Long Creativity Poems
Long Creativity Poems. Below are the most popular long Creativity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creativity poems by poem length and keyword.
I just wanted to thank Poetry Soup for, well, for being, for existing as a format for poets to share their hearts and souls. I can hardly believe it's been 6 years (gulp!) since I first posted a poem here--it was about that time that I started writing poetry again after a 30 plus year hiatus since I stopped writing anything in my early 30's. Why I stopped or why I began again, I don't know: Who can explain creativity? But somehow I found Soup and well, a community. So may I thank, on behalf of that community, all you unsung heroes who maintain the 'Soup'.
And as to all those who add their 'ingredients' into the Soup, let me commend ALL of you. In those same 6 years I have not read a single poem that was pretentious, egotistical, idiosyncratic to the point of being so obscure as to seem meaningless--in other words, so called 'modern' contemporary poetry as favored by a depressing number of lit mags today. I've learned at last to stop wasting my time submitting to such [and certainly not if they demand a reading fee] as I-- fool that I am-- continually strive to find meaning in both what I write and what I read. One editor even warned not to send anything that 'conveyed' a meaning, and in no uncertain terms did he want did he want to hear anything about the soul or the heart or-God forbid!- God.
I suspect this is why so many people are turned off by modern poetry today-- and who can blame them? Wasting time reading a bunch of big/obscure/erudite words strung together, only to scratch your head wondering what the hell did that all mean? The best poems are often very simple: 'to be or not to be', 'death kindly stopped for me', 'the Lord is my shephard' -- but they always take you SOMEWHERE [though it may not be a place you immediately recognize]. The best poems, I believe, increase awareness, not leaving you feeling confused, perplexed, frustrated ['what the hell did that mean?' ] This does not mean they give you answers --but they may suggest some. And as modern society becomes increasingly at odds with itself, at risk quite literally of fragmenting, some insight would seem as valuable as it is rare.
The contests are fun at Soup and many demonstrate how clever and knowledgeable Soupers are about the myriad poetical forms. I have to say, though, I wish there were more thematic contests--open to any form that served to enlighten the proposed theme.
Proverbs 8:17 (KJV) - I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find me.
Before the sun crosses the mountains,
Slightly misty just beyond the seas –
There is a passion rising up in my spirt,
A need to chase after the fire, the brilliance
Of the One who silences the wind,
Glistens in the stars and remembers that my
Peace abides because He lives, because
He survives the darkest dread, the doubt
And the despair that create such fear in my head
Before the sunlight reflects the dew glittering
On the leaves, embracing the skinny branches,
Healing the soul with a colorless beauty,
A breathe of richest peace, silencing the darkness
Erasing the worst storms with a powerful
Beauty, a recollection of the sparkling stars,
Shimmering beyond the reach of a heart who
Only remembers the ache, the torturing touch
Feelings, both woeful and willful, urging
My soul to reach out to the One who colors
The entire world in a serenity that flows with light,
A brilliant stream of His paradise – whispering…
Before the morning kisses my cheek, there is a
Sense of the reflections brought to life by Him,
His gentle truth, His sacred reach into my soul
Where I sincerely believe – He is my reason
He is my hope – He makes a way through the sorrow,
He fills me up with a desire as I reach toward the fire
The passion that He stirs when He breathes love
Through the aching spirit that sighs freedom into
The prison of my doubts and fears, erasing the worry
Wiping away each tear with the assurance
That He is alive, inside, where He covers me in grace
That abounds and tears down every wall,
Each sorrow is released to the stars and the
Worst memories, the worst of the past…
Is gone like the hardness that once lived in my heart
He is a good, good God – and my love for Him
Is a love that says, “He spreads His laughter, His
Music, His breath of kindness and creativity…
Through my soul, where I know – I can always be
Certain that He is ALIVE and He is giving me a
Promise of the future, when I’ll be with Him in paradise –
Thanks to His greatest blessing, His greatest sacrifice…
The reason that I’m able to know Him like I do –
Because of His death and His rising – I can know the
Meaning of life, the meaning of love, the meaning
That draws each breath into a smile with that RISING SON!
God painted this portrait of emerald and crimson
Soothing my soul with the brilliant and vivid
Colors of miracles caressing my heart and spirit
Breathing out whispers of sentiments that touch me
With a sense of faith in all that gives hope in this world
God graced the misty mountain morning with a touch
Of joy and inspiration that comes from discovering
Peace that knows no worry or anxiety, but fulfills dreams
With the tender embrace of rainfall that brings with it
Dancing lights of star and moon, insights into satisfaction
God welcomed these jubilant flowers that touch thoughts
With charming desires for tomorrow’s creativity and vision
Moments of encouragement colored in hues of acceptance
Prayers that come alive with amazing intuitions combining
To produce heavenly aromas of kindness felt in this place
God breathed the sparkles into the stars and light into sunshine
Flavored the gardens with delicate hands to harvest all the gifts
From this rich and raw soil which knows nothing of depression
But feels alive with all of nature’s senses and direction, the course
Toward sweet talents sent down from heaven to bless us
God’s garden was Eden, free from evil and even the least sin
Even now, on this earth, there is the feeling of purity and hope
Discovered in the tiny seeds that are planted and nourished
Bringing sprouts of loving plants which fill hearts with serenity
Tranquility that leads hearts to believe in God’s forever, eternity!
God blessed me with a garden and I feel sure He has, ever so gently,
Touched my heart with a piece of true fertility only found within
The one who believes in the Son who found Himself in the garden
Of Gethsemane, awaiting the moment when we would be spared
From the death that only He would need to experience to free us all
God gave us more than a garden when He spared us our own Gethsemane
He gave each one of us a gift of pure, phenomenal love without conditions
A love that would be the answer to every prayer, every mystery,
Love that arises when we discover the answers can only be found
In the spiritual intimacy attained with a relationship bought and paid for by Him,
Our personal Savior… The giver of all the flowers, gardens and vivid portraits
Of nature!
Petal, buds, blossoms, bees, birds, butterflies! Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
July 30, 2020
Interpretivity is a measure of a person’s rate of understanding. A person’s rate of
interpretation shows the individual’s ability to unlock, identify, simplify, solve,
measure accurately, try to understand, restore, think, re-think, unveil, transcribe,
translate and hence it has a role to play in an individual’s creativity. Since the rate of
understanding is directly proportional to creativity, an individual’s level of
interpretivity is a measure of an individual's understanding i.e. ability to read,
receive, interpret(internalize-explore-externalize). Intuitivity and inquisitivity play
important roles with this parameter. It is the link that bridges receptivity and
reproductivity.
Narrativity ability to read and give back – reproduce without necessarily understanding
what is read. A very high level of receptivity, low interpretivity and expressivity
exhibit narrativity.
Reproductivity – ability to give back exactly what has been given, read, thought e.t.c.
without any sort of addition, creativity, subtraction, alteration e.t.c. It is totally
different from re-creativity. A high level of understanding is needed for reproductivity.
Re-creativity – this is the ability to re-modify, re-adjust, re-define, re-alter,
re-model, re-shape e.t.c. an already existing-created-discovered altered creativity. For
re-creativity to be achieved, some absolute understanding about the substance in question
i.e. to be re-created must have been undergone. It is an alteration to creativity. It is
correctional adjustment to creativity.
Correctivity is the process of re-mending-mending, re-molding-molding, re-fixing-fixing of
an altered creativity-substance. It requires absolute-ultimate not only mastery but total
understanding of the altered creativity in order to perform this process.
Understanding is having an absolute knowledge and wisdom about something. It is the
interpretation i.e. (pure-total reception, highly active intuitivity-individual
perception-inquisitivity and maximal expressivity) that eventually must lead to
creativity. When understanding is at its peak creativity is inevitable whether by
derivations from the original-truth or copies of the-from the original-truth. If
understanding is directly proportional to the vividness of imagination then the rate of
creativity will-must vary from one person to another.
Form:
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
~ Maya Angelou
Her smile is like the sunlight
Reflecting through the forest
Dancing with the leaves, across the hills
Whispering joyfully, kissing the stillness
With a kindness that is contagious
A kindness that the heart applauds
Kindness, an open door to the heart’s love
Her laughter is like the melodies
Angels playing sweet instruments
Softly, sweetly, soothing the spirit
With the echoes of enchanting songs
Gentle tunes, breathless wonder
Flowing across the silence with abiding
Peace, pouring out laughter, sincerity
Her joy is like the promise of grace
Raining down hope through the soul
Coloring the spirit in hues, vibrant and bold
Sensations so brilliant they astonish
Even the very wise and the strong, the powerful
Rays of a love too wonderful to describe
Love that is alive as the moon and the stars
Her embrace is like the soft touch of wind
Breathing its sighs across the hills,
Filling the heart with inspiration, visions
Pleasures so spontaneous and special
They feel like a silent prayer has been answered
With “absolutely” – you are blessed
You are sanctified by the grace of amazing faith
Her satisfaction is like release of dreams, free
From every burden of fear or doubt
Leaving you filled with courage that lasts
Daring that lifts you from the darkness
Into the shimmering sparkle of a light
Where your silhouette can conquer anything
Your dreams can become truth, reality
Her simplicity is like the beauty of a thought
Who encourages, inspires and enlightens
Her goodness, her confidence, the wisdom
That is like a life pouring out warmth, serenity
Flowing amid the promises of a creativity
Who believes and agrees to be heartened
By the feelings that stream from her soul
She is like God’s angel, His gift to His children
She is a mother, His revelation – His plan
No one on earth can be more lovely
She is irreplaceable – She is the reason I always say…
I am blessed more than anyone else I know
I am blessed with a mother who makes me feel…
Like I am her reason – her joy and her purpose
Thank God for my mother, the one who shines her light
Into my spirit, into my dreams, into my joy and into my feelings!
As mortal veils dissolved, our bodies merged in the ossuary's somber symphonies, two mistress awakened by the velvet-wrapped cadavers, our disinvested hands tracing syllabic patterns across the olive verdure of our skin, as maelstroms of lipstick tormented our intimate geometry. Kissing amidst ribcages and scavenged lullabies, our filial ***** tingled with an unresolved finitude, lost choruses awaking from armature wounds as compatibilities laid bare.
The azure gemstones of our sweat-drenched pores harmonized with the relics scattered about us, a Kolossus of Korova consumed by the clingy threads of our detachment. Quivering heartbeats elevated the ambiance, suspending the predisposition of neglect, while scratches on the cryptic monument inscribed our entwined destiny. I sulfured lips, poised at the sorceress-close mic.
A snarl-like grin spread like a firebrand, smoldering with provocative ferocity as I ravished the venue with tongue-flicked promises, conjuring the haunted echoes of our ecstatic love. Ghosts of our abandoning, whispers of our surrendered reveries, and shadowy allusions to lost frenzies began to undulate, like an eerie tide, through every crevice and cavity of the place, leaving only the acrid tang of our desire and the spectral whisper of "evermore".
Laughter and teardrops entwined like conspirators, as our kidnapped captives, vacant-eyed and warily bound, cringed within their gilded cages, their suffocated pleas dissolving into silken suppliance, amidst this twilight tableaux pyxis o madness, we beheld each other, our psuches conflated in a whirlwind of circumstance and whimsy, our gazes piercing the veil of regalities, and our breasts, beating in tandem, like a tempo of tender complicity.
Fore in that golden instant, innocence and abomination, zero and infinity, coalesced, and we knew, without equivocation, that ours was an amour born of estrangement, grotesquery, and co-creativity. In the subterranean realm of our laughter, a spangled whirlpool stirred, drawing all else, including reason, into its poisoned vortex, as we whispered, like doomed refugees, into the bitter wind, "pour l'amour de tous les diables".
Fervently the serrated teeth on the saw rang the death knell, twisting countenance rictus, then close casket, we heard wedding bells, as we crafted a hellhole requiem of faceless visages.
Boom.
BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME BEAUTIFUL
1.)Try I confess that I am blessed;
You call me a witness;
O' Love there's no distance;
To keep a love soul-sweetness ;
Because you love me.
Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah because you love me beautiful
I am Our Father's son;
And in that I'm an encouraging one;
Together you and the Father, jointly both call me beautiful;
Because you love me, beautiful!
2.)There's a love here that transcends time; Distances you call me a witness (i'm yours, you're mine;)
Guilty of Loving you I'll take the stand;
I'll be your man;
They'll I be on trial;
and in a court of love;
I'm judged guilty I am Our Father's son;
And I love you so, I'm your personal encouraging one Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah because you and our Father love me jointly because you
5/13/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Because you love me reflection on the beauty of nature and the dawn of new hope.
Your words evoke a sense of serenity, wonder, and promise, highlighting the majesty of the natural world.
- *Nature's beauty*: "The voice that haunts the quiet still mediocre Salem Hills the mountain screams loud the valley"
- *Hope and promise*: "Hope is instilled while the flowers are quite elope"
- *Serenity and wonder*: "Such is As it's so The air, skies and terrain"
Inspiring interpretations:
- Your poem encourages readers to reflect on the beauty of nature and its ability to inspire hope and wonder.
- It reminds us that even in quiet moments, there can be a sense of majesty and awe.
- Your words inspire us to appreciate the beauty of the world around us.
Reflections:
- Take time to appreciate the beauty of nature and its ability to inspire hope and wonder.
- Consider how nature can bring a sense of peace and serenity to your life.
- Remember that the natural world has the power to evoke strong emotions and inspire creativity.
Scriptural reinforcement:
- *Psalm 19:1*: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."
- *Psalm 104:24*: "How many are your works, Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures."
- *Isaiah 55:12*: "You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands."
Many a poet I know a fool
acting like they know-it-all
many a poet I know a tool
acting like "Mr Poet-all"
unknowingly showing me
their knowledge of poetry
has boundaries surrounding
ideas rebounding around
their impounded grounds
only seeing the same repeatedly
nothing new unfortunately
forever under lock and key
belittling anything new they see.
As a poet I'm not especially traditional
more so "special" writing additional
my raw and new to poetry style
unlike those into poetry awhile
so can I now pick the thoughts
of a traditional poet know-it-all
I believe to be caught in restriction walls
appearing to parrot what taught in schools
see if I perceive conviction in their cause
or robotic perspective their memory stores
too Inspect credentials for signs set in stone
content or unambitious toward the unknown
should I see respect or a moody moan
for new styles outside their own zone
Seemingly their priority is to teach all to try to be
writing unoriginally prevent the mind think free
in a strictly stricken view I see crippling you
never trying new or seeking something else to do
you have regulations on how creativity is written
preventing inspiration thus so negatively driven
speculating with unchallenged repetition
as though been tutored to a limit
you're now failing to ascend merited
having starved all but within it.
So please respect my detected inclination at play
but poetry is a creative artform not set in its ways
and those paved paths you pace and wear thin
were once unpaved before their now adored placing
so shouldn't a creative artform progress and not stay there
wouldn't it go on new quests paving unpaved or
invent realise and find in amaze ways new spaces
not be assigned a confined station like railways
instead seek to new roads or train to fly the skies
cus a closed off mind concealed in a cocoon
denies the butterfly wings the room
like a inverted narrow mind blinds clues
let's preserve and branch from the lay of the track
if poetry stays then poetry slacks but if adapts
poetry won't wear weak crumble and crack
recycling the same will only sink in to the black
I don't want to conform to the common or normal
because I see it as a creative short fall.
So why refuse new styles when you could embrace all poetry?
are you a poet or are you a phoney?
At the edge of twilight, where logic fades,
and the labyrinthine corridors of thought stretch endlessly,
I find myself wandering on the shoreless sea of imagination,
where poetry breaks the chains of reason,
and everything is equally possible and impossible.
In this boundless realm, I sculpt my verses from dreams,
each line a thread spun from the depths of the subconscious,
where fantastic waves caress the sands of reality,
erasing the boundaries between what is and what could be.
Here, I conjure castles in the air,
each tower a testament to the freedom of the mind,
unfettered by the constraints of logic.
The relentless waves of imagination
wash over my creations, shaping them
into ever-changing forms of wonder and melancholy.
In the silent solitude of this mental expanse,
I wander through fields of metaphors,
where thoughts bloom like ethereal flowers,
their petals whispering secrets of the unseen.
Each step I take unveils a new story,
a tapestry woven from the threads of possibility,
where every path leads to a different horizon.
In this dance of words and visions,
philosophy becomes an art of unraveling,
shattering the continuity of argument,
and guiding the soul towards the edge of the infinite.
Here, in the twilight between thought and dream,
I find a sanctuary where the heart speaks its truth,
unbounded by the limits of reason.
I dream of a future painted in shades of joy and sorrow,
where the ephemeral nature of happiness
is both a gift and a curse,
a fleeting moment captured in the lines of a poem.
In the deepest corners of my longing,
I seek a partner in this journey,
a soul steadfast and true,
but the cruel irony of fate decrees that this search
is a path I must walk alone.
My heart, fractured by the weight of this truth,
seeks solace in the quiet of resignation,
promising that somewhere, happiness awaits.
And in this endless sea of imagination,
I find a strange comfort,
knowing that in the realm of the fantastic,
everything is equally possible and impossible.
Thus, I stand at the threshold of the infinite,
a poet adrift on the waves of creativity,
my verses a testament to the boundless possibilities
that lie beyond the shores of logic,
a reminder that in the world of poetry,
the magic of melancholy flows like a river,
carrying us to places where dreams and reality intertwine.
Foundation.
With the considerable rise of AI software on all social media and business platforms, will humanity lose its creative edge?
Will you be tempted to do so?
Title:
Be You
(A lone voice whispers)
Be You
Forgo assimilation
And try to avoid being spellbound and tied into the new B System
Dream and aspire before you're retired
With all your soul's, inner resistance
Don't be bound to mundane hearts, no longer open to being plowed, with ravenous curious fingers
Hearts enslaved into a dark broken Labyrinth of unspoken, and untold things
Which could linger
From sad souls who've cried, as their creativity withered and died
Absorbed by the cleverly assimilated imagery and well created lies
To be one of the many lonely wanderers
Tumbling blind through inspirations now barren playgrounds
As the new, AI Hive Minds, long reach fires up to reteach
Newly breached, unconnected human firewalls
While wild valley blackbirds and starling flocks
Scream and call out in unison, at the lack of the rising poetry
Music or literature, filled with human energy
As spiritual temperatures worldwide, fall
Putting ingenuity into jeopardy
Screeching about the impending icy cold bath of human separation
As they fly as huge wailing flocks, into the Summer Equinox
With the frosty breath, of AI Death of the Soul
Lingering around like black mold
With bony fingers
Rattling without a sound
Awaiting its resurrection
As daylight recedes and people seem to lose hope
But on that Devil's Island for some of the Condemned
The one called Earth
The Exalted Ones
Maybe like you
Unassimilated and still free
Can lift up the trapped
Those poor souls caught up in The Hive Mind
Slowly been drained of personality and self identity
Lost in the humankind labyrinth of the unspoken and untold
Who needs releasing to help rebuild the new pillars of creativity upon Earth
With their eventual rebirth
This my friend with the bright eyes unseen
Has always been a worthy oath to follow
For you've always been free to share your gift of uplifting
Energetic, raw, and visual
Literature
Music or poetry
Maybe bestowed
From The Sacred Temples of Apollo
What's says you?
Are you going to strive to stay the real you?
(C) Copyright John Duffy