Long Cycles Poems
Long Cycles Poems. Below are the most popular long Cycles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cycles poems by poem length and keyword.
Be one with cheer when you face fear,
Calm joy can steer and Mark things clear.
Dare to be true with faith and hope,
Live brave on cue as love sparks scope.
Walk with sure grace as light shines bright,
Do find your place with profound sight.
Speak words of peace so all may see,
Love echoes ease with smiles set free.
Be then mellow with kindness grand,
Fill life's hollow and be a friend.
See the cycles of up and down,
A rich circle binds smiles and frowns.
On this good earth of ample kinds,
Each shares of birth and death that binds.
Thus live each day as best you can,
Dare work and play with a light hand.
Here for a while in mortal trip,
Wear easy style with a kind grip.
Leon Enriquez
19 June 2016
Singapore
In the waking arms of Spring, a gentle whisper flows,
Where petals dance with breezy tunes, and vibrant life bestows.
Buds unfurl their verdant wings, in a delicate embrace,
Kissing the world with tender hues, a rejuvenating grace.
Underneath the Summer’s gaze, a sultry whisper warms,
Where fields of gold sway freely, beneath the sun that swarms.
The melody of cicadas hums, through the endless azure skies,
While flavors of the fruitful boughs, in sweet repose, lies.
Within the folds of Autumn, a crisp whisper swirls,
Where leaves cascade in fiery array, as the wind unfurls.
Harvest moon bathes the land, in a golden, glowing sheen,
Whilst creatures frolic, store, and nest, amidst the amber scene.
Beneath the quilt of Winter, a hushed whisper chills,
Where snowflakes grace the slumbering earth, and time seemingly stills.
Bare branches etch against the grey, a monochrome ballet,
As fireside tales and warmth entwine, keeping cold at bay.
Through cycles of the whispered tales, nature sings aloud,
A symphony of life and death, in every leaf endowed.
Eternal is the melody, of seasons wax and wane,
A testament to resilience, through sun, wind, and rain.
Nature spins her stories, in the threads of time so dear,
A tapestry of moments, crafted year by passing year.
In every changing season, may we find a reason new,
To stand in awe, appreciate, and cherish every view.
When Yin was growing down
and into belonging
still in EarthMother's warm wet womb,
she followed her interdependent 0-wheels
of enscripted color and sound octaves,
Appreciation for multicultural sensory integrity,
primal relationships of sight and scale
felt polyphonic longing and/or belonging,
meta-physical creolization,
gratitude for polycultural dialogue
and consensual democratic circles
warm to discernment,
co-empathically seeking full-round consensus.
Meanwhile,
as Left-hemisphere dominant Yang
was colonizing out
and patriarching up,
he conserved 1-universal BusinessAsUsual monochrome
in triumphal shades of dark static non-elite nights
and peak triangulated wealth experiences of white
light
universally transcendent bright.
Yang thought in bipolar Either/Ors
of black or white
while Yin felt through dipolar Both/And
circles and cycles
spirals of nuanced multiculturing colors,
tones,
hues and felt cries
and sighs
and shy.
As they learned gratitude
for each Other's 0/1 GoldenRule
and 1/0 GoldenRatio preferences of bipolar thought
and dipolar intersectional warm feelings of belonging
they deep learned democratic cooperative compassion
for healthy regenerativity
as positively and politically and economically
and ecologically and theologically
and analogically polypathic,
And mutually-owned disdain
for competitive win/lose longing,
reductive RightWing dominating seductive LeftWing
with aggressively monochromatic degenerativity,
negative paradigmatic dissonance,
both cognitively and affectively ineffective
Especially as Yin deeply repurposes growing down
and in
still under MotherEarth's warming
wetting
multicoloring NonZero-Sum womb
loving democratic
meta-energetic
ecofeminist healing life.
Along doth death walk with life,
Along doth sharpen its knife,
Going far all along the way,
Together life cycles they slay.
_____________________
Sanskrit Translation | 20.01.2026 | death, journey, life, liberation, quatrain
Note: Some quatrains called shlokas in Sanskrit are known as Subhaashhitams, words well-said. This one from Ramayana on life, death, and liberation is thought provoking. It says, death takes its journey all along with life. It gets born and reborn along with life. And during lifetime, together do they work for liberation beyond life and death. The transliteration follows.
saha eva mrtyuh vrajati,
saha mrtyuh nisheedati |
gatvaa su-dirgham adhvanam,
saha mrtyuh nivartate || Ramayana-Valmiki ||
(a series of Senryus)
A superficial
tale, where the sun rises and
fades in its cycles
If our beach days are
slow and repetitive, nights
fast and more varied
Nights throb to club beat,
and the swirl of the dance floor
or long shoreline walks
It’s the wind and waves -
sounds that roll on the beach, with
vocals by the gulls
There are seashore sights,
say that several times fast
- white sands that glitter
systems are working,
the pharmacology of
vast ecologies
I’ll try to keep it
less than technical, there won’t
be a test later
I get these big feels
on the beach, there’s the warmth,
or even a chill
bees live at the beach
one stung me on my left palm
a minute ago
it was on my glass
slurping up residual
alcohol, I’d bet
I winced, shaking my
left palm, the pain exploded
an urgent message
If a writer’s goal
is to make you feel something
.. no, that would be mean.
It hurt like crazy -
I’m not hyper-alergic
nor insensitive.
if the bee dies when
they sting someone, well, that serves
the little beast right.
Kiss it and make it
better, I asked Peter - that
sting was over-kissed
.
.
A song for this:
Better Than Before by Pamela
These are the unredeemed
Unredeemed and unrelieved
In their souls in pain
Trapped in cycles without end
In many a violent place they spend
Unbearable time in mindless space insane
Sinning badly which no repentance
Prayers have freed
Nor opened a crack
In their selfish flow of greed
Darkness and humiliation cover
Every suffering creature over.
And in the black dusty dirt
Of the cemetery’s earth
Of every stupid town and city
There is a raging spirit of death
Remaining smiling and mute
Without compassion or pity
Returning from this land of dead
Dead again dead again
Where we found these lost
Empty sacks of human flesh
With hearts still beating but unfeeling
In the frozen bone white of winter’s frost
From an eternal winter of unknowing
The embers and fires of human love
In these valleys of earth
Are quenched by numbing
Social blizzards of hate
And civil indifference.
In desert sands their skeletal shells
Ambulate towards prepared graves
And faces of shifting suspicious stares
Pierce down unconscious of other’s cares
Falling raw into the rough trenches unsaved
Filled to overflowing with unredeemed blood
Surely these are the damned
Living in merciless mental swamps
With shoes soaked in dog excrement
And streets strewn with cigarette butts
A land haunted by roaming demons
In obedience to masters of rage and ignorance.
And the rare and precious and glorious
In the natural world of righteousness
Is left abandoned
Forever outside in a frozen wasteland
Of a world cursing God and His creation
And confirming forever a commitment to evil
Feeling “O how awful goodness is “
Away, away out of this madness
Fly us back, back into the brilliance
Of the precious and the glorious
Of the present Earthly Paradise
Hidden from view but always His
Virtuous revolutions
are like timeless whole system recycling.
When was the last time
you thought and felt
we cooperatively feel and think in cycles
while living in a virtuous WinWin communicating circle?
Rather than slowly dying off into more private mutterings
while competitively marching
through a WinLose vicious market square.
When we are small toddlers
learning to speak healthy words,
while also hearing angry wounding curses,
despite wealthy experiences of family well-seasoned integrity
growing toward climaxing green sanctuary summers
and then winnowing most nutritional relationships
re-convening womblike wet-outside yet warm-inside winters
While yang inhaling co-operative intent,
heard with slumbering gratitude,
co-arises yin exhalations
manifesting each compassionate airborne revolution
of responsive cooperative solidarity
inside yin dark womb
refueling back toward outside yang bright summer
Unitarian inside compassion's intent
toward universal cooperative outside incarnation
informing mature enlightening trends
exhaling virtuous systems not not coterminous correlations,
Incoming therapeutic evolution
predicting outgoing co-passioning revolution recycles
going up wealthily
reweaving down healthily
Life becomes light robust as summer
winnowing ego-death resilient revolutions
winning virtuous eco-systemic ways.
When was the last time you thought and felt
we cooperatively feel and think
while breathing in a virtuous communion circle
rather than slowly dying off,
overpowered by a viciously commodified square?
Mead or beer, along with gluttonous feasts,
an abundance of these were there to entreat.
The coming of the dark, the soul rising day,
through the mid cycle of fall where people would play.
Homage was ensured, or else strife would ensue,
and lands become forfeit, it was deemed, insecure.
In dark times, there was fear of retribution and cost,
and if reverence was not paid, more than stability was lost.
Cattle to sacrifice. The wheel of the sun; ablaze,
in flames purification, rites offered in holy phrase.
A death omen to anyone who encountered the souls,
risen to steal away all those who enter the Juniper knolls.
Hiding yourself in costumes of the fae,
evades the taking on Samhain day.
The Shining Ones, Sluagh's wild hunt to the west,
cover imperative if you don't want to be next.
So tidings have passed, and the moons cycles a memory
yet, the feastings still stand, where we all get merry.
We dress up for fun, and the disregarded the meaning,
and collect our fill, as we go trick or treating.
25/10/2018
Bloodlines
Family lineages relatives we call Elders, Uncles, Aunts,
Cousins, Brothers, Sisters. Bloodlines
Inherited unspoken patterns of generational dysfunction.
Did you Inherited any anxieties, gossiping, vexation?
Judgements creating cycles that's hard to escape from.
Transcends from kin to kin, a proportion of ancestors
that are undisclosed prior to the present time.
Moreover the bloodlines inheritance lives within me.
I am the First born combined of two different family members.
Comparable to roots of the branches from a tree when
I fall, I'm never down for long.
I originated from strong men and women from eras of
bloodlines cycles.
When I was young
We wouldn’t even build the July campfire light
Beside Torch Lake until ten at night
Taking a cue from Led Zeppelin and the sun
That, like us, refused to let go of the solstice sky
We’d go until four in the morning
And by then
The other hand of the sun
Was but a note away on the cosmic clock
Over the hill not far away
The knee-high flames contained within our circle of rocks
Surrounded by the outer bow and glow of our faces
This tribe of brothers sisters and spouses
Shouldered and bending in lawn chairs
Just as now
A third ring formed by our offspring
Sometimes we’re allowed in
Sometimes we’re no longer needed by them
Or wanted
It’s ok
The bonds of blood are layered in years
Like the cycles marked inside a tree
Soon
The northern lights will unveil their green shroud
The nose of Capella pressed to that veil
A small herd of deer will come down from the woods
Their eyes red as embers
Stomping their hoofs
And after that
In the early morning
The last of the Monarchs.