Long Crucible Poems
Long Crucible Poems. Below are the most popular long Crucible by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crucible poems by poem length and keyword.
18.61
“For the deluded one,
even rest is an activity
For the wise,
even action bears the fruit of stillness”
Stillness within all chaotic movement external
Not by control but as a reflex orientation
Paves way to cognise movement in stillness internal
We may call this meditation in continuation
Meditation effortless
There being no doer
Presence in stillness
Has the Divine as the mover
(23-August-2019)
~~~
Verse revisited on 02-March-2022
Let’s do a mind-body scan
To know constitution of man
We begin with the head ovoid
Senses and mind by ego buoyed
Our spiritual heart lying in neglect
Burdened by fear, can’t stand erect
Each half breath holds key to freedom
Void of polarity exchange in body prism
When all thoughts cease, we are at ease
Poised in silence, mode embrace-release
Ego recedes since we choose to feed it not
Head melds with heart, no longer fear fraught
The path’s so simple, ending our inner conflict
Thoughts, words and deeds, now love inked
Mind-body vessel becomes a love crucible
Grace in-pours, the complex now simple
We play out earth life in as is assigned
One with God, nothing to be divined
Doings are done without any fuss
We just go where God takes us
Ensconced in the bliss current
Aglow, alive and luminescent
Karma ends, life is but play
With love as our mainstay
Woman in Chains
Inner child blinks back tears through the cheval glass
At a bruised reflection staring back,
Battered by the hand of perfection,
Wearing chains in glimmering pearls deception,
Beauty and the beast - beauty now turned beast -
Though in the grip of vogue,
Restrained designs fettering creativity,
Beneath the veneer of outlandish style,
Wears hand-me-downs;
Wounded dove, kissed with a rose from the mist
Gasping on the runway of perfection
Beneath the blazing sun of cutting tongues
Behind made up faces,
Disappears into a chalice -fiery crucible -
Of coveted, borrowed, chains –
A dark kaleidoscope of shifting shapes and sizes -
Of stolen sublime – esteem devoured – ravished -
In runway parades of opaque flawless delusion
Skin hanging from a bony dress frame
Of starving wings scarred by black veils of distortion
With the salt of conformity heaped onto tender wounds
Searing tender flesh reaching out
In manacles for models of the meticulous
Bound up in chains of unforgiven imperfection
Forged in expectation’s subtle abusing links
With parables of precise precision
Handmaid designed by faultless perfection unseen the in the reflection
Till, clothed in a sheath of a new creation,
Slips out of leg shackles, greased by grace,
The inner child in somersaults soars on wings re-stored.
About 30 million people suffer from Anorexia Nervosa – both women and men. It can be a fatal disease effecting heart, kidney and liver functions. It is most prevalent in teenagers and young women. Anorexia took the life of singer Karen Carpenter, ballerina Heidi Guenther and model Isabella Caro. Princess Diana suffered from Anorexia. The recovery rate is very low – about 20%. This is definitely the story of Beauty and the Beast.
8-26-20
Contest: Woman in chains
30 lines
Am I humble enough to say,
I still wonder where to go?
The path that I must travel,
Surely, someday, I will know ...
I build my sand-walled castle,
For what more can I do?
And the sea erodes my workings;
I must turn my gaze to you.
My mind meanders aimlessly,
Attempts in vain to trace,
The outlines of your majesty -
The meaning of your grace.
This heart of mine is broken,
Fallen, chasing lesser things.
Alone, I can't repair it.
Angels, lift it with your wings -
To God. My Lord, behold -
Your servant kneels to you;
His purpose quite uncertain,
His actions flawed and few,
His thinking caught in circles,
His heart broken in a gyre,
So put him in the crucible;
Unleash your righteous fire!
I suspect, though hardly claim,
That there is something there,
Worthy of refining.
So I submit to your care.
Written 6 January 2019
Cavalier, mischievous am I
who, with my rebellious bent
flaunt my freedom, yes, I despise
the status quo, with a great
distaste for the all the rules.
To keep the letter of the law
is oh so boring, oh so dull.
It stifles creativity and expression
what use is it, say I?
My careless ways have seemed
to catch up with me, of late.
What a haphazard life I lead!
So many of life's decisions
turn out to be mistakes
tossed and turned about
by my myopic eye.
I must admit, things have not
gone so well, I stumble and I fall.
This monster of wanting
my own way has gotten
out of hand, I say.
To where shall I go to
turn the tide, make a break
fling off this crucible of pride?
I fall down on my knees
and repent, my sins spill out
before the throne of God
I'm spent.
Sweet comfort, for He forgives
He picks me up, helps me to live
the way that I was meant to be
for Him, not only just for me.
Written on 9/25/3015
As we walk towards one another
from a long distance of dare
with a stare straight into each other's soul glare
on a plateau of ancient, barren heartache,
the broken, fine diamond ground
love dry and dusty
bemoans our steps as severe moxie,
yet it's faith that motivates
our forward motion into maybe,
the wind waits not for want
as it stirs dreams from the ruins
of passion fallen short,
the ghosts of gothic romance
howl and whirl in the waste of ashen pulses,
ringed by mountains of ageless endurance
with a sky speaking rare fever
We get closer to the crucible of touch,
your scarlet gown and shawl of lip song
whipping wildly,
my mantle of sapphire sackcloth undulating
to match your confident stride,
We're feet away, the rush rises hot,
You extend your unmarried hand
into my palm of fire,
We give each other a smooth smile
because we know the price,
You give me a token of virgin time,
I hand you a blood jewel,
and suddendly the weather explodes
into a storm of burning roses...
A Widow of poetic warfare,
an Apex Princess in a shadow of love's heartbeat,
with a noble yearn
for honest caress,
weeping strongly on a living prayer,
She sends a warm teared whisper to her Love,
long away saying...
Stay with Me...
She expects not a cure or kiss,
Nightfall comes to envelope her
in soft sadness,
late after Midnight she's awoken
to a firm hand waving along her sleeping arm,
He moves her laying hair
as if it were a delicate beauty,
His lips gently touch her ear,
and He tells her...
I've never left You...
My sighs begin to trace Your borderlines
of beauty ablaze in love mania
with a charcoal ivory smoothness
as your body begins to beckon like warm tides
before the storm,
your heartbeat thunders
for a mouth to mouth kiss,
My tip glides lips tender and open,
You begin to foam sweetly,
My sighs reach your thighs,
A masterpiece enters You
with strokes true and deep...
Feel me in my silence
as I ache for your aplomb approval,
I lay alone,
afflicted with love burn,
I need You to cool me,
to handle my heart devotedly,
come up onto me, supple like,
Kiss me from above the pain and stars,
heal the scars and take me far
into your hunger,
deliver me beyond the dream,
teach me what love means -
J.A.B.
Just a glimmering astral spark births in the gloom a crest of day,
A solitary thread of wax dancing its aura
Scatters the night -
In a delirium of gleamings that chase phantoms of fear away,
Shaking the hegemony of silence with a hymn of photons.
Just one snowflake star, in its cascades of silver,
Deciphers a divine ode
That might launch upon the ridges of time
An avalanche of harmonic purity,
That seraphically fills the flesh of the world with psalms of clear might.
Just one rebel petal, upright in storms and flutterings,
Elevated like an oasis in untamed deserts,
Adorning resignation with an outpour of grandeur,
The sole in its belief,
Unnamed heroism - an avalanche of strong essences,
A shout that blooms in orbits of daring.
Just an echo of prayer, the murmur of a pierced chest,
Can transfigure souls into gusts of wind,
In the avalanche of affection pouring over unnatural borders
Cloaking enmity in cocoons of phosphorescent loves.
So illuminate, divine pioneer, with your eternal wick,
Wave halls of grace over stretches of shadow,
Your spark flutters - a phalanx that awakens -
The hour of resurrection in the crucible of deep night.
Be that snow which falls from the wisdom of compassion,
The flower which de-petaled storms,
The candelabrum of life in crypts of obscurity,
The pulsating prayer, the heart of celestial song,
Unceasing in the feast of its sidereal rebirth.
Greenswards Fecundity Blooms Away ™
Within a fortnight, as tempestuous slam
dunk March madness closes curtain call
“in like a lion, out like a lamb,”
twill hove tested survivability,
asper flora, thru harsh winter, and
those most see ring robust will pass exam
unbridled love bursting asunder
cavorting, frolicing, instigating
wham bam thank you ma'am
lollygagging, orchestrating, romancing
while birds and bees pollinate jam
ming, humming, fostering sensational slam
dance, where flora lifts, wafts, and yawps
invoke warble, gurgle,
burble from baby in pram.
Meanwhile latent Mother Earth
quite pregnant with
multifarious potent new life
vermilion, violet ready to burst
asunder from Gaia's girth
dramatically altering landscape
with expectant birth
of animal and plant species distilled
within crucible, sans terra firma hearth
quite a contrast, when
polar vortex wrought dearth
whence Spring begets plenti
kindling, snapchatting, and twittering mirth.
Also uniquely designed hue man
denizens of every stripe nurse
tender affection expressing
amorous poetry and verse
rejoicing, the dead of winter,
and attendant frostbite curse
frozen folks felled, thence carried
away in horse drawn hearse,
where heavy grief ameliorated
as natural holistic
narcotic brings pacific
balm, calm, and psalm snapping,
crackling, and popping
wide web with electric
ambient ancient, yet contemporary music
punctuating the air with lulling lyric
since time immemorial
recognized as greatest soporific
equally savored, whether
devout or atheistic
nonpareil eclectic dreamy
harmonic melange cathartic
aural, diurnal, integral
quintessentially converging harmonic,
democratic, and anthemic
congregation replete with fantastic
incorporation, viz diversity galactic!
Ebony and ivory soldiers
stand sentinel on checkered plains,
their shadows stretching across the polished wood.
The mind becomes a blade,
thoughts crystallise
in the space between heartbeats.
Each move echoes
like thunder in an empty room,
while fingertips hover over destiny's pieces.
Time dissolves
In the crucible of concentration,
where seconds stretch into infinities.
Silence roars louder,
than any crowd in this arena of intellect,
as kingdoms rise and fall beneath fluorescent stars.
Victory dwells
in the eye of stillness,
where warriors of thought wage their bloodless wars.
In canvas of existence, a masterpiece unfolds,
Beautiful things take time, like tales of old.
A symphony of moments, intricately designed,
Each stroke of seconds, a work of art divine.
Like petals of roses, tenderly they sway,
Unfurling beauty, with each passing day.
The sculptor's chisel, chips away with care,
Revealing majesty, beyond compare.
Seasons of growth, like layers of earth,
Nourish the seedling, of radiant birth.
Sunbeams of patience, illuminate the way,
Guiding the journey, through life's busy day.
Rivers of time, flow smoothly to sea,
Shaping the shores, of destiny.
The weaver's loom, threads of experience spin,
Tapestry of wisdom, with each passing kin.
Oh, beautiful things, don't rush to the stage,
For premature blooms, wither in life's gauge.
Let moments mature, like ripening fruit,
Savoring sweetness, in patience's pursuit.
In patience's crucible, gold is refined,
Purified by fire, the heart and mind.
The beauty of time, like sunrise unfurls,
Revealing splendor, in life's whorls.
Embrace the wait, don't rush the pace,
For beautiful things take time, in every place.
Let patience's palette, paint life's design,
And beauty will bloom, in its own sweet time.
FIRE the Immortal
Fire the Immortal—primordial breath,
Kindled in chaos, a twin flame of death.
Born in the forge where the cosmos ignites,
It dances through nebulae, seeding the night.
With tongues of plasma and fusion-fed might,
It devours the dark, gives birth to the light.
Fueling the stars in their hydrogen blaze,
A crucible shaping the eons and days.
It dines upon carbon, on oil, on trees,
Unlocking their essence in alchemical ease.
Combustion—a whisper of matter undone,
Entropy's waltz beneath moonlight and sun.
In crackling hymnals it chants to the spheres,
Echoes of supernovae ring in our ears.
A sacred convulsion, a quantum ballet,
A flare in the silence where atoms decay.
It moves like a spirit through vacuum and void,
A relic of stars long burned and destroyed.
From the heart of a candle to Betelgeuse’s core,
It wanders forever—then burns all the more.
You may quench the blaze in a hearth or a storm,
But the ghost in the embers reforms and reforms.
For trapped in the ashes are secrets of suns,
And in every flicker, the universe runs.
In the fusion of atoms, in stellar descent,
In novas and firestorms, it finds its lament.
A force that remembers the Big Bang's first cry—
Still roaring in silence where galaxies lie.
So honor its wisdom, its wrath and its grace,
This elemental phantom that time can't erase.
Fire is not only destruction or birth—
It is stardust incarnate, the lifeblood of Earth.
Immortal it lingers, from cradle to tomb—
A guardian of cosmos, in heat, flame, and plume.
And even when silence extinguishes breath,
Fire remains—older than death.