Long Defused Poems
Long Defused Poems. Below are the most popular long Defused by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Defused poems by poem length and keyword.
Beneath the surface of the perceptive mortal senses
the mind nestles the buds of dreams it desires to see bloom.
Allured by avid aspirations into insipid ignorance,
it suffers wandering in the wilderness of discontent.
Under the convoluted layers of the mangled mind
languishes the servile soul at the impervious inner depth,
until enlightenment dawns with the light of the eternal truth,
building with dedicated spirit the holy linkage with the absolute.
Travelling on the enlightened pathway of devout life,
an inward journey to the sacred sanctum of spirituality,
takes the soul to the ultimate destination of liberation,
where realization perceives the meaning of emotions.
The swirling currents of the vagrant mind
find the current course of intuitive introspection
through the layers of consciousness,
dissipate in the shade beneath the divine lamp
that illumines the swathe of the dark acuity.
The soul then shines in the heavenly glow,
reflecting the patina of the perception lotus,
as the self-searching comprehensive odyssey ends
at the sanctified altar of supreme mindfulness.
Distanced from the thought-swamped past
the merger configures awareness in the realm of now.
In the onyx night, the drizzle of argentine stardust,
symbolizing the sequins of sensual epithet
of the vibrant existential melodic essence,
adorns the pearl-laced waves of the rolling psychic sea,
that spreads seamlessly to the baroque emotive shore
though the bay of bliss of the musical mind,
echoing the tune of the soulful symphony.
The rain-washed sparkling sky of the new day,
enwrapped in the chromatic trellis of the rising sun,
spreads the spectrum of corporeal perception,
fabricated by the fascinating sense of the vibrato of life,
weaved as the tapestry of transient feelings
with the lattice of self-drawn imagery of kaleidoscopic now.
The congenial current of contemporary time,
defused in the miasma of the marooned mind,
turns the indented poignant impulses
into lyrical crescendo of consciousness concerto.
On its sonorous serenading wings,
the awakened awareness flies in the sky of sensual sonata
to the harmonic realm of euphoria,
realizes the nicety of the unequivocal notion
that life is a song to be sung in now continuum.
Broken promises churn my heart,
like what the desert whirlwind does
to the desolate dunes.
I can’t calm down my twirling turbulence,
pent-up rage shatters the shield of forbearance,
turns me into discarded debris of indignity
within the intolerant ignominious abyss.
The sanguine awareness then finds patience,
the candle of inner strength,
ignited as the guiding light
in the web of exigent intolerance,
entangling the essence of my muddled mindset.
Amidst the commotion of turbulent life,
the alchemic anchor of calmness
prevents me from being swept away
by the coercive currents of compulsion,
enabling me to approach life challenges
with composed and collected altered attitude.
I discover the innate fortitude,
that braces me in the tempest of life,
builds the bridge that fosters discernment,
appreciative of the deviant thought perception,
constructing entwined resilient connections.
The mystique mist shrouds my penultimate path
to the time future, fading in the obscurity.
In twilight zone the sunset swansong echoes
the tune of forlorn spent life, silhouetted still
against the tranquil skyline.
The shards of shattered hope on dejected drift,
fly like birds with colors to the restful nest
across the calm canvas of the setting sun,
where the remnant rays of revival survives,
designing the last latent lattice of dream,
that swathes the sanguinity sphere of my listless life.
The rain-washed sparkling sky
spreads the seamless spectrum
of my opulent dreams yet to be dreamt,
embroidered in the tapestry of fantasy
with the charisma of chromatic imagery,
where the surreal strings design the splendor
of the resplendent rainbow motif,
arching over the halcyon horizon
that beckons me to the concert of being.
Fascinated, I feel the vibrato of vivacious life.
In the stalled turbid times,
defused in the miasma of despair,
I turn the dented emotive impulse
into the lyrical crescendo of concerto.
On its sonorous serenading wings,
I fly in the rhapsodic sky of sonata
to the harmonic home of serene afflatus,
and realize the nascent notion
that life is a symphony.
In the corner there...
Under the defused lights,
With spectral highlight’s here,
There, they float near and afar.
An apple sits in its technicolor glory,
It's not fully red or crimson or scarlet
Greens of sage and emerald
Dances in its hues,
Corruption is setting in as time passes
under these searing spots
as rot comes like a little death
spreading to the rest,
The rust of fruits oranges,
nectarines, bundles are of berries,
sliced in aromatic spice,
bloody droplets of cherry’s puddle,
next to a crystal chalice
of fine facets and filigrees
cut to trap light, to express
spectrums of color glitter and refract,
Standing starkly next
to the draped sacred rosary
and the sweet-fruited flesh.
Dust comes to rest
A raven of stately lorn,
blue on to black night into
nocturnal feathers bore
eyes deep as ink wells so black, onyx
dipping into hues blue in the reflect.
A haunting vestige that knows breath, nevermore!
Amidst the abstract, crowded
silent room linger
Still, stranger odd ornate objects gather...
from oblivion's shores.
A compass of intricate design,
sextons of aged patina brass,
Crack mirrors and mercury glass.
Mechanisms fine-tuned for sailors
to chart uncharted seas where “there be dragons”.
Deep, driven is the shaft of daggers hilted blade
Casts its long crucifixes shadow
Here on books of quaint and forgot lore
Tomes of cryptic grimoires,
archaic mysteries, ill-begotten biographies,
Black Bibles of some unknown deity...
Or leather-bound abominations
found in the depths of god-forsaken tombs.
Stacked like sand blown Persian Ziggurats.
To were a white horror stares
bleached bone and hollowed sockets glare
it grins sinisterly but it's harmless if you dare
But why would you care
Around this still life of oddities
Things found a life lived out fast
Hallmarks of someone long
forgotten history left in this corner
under these lights for someone
to render in all details
of its fading glories
Life is still at last.
The road that has been improved and widened would’ve yielded many unexploded munitions. I’m curious how many were found and wonder how many thousands still hide unfound. Sections of the trees/grass by the road are taped off. This is for safety of any munitions and also due to the steepness of the terrain.
The local people within the valley are being moved away and compensated for thus upheaval. Their valley will be inundated by what is now a small river in coming years. Any remaining homes and unfound munitions or Japanese tunnels will be underwater.
Every time I hike the area from Wawa to Mt Mataba to Timberland to Casili I read about or am told or shown evidence from the war and battles; that old actions from 1945 has outlived the people of that time be it locals or soldiers. History is not old and boring black and white photos. An rusty Arisaka rifle with working bolt or blasted shell fragments tell more than any story or photo ever could. Only fate and God knows the unnamed soldiers names now.
When the dam is built I wonder how many unfound unexploded ordnance and dead Japanese soldiers will be now forever unfound? I suspect many thousand Japanese soldiers are buried on those peaks. Remember, these hills are the first high ground above Manila. This was the start of the high ground battles that went on for hundreds of miles at several huge mountain ranges. It was Tier 1 fighting equal to anywhere involving hundreds of thousands of opposing troops, of which tens of thousands were killed.
Now the 1945 legacy is coming back to bite us. Not just buried shells on a dam construction site but the risk of them still exploding when not even found. This is due to corroding fuses. Buried bombs in Europe have self detonated several times. I’ve been told of two large unexploded warplane dropped bombs, one near Timberland and the other near Mt Parawagan. Both need to be found again and professionally defused. History is never boring; the lethal harvest is a testimony to their dastardly deeds.
***
The day soul sweeps the air, the knock of tears never benefits, all the
Enjoyments with red alert and maple of crystal cry which doesn't
Benevolent in the morning life expected to surround to sorrow.
The time these fingers feel the pain like the weight of Kilimanjaro with
Shroud clothe is the only asset, thy body used the best perfumes it smells
The air and silent of life is the only option on that day.
Drunk with rivers of milk each morning to monster, the multiple want curved
The day chew the night with regret and sunken face that of your banks
Account unwilling to pay homage despite all the efforts you have been
making for it.
It appears like rot eggs the sky is angry with you where your loyal friends
Used to whisper in your ears no longer willing to drop grain of sand to
Close your eyes neither nor give you the chance to chameleons color and to
let you visit memory lane together.
The time you defused your energies to plant trees that bear bitter fruits
Inasmuch as you got the opportunity to opt trees to bear the dates of
Success, you sucked it with your imagination, now the scent of food is
only for you.
The flowers you have planted is your bonus where harvest dangle of seeds
Separated from the positive ones where your cage of denial demote you to
see lesson.
The symbol of success lies to the days you have paved the road for a day
Payment received and the time sky flies away where your energy no longer
important.
Where your throne of power renders empty service the sound of serenity
Turns you down the joke of the night manifest; it is indeed true no amount of remorse is fairly sufficient to the fable negligence of duty to the dust of your life.
The Saga of dusty roads of Utah
(To the memory of Don W. Esplin, father of Kathryn Esplin-Oleski)
= =
There he was playing with some mild explosives,
in his own backyard, a resolute boy he is;
the June month had swelled like the taut belly of
a neighborhood lady; the boy wanted to be
a scientist which he became. He, of course could not
envision that all these sepia dust of Utah,
the noon backyard and a young scientist’s narrative
would be remembered by his explosive daughter
and a strange Indian was going to pen a saga.
Alfred Nobel was smiling from a page of a book
The boy rolled a cigarette, the smoke’s curlicues
swirl up to grain the picture. A blast almost choked
the bright blue jays and robins. Defused sun slanted.
The end of the road was just an end of the road
where sun could meet earth, warm grass shook off the heat
and the covert window of the farm house would yield
a father and son talk. Strong argument on
future, on an university, on money
on a world that could differ in generations;
of course the boy, as a father, understood
his girl, then living apart. But distance is in heart.
He would grow up midst dreams. A quirky wind would blow him
here and there; navy, marriage and science,
pharmacology and marriage again; a gust
of wind would take him on a ride that, if he could
read this he would have said, resembled his truck rides
down the roads of Utah. But at that point of time
he was wide awake inside his misty night’s sleep
and an American novel is shooting up
its multiple heads in search of fresh oxygen.
The waves of moon were enjoying a full tide.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
THE SOLID TRUTH
On the day I was born.
Everyone put me on a petal stool.
The Angel's played a trumpet horn.
While everyone called me a ~precious jewel.
Harps played!
Doves flew!
That's how my birth was displayed.
As I got older ~ As I grew!
My heart of gold started to fade.
Sinking down in to the blues.
I hide my thoughts under the shade.
Wondering how one screw got lose.
I removed the pin from my own grenade.
Like TNT~ I lit my own fuse.
Blowing myself away from your masquerade.
My life has no buttons to defused..
My heart is twisted with barbwire as a barricade.
I live this rotten life, no reason to hit the snooze.
Sweating and letting the thoughts of revenge cascade.
A level of rage and hate is my only muse.
You camouflaged into a blonde beast with the eyes of jade.
The truth has come out, with an unacceptable excuse.
The solid truth, is like solid waste.
A force of mean, turning a heart cold.
Here's the truth do you want my new sour taste.
Forget when I was sweet, when I was bold.
I enjoy this new feeling of being out of place.
The truth was told..
In your face.
I laughed at the way it was all unfold.
Walking with a smile~ one day you will die,
and pay for what is owed.
While I sleep at night with Glory..
You'll wake up everyday to my untold story.
With the solid truth that lies have no end.
Guilt will have everyone crying at my funeral.
Wondering what happened to their "precious jewel.
by;p.d.
Uniquely Me Beauty
Creator I am ....... I love to draw, design, .... INNOVATOR .... Yes I am.....
I’m not perfect in anyway ........ half of the time I can barely get my edges to lay #slayed... but I know one thing, God made to create......and that’s exactly what I am doing .... From writing books to sketching cars, houses and shoes..... Touch my soul then float back from Jupiter.. There is no hold on this planet correction U.N.I.VERSE...... my focus can’t be moved, blocked, blurred, deterred or defused..... Humbly I stand before you uniquely mused... perfect in every way..
Can’t wait to create a printer for my brain ....Wait I’ll just meditate and manifest my dynasty ...no but seriously I’m not a basic thinker........ I go completely outside the tesseract to be exact....The Who, what, where’s and why’s ... rise beyond the surface I know I was meant to fly... waves of peculiar thoughts ......3 dimensional.....yours might even become your conscious thoughts if you can get beyond all the hidden figures.... g
e
l o t
s t
Beautywhispers
Frigid temperatures drop
Wind chill in low digits
Park benches become co-ops
Under newspaper blankets a man fidgets
Trying to make the best of the hand he was dealt
Man, he’s felt so many lows
Now he’s just looking to sew any clothes
that he can get his hands on
into another layer
Just to help him answer a prayer
Don’t look at him like he has cancer & stare
He’s weathered the storm
many a time
Trying to keep warm
Begging for change
A nickel
A penny
A dime
He’s begging for change
and he don’t even know it
We show it doesn’t matter
when we look at him
Creeped out
Stoic faces weave doubt
into his old tattered coat
Twice removed
Shivering
Giving up on life
Defused
How hard he tries
or how hard he cries
Strangers despise him
Is it Darwin’s theory or Marx’
that deprive him?
It’s a pitiful scene
without words to describe him
Defeat in his eyes
with no Phoenix to arise him
He smiles grim
Not cuz he thinks something’s funny
The trials trim away pounds from his face
He’s got no money
Can’t get a job
Who would ever hire a slob?
He’s got no address
Doesn’t even sleep on a mattress
He needs a shower, new clothes, and groomin’
Before anyone even considers him
somewhat close to being human
Harry Truman walkin through Manhattan projects
Looking at people as objects
We need to stop this
Who’s got this?
And who’s got next?
Santa was in his sleigh waiting to go
But the elf loading team was a no show
A strike had been called
Santa was appalled
The elves taunted him saying ho ho ho...
Santa muttered and swore under his breath
Warned the strikers they ain't seen nothing yet
Called his friend Bill Gates
They were golfing mates
Bill said " don't worry we'll beat them you bet"...
He sent Santa four hundred giant drones
And an army of robotic elf clones
Who sorted the toys
For good girls and boys
And from the elves you could hear moans and groans...
Santa didn't need to leave the North Pole
Sent the drones off by means of a console
All drones delivered
The poor elves dithered
Santa laughed he was now back in control...
The elves were fuming and they all saw red
They were so angry and wanted him dead
A bomb they did place
In Santa's fireplace
He defused it he was one step ahead...
He came after the elves who all turned pale
Disappointed that the bomb was a fail
Santa aimed his gun
Elves started to run
But the Fed's caught them and threw them in jail...
The next day they went up against Judge Dread
Who listened to what was done, what was said
It ended in tears
All got twenty years
And told don't mess with the man dressed in red...
Written on 6th December 2020.