Long Deliberated Poems
Long Deliberated Poems. Below are the most popular long Deliberated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deliberated poems by poem length and keyword.
feeling of persuasive greatness the instant my foot entered the threshold.
Graydon Hotel might be abandoned, but it was not empty, it was occupied.
I had not seen the spirit walkers yet, I felt them. Demons were here too.
Glory dashers were easily felt by my empathetic abilities;I was listening.
Hearing their voices, feeling their disappointments and pains and trauma.
Picking up on suicides and murders, I stared at my partner. She cringed.
Do you feel power animals? She asked. She is an animal psychic; I am not.
No, but a variety of other creatures, many sad, not so much joy here.
The animals are sad too, she said. This was not a loving or giving hotel.
We deliberated about whether or not we could spend the night.
She was more optimistic than I was, so we tried. But we left after two hours.
Sadness and depression take our energy down to the ground.
It takes hours for us to build back up to happiness or excitement.
We both had trouble sleeping that night. Such a sad place, she texted me.
I had more trouble than she for a depressed spirit had followed me home.
He sat on my bed, trying to get my attention. I diligently ignored him.
Bored at last, he disappeared; probably moving back to the Graydon Hotel.
With a deliberated ruse; she washed its tiny face with a soft washcloth.
With no resistance, she enfolded the wee infant into a swaddling cloth.
In the Autumn equinox, she placed the tiny form in the simple wooden box.
She watched them perform their antiquated burial tradition, and then she returned to the loose gray dirt.
She then headed home with a secret beneath her skirt.
Earlier during the dim of the day, while they were seeking each other for comfort.
And while superficial prayers were offered up with great effort.
She blew breath into the tiny mouth and massaged its tiny smooth chest.
And by the grace of God, the tiny infant was blessed.
Madame Blackwell by virtuous askew created a makeshift bundle and made a switch.
Her deed made unnoticed without a glitch.
No regret manifested in her heart.
No transient sorrow, in place was a spiritual upstart.
For retribution was pacified and made whole.
There was a righteous mood in her soul.
Justice was done.
For her, the sun's unsparing glory shone radiantly on her and her son.
all leaflets green, hack down in spring
to trim the plant, for pleasant scene
sea wave surge wild, but at shore collapse
roar all that left behind, of wave that breath last
drop of tears glide, on cheeks dried
for no one to wipe, in loneliness cried
poems deliberated, on fountain of thoughts
but left unheard, those unsought lines scribbled
a canvas deserted, in blackhole of desires,
art at its best, remains mystery unsolved
in storm of death, began a love perfect
all that matter, lover to be secure
person found eternity, alone in cemetery
soul still clings, to the forbidden self-reality
a thought rushed to live, beyond paradigm
dreams hard to catch, those untimely left
…raHUL
Form:
Elusive Ephemeral Ethereal Expansive: Timelessness
Analogous to mobius strip -
measured passage of existence
only took precedence
with *****sapiens ascendent
busting forth upon
the figurative pedestal
presiding over domain,
sans Earthly covenant
a bajillion ago,
where fits and starts
pitted proto humans
at no immediate advantage,
yet merely, thru
dint of accidental
happenstance ever so
imperceptibly amassed dominion
over every other species
as became evident
throughout the vast sweep of
anthropological
evolutionary incidental
plucky perturbations, provocations,
and/or pullulations arisen by
spontaneous circumstantial grant
ting quasi consciously
coalescing into brutish
deliberated focused intent,
where forethought
coopted indiscriminate
chance facilitating kent -
manifested rubber
baby buggy bumpers
activated, aggrandized, and
allotted destiny meant
to lurch incrementally
i.e. hierarchical designation
present day primate
predecessors practiced negligible
notched nimbleness orchestrated
(equal parts gall and genetic
giftedness), whatsapp operant
adaptation toward
survival rippled quiescent
lee minutely nudging overt salient
traits ineluctably
manifesting, outflanking,
and proffering
quintessential urgent
biological scrim quietly testing,
and wrestling, whence yen
(to secure rootedness)
zeroing what didst warrant
winning formula
to adapt adroit edge
pitted by dictates of nature
grappling iron
grip, viz literal hedge
fund and kickstarting toehold
upon tenuous ledge
(oft times succumbing to danger)
falling into abyss
of anonymity pledge
jing acquired innovative tool
such as a primitive sledge
hammer instinctively
resigning animal instinct
death be not proud not
before inculcating
survivalist tactical wedge.
love is an emotion
of profound affection
love is a verb
of intense reflection
the love theory when it comes to God
a set of principles
found deep in the heart
divinely deliberated
spiritually invigorated
God's love theory
seen, sealed and now saved
for all eternity
God sees us for who we
and allows us into His heart
no longer judgmental
living charitably
now sealed by His love
most indefatigably
divinely liberated
spiritually invigorated
God's love theory
seen, sealed and now saved
for all eternity
a love for God is a different thing
A devout commitment
that only the Spirit can bring
to comprehend that a love from our Savior
Is a given and not predicated on our behavior
a divine encounter which will have us saved
no longer subjugated to an existence depraved
walking by faith and not by sight
standing in the salvation of God's perfect light
divinely liberated
spiritually invigorated
God's love theory
seen, sealed and now saved
for all eternity
God looks beyond our fallacies
and loves us unconditionally
for God's love is more than a secondhand emotion
God's love is a most prevailing devotion
divinely liberated
spiritually invigorated
God's love theory
seen, sealed and now saved
for all eternity
divinely liberated
spiritually invigorated
God's love theory
seen, sealed and now saved
for all eternity
When I began to paint canvases, all of my girls had
one hair color, they were monochrome.
I was fearful of trying anything else.
Timid.
Hesitant.
Unsure, not wanting to waste supplies.
Canvases are expensive.
I shocked myself the first time I decided to
try two colors. That was four years ago, but I
remember the agony it caused, as I deliberated
about wasting an eight dollar canvas.
Today I have put together a girl with five hair
colors, and I am deliberating about adding a sixth.
I have painted five such girls in the past week.
Evolution is a beautiful time, and experience
makes you daring.
Whizzlebuggled by the determined initiating committee
I ran screaming toward the ends of the river
Seeking asylum from the flock of the Status Quo of the Sixth Order
A robin flying overhead gave me a giggleberry feeling.
I deliberated starting my own murder of crows, only we would
name it a murder of peacocks, and I would turn into a male
as they are the extravagant ones.
A school of dippenlily fish offered me their assistance.
I did not take them up on it for my precognition kicked in
and I realized they had the same agenda as an army of
White Supremists.
So here I am, debating how to go about starting my
family, team or murder of peacocks.
First I have to transmogrify into a male
for the females are so damned plain.
—The Heart’s Wandering—
I went abroad to trace thee.
But the first step faltered—
for the heart had already begun
to trace me.
The heart keeps maps
of places the earth has never known.
Thus we wander, it and I,
through hedges that refuse a road.
Fields lie mute beneath the wind.
Each step invents
a further absence.
I questioned dusk—
ancient registrar of partings—
whether thy shadow crossed its amber courts.
It answered with crows.
Yet once—
within the skull’s dim firmament—
a brightness tore the dark:
A ladder of fire
rose through the mind.
Each rung remembered thee.
I climbed.
But heaven refused its grammar.
Then grief struck iron—
and rhyme, compelled by pain, declared:
Return, return—where’er thou art concealed,
For night grows vast, and solitude unhealed.
The echo faded.
Grass bent.
Clouds deliberated.
Stars convened their patient parliament.
And then the thought—
slow, terrible, luminous—
descended:
Perhaps it was never I who sought thee,
but thou who placed the map within my heart.
Beloved—
thy habitation I know not.
Yet I carry a small compass of bone;
its needle trembles, turning always
toward the place where thou art not.
Still it leads.
And I begin to see:
Each step was learning
the absence that would draw it.
So long as breath inhabits this mortal province
my heart proceeds—
not toward a place,
but along the path
thy absence has already drawn.
Olive was vibrant and deliberated in awe in front of her wardrobe
Should she put on that glorious fox pelt for the night’s Hunters Ball
Surely it had to be politically correct and she would claim her place
In the hearts of those killers she had to write about for the Morning Post
But she decided for something less tainted and went more en natural
The emerald dress with a shade of sage and chartreuse trimmings
Loosely woven to show off her figure and pleasing for the crowd
After all she was a woman of firm beliefs and tantamount beauty
A lime stola for the stage light and forest green to harbour her bust
Moss and pine reinforced buttocks and myrtle sap silk to cover her crotch
You can’t wear that honey it’s near translucent and far to risqué
Its my nature to reveal what is out in the open and easy to see
A statement so please now hand me that praying mantis whip
Covered in bio-degradable material the reporter put on mascara
Jade eye liner and mint lipstick made from ground clover and laurel
Front page she thought and a tad androgynous for a man’s taste
But Olive was a seductress in name and ready to dance for her cause
They will be bilious with sheer envy when they undress me tonight
Her garments were made from hemp shamrock and cyan feathers
A bit of sea weed and a shiny perlemoen belt for modesty’s sanctum
Octopus ink dotted around the little sea horse brocade ready for the kill
Let’s find out who is the wolf in sheep’s clothing and who rules the party
It is not over until this lady sings to the crude fanfares of animal cruelty
My malachite shine will torture those bigots and hypocritical beasts
And a bit of irresistible irritation has to expose their cunning bushy tails
Before I put muzzles on their hounds and phallic antics and beat my retreat
The headline in the paper read Predators in Read Coats Impaled on Spurs
And a photo showed a foxy young woman presiding over her fallen prey
05th December 2019
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your fame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your name.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot about the inauspicious and piteous moths that were attracted to your irresistible flame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot to abrogate your lovers game.
In a small stretch of tempo, in the delay of my deliberated falseness, in my delay of barefacedness, infused by fierce streams of atrocious schemes, and baleful dreams.
In a small stretch of tempo, I was captured by you.
In a small stretch of tempo, the old had no power to cut into the new, from a small sum of time you sieged my body, permeating it, filling up spaces, touching barren places, erupting bridled desires, causing seismic waves of pleasure with; intense and faultless measure. In your arms and while my head rested against the swell of your chest, I inhale voraciously the sweet smell of your beautiful sculpted body.
At rest in an intoxicated mindset, I felt abundantly content; a perfect segment from my antecedent shameless intent.
In a small stretch of tempo, like the break of day and a timely resurgence of a nimble mind I realized that through the dull substance of flesh and encephalon, I did not adequately measure the art of your scope. With newfound hope, and like the hands of a clock swiftly pasting the minutes across its face, I put my plans back into place
Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake, copyrighted 2017