Long Cores Poems
Long Cores Poems. Below are the most popular long Cores by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cores poems by poem length and keyword.
I am not an angel, I know; I am a frail being.
Feeble, frangible, brittle, and breakable; self-fleeing
Like a glass or like a bone china vessel, breakable
Weakness has taken hold of me with strength unshakable
A tinge of innocence, yet, embedded by the divine
Is still sticking into the cores of my inner shrine...
Like an age-old yew surviving any weird wild weather
With leaves and fruits resembling rainbow-hued peacock feather
Like an antique rock holding itself tight under the earth
From the moment, as a pebble, it had taken its birth
This pristine purity sticks to me like a chroma.
Of a florally farm-fresh, inerasable aroma...
My thoughts, words, and deeds flow from this flawless, crystal-clear stream.
In forms of love and truth in day-to-day life, this does gleam.
Jasmine! Lavender! Pure white tulip, lotus, or lily
Nothing could ever comprehend this purity fully
I wear it. This wears me, rather. This is my existence.
Without this gem nothing in this wide world makes any sense...
Water filled each cleft and crevice; unease within you grew.
Though physically brave, I couldn't withstand the strong wave.
I felt, yet, in the end, contentment with saving a few
No lifebuoys left; am I pushed to the brink of my grave?
This sea, though I'm within her waves now, isn't my stranger.
Hadn't I spent my mammoth life on her thrill-bubbling shores?
Won't she, at these troubled times, save me from every danger?
Though once she smashed my sand forts, will she wreck my heart's cores?
Isn't my death, yet, shifting from one shore to another?
Isn't plunging into the whirlpools part of this process?
Though those whose hands I held to save their own lives don't bother
Towards a valorous voyage, may my sound soul progress.
Farewell, O Titanic; you'd been sheltering me for long.
Leave me now; that I reach the divine shrines where I belong.
Legacy of the Green Monster
An odd green monster
Resides within the corner
Of my kitchen sink –
Mouth open,
Stomach rumbling,
Whispering feed me – feed me now -
Ready to receive scraps of wilted salad,
Spicy pie,
Pasta sauce and olive pits
With bits of Tuesday’s stew -
Not fretting when it’s musty perfume
Mingles with strawberries
Past their prime –
Banana peels -
Or
Tattered leaves swept from the floor
Dragged in on furry paws;
No sweet smelling new mown hay;
The useless and expired
Now expelled from the monster’s grip,
A smorgasbord of the over ripe,
The underdone,
The scorched and slightly singed
Mingling – Maturing -
Ever ripening in
A mountain growing by the house
To once again revive growth,
With discarded apple cores
And sweet potato peels -
This pungent bisque spread on sleeping garden beds
When springtime wakes the earth
From hibernation
Only to find tomato plants
Growing in the strangest places.
Contest - All About the Environment
Joy of the Lord
Joy refuses to hide or wear a disguise
Bouncing brightness – bliss on springs;
Dances on tiny toes of fiery flamencos
No colorless embraces –knows the steps;
No shadows of grey in its cloak
Only shades of clearest light;
Incandescent transcendence of perpetual motion
Never slumbers – never needs a nap;
Always nascent nativity
Breaths renewal Son powered battery;
Inventor of jubilation - Hallelujah ecstasy –
Gloria elation -Praise euphoria;
Benediction of merry mirth
Speaks beatitudes of delicious delight;
Glee on wheels – rocking and rolling
Merriment like twilight candle light;
Clowns around with hilarity
Pals around with happiness of the moment;
Radical hospitality not a fleeing ghost
Permanent wave – permanent eternal smile;
Never absent – resonating generosity
A little craziness of an upside down emoji;
Stares down petulant, whining faces
Welcome mat always out;
Enthusiasm invades invasion of jocularity
Happiness revolution resolution;
Pirouettes in peaceful promises
Precious plentiful pearls of shining wonder;
Taps on windowpanes with eternal enrapture
Always available to dance;
Unrestrained tail wagging exuberance
Springing up with blinking lights – can’t wait to bless;
Bright eyes tickle the deepest marrow
Strength tousles somber cores with joy:
Joy inhales moments of transparent gladness -
Exhales a sparkling galaxy of glimmering satisfaction!
Contest: Joy of the Lord
9-8-20
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Ghosts, Hosts’ with the mostest
In the House of the dead, Ghost's roam their home they once lived before becoming spirits.
Crickets serenaded near their catacomb; Tree's creek buried deep in loam from the breeze.
Serving Cores light and blue cheese balls to Fairies visiting from the mores.
A Burmese python chasing mice on the splintering wooden floor.
Gargoyle's crash through a trap door causing an uproar as witches with big sores riding brooms zoom down the fireplace.
Unicorns give chase to Gryphon wearing lace around their chins.
A Golem and an Ogre sit quietly talking to one another giving off a stomach-churning odor.
Centaurs fought a banshee shrieking so loudly cracked a marble column.
Gnomes decided to make this place their home with the phoenix in the attic away from the combated Leprechauns living near their garden dome.
The host Ghosts bring out the last of the wine and served pickled swine having a fun time their orbs twinkling like disco balls down the halls.
2/13/2021
sponsor Julia Ward
In heat
the pulse of your streets.
I've heard the crack
of hard political whips
that pinch the air.
Cores of human topography,
your aging neighborhoods.
Your people kick cans
counting gravel like jewels,
while chiselers roast dogs
in the courthouse.
Swine flu kills
the papers.
And already the sky is
feverish.
In your train tunnels
a violinist plays pianissimo.
I've seen
railroad men search for him
along your tracks.*
But you are always
the sweltering sore
of the Atlantic.
A rusty mouth
for dark ships.
A blind brick town
of boarded storefronts
and ***** flicks,
you are buried.
Brown bag your way
to the last alley.
The tenants throw
rocks at your windows.
The rain has stopped
washing your sewers.
*From an old legend of
railroad workers on the east coast of the United States.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
Sometimes the blotter goes dry,
Before you splash the swirls...
And sometimes the shadows softly call,
And you follow
Sometimes life takes centre stage
Leaving you questioning it all...
And sometimes the only thing left...
Is to suspend it all..
Just remember, your words...
Were never pixelated fatigue.
But bright lights, blazing streaks...
Defying the darkest of cores
I have been in the shadows as well...
I know that dark very well...
Keep that spark and only know,
The seat is always warm for you all
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....To many whose pens have gone inexplicably quiet somehow...
Dancers
and health therapists,
meditators
and educators,
speak of an embodied
listening
and teachable "CORE."
We need,
on bad days,
and want,
on better days,
To exercise,
stretch,
fill and empty,
appreciate
and open
our empowering MindBody Core,
With healthy, resilient outcomes predicted
as a return on investment
for such deep enlightening listening
and learning
intention,
integrity
of compassionate purpose.
Back in the day,
religious
and warm spring breeze
front porch Sunday afternoon
philosophical,
spiritual
and natural lifeskills therapists,
polyglot poets
and brilliant essayists,
lovers
and naked co-passionists,
storytellers
and environmental storymakers
spoke
and sang
and danced
to restore our healthy
holistically wealthy
"Soul"
While my Core
seems to be Here
and Now about my autonomous body,
and our shared Soul
an advocate for active democratic process
ing co-passionately commun
icating bicameral
ly reiterative
reconnecting
re-ligioning minds,
For those who see
and sometimes hear
this mind-body
inside-outside
Janus-doublefaced, double-bound
leftbrain languaged Core curriculum distinction
without experiential rightbrain sensory
Soulfull/empty Zeroistic difference,
BodyCores may be useful to teach MindSouls
to think
and feel
interdependent CoreSoul
holistic
holonic
holy-spirited
animus-Mundi
EarthTribe soul-core Us,
A non-elite sacred we
restoratively experienced much differently
than OldSchool royal WE,
As "tu" would prefer to soulfully heal
relationships "vous" might choose to punish,
to exclude from high society's
deep delusional
and boxed-in bored
monoculturally self-disempowering
patriarchally unenlightened
EcoSystemic EarthMother Core
embryonic womb.
Personal ZeroSum risky secularized
monetized Cores,
like mortally autonomous bodies,
may also be political
and economic
NonZero reorganizing co-invested mindbodies
encircling compassionate HolySouls.
When we walk together
our Cores move in linear
or circling sympathy
And when we dance as one
our Souls feel
and know
Here as also Now
co-empathy.
Em todos os tempos
Tudo inicia
Com o dia,
Que faz nascer o vento,
Que faz nascer a água ou o amor
nascer um dia de sol.
Dentre todos os dias,
nenhum foi o primeiro.
O dia começa rápido,
E acontece
A verdadeira história da humanidade.
Desde a conquista ao sucesso,
a imaginação planejada,
a inteligência, e com alguma razão —,
o fazer é um dever
E a abundância é uma escolha!
O dia começa rápido,
É primeiro só um rumor de espuma
à volta do dia que desperta,
de repente; abundância – de cores,
amanhecer de pássaros.
Façamos do dia
De hoje
o melhor de nossas vidas.
In the universe's tender age,
One billion years past cosmic stage,
First planets spun in newborn light,
Amidst the stars, in endless night.
High radiation filled the skies,
A hostile realm for life's first tries,
Heavy elements scarce, untamed,
In starry cores, their essence claimed.
Chaotic bursts, a fiery dance,
Supernovae's fatal chance,
Gamma rays with deadly might,
Sterilizing planets bright.
Life's cradle needed calmer days,
More time to weave its complex ways,
For elements to spread afar,
Nurtured by the newborn star.
In time, the cosmos found its peace,
Allowing life its sweet release,
But in those early, fiery skies,
Life's tender spark could not arise.