Long Conventionality Poems
Long Conventionality Poems. Below are the most popular long Conventionality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conventionality poems by poem length and keyword.
The critical tendency coming from the untruthful agitation of the mind,
while the disliking of our dislikes is the beginning to like all in kind.
Like the infant brings with it the air of the heaven and sensation in prime,
making feelings the force of life and death at the same time.
The devotion aroused gives all and ask for nothing,
so we can rise above facts and reality turn to healing touching.
Patients with endurance crowns goodness with beauty,
powerless, but the possessor of it, by duty.
What is rooted out in the quest of truth becomes ignorance,
then truth takes love in its own law as reference.
The seed of plurality begins life, while in the consciousness of unity,
it is life’s culmination all in one eternity.
The laws of nature regard no conventionality,
making righteousness the natural outcome of right thinking the ability.
Let those virtues dissolve in the waters of purity,
making that doctrine the fuel for divine maturity.
Belief is a conception, but faith is conviction,
establishing the politics in religion as addiction.
As the pursuit after the truth is more interesting,
than its attainment with no end of resting.
The liberty of faith is the only integrity,
making the impossible the current of all mystery.
Critical tendencies and agitated mind,
misread beginnings to like all in kind.
Air of the heaven and sensation in prime,
force of life and death at the same time.
Devotion aroused giving all for nothing,
which reality turns perception touching.
Endurance crowns goodness with beauty,
possessor through holiness of duty.
Conscious unity with the ultimate provider,
life’s culmination and transcendent rider.
Natures reach for no conventionality,
proofing in tune thinking ability.
Belief’s conception via faith’s conviction,
political metaphor for egos addiction.
Liberty of faith and only integrity,
impossible current of all mystery.
When taken past experience to future consequence,
one has very little or even nothing as reference.
Experiences from the past and its present handicap,
the same same and its changed attribute gab.
That where the times as one speaks,
giving gratitude to some obituaries squeaks.
What ever one thinks and hoping will be,
life reason regards no conventionality.
The truth is not acquired but discovered,
heart to heart and soul to soul smothered.
Thoughts and feelings in opposite direction,
devotion without wisdom is a salty water detection.
Greed brings success to the wicked,
virtue wins victory to righteous spirit gracefully fitted.
Faults and merits both serve as stepping stones,
to consume in self denial and moving towards divine thrones.
The pessimist follows the optimistic initiative,
while faith reaches beyond all human acquisitive.
Plurality is the beginning of life’s formation
it is in consciousness of unity all life’s culmination.
Ethics and morality are the scent of the individuality,
as the shade to the light and zero to the figure constantly.
As beauty finishes in simplicity,
with no power but as possessor of it definitely.
Only by rising above all facts we touch reality,
inward realization is the necessity.
SILVER-LINING
Cheated life occasionally yet it couldn't play even.
In life's sequel, I'm swivelled into a deep sweven.
Where's conventionality in a cosmos that's so odd?
Everyone that ever rocked my world
I've dexterously dovetailed into words;
Lyric, ballad, elegy or love sonnet occupies 2-thirds.
Every single trusted love I've ever lost
and that ignorance had collaborated with lust,
I've resuscitated in verse, stanzas & enjambment;
And ameliorated into memory or emotional strength.
Bathed in past disconsolation and the aftermath,
I've never & will never remain on the same wavelength.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rondeau Prime.
Copyright© December2022.
Real!
Can I cope with this reality?
The love and knowledge of past heroes,
Brimming up from within,
Accounts for me and my situation - conventionality,
And inspires me to love, care and liberate.
History partly gives us our freedom:
Our rights and what we fight for;
Lands us with our lot,
Our work, toils and spot;
Our trinket of such manifestation.
Martin Luther King and Ludwig Guttmann,
Fought for race and disability rights respectively:
Emmeline Pankhurst secured women their vote,
And Tim Berners-Lee created the world wide web -
They’ve all improved my life enormously.
From the book of revelation the warning is clear,
people will be deceived in worshipping the master of fear.
Predicted in scripture to lead most into loosing their salvation,
when false Gods are the symbol of appreciation.
The mysteries order is formed on a cosmic line,
symbolic language by constellation and numbers refine.
Religious manipulators erecting the controlling act with obelisks,
making sure that the secret act enriches ego’s little fanatics.
Most ridicule and initiated great concern to serve,
the greater good of hierarchy as best deserve.
The blasphemous doctrine that one can reach perfection,
through higher spheres of knowledge perception.
Hermetic books as such proofed to be fraud,
and even the Kabbalah is a medley of absurdity still taught.
Freemasonry lodge meetings by so called masters in disguise,
then darkness like death is the symbol of initiation of blinded wise.
Since Masonic Presidents, Governors and Senators making law,
the Roman Catholic Church has its perfect power draw.
The phallic symbol of Osiris at St. Peter’s square at the Vatican,
throwing an ancient shadow as predicted practicum.
The wicked have to forsake the spiritual sanctum,
not ever understanding the divine abundance factum.
All pseudonym facts lose their color in the face of truth,
boundaries of limitation and capital conventionality to sooth.
"You are ... different, aren't you?" she said, crinkling her nose.
That sentiment, spoken by my fourth grade home-room teacher
Had been paraphrased many times before
(And would be countless times again)
Different, unusual, odd, weird, curious, complex, or just plain strange
Those were the kind ones - the ones I can repeat
My favorite, however, was "unique"
The day my mother put it into that sensible little frame, I knew ...
I ... was HOME.
You see, we creative folk
Are not put on this good earth to "fit" into it
We are not molded to be a status quo part of society
But rather, set apart FROM society
Our gifts are granted us in order to change the world
Not continue the order of its mundane spin
We are interpreters of the language of beauty and ingenuity
We weave expression and imagination into what's tangible and visible
Turning ideas and emotions to the substance of words and color and sound
Bringing light and clarity to variation and choice
We are the very children of NON-conformity
Living proof that acquiescence and conventionality stifle the human spirit
We are soldiers of vision, innovation, cleverness, and inspiration
Fighting the war on commonplace, submission and docility
Battling daily in the name of ALL who are unlike the Average Joe
And bringing inspiration to the world.
So, do I think I'm "special"?
Yes, for we are ALL special ... every single human is born with unique gifts
Ours - the artistic talents - just happen to be of a creative fashion.
Yes, I am odd, strange, weird, different, unusual, and unique ...
And I am BLESSED ... to be so.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "CReAtiVe CoNForMiTy" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.
Two activities I love have a similarity,
To experience and conjecture in verse,
And to explore limits of certainty.
Rhyme and meter, whether wordy or terse,
Enact seeing freshly, banning banality.
Math proofs are finding a needle in a hay source,
Needing imagination to reach finality.
Many school veterans curse,
“Algebra is not daily reality!”
“Trigonometry makes life worse!”
But poetry and math have a commonality,
They both tease out how the world works,
Neither rewards conventionality,
Both work by seeing the diverse.
I admit rote formulas draw my enmity,
Whether in word or number universe.
I’ve found in sonnets and theorems an equality,
If you disagree, you can rightfully call this poem a hearse.