Long Coordinated Poems
Long Coordinated Poems. Below are the most popular long Coordinated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coordinated poems by poem length and keyword.
Biochemistry—the chemistry of life’s design,
Where molecules dance, interlink, and align,
A bridge between cells, atoms, and earth,
Defining each process, from death to birth.
From cells to tissues, to systems whole,
Biochemistry reveals life’s molecular role.
Atoms join with bonds of varied might—
Covalent, ionic, in complex rite.
Molecular structures, their shapes decide,
How functions emerge and systems collide.
Water, polar and bound by bonds unseen,
Becomes life’s solvent and essential scene.
Carbohydrates fuel, in branching chains,
While proteins give shape, structure, and gains.
Lipids form membranes, barriers and walls,
And nucleic acids hold life's codes, small but tall.
Each plays its part, in pathways intertwined,
The building blocks of life, so meticulously designed.
Catabolism breaks, releasing life’s spark,
Anabolism builds, leaving nature's mark.
Glycolysis starts, the fuel we ignite,
The citric cycle follows, energy in sight.
ATP fuels the cells’ endless demands,
In bioenergetic chains, life expands.
The enzymes, catalysts that spark each course,
Signal transductions, relay with molecular force.
Channels open, gates control flow,
Compartmented spaces, with roles to show.
Each process precise, a well-ordered dance,
In the cell’s intricate, coordinated trance.
DNA spirals, a double helix of code,
Blueprints of life in sequences bestowed,
Transcription to RNA, a message to read,
Translation to proteins, each cell’s vital creed.
Genes regulated, expressions controlled,
A symphony of life meticulously told.
With spectrums and gels, we separate, define,
Electrophoresis’ bands, chromatogram’s line,
PCR amplifies genes to explore,
CRISPR edits, opens new doors.
These tools unearth life’s secrets concealed,
In every lab, mysteries revealed.
From medicine’s cures to agricultural yields,
Biochemistry stretches across modern fields.
Personalized treatments, precision designed,
Green tech and ethics, the future aligned.
At life’s smallest scale, in molecules profound,
The promise of science and progress is found.
There is no design wall to entrap the spirit
Inventiveness is born to last
free of prosody or syllable count
coordinated refrains hide bareness, a virtue
purity string belt for blooming worshippers
sleeping quietly in squatters' glades
who swoons poetry pads?
Fans will be amazed
that lauds syncopations of dazzling pleas
metaphors were constantly shaped and sealed
It's a sparse universe
for those who can't fly inside their walls.
Outside praxis, quill grows from seeds
creating a mental image not visible in a set
It's a voyage without doctrines.
the vibrations within rejuvenate the page
separate thoughts seek an upswing.
1st Place contest winner
Written: March 16, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND 1090 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
If I had wings that I could fly, I would spread my wings way up in the sky and swirl around in the air and survey the moving vessel in every corner and watch every bird landing in trees.
I can see them moving around the sky in droves with weather suits and button up nose; flinging alteration in the air and watching the centipedes driving in the clouds, and when the work is almost done, I will land on the house top and have some fun, and make a new map of pleasant hill.
Look at you walking around in boots, with strings laced up to your ankles while flying saucers are watching you from behind seeping underneath the clouds with a vision that is extremely bold and you with a heart of steel must answer to the deal before the day is done.
The ornament is whistling in the trees and the birds are whispering a message to thee and the wind is getting stronger and my heart is growing warmer and my spirit is dancing on its eels while the seagull’s flaps their wings landing in the middle of the sea with a serenade coordinated for the visitors.
I have been observing the skies for months with a giant rocket and thunderous cannon, I have a brand new ship that can penetrate depths and iron shoe that can scale a hundred steps, and when the tide is high I can fly bountifully above every obstacle before I escape. We have some business to put to bed before the new fleet arrives, so get ready for the big surprise.
Look at you walking around the fence, looking for the lion that is hiding in the den, I have been waiting for so long for you to harmonize with me and sing this quiet song, I want you to clear your throat and bellow the message aloud without a doubt.
Look at you walking without shoe it is a pleasure to meet you. The air is clean and the panda is climbing on the tree, hold on strong to your future dreams and prepare for this life long journey, the road is clear and you are almost there, look out for the sign and measure it with the divine.
CORPORATE GIANTS
DON'T TO JAIL.
THEY MERELY
PAY A FEE.
THIS ALLOWS
THE CEO,
RESPONSIBLE,
TO WALK FREE.
IT DOESN'T
REALLY MATTER
WHAT YOU MAY
HAVE TO SAY.
CORPORATIONS
CONTROL THE RULES
IT'S YOU
WHO HAS TO PAY.
YOU PAY WHEN YOU
HAVE LOSS OF LIFE.
YOU PAY WHEN
FORESTS FIRES.
CORPORATIONS
SEEM TO FLOURISH
WHEN TIMES
TRANSCEND TO DIRE.
YOU PAY WITH
LOSS OF FREEDOM
OF BOTH MIND
AND SOUL.
THE PSYCHOPATHS
ARE AWARE
AND BELIEVE
THEY'RE IN CONTROL.
POVERTY
IS NOT A CRIME.
WHEN YOU'RE
LIVING ON THE STREETS.
MANY PEOPLE
LOST THEIR JOBS
COORDINATED
BY ELITES.
REDUCE
THE POPULATION.
IT WAS
OPENLY DECLARED.
THOSE CONTROLLED
BY THE MEDIA
BELIEVE ME.
THEY DON'T CARE.
BILLIONAIRES
INCREASED THEIR WEALTH.
THE MIDDLE-CLASS,
BECAME THE PEASANTS.
PAUPERS KNOW
AND UNDERSTAND
STAY CLEAR
WHEN ELITES ARE PRESENT.
06222020
Scars can be the sky
The unpleasant pleasantries before I ever tried to please,
One's initial impression,
Pressurised to press against my very mind,
And selfishly dissolve my very sense of self
But scars can be the stars
A dancing dissaray of swift strokes
coordinated like a swift's inordinate slicing flight
In their cumulative crowd, countless in their layers
Swallowing the serene sight of the stationary sky,
Beautiful and bountiful, fizzling- fading out with time
And scars can make up the moon
A collected culmination crisscrossed into a crescent
Calling the collapse and crashing armageddon,
b'tween self and selfless sabotage.
For as tainted tissue fades with age
The unfused flesh skirts the sea of scorned'n scarred skin
A sea of reds, whites, purples
Red as the ragged retch as fresh flesh is surfaced
White as the teeth of a two faced sheep gnawing on a frail fawn
Purple as the bruised hue hailing the eve of the eventide.
Select solitude calling the collapse and sudden relapse
For selfish selflessness hath torn my scorn'd soul to shreds
See not past the unsteady smile marring my malformed maw.
Though, see to it that,
My scars may make up the night
But I will shine unselfishly as myself, during the day.
7//9//2026
Mutilaem K.M.P.
My dear ones, years and accounts have passed since we spoke about the New Man, "Le Horla."
From the midpoint of the Reset cycle, it is known to emerge from the mix of slaves and technology.
Rudolf Steiner knew, the beginning of vaccination, non-foods prepared in the shadows of the times.
The control of the masses through technocracy, a vision of the 1900s when the world was slowly transforming.
Under the influence of drugs, Hitler saw prophetic nightmares, screaming in fear before "Le Horla,"
A fearless and cruel monster, a presence deeply haunting the collective social subconscious.
Poe, in 1840, sensed that autistic presence in crowds frightened by the mysterious inexplicable,
And Bulwer-Lytton, through "The Coming Race," showed us the way to a future full of uncertainties.
I merely connected the threads, for geniuses often reveal the hidden truth in the folds of time.
We lament the lack of empathy, the mimed emotional life in public space, a theater of our days.
"Le Horla" spreads, USR, a symbol of technocratic times, an experiment of the present.
A nano-metallic transhumanist nervous system, beyond which only Zombies can survive.
Zombies, USR members integrated into the 5G network, coordinated by towers watching from the shadows,
Soldiers of an unchosen destiny, in a world led by the deepest and darkest shadows.
Remember the '50s, when the danger wasn't in vaccines but in the hunger and fear that reigned,
Today, technological terror and transhumanists bring us times of darkness and fragments of hope.
The worst satanists lead, and strategic starvation is just the beginning of a story.
Under the command of 5G, group intelligence manifests like drones drawing messages in the sky.
A trans 5G USR member becomes an appendage of the Beast, an eye on the ground for its unrest.
And yet, in this nightmare world, there is still a chance, a thread of light in the dense darkness.
Written By: D. Collins 7/7/25
I know the names of some of the greatest to ever dawn black skin.
Dr. Charles Drew, Miles Davis, Malcolm X, and James Baldwin.
Generations from now their achievements will be overlooked.
Due to coordinated efforts to remove them from history books.
There were the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen.
Maya Angelou and descriptive writings of Toni Morrison.
We had Dr. Martin Luther King and Muhammad Ali.
Who gave hope to a population of people like me.
We've endured the longest deprivation mankind has faced.
You cannot remove something that refuses to be erased.
We've heard broken promises that never came about.
The Caged Bird Still Sings loudly from the top of the mount.
THE BEST LAID PLANS…
When I was young…growing up…still a boy…not yet a man
when thinking about my destiny…I had some awesome plans.
I knew early in my life what was in store for me…
I knew what I was going to do…I knew who I wanted to be.
I wanted to be a post office clerk…like my dad…although he didn’t make a lot of money and sometimes times were rough…He loved his job and he’d always smile and say…
I think we have enough.
But I soon turned why hopes to baseball…where I was going to be a star…
until I realized I had trouble catching…and I couldn’t hit a baseball very far.
Next I wanted to be a football star…people would have my name embroidered on their shirt…until I realized I was much too small…and how getting tackled hurt!
So I thought…I’d like to be an astronaut…where I’d soar up among the stars…
until I realized my stomach ached…just riding in the car.
Next I turned my attention to politics I wanted to be President…in charge of all the masses…until I realized there are some days…I can’t even find my glasses.
So I chose instead to be a teacher, a husband and a father…where I didn’t make a lot of money and where sometimes times were rough…but I loved my job and I was always able to smile and say…I think we have enough.
Who knew when I was growing up…with all the different plans I had…I would end up living a life that was closer to my dad’s.
But those choices led to being a grandfather…perhaps the easiest job of all…
where I didn’t have to to be coordinated…or rich…or intelligent…or tall.
In fact…from the minute I became a husband, a father, a grandfather…the moment our lives intertwined…all I had to be in their eyes…was loving, compassionate and kind…
So there you have it…in a nutshell…this is who I came to be…
and I’ve often wondered…did I choose this life…or has this life chosen me?
Either way…I’m happy…
for my life has indeed been quite amazing
and wonderfully grand…
I guess when I stop to think about it…
it has gone…exactly as I planned.
So shocking was that news from France,
we stared at TVs in a trance;
no way to understand.
Those young and old without a chance
were taken down in wide expanse.
Such horror had been planned.
Who could have then foreseen the fate
upon them cast by those who hate?
Just gathered there for fun,
not knowing that their deaths await
while music played and people ate,
their lives were over, done.
Who could have thought ahead that they -
that enemy that wants its way
to change our form of life,
would sacrifice their own to say
that their belief we must obey?
Misguided thoughts run rife.
That Paris scene that fretful night
prepares us now to face the fight.
Define this threat once more
that could erupt within our sight.
Entire world must join the fight
to face this crusade war.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Rime Couee - Tail-Rhymed Verse - For France
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Judged: 01/03/2016
~2nd Place~
Contest: Best Sad Poem EVER
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 08/29/2016
=============================================
Rime Couee
I went with this pattern for Rime Couee as shown on "The Poet's Garret" website
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x b
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x b
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"The November 2015 Paris attacks (sometimes referred to as 11/13) were a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that occurred on Friday 13 November 2015 in Paris, France, and the city's northern suburb, Saint-Denis. Beginning at 21:16 CET, three suicide bombers struck outside the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, during a football match. This was followed by several mass shootings, and a suicide bombing, at cafés and restaurants. Gunmen carried out another mass shooting and took hostages at a concert in the Bataclan theatre, leading to a stand-off with police. The attackers were shot or blew themselves up when police raided the theatre.
The attackers killed 130 people, including 89 at the Bataclan theatre. Another 368 people were injured, 80–99 seriously. Seven of the attackers also died, while the authorities continued to search for accomplices. The attacks were the deadliest on France since World War II." Wikipedia
Most people were born with love and concern
~ the real world is more like a nightmare ~
Listening To My Monday Blues
~
we need to turn adversity into opportunity
CHANGE
~ before the sun goes down ~
~ * * * * * * ~
Some have tattoos, others have scars
Everyone has the memories
Five years after several coordinated
terrorist acts shaken Norway on 22 July 2011
The bereaved and survivors still have horrific memories
and miss their loved ones who lost their lives
... One human
...
... The air vibrated
25.07.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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