Long Difference Poems
Long Difference Poems. Below are the most popular long Difference by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Difference poems by poem length and keyword.
Our Boogeyman
There is a boogeyman within
this home of ours, we swear he's here!
He comes and goes to mess with us
and bring about a silly fear.
It happens if we're here or not;
he seems to go from room to room
to keep us guessing why we see
phenomena that brings such gloom.
It has to do with lights, you see,
the kind you touch to turn them on;
somehow this boogeyman knows how
to toy with us, and whereupon,
we find our touch lamps brightly lit
in rooms, we enter while we're there.
But worst of all, to find them on
when we've been out, and such despair,
to wonder how that comes about??
For sure, it doesn't make much sense.
Do boogeymen have fingers that
can generate capacitance?
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Contest: Boogeyman
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 06/02/2016
True Story!
"Touch-sensitive lamps almost always use a fourth property of the human body -- its capacitance. [kuh-pas-i-tuh ns] The word "capacitance" has as its root the word "capacity" -- capacitance is the capacity an object has to hold electrons. The lamp, when standing by itself on a table, has a certain capacitance. This means that if a circuit tried to charge the lamp with electrons, it would take a certain number to "fill it." When you touch the lamp, your body adds to its capacity. It takes more electrons to fill you and the lamp, and the circuit detects that difference." http://science.howstuffworks.com
Indulgence seldom seems a disease,
Cravings and fear to lose always is.
A monk need notso rid
Save cleavings, good old greed,
Enjoy all blessings as heaven’s bliss.
_____________________________________________________
Once Osho was asked about his fleet of Rolls Royce sedans he possessed. Why would a spiritual being like him need such material luxuries? He posed: if you have an expensive car such as this and someone carelessly damaged it. How would you feel? The response was: One would feel upset and agitated.
Osho: Therein dwells the difference. Even if I were to wake up tomorrow to find that the entire fleet is missing, it would not matter one bit to me. Indulgence is no disease, attachment is.
_____________________________________________________
Reflections | 07.07.15 |
Just to say I'm well off my way, crossing the difference of options, I've never really connected, as I say they just repeat the same old words that's just reviewed of other minds, craved to be noticed, only that it's not you are showing but the same as the mouths of many, to only be expected by the fake who can never take the hint of reality, in soft words are taken to a different form of peace but just of their judgement makes you feel gutted, yet you wasn't really expressing your true mind, those of their thoughts, I will say have a good look yourself in the mirror before you ever open that shallow mind, in the end your shallowing in your own mind and showing to true colours of the twisted mind that doesn't understand of the true image of their own minds and so the words or mouths from many, aren't really the thoughts they truly think, only to repeat it to please people who genuinely don't give a flying , So ignore and stay proud of thyself in life..."
-Ds-
We were lovers who abandoned reason
And felt the rush of time filled with passion
That filled a lonely hole from life's treason
In small rented rooms as was our fashion
We caressed our naked souls without fear
And shared our heartbeat's tremble with each kiss
The truth was not seen though forever near
When we crossed a flawed bridge to meet our wish
This distance traveled ended in sadness
Doomed to perish our loneliness beget
Trapped in our age difference by our madness
Until the coldness of we never met
Perhaps a memory kept to remind
Of love, that I knew once when I was blind
12/27/19
(03/07/11)
I am not the only love you can get.
But ! My love will always be there
On that you can bet.
Tell me ! Who can love you like I do
Who will build their world around you.
Who will love you day and night
And for your love gladly fight.
Who else can treasure holding your hand
And with your emotions understand.
How can my love feel so right
And grow so strong
When they say that this is wrong.
Why should age be a factor
When love is all we’re after.
Romeo and Juliet had a love affair
With the age difference they did not care.
Juliet at the time was a mere thirteen
While Romeos age could not be seen.
Now if this love story is really true
Why can’t it happen between me and you.
Love me as I love you, and you will see
This is the way it was meant to be.
“Who will” be there every step of the way
And love you every day?
ME
It's time now for an intervention
Band together for some prevention.
The fools are loosed upon the land.
It's time for the sane to take a stand.
They're roaming free to shake the night.
Filling each home with unknown fright.
Authorities say it's just fun.
But, we're all thinking it's a gun .
I just deleted two whole stanza's.
My words became extravaganza.
Because I'm tired of these reckless fools.
Who've no regard for the golden rules.
I'm now beyond just being scared.
I now have to raise arms I've bared.
The blood has risen in my veins.
I still seek peace, but necessity reigns.
P. S. There is someone or some ones riding around blowing up loud fireworks tonight in my neighborhood. It's been going on now for about 3 hours. I just now heard another very loud one. I called police and they said that they're trying to find the car that's throwing them out because others have also called. That was two hours ago. I ask you, do you think the police are doing their job. Well, I'll tell you what I think. Not hardly. They need to put a few squad cars in the area and catch these assholes. You see people, we had an active shooter, shelter in place situation a couple years ago. That individual actually shot a cop and a couple other people. And we have been putting up with some person setting off fireworks, or frankly, they sound more like gun fire most of the time to me for the past 5 years or so in this area and the police just don't do anything. You can tell the difference. Tonight is a barrage of loud bangs. But just within the last couple of weeks. We heard an aggressive repetition of a handful of shots. Not fireworks. Well, thanks for reading. I just feel pretty damn defenseless and truly sick and tired of these individuals raising hell and disturbing the peaceful sense we used to know in this neighborhood.
The cosmos turns on staggering wheels of light,
Where galaxies like drifting dust expand,
And under all the quiet stars of night,
I walk upon a vast, unending land.
The mountains loom, the oceans roar and swell,
The rivers carve their valleys deep and wide,
And in this grand arena where we dwell,
How easily a quiet life can hide.
A single pulse against the surging tide,
A breath that vanishes into the air—
It is so simple to be cast aside,
To feel too small to matter anywhere.
The world is fierce, imposing, and immense,
A heavy tapestry of age and stone,
Where human effort seems of little sense
When set against the infinite unknown.
Yet even in the shadow of the tall,
Where giants walk and louder voices ring,
The universe is fashioned out of small,
Unnoticed moments and the grace they bring.
A grain of sand supports the castle wall,
A single spark can set the dark ablaze,
And softest echoes, though they gently fall,
Can travel through a thousand quiet days.
I do not ask to bend the course of time,
Or carve my name on monuments of brass,
Nor do I seek the highest peak to climb
To watch the fleeting generations pass.
I only ask to lend a steady hand,
To light a candle when the night grows cold,
To plant a seed upon a barren land
And watch a little thread of hope unfold.
For every ocean starts with one clear drop,
And every forest rises from a seed;
The world’s great sorrow does not need to stop
Before we address a smaller, closer need.
A gentle word to soothe a heavy mind,
A moment given when the hours press,
The quiet art of choosing to be kind
Is how we heal the larger wilderness.
So let the vast world spin its grand design,
While shadows lengthen on the garden floor;
I’ll tend this modest, tiny space of mine
And leave a welcoming and open door.
I am a small voice in a world so wide,
A brief appearance on a boundless stage,
Yet if I leave a little warmth inside,
I have fulfilled my modest pilgrimage.
No grand crusade, no thunderous applause,
Just simple steps along a humble road—
To serve a small, quiet, human cause,
And help another bear a heavy load.
For in the end, when all is said and done,
The greatest mark a heart can leave behind
Is not the battles or the kingdoms won,
But that it dared to make a difference, however small, to mankind.
What days are these in our life's
And who are we to not walk the same line
It is always about ones self defiance
And truth is altered so set destinys chime
I have seen the fear and insanity
That the purpose of my life brings
Never read a single holy book
Yet I have written quotes of saints
I made it through this hated time
By loving, achievement, and blind
When I left the safety of southern shrine
My open soul was fed to lions
I felt the difference and had lost my mind
Writing words I did not once hold
The east coast winds house a secret bind
With two different sides of old
Now in the place of my birth the rain is cold
however living in the warm salt air and still
feeling the false truth that hate brings when sold
by those who seek nothing more than reaction despite
the clear view of the kill
And so it begins a life and mind somewhat back on track
I lost my motivation to be heard and respected
now I am about to take it back
pray for those who block my path at the gates
of heaven or hell they may receive the fate they elected
by war by peace through God or through me
I will pass no judgement but will carry out the sentence
handed down for those who sale hate for children to see
while wrapped in the flag and give no voluntary repentance
put down your hate pick up your fear
face yourself in the mirror be accountable
for your actions and the weight they bare
because its not demons on earth only men who create evil so
unfathomable
WHAT DAYS ARE THESE ONLY THE EYES OF THE SINNER
WILL NOT BE DECEIVED
Form:
Terra Firma
David J Walker
I
How big a place must Eden be
Its borders unknown
Its politics not on display
Its laws kept by passing clouds
Each from the lips of whispered scripture
The peacock's song can be heard
Under the canopy of a transplanted forest
Of oak and birch where the
Cock will remain as long as the
Hen is secured
The world need not be a bigger place
than this
II
What lies beyond the secured borders
Is a matter of speculation
The anticipation of more will drive
The curious mind mad with the
Scent of an unknown difference
Until it is named
III
Only madmen claim dominion
Over air and ground and sea that
Transcends life
The comings and goings of ideals
That means nothing to the mountains
As humans evaluate the usefulness
Of claims and how to prosper
IV
You may know me by location
I am from (Insert the name here)
As if there is a distinction on this
Small blue planet whirling
like a Dervish on
The unknown path through eternity
If this is a sojourn then we will
Meet and rest with others
who will know us
As terra firma
Exercising belief about unknowns.
Makes sense to take your best guess.
Using history, numbers, extrapolation.
Getting the trajectory right for re-entry.
Few dissenters left for climate change, evolution.
Nuclear power brings a process to earth
that occurs only in space. Dangerous
but necessary? Not a risk-averse weasel.
One among many mammals is the weasel,
not known for its consideration of unknowns
but, for its extreme caloric needs, considered dangerous.
My wife says in England violent gusts
forced a locomotive off its tracks. One interpretation
might reasonably be that the mother, earth,
has stopped mothering man. We're entering
a period of unknowns and must evolve.
What might this involve
and what adjustments are possibly feasible?
Walking rather than riding to the subway entrance,
using less electricity until more is known,
preserving agricultural soils and forest land,
buying fewer plastic contraptions.
My brother's washing his pajamas less often.
None of this may make the slightest difference
in how the earth and the sun and universe revolve.
But we are human and addicted to action,
the probable less attractive than the possible.
Also, there's no percentage in respecting death
unless it's imminent. Better to remain centered,
focused on food, child-bearing, war and the poem.
All driveways plowed, all lawns mowed.
Just in time before the first snow, I raked our leaves.
Two eight hour days. What percent of all time is that?
Draw a ray with point A the first pile of leaves
extending to the extrapolating end of universe.
.01 of Aaron. Zero of Zach.
Hawks playing, hunting, mating, canaries in the mine.
Having been too many places to count.
Sex bars, infant formulas, fire crews, last rites, permanent jobs, traffic
tickets, judges' chambers, out houses, wedding banquets, boiling
teapots, frantic centuries, facial tissues, presumed innocent, clear
intentions, stainless steel.
Spiderweb glove. Deerfly earring. Daddylonglegs seeingeyedog.
Memorized songs. Privatized loans.
You cannot know what you're doing until you've done it.
Erudite sweep the floor. Articulate make the bed.
Infrared town hall. Crab nebula. Your last crap.
Eye of the tropical January sun. Slouching toward temperate zone.