Long Deepen Poems
Long Deepen Poems. Below are the most popular long Deepen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deepen poems by poem length and keyword.
Walking an endless path, faithfully.
Crossing no familiar silhouettes,
glancing at no warm faces.
Still travelling, still in silence.
Glimpsing, registering each moment.
Most timeless as dream paralysis.
Others, memorable almost enjoyable,
Startling, as the first skipped beat,
of a heart touched by love.
Watching, and remembering each moment,
so I have more fuel to light up inside my chest.
Only to be gone, as light swallowed by
dark after a bloody red sunset.
Some still try to reach my tired eyes,
some curse me, as if I'm darkness itself.
I embrace it.
Those scars deepen my perception,
stronger, broken, just enough
to navigate through chaos.
I may appear, shining as the purest tin.
But don't be fooled, a single touch,
is enough to reframe my shape...
Only, to deceive me, or them.
I never know.
What I know is that I'm still human,
yet, some days I don’t use it.
I'm just a mad one, who knows the rules,
only to not follow them.
Imagination and Evolution
Imagination is the human birthright, the spark that allows us to co-create with the universe.
Through imagination humanity has given rise to art, music, philosophy and science.
It is the ability to envision that which is not yet visible, to sense the possibility within the present and call it forth.
Our task is not conquest but cultivation.
We are not the owners of the Earth, but gardeners of reality.
Our role is to nurture the fragile shoots of beauty, truth and love.
To evolve is not simply to advance technology but to deepen wisdom, compassion and joy.
Evolution is as much moral and spiritual as it is biological.
Conclusion
This is the path: to live as heart-warriors, guided by love, anchored in integrity, awake to the sacred in all things.
To see science not as a cage but as a language of wonder.
To embrace death not as an end, but as transformation.
To treat sex as sacred creativity.
To live as gardeners of resonance, cultivating harmony in self, society and cosmos.
This is the manifesto of resonance and integrity - the way of being human in alignment with the infinite song of the universe. Heywah. Selah!
Only devoted hearts need a good reason
to love and can't dream alone,
they allow emotions to deepen,
because they are the mirror of the eyes they love;
only devoted hearts express more with an affectionate tone
when their unrealistic feelings seem wild and outgrown...
whenever they can't find that word so unknown;
will there be times when they won't feel so sure,
is it worth being honest and give more?
Watch them when they are extremely happy and jubilant,
don't they express all their happiness with words that offer delight?
Catch them in a sad mood and give it your honest thought:
not all hearts long for emotions that are profound and mean a lot.
Only devoted hearts give their valuable time
and attention to the chosen and worthy one;
it does not always mean love but the attraction
can actually lead to a stronger feeling of affection,
never think that lovers are fools if they don't give more,
they can still be those poets writing a romantic line.
Beautiful hearts and beautiful faces
Get lost in love and lost in places
Smiles and kisses tattoo their soul
Friendship forever is a destined goal
Taking memories for the whole world to see
Living open with truth makes them free
Feelings deepen with every step they walk
Even apart they hear each others hearts talk
Always dreaming of the next close embrace
Existing on the touch in just the right place
Dancing and hugs they just need a floor
Singing their lyrics releasing there love core
Laughs and love are what lies ahead
Pining for the day they both shall be wed
They get lost in love and lost in places
With there beautiful hearts and beautiful faces
I write a million words, erase thousands more,
trying to express what I feel,
yet I have never penned a single poem I could call ideal.
Ten unfinished poems, twenty unwritten letters,
thirty topics I couldn't bring myself to write,
and fifty stories that remain untold.
A hundred poems wait to be posted,
many wounds yearning to be revealed,
but none of them have ever explained the pain I have always concealed.
An autumn wind whispers secrets to me,
fallen leaves dance around me,
in a ballet of melancholy,
and I, lost in the stream of my consciousness,
wander through a labyrinth of memories,
where every corner hides a metaphor of unfulfilled longing.
Words weave in my mind like threads of gold,
delicate but fragile, and yet, when I try to grasp them,
they unravel, leaving me in an oppressive silence.
I wonder if I will ever find those perfect words,
that magical combination to reveal the truth from my heart,
but with every attempt, I am left only with fragments of thoughts,
unfinished words and unfulfilled dreams.
I wander in a forest of metaphors,
where trees are unwritten poems and every leaf is a lost rhyme.
I try to find the path to clarity,
but all I encounter are shadows of the past,
echoes of unspoken words.
It's as if my heart is an old book,
with pages yellowed by time,
that no one had the courage to read.
Every night, when silence settles over the world,
I sit at my desk and let my thoughts flow onto paper,
but with every line written, I feel the pain deepen.
My poems become graves for unspoken feelings,
and I, a scribe of my own suffering,
continue to write, hoping that one day,
words will manage to heal me.
But until then, I remain a graveyard of unspoken words,
a museum of poems that no one reads,
and on paper, quietly, I bleed.
After sinking into oblivion
Only the fractured soul
Knows your sorrows
Your feeble hopes
Your fervent battles
When stepping outside yourself
You see a world so big
When alone
Everything is so small
Covered with a thick slice of darkness
In this inner chaos
You owe nothing but yourself
That once belonged
To his anxious dream
Now, a precious memory
That belongs only to you
Engulfing the past
Is not a life forward
Your mind sinks deeply
Into a fog of ageing sunsets
Filled with a sustainable pain
That never dies
And always bleeds
Till life becomes a walking shadow
Of what once you have been
You try a smile, a new make up
It is your social mimicry
Of delight and comfort
That doesn’t reinvent you
Your thoughts deepen
Your tears drown the pillow
You still strive for love
You hunger to be loved
But he is up in Heaven and
His voice is silent
At the heart of this silence
Is your soulful prayer
For healing
That will give you new wings
A new love desire
And the fragrance of a new life
Ever since I was a kid in college
something troubling has been on my mind,
put evolution near morality
and many contradictions you will find.
Our instincts versus our sentience,
blood programming pit against free choice,
and now matter how I looked at it all,
there were hard truths that I could not avoid.
That so many things we think are moral
give us no evolutionary edge,
that the only place some virtues work
is in the world that’s inside our head.
The nice guy always does seem to finish last,
functional bullies get all of the girls;
men are not loved unconditionally,
only for what we bring to the world.
We like to think we can talk it all out,
but sometimes people do need a smack;
we study hard to make things better,
then just get farther and farther off-track.
We give to help those people in need,
then it just ends in dependency,
so many thinks that we think must be right
just seem to deepen the tragedy.
The things that we think, the things that we feel,
seem to drag us all until we’re insane,
what we want to build, and what the world allows,
are not exactly one and the same.
When I realized this, and other such things,
I spent many years just trying to think
of why evolution would produce a beast
whose brain would contradict its own instincts?
Why can we think of things that can never be?
what good are goals we can never achieve?
It seems like we’ve been set up for failure,
there had to be some reason, I believed.
For those reasons I chose biology,
got a professorship and did research,
probed deeply into the depths of the mind,
won countless accolades for my work.
Ran across endless theories of why
we contradict ourselves at such cost,
but every bit solved brought ten new questions,
all that toil, and I was still at a loss.
But the need to know remained every strong,
and though it nearly cost me my career,
I started probing the faiths of the world
to see what older wisdom might appear.
Though they have their flaws that one must wade through,
and their practitioner so very human,
they also retain time-tested ideas,
that have proved their use again and again.
I focused on the archaeologists,
combing over lost texts and old sites,
and at first it seemed I was stymied again,
until I got a phone call late one night…
CONTINUES IS PART II.
Inspiration from Frederic Edwin Church's
painting, The Arabian Desert
~
I press along this arid wasteland
thirsting for your eyes
beneath a mirage of low stars,
my airbrushes stroked in Arabia;
the cauldroned copper dunes
and your moorish fragrance
Become an oasis for this parched mouth--
the sinous dust blowing legends
murmuring Bedouin rites unsaid;
and through embers of a gas light
my imaginings weave in hynotic threads...
Syrian desert touched by midnight
as pores recall my ancient prurient cravings,
I memorize mules roaming by
yet this grandeur leaves me
distraught... for time rushes to steal
a filament of one torrid journey
it's end I cannot defy-- the lavish
fondling on needled sandunes,
I tell you, my rabid body alights
moist in flamed tincture of moonshine,
radiant as an orange gold portrait,
fog swiveling tumbling on scattered weeds--
airy tunes wriggling this jeweled belly
with smoky flavor penetrating my camisole,
where a migrant gull whistles the grit
of an impassioned night...
Alone, as finger-strokes deepen,
the concave blast of reveries
and winds carry your breath
sweet and damp upon my neck;
while one tiny cactus pierces my skin
oiled...watercolored
with faint longing.
??
(12/01/2024)
Friday morning,
Words do fall short when I am trying to express my feelings in this written language. But anyway come to Daddy and listen to all his confessions. From the very first moment we crossed paths, I felt a connection that surpassed the ordinary; It was magical how our souls entwined, like strings on a musical instrument we aligned. they say real recognize real; it was my soul that run to yours on that day, i recooo... Aghh??????? a story that cannot be understood. There is one thing that is certain and true; Your presence is a constant source of comfort, just like a blanket so cozy on a day so chilly, wrapping me in warmth and reassurance, a feeling so golden, Rosey ??. Sthandwa, As I reflect on this ongoing journey, I can genuinely say I am grateful for the beautiful memories we've created together. Every shared experience with you feels like a page from a storybook, written with love and laughter. Je t'aime (i love you) more than words can express. Through you, i've experienced true love; imagine you stayed by my side during my toughest days, saying, "through thick and thin, i am not letting this bond break but i want our connection deepen," and instead of leaving you offered me a comforting shoulder. You've seen me at my best and held me during my worst, and your love remained a constant. I owe you alot. You trusted me with your plans since you believed in me that us together they will come to pass. With you, I've discovered the true companionship. It's not just about the grand gestures, but those everyday moments where we share dreams, fears, and laughter. Consider how you understand me without words, and how you support my aspirations with unshakable belief. You are not just my partner; you are my confidante, my biggest cheerleader, and that only person who sees a Champ in me even when the world whispers "Loser". As i continue this journey, With you by my side, I am confident that each upcoming page will be filled with love, growth, and shared adventures. I already cherish the chapters we are yet to write. Our love story, my favorite book.
??
XOXO
Truly yours.
-No copyright ©? reserved-Explicitly in the public domain.
BY Yousef Alfil.
With minds like crystal prisms, they shatter light into every spectrum of possibility, foreseeing storms before the first cloud, hearts bruised by premonitions whispered on the wind. Yet, they dance in the rain, a silent symphony of knowing played on a smile, for theirs is the terrible gift of seeing the tapestry of fate woven a thread at a time, even as it pricks their fingers.? Huzefa Nalkheda wala
Hiking up the mountain, in pairs
You and I, just two more
Who settle the moments with hope,
For the tenderness that comes to life
Inside those who can feel
Feel, like you and I…
Laughter, giggling, ambling
Wandering over stones, dark pebbles,
Gravel roads, meant for those,
Who can see beyond the forest’s singing,
Into the poetry, the faith, the need
For silence that assures and agrees,
Feeling just like you and me…
Words fall between the friends,
Moist in the air – like the slow, soft breeze,
Words in rhythms, tones of light,
Feelings, blessing away the past, suspended,
In the hues so bright,
You and I, feeling so alive!
When the rain begins to melt the sugar sweet
Salty skin, trembling, beginning to believe,
We might make our way to our intention…
Only we feel the showers, melting the hours,
Blessings in liquid, spilling over the naked trees,
Spinning stories of lonely, breathing
Light as the shadows deepen, pouring over the soul,
Embracing the moments, assaulting each of us,
Pouring out a cleansing afternoon cloudburst,
Like music, she soothes and comforts…
And, as the pairs of our friends race toward shelter,
I catch my words in the back of my mind,
Not telling you – yet, somehow you can feel my message
In the heart…
As we move slowly beneath the downpour,
Securing our last place in the refuge of our vehicle,
Where the rain falls in sheets on the glass,
Refusing to listen to our wiper’s urgent swabbing,
Almost as immediately as the hand wipes the tear,
Who appears…
When you and I realize, at last, our dream has passed,
And, we’re merely walking among the shadows of the past,
Where floods of memories, like that downpour on the trail,
Sends us back to that place we always meant to forget.
Inside my chest – is that satisfaction or regret?
Never, in a downpour yet, have there been tears so alive,
As this homesick moment has shuddered and died!