trickle-trickle-hiss-bubble-pop-pop love-is-groovy
you bet man red lights hot lights an honor yes-I feel they're all an-honest testament that
hollowed ground is sacred... . Illuminating one and another their shadows dandling-along-a-
part-of-the-simple-collection-of-rain-puddles offering-their-jest, and from the beginning you-
know-I-believe they all exist as one light dancing together-until the very end. Because as
they vary; pale shades of poetic Grey, they carry for me of feeling but one of two tones
jocularity;
bitterness... . (~) ~
~ (~) Intoxicating really the harshness of Winter-fervency-of-Summer sweet rejoinder
cultivation of all our prayers... Spring... ! (~) ~
~ (~) Took a stroll amid the saffron all grown up in the Autumn laying down beside the day
lilies wisteria grace gently caressing them enchanting... . (~) ~
~ (~) Vibrant I find it all to be so very encouraging. (~) ~
~ (~) Looking now the frost once thick-crisp driveling down beading up upon the many grassy
shoots tulips lavender flower the mighty pines-now-reflecting-a-dewy-vapor, refreshing to the
touch, taste; hues of virtue mirroring this, glistening-upholding-all-things, in-their-
timelessness. (~) ~
~ (~) Life evolving hope offers this proposal questions often posed answers granted remain
open... because I believe peace and freedom this way friend are forever evolving,
while love all year 'round, it waits... pondering-this; as it deliberates... . (~) ~
~ (~) Like glistening crystal pools of alabaster sands scented-up diaper dusty-talcum baby
baby powder, funny contentment privy-so-privy I love the way newborns their eyes tend to
wander as they coo, all jovial, and-warm... surrounding all they know of God themselves in
the wake of the room... . (~) ~
~ (~) The birth of enlightenment a burst of individuality in every glance; I can't today but
maybe you, tell me now God is a farce, remaining kindle to the kind-less...
still the kinder... . (~) ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcGJb-mPMmg
"Gardener Of Love"
I'm not rich with money
And be, I never will
For it's not a path I've chosen
Nor in my garden, till.
Other things matter most
And always will to me,
Things born of Love
Our eyes can never see.
Only a humble heart
Can in their heart sow
The seeds producing flowers
Of Love to then only grow.
There is no room for ego;
There is no room for hate,
Nor for greed and selfishness,
With Love inside a garden's gate.
When we plant the seeds of Love,
It's a priceless, worthy toil,
Since all opposing weeds
Are then banished from our soil.
All the weeds of traits
Upon which the ego feeds,
Will have nowhere to germinate,
Where Love is all that breeds.
As with any garden growing,
There's a need for rays of sun,
But too, there must be rain
For growing to be done.
As better gardeners we become,
We learn that toil and pain
We must endure and overcome,
If we hope to harvest gain.
When we fertilize with kindness,
With compassion and with care,
With empathy and forgiveness,
We'll have lots of Love to share.
As our garden grows in riches
That can't be by money bought,
Only those with weedy gardens will
Resent us for what they haven't got.
Blessings we tend to overlook
And not realised, hence, before,
Love gives us the vision to see
How blessed we are and more.
Then for our many blessings,
With gratitude, we garnish
Our garden with more beauty,
To polish, instead of tarnish.
In the process of our growing
We learn what matters most,
That humility and modesty
Trumps ego within us to host.
We learn money and possessions
Are at best barely secondary
And cultivating traits of Love
Are foremost, first, and primary.
We learn that contentment
And a peaceful state of mind,
Brings happiness and joy
That by money we can't find.
We learn that our wants
Become then less and less;
As long as our needs are met,
Our life reaps happiness.
When our needs are met
Is when we have enough;
Is when we feel contentment,
With no want for other stuff.
I'm not rich with money
And be, I never will
But my garden's rich with Love,
Since Love I choose to till.
I'm not rich with money;
It matters not to me,
For I'm a Gardener Of Love,
As God wants me to be.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-09-28 11:48:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people's business
Working for the Government
I've become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It's civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
"Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night"
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my "Bukowskian"desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
Until then the drinks are on me.
MY HEARTACHE WENT WITH YOU
The short sweet moment I had with you a week before
you passed, brought me contentment for it made me feel
our hearts touched and we finally connected and bound.
We were alone in your room when I said “I am here” and
I caressed you, running my hand through your hair, touching
your face, your shoulders, your arms and held your hand.
Our hands locked for a while and when I was leaving,
I told you “I love you” and you looked at me and said
“I love you too” and my heart was filled with ease.
You and I knew, you treated me differently and you
never told me why that I gave up asking and let go.
Although I never gave up showing my love for you.
I visited you three more times before you passed and
each time, I never had a chance to be alone with you.
My last moment with you was with all my siblings.
Surrounded by all my siblings, I was standing by your bed,
touched and looked at you and said, “I love you” and you
just looked at me and kept looking without saying anything.
My heart ached for you said “I love you too” to my siblings
and I did not understand why you could not say that to me
in front of them, clearly treating me differently than them.
The pang, the pain pierced my heart and I walked away.
Two days later, you were gone and I could not shed a tear.
My heart ached more for I wanted to cry and I could not.
As a loving daughter, I worked on your memorial service
for I could not let the hurt, ache, pain prevent me from
making sure everything was according to your wishes.
Six days before memorial service, in our siblings’ meeting,
one of my sisters told me that you did not give me anything
for I could afford what I want and I could be on my own.
I was the last person to see and be with you in the chapel.
I touched your face, your hand and took off my mask, kissed
my hand and put it on your mouth and said “I love you”.
I put my mask back on, touched your hand and said “goodbye”.
I never shed a tear, I looked at you one last time and although
I would never understand you; I left my heartache with you.
5/8/21 All Yours (May 9) Poetry
Brian Strand
4/23/21 Writing Prompt - Ache - Poetry
Constance La France
Used: PS Grammar Checker
According to Matthew's recording of the Gospel story, Jesus' genealogy consists of a total of 47 names.* Four of them are women. Of the 47 names, I am familiar with 23 of them. That is less than half the total. Of the 23 with whom I am knowledgeable, very little is said of 6 of them. Most, but not all of this list consists of The Messianic linage. The others like Zara and Urias are on the list are there because they are a part of the story. They are important because they are linked to the story, not to the Messiah's ancestry. Who was Azor, and what did he do? Solomon I know; but who was Akim, and what did he do?
As the Christmas Season begins, I am reflecting upon matters pertaining to the birth of Christ. In so during, I began to consider our roll in God's Master Plan and our contentment, or the lack thereof, in letting God decide who becomes simply a person mentioned in the story or one who 'stands out' as renown, and plays a large roll in the unveiling of God's Great Plan for mankind.
And so I am forced to ask myself a few questions. Am I okay with relative invisibility with no one knowing my name? Are I okay with being someone name Ram or Shealtiel or Mattan? Am I happy with who I am and the purpose for which God has chosen for me? Are I willing to let God decide?
My thoughts regarding this list are simple, but as I meditated upon this list I was moved and stirred by the fact that each person in the Messianic linage contributed by procreating equally down through the centuries and eventually brought forth the Master Plan of God. Each of them was vital whether their name was Nahshon or David, Tamar or Ruth, Elihud or Judah.
May we be counted among those who simply do what the Lord told and led us to do with little regard for what great things others might be doing. May our names hold firmly to their place on God's listing whether or not they ever grace the pages of any literary piece. Indeed, may we anticipate our names being in the Lamb's Book of Life.
Relative to the Christmas Season, in January as we look back toward Christmas and the needy, may it be said of us, "They have done what they could". **
11262017 PS
*KJV
**Mark 14:8