Long Corresponding Poems
Long Corresponding Poems. Below are the most popular long Corresponding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Corresponding poems by poem length and keyword.
You grew up knowing you would work,
for your dream job you made a search,
then went to school and took the tests,
burned the oil to be the best.
You interned for experience,
and developed good business sense,
got a good job with a big firm,
then through toil you quickly learned
how to bring service to the mass,
and how to solve their problems fast,
the hard work brought you lots of praise,
with corresponding bumps in pay.
You took a chance, went on your own,
started your own shop from your home,
set your hours, were your own boss,
built it all up through free-time lost.
But all the effort brought the join,
the upper middle-class you joined,
through tenacity, grit and nerve…
seven figures going forward.
Wait--someone is now in office,
makes promises with words practiced,
offers his voter much free stuff,
declares that you have ‘had enough.’
Your own success, it’s just not fair
when others live on in despair,
sure, they may have made bad choices,
but he wins votes with their voices.
Besides, don’t your care of the poor?
Don’t you know what they have endured?
We can’t rely on charity,
you might help the wrong folks, you see.
Who care if you mortgaged your house?
We have to have ‘compassion’ now.
Who cares if things are yours by right?
And if new taxes make things tight.
Who cares if you must close your doors
because they just keep taking more?
Don’t you know what professors say?
You ‘exploit’ workers anyway!
You know that you don’t ‘give them jobs,’
you ‘steal’ from them, you take and rob,
they’d rather those jobs not exist
then thank a ‘damn capitalist.’
Don’t you know that you’re ‘all that’s wrong,’
it’s ‘fascist’ to work hard and long,
it’s ‘immoral,’ and should be spurned,
the thought that you should keep what’s earned.
You think your work gives you a claim,
so bourgeoisie…that’s quite insane,
you could do your work just as well
earning no more than someone else.
“It’s not worth it,”you do announce,
then you’re a monster, and they pounce,
take all the wealth you did create,
say it’s for ‘the good of the state.’
To want it back would be greedy,
they need the cash for ‘the needy.’
Then you see them drive fancy cars…
they’re only thieves with good P.R.
When the 21st century stepped into its third decade, the major tone of the world sharply switched. Internecine confrontation, cartelism and calumniation snaffled the high pitch, while comprehension, cooperation and cosmopolitanism, like ill-adapting burdens and nuisances, are inexorably pitched out of the era's finickier and finickier register.
The last 4 years, principally accountable for the bend toward such trend, has a clear pattern.
Since the moment that pussy-grabber grabbed the oval office through foreign fix, everything seemed to have been predetermined.
Needless to argue: just as a train steering along its normal route suddenly swerved into an appalling aberration under multiple symptoms of systematic failure, poped up a chain of bizzare behaviors: a row of willful withdrawals from multiple international organizations and treaties, barefaced dunning over allies for protection fees, capricious veer of trade vanes highlighting haphasard jitters of tariff rates toward countries of utterly different natures and qualities, pussyfooting pace toward putin and patronizing pose before pals as well as other unpredictable hitches and glitches in the making and implementation of policies or even nondescript whimsical whistles that had perplexed many politicians, publicists and observers who believe U.S to have relapsed into isolationism, that is, paying more attentions to or becoming exclusively occupied in its own business with less or without interventions or concerns upon external matters. Many uttered criticism over this phlegmatic position, pointing out it was the isolationism that had connived at the fascist aggrandizement and caused the inadequacy of vigilance in the pearl harbor incident before it finally gave way to requisite engagement. But I have to say the wording of isolationism is simply unfitting nowadays. One can prove this by drawing a comparison between the degree of globalization of recent times and that before world war 2. As we take a glimpse back to the period around 1940, we can find that oversea entities and links were relatively meagre and the corresponding influence and leverage upon other countries relatively negligible. At that time, pursuing isolationism was more or less of a certain venial aspect.
Onward I go
taking a step further in search for peace
liberation
freedom from deceitful misery
that obliges with the scent of insecurity and intimidating inevitability
of a world filled with so much insincerity and atrocities
Onward I march into the freedom of liberation for my soul
away from the scenes and thoughts that blur and numb me further away from serenity
I dance to be beat in rhythmic synchrony to the compelling forces of the ice-like
crystallizing waves beneath
I soar in dancing tune to the dancing echoes as heavenly avatars unknown respond in
gliding showers refreshing soaring approaching in response to reclamation of what is mine,
what I need, the essence of me, defiling defamations, constructing inhabitions
smothering my way to a world my soul awaits to see
Onward I march under showers of salvation
as I become one, reborn, to that eternity
watching as the gloomy clouds unfurl slowing into hollowed receptions in this glacious
zone sewn with inscriptions gluing green
Onward I dance, setting an index of redemption ready to fly
as I embark on the journey of the unending road
running in-between shadows opaque that dissect reminiscing with thoughts embezzling what
is mine
desperate I resuscitate transacting with the world I want to see
feeling sounds of the inevitable cooling whip-like lashes of my tainted being on this
mountain of mine
I feel kisses tingle on me in hallucinating dignity
through nature’s beautifying eyes of rescue
as it sets my sight worthy of each of its corresponding flickering flashes
setting my conscience loose as I ascend, fly
come
and
watch
me
free
as
I
fade
growing
in
diminuending-crescendo
with
the
wind
Form:
It's all about Y.O.U……..
I want to know you as you
To just be with you as you grow and mature
Into what you have chosen to become
since Y.O.U are responsible for your choices
I don’t want to think of you from distance
I want to feel you and touch you as I embrace you
And not the way I am thinking of you now
But feeling you the way you are feeling now
Not the way people told me about you
But the way you want to tell me about you
And the way you will not tell me about you
And the way you will want to let me know more about you
That will be revealing in your attitudes and deeds
moment by moment
I want to be with you in your thoughts
To feel your conflicting pains just as you feel it, now
And not the way I thought you are feeling it, now
Or the way people tell me you always feel it
Since I am aware that we have different experiences
At moment I am aware about my secret pains
So I am aware that you also have yours
Except you willingly choose to reveal them to me
there is no way i can know them
i am neither a wizard nor a witch
Since I am interested about how you feel
there will be time I'll not feel your pain
the way you will want me to feel it
please just bear with me
I want to learn how to be with you in your soul
Since what makes you up is the soul
you are connected to in your past
I know you have friends who are special to you
And at the same time related to you
I don’t want to break you away just like that from them
Since before I met you, you have other friend’s
You have shared with others and learn from others
So it’s not just an overnight adventure
To know you as you are,
I know you’ll keep unfolding
Even if we get attracted and connected to each other
As you unveil your self gradually as it pleases God and you
so let me know when to give my token of love
So that I can give a helping hand to you
So that I can give my breath and consent when you need it
So that I can give you your corresponding thoughts
Even though contrary and contradicting your expectation
so that we can share with each other our fears and doubts
And also share with each other our dreams and passion
It's all about Y.O.U.
Wondering;
Wanting something right;
In my life;
Totally corresponding to the rites;
Those rights of surviving in this vast universe;
Going,
Going on;
Going on and on misty lights;
Wonders of culturally enticed;
Where are the heavenly's;
God has promised me;
Where are the birds inflight;
What about visions of marvelous;
Available for all of us;
Every word needs a friend;
So I placed a pen in hand;
As I place these words on paper, while sitting on the porch engaging;
All early morning sights
Gonna see every thing all right;
it's alright as I ponder..
In awe God's awesome
Sunlight wonder. . .
Going to see the light
Brilliant brights seeing heavenly lights;
Sun light wonder, as I gaze across the skies;
Glorious wonders as I spy God walking in the clouds;
Sun light wonders bright in skies;
Still I'm wondering, wanting something right, in my life;
Totally corresponding to the sites;
The hills, the valley's beneath my feet;
The woodland small animals eating off the ground natures treats;
And I am going on, going on in the mists of the lights;
The lights that shine so ever bright(ly)
And I must go on, go on till I, see the face of my God. . .
Where are the heavens?
Where are the birds inflight?
What about visions of marvelous marvels, (oh my)
my, my, my. . .
brilliant bright seeing heavenly lights;
Sun light wonder, as I gaze across the skies;
Glorious wonders as I spy God walking in the clouds;
Sun light wonders bright in skies;
Sun lit wonder standing on the clouds;
Gonna see everything all right;
it's alright as I ponder..
In awe God awesome;
Sunlight wonder
Questing all my thoughts;
By passing my inner self;
All I have left;
Is to give up the breath;
Where are the heavens, in my life?
Where are all those birds that are inflight?
What about those visions of birdy's flying above me?
Glorious wonder as I now see God walking before me;
And what of all this beauty, then I must finally be;
I am in sun lite wonder and it's in me;
(From the forthcoming God's Children Writes Words, New Poems New Friends) 2010c
English onomatopoeic words tick tock does punctuate...
audiological "second" associated with ordinary soundlessness
Second of time not decided arbitrarily, but...
Under International System of Units,
the second currently defined as
duration of 9,192,631,770 periods
of radiation corresponding to transition
between two hyperfine
levels of ground
state of caesium-133
atom at temperature
of 0 degrees Kelvin.
Even if deaf and/or
blind Impossible Mission
to escape incessant
atomic elementary coalition
my dear Watson,
through rigorous erudition
pursuant, predicated,
postulated, plotted, pinpointed...,
whereby basic interval
of time engineered fruition
jarring inquisitiveness regarding
yours truly intuition
one body moving thru space
and time till manumision.
Upon mortality liberation comprising me
molecular constituent parts will thus free
repurposing (reincarnation higglety pigglety)
without preserving jammed consciousness, ye
might beg to differ,
yet that precept re:
guarding retaining awareness
previous life thee
less prominent poetic
intent to squander ably
(slight bias, I aver)
precious minutes agree
gated intuiting the
invisibility of ethereal me:
deem (or quantification
thereof) measuring je
nais sais quois (extent
of French words known
to yours truly), whose
lofty ambition key
ying focus, how
every moment allocated
into base unit to run
of the mill by the floss see
George Eliot (Mary
Ann Evans) garden variety,
generic *****sapien,
(no matter differentiation sets E
shove us apart).
Inescapable maddening
march to maximize
potential choice to exercise
fulfillment, or nurse regret
case in point I surmise
extensive disappointment,
though Matthew Scott tries
to separate the figurative
wheat from the chaff and vies
to distill some semblance
of value, cuz he doth realize,
how tempus fugit defies
longing to go back
to the future as he espies
countless reasons that qualifies
as his life left unlived no surprise
since aforementioned sentiment
mentioned, in tandem with
self destructive behavior I despise.
Watered and nurtured in
a congregation of a large brotherhood
the master is loving and caring
never allowing harm befall us all
or competition from green exploiters trouble us.
Weeds are cleared and burnt
Pests- fought back and eradicated,
all these enjoyment and their corresponding blessings
so unthinkable and unexplainable but real.
Then comes another master
with lips that can hallucinate the mind to goodness
and countenance so charming to both good and evil.
Our backs are scraped off to look a new
then packaged in groups to look so refined.
Excitement between brothers overwhelms all emotions
then off we leave the master’s shed
going to an unknown with the hope of better blessings.
In bits, we are sold out
angry I am that others were chosen ahead of me
then my time comes as warm hands collect me
washed and broken into pieces- my new self.
I looked bountiful in appearance
and so gracious in sight.
Why didn’t my first master do these things?
Why was he so rigid and uneventful?
Why did he care so much to limit my independence?
And all he wants is to put us under his oversight.
Different buyers come for different parts of me
the same mouths clothed in smiles
are the same sucking all sweetness out of me
each bite, a merciless chew
complemented by a drag of my light
into their darkness to render me worthless.
Now that I am reduced to nothing,
I am thrown out to the ground straight from the mouth
while hands stay irritated and too proud
to touch or carry me to my ruin.
From one to ten and them hundreds of feet,
they all step on me without noticing.
Oh such care from the plantation!
Now I wish I had remained there
I long to return to the brotherhood
and pray for the loving arms of my first master.
All others are beings of deception and lies
they come only to steal, to kill and to destroy
but He gives life eternal to those who seek it.
I am the sugarcane chaff and right now redemption is far gone
but I leave this note to let you know
that your ability to read it is a chance to accepting Him.
My daughter does not touch me any more.
She used to come and kiss me every night,
And sometimes she would sit on my lap for a while,
But she has not even touched me for so long now …
I know she still loves me.
She shows it in so many little ways
That make me happy,
But she does not touch me …
She seldom tells me the truth,
(And that hurts me,
Though I try not to let her see)
But I know the reason for that …
It is because she loves me.
She thinks I need to be protected
From the pain of knowing her pain.
(I, who should be her protector … )
She is mistaken:
But I understand her motive
And I love her the more for it,
But my daughter does not touch me any more …
I think sometimes she wants to,
But the years of disuse have created
An insurmountable barrier
For us both …
We want it to be
Like it is in the movies,
But it is not.
This is real life …
There is no ‘golden opportunity’
To make it right again.
Neither of us can go back,
Nor can we un-live the past …
It is done, and cannot be undone,
Even though neither of us is to blame
For whatever happened then.
(Whatever did happen then?)
There is, in me,
A certain hollow,
Which can only be filled
By my daughter’s touch …
I believe there is, in her,
(Though she may deny this)
A corresponding hollow,
Which only my touch can fill …
The problem is,
Because she does not touch me,
I am debarred from touching her,
And so both our needs remain unfulfilled …
As the time has passed,
That hollow has grown into a hole,
And the hole has grown into a deep chasm,
Because she des not touch me …
And the chasm has grown,
Until now it is a cosmic void.
A vast emptiness,
Contained within me … and her …
A vortex,
Where the howling tempest of loneliness
Scours our souls of all human comfort,
Because my daughter does not touch me …
(This was written some years ago, during the teen years.
When her own daughter was born, she came back to me!
Perhaps Hollywood's not so silly ... )
Aware of my attention to her as well as my proximate presence, she went on in a steadily refined rhythm, neither upset nor uplifted, holding my slick sight at reducible ductility and scotching its sneak stretch. Synergic is the comfort of her tangible prandial posture, neither demure nor obtrusive, salvaging my inspirational flotsam and jetsam and restarting its transmigration from annihilation to arousal. She also seemed occasionally absorbed in her own line of thought, though not so deep as mine; Her immaculate teeth loomed out of her dapper mouth from time to time in accordance with their nibbling cadences, as if double arrays of pearls peeked from inside a neatly halved cherry breathing brisk budding breeze. Constantly perceptible was her calm attitude toward me, neither aloof nor outgoing, holding my flaming heart at controllable temperature and tempering its premature incalescence. Synergic is the tenderness of her intangible inner temperament, neither obvious nor occult, enriching my shriveled Hippocrene hue and enlightening its transfiguration from wanness to chatoyance.
As the size of the servings on her platter dwindled, depleted, she deliberately finished her meal and left after spending a little while wiping and cleaning. Engrossed in her every move and my corresponding relished resonance, I'd been completely negligent of what food she had ordered, both the main dish and all the trimmings. On her table remained two slightly crumpled sheets of napkins without visible swiping trace, together with the spick-and-span tableware on the platter shining untouched grace. When across opacity shone a beam of brightness, when through aridity flowed a stream of ripeness, it was enough for me to parlay such flavor instead of merely applying myself to an insipid chat-up effort.
It works more wonders
to cock your passion by pen
than to cock a hen!
Allow the mind
Afford its need to conjure
Profound:
If exaltation and majesty
Require a bit of provocation and amnesty today
Humor:
As remedy and coagulation
From the bleeding of
Pain, stress and anger
Affection:
To reach out from solitary
Disconnectedness and remind
Ourselves that human beings exist
For purposes greater than commerce,
Ridicule and acceptance (approval?)
Bizarre:
Lifting the veneer of earth-toned normality
To discover colors and shapes
Radiant with black dissonance
Thorny embrace
Begging for elbow room among the
Forbidden and unforgiven
Slow dancing to rapacious cadences
That salute unspoken, unthinkable
Luscious folly
Melancholy:
For no reason
Sans the blame of others
Spite of self
Grasping sadness leased
By absentee owners
Themselves insipid to the
Context of sorrow they predispose
And so empathy
Created by that
Ancient historian with his grandiose
Visions of humanity's
Zero sum pain
Reflection:
In, out
Distinctive and plagiarized
To give depth where blank existence
Stands naked, cold
And in need of decency
Reacting to the homogenous assumptions
That fill our tomes of daily dread
Momentary answers to eternal questions
Before the rain and incessant gray tender
Cover the need to be alive
Brilliance:
Where our grasp of knowledge
Tangled inquiry
Defines
Yields bouquets fresh enough
To place in the corner
For whomever looks our way
Kernels of cerebral popcorn
Gushing with flavor
Vengeance:
Arbitrary
Yet sometimes predestined
Stimuli and caricatures resembling
Organic matter
Causality reckoning from their
Intentional, dark motives
Resulting in your personal disgrace
And corresponding focus
Of their demise
Satisfaction:
At the end of journey
Short and sweet
Long and dreary
Each the test of mettle
From quandaries and dilemmas
Begging to be solved
Or merely maintained
Where we find ourselves
At the summit
Top of the heap
With broken smile
Tacit laughter
And the sigh of a lifetime.
(4/19/05)