Long Conventionally Poems
Long Conventionally Poems. Below are the most popular long Conventionally by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Conventionally poems by poem length and keyword.
How 'Bout Stoichiometry For A Conversational Hook?
Nary a clue exists about
the relationship between
relative quantities of substances
taking part in a clean
(non GMO contaminated)
gluten free reaction,
or forming a mean
compound, typically a ratio
of whole integers umpteen
place holders long proudly,
(albeit microscopically)
swaggering analogous
to a prideful
home coming queen
walking with her beau
appearing much older looking
than a latte (drinking) teen,
the third word up above, (affright
full looking, isle
lid lashing sorely,
trying, torquing, and
testing vision, i.e. eye sight),
where with insight
red left to right
across conventionally,
sans persons write
ting, and/or read
ding English, who might
live within neck of the woods,
how zing this knight,
where the whirled wide webbing
haint so bright
this smart aleck (comprised
fancy title), excite
ting immediate uptight
reaction came to "light"
just in the nick of time
to spur a sprite
lee chary reader to take
pro nouns hubble flight
(at what the ĵ** -
in reference quite
understandably to multi
syllable chemical airtight
romance masquerade),
this barred bard did write
unfamiliar word, which undoubtedly
triggered consternation,
and fierce urge to bite
and/ or sentence this "FAKE" cur,
who whiz unable to height
ten interest toward me senseless
poetics with supreme delight.
The cut bashed from a hike in the woods , and the roll down the
Hill and the wound if not washed and dressed with the proper
ointment will fester and have a malodorous odor. The wounded
hiker should as duty calls rush home, head to the closet , seize
the first aide kit, and wash the laceration conventionally as a
nurse would. And apply ointments and gauze to avoid problems.
But left untreated one part of our anatomy is unseen and forever
hidden of the prying eyes of X-rays, ultrasounds and surgeons on
operating tables or exam rooms. Its even hidden from the one
whose body it was given to before all ages. And we know this
because the Holy Spirit has given us our soul to enrich and
enliven us. I can talk to my soul by telling him I love him and
listen for responses and welcoming guidance.
What can I do to my soul after years of wounding. Addiction,
sexual exploitation, lack of nourishment of prayer to God,
neglectful adoration of God and degradation of my soul left
alone imprisoned through indignity after indignity until the wound
festers and my very being lingers on the verge. No ointment or
gauze or bandage may be of service to the substance of my
being. Alone the body moves as the soul watches a silent
tear ,gradually, and slowly gushes out of the heart of mine own
eye as he lingers crying.
Those lasting words pour through my lobes as with each gasp,
reaching further inside of me for something hidden, I see a
shadowed face tear struck and wanting, reaches and pulls me
forward.
I'm not pretty enough to be praised,
But not ugly enough to be disgraced.
Not special enough to stand apart,
But not ordinary enough to lose my heart.
I see the likes stack on my screen,
And wonder what they really mean.
Do they see me, or just the light?
The angle, the pose, the filter right?
I look slim in every frame,
But what if that's not really my shape?
What if the breath I held so tight
Is the only reason I look alright?
What if the smile they all adore
Is hiding what I'm looking for?
What if the compliments I save
Were meant for a version that I gave?
Not fake enough to be a lie,
Not real enough to not ask why.
I stare at girls and think again,
Would I choose myself among them?
Not jealous enough to call it pain,
But not confident enough to stay the same.
Maybe I'm pretty, maybe I'm not,
Maybe beauty's a moving dot.
Maybe I'm loved, maybe I'm not,
Maybe I'm more than every thought.
But every mirror starts a trial,
And every picture lasts a while.
Maybe they're right,
Maybe they're not.
Maybe I'm everything
I say I'm not.
Maybe or maybe not,
Maybe that's the hardest part.
Make the world feel blissful
By Michelle Morris
26/11/2024
You eventually say those words
The three most important in the world
I can't believe it's true
It's our own blessed miracle
"I love you"
Like water quenches the earth in a drought
It lets your cup overflow
And your mind be free of doubt
You thought it was too late
And I guess I thought so too
But secretly we both wished for this
Our love is a dream come true
It may not have happened conventionally
It may have been a rollercoaster ride
But ultimately love is a crazy experience
And we're together for the rest of our lives
Because you came closer
And I came closer still
And now we're one field of loving energy
That can make the world feel blissful
© Michelle Morris, 2024
Conventionally in breath based meditation
We watch breath and then quieten attention
This practice presupposes we abide in stillness slow
Our orientation still & silent watching our breath flow
Meditation as thought free stillness a counsel superfluous
Enabling cognition of slow motion Krama mudra continuous
We have three kundalinis to keep in our view spherical
Pranic, void like awareness & consciousness universal
As the three merge in singularity one with our breathing
We simply look on in quietude imbibing bliss enlivening
The bliss movement is slow like an ant slowly creeping
Essentially soma nectar through hidden nadis moving
The movement is from root to crown
In ineffable bliss we choose to drown
Within
13-August-2020
I'm sleeping banana leaves
Who sprout at your summon
For every liquid led onto my sleeves
I'm a wandering savannah breeze
long gone, at your beck..
shelters 'r abode from heat, lays you with warmth
I am a Manky lanky little corgi
who barks at ur call
for every liquid that bled onto your tongue
I'm a saney pacific ocean
would pacify your appeal
eventhough I'm that menace of salty flood
I'm a naughty hinglish slave
who enjoys every slash and splash
of drowsy-rage I cleanse at your wrath
I'm a wimpy castrated eunuch
I do know what it is to crave pain
And feel guilt from ones you most envied
I'm a randy fanny scavenger
would rather die by sliced flesh( a pound for you)
than watch u bleed from your naked fingers
I'm a livable and inseparable day and night
would be sorry when i appear in sleeps
And nowhere to be found during your wake
I'm a lonely forgettable yesterday
would be your memories
even when not with you in the farthest future
I'm a skeptic unwelcomed vandal
would make you aware of my scandal
damages I 'ld cause to us and ways to solve 'em
I'm this shady pool of words
fetch them from my lips
and I 'ld never abstain from your plight
I am a reliable and forgivable adam
Would betray you conventionally
Cos you have a heart which forgives me
I'm our sizeable and amiable human
Who give these memories
And take them with a kiss when I leave
I'm their crude revelatory dream
Would like you to hold on to me tight
Eye to eye, detect my lies
I'm your little irreplaceable Mr.right
Whenever you leave for tomorrow
Tell your spouse I was never wrong but only at night
I'm a lovely and beautiful you
You 've been that pride of living
Need I say my strength, weakness and muse
I'm your only and inconsistent world
Those aliens may come
What 'ld you tell them?