Long Discernable Poems
Long Discernable Poems. Below are the most popular long Discernable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Discernable poems by poem length and keyword.
When I'm with you,
Time stops.
The paradox: Time goes,
Like the thin web a dream becomes upon waking, barely discernable and then just a feeling it leaves a trace of emotion and then gone.
Those moments you can never get back and each moment and exchange of ideas, breath sending out sound waves to reverberate my malleolus, incus, stapes, and amplify in my cochlea, sending neurological impulse my cochlear nerve you reach me,
Some say words get in the way.
Your words, you, you become part of me.
And when your words stop, even when you are gone
I have them with me as if
When I am with you.
The Magical Epiphany of an Old Rusted Can
whilst out hiking one day in a countryside area
that was quite desolate and remote from any nearby
city, I discovered, amazingly, an Old Rusted Can
that was at least two-liter-sized and was partially-buried
in a long dried-out river bed in the middle of nowhere
this Old Rusted Can protruded out upright at about a
twenty-degree right-slant with some jagged-edges all
along its circular lip
its striking physical presence and the way in which it
was positioned, still partially-filled with dried river
sediment, for me, bespoke some sort of an old artifact
of sorts, yet it was the only object like it right in the
middle of this long dried-out river bed
its unique silhouette was, at once, quite discernable at
a distance on the horizon as it casted a very curious and
most soulful shadow under the limitless canopy of the
late-morning sunlight
although it was very rusted, this Old Can actually
reflected radiant light rays at various times when it
was touched by the rays of the bright sunlight as it
ascended to its customary cosmic dominance in the
late-morning sky
it also had five certain hole punctures located front
and back, in its upper-area, from whence the bright
sunlight reckoned a kaleidoscopic effect of sorts as
the sunlight touched and passed through each of these
unique apertures that were arrayed on this Old Rusted
Can
inelegant as this Old Rusted Can was—this unexpected
and most unusual light-show lasted for several minutes
until the darkened clouds overhead blocked out all of
the bright sunlight for the rest of the morning
yet, I just couldn’t help but feel the true divine presence
of Almighty God Himself—as I had fervently focused on
every aspect and precise detail of this radiant and very
unusual light-show which presented a magical sense and
aura of empyrean enchantment
and whilst I continued my deep gaze at this Old Rusted
Can, I was simultaneously and singularly transfixed by
the utter majesty and true joy of the holy epiphany it had
presented to me. I thought for a moment . . . God does
indeed, relate to us, at times, in very mysterious ways!
Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 21, 2018 (Imagism)
I could say i come to you our Father.' Yet you are everywhere, even inside us..In every living think and all creation, you are
There.' As humans we consider you.? Yet
Cannot comphrehend enough.' Definately
Not all.' We have learned some of us at least..That you are a jealous and angry God
I do question the ( idea of an angry God?) Is it more.? That when you are concentrating.? Focusing.' Your sheer power is more discernable? Is that what
Other Chistians and myself discern of as
Angry? Becausr seeing your power
un-veiled is
Awe-some.) Is it more true?
that you will motivate and
Bring your plans; ventures, here and all
will be just fine..If we accept it will happen,
In your timing, all blessings.)
The one absolute, the primordial light
illuminates perennially the existent,
the one ultimate, the elemental energy
drives constantly everything created.
The awareness light flashes from infinity beacon,
life energy is sourced from the realm of eternity,
all flow to the divine ocean within each of us,
the manifestation of the only One, That Thou Art.
He is the universal consciousness suffusing the soul
with immeasurable perception of mindfulness
that transcends the essence of everything discernable
as the cosmic spirit of God (Parabrahma), That Thou Art.
As the ever surging flood of tormenting time
drags my soul into the maelstrom of abysmal agony,
I begin motionless journey to the enlightened within,
identify me as the Absolute (Brahman), That Thou Art.
___________
July 17, 2021
Contest : Tat Tvam Asi
Sponsor : Unseeking Seeker
In a world where a deep ‘voice’ over’
trailers future disasters
the top brass of a uni-party
(together with its
current four-star chorus),
gather to pump up the fear machines.
The machines are shiny,
and titanium clad.
Budget cuts
have left them empty of any
discernable function
except the line of the day.
The ‘line of the day’, today
is the same as yesterday
it is:
‘Obey and eat your soup.’
A Mickey Mouse blimp
sails over the embattled roof
of the Whitehouse
waving behind it
its glorious unquestioning symbol
of freedom.
Freedom costs less nowadays
for no one goes to the theater.
At home they make-up
their own horror movies;
future shocks confirming
hosts of endlessly bad scenarios.
The silent and compliant
pace back and forth
in their virtual lock-ups
where every cranny and nook
has its own tiny camera
that records every tick
or shudder of dissent.
I struck the flint against the steel
sending sparks showering over
the tinder I’d arranged in the pit
topped with the single bit of char cloth
from the tin of my fire starting kit
Not many know how to do that these days
The weight of what I was about to do
demanded the old ways
Breathing life into the flames I fed them
until they crackled into a conflagration
Beside me sat the box I’d hidden away
in the corner of the shelf in my closet
under piles of sheets and pillow cases
Within it stored what he’d worn
that arid August day we’d met
like trinkets from a time machine
The black T-shirt with the guitars
The red plaid flannel over it
After almost a quarter of a century
they hadn’t faded or degraded
His scent soaked into them discernable
The smell of his cologne still clinging
Transporting me back to the moment
I’d first seen his face, heard his voice
felt his touch
I held them in my hands feeling the fibers
replaying memories like a movie
of that single year
They were all that was left
of the me that had been
happy, hopeful and free
Like the last remaining relic
of a civilization that has ceased to be
Silently I placed them back in the box
Someday they’ll mean nothing to me
The wheel of time makes
the head drag the mind
on the winding pathway
of the confused existence
amidst the rising dust
of the senile summer of discontent,
but the heart still breathes
the young spring air,
like a flower blooming
in the flushing meadow,
swaying in the sunburst colors of joy.
The threads of mind and heart,
seemingly untwinned render
the entities of dualism discernable
in the intricate lattice of
the shrouding shade and the luring light,
weaving the tapestry of life
into seamless paired wholeness,
caught in the conflict of
twin attributes seemingly unaligned,
but harmonious in dichotomy
like the sparkle of joy afloat
on the rolling drops of tear.
Let the fulfilled life see
the setting sun sink serene
through the chromatic lens
of the crystalline mind,
the ecstatic heart aligned
will absorb the last spectrum of harmony,
the gleaming bliss will then suffuse
the sanctum of soul in the twilight hour.
___________________
Written March 14, 2021
September 7, 2021
Constance La France's Contest : "H"Contest New Or Old Poems
Fantasy Library
Xanadu was embraced with philodendron,
Palace-like architecture, the plant went on,
and on, weaved its way around the corridor
Light luminated thru high ceilings of grandeur
As I entered the bookstore’s library atrium,
A quick lesson was gifted me on consortium
Books stacked in no discernable sequence,
encouraging readers, inviting intuitive, for instance
Systems Dewey and the congress classification,
outdated, I used the browse method simulation
Running my fingers across ridged book spines,
By published authors with classic story lines
Eyeballing velveteen varieties of book covers
Sneaking-peeks at blurbs for fantasy lovers
Sashayed my way to Banned and Challenged Books,
in the clutches of pop-up trendy chic-cozy nooks
Skimmed Ann Frank’s The Diary Of A Young Girl,
and turned satin gold-leaf edge pages of Rebecca,
gilded and burnished 24k, a gothic romance unfurled
Consortium—The new call # will begin with a 4-digit finder number. No more decimals, no more books on the same topic in several sections of the collection, or even the same title on two different places on the same shelf. Spine labels will use language of your choice and color coding. Browse your collection without having to search for a librarian
The blank field is a whitewashed wall
between
eyes and incipient thought.
A neatly printed line
emerges out of nothing,
fingers sleep
as they plant words in inky rows.
Meaning searches for meaning,
each symbol is a cracked seed
shed from a blacked-out window -
brain particles blindly seeking.
There is meaning here,
but it is as yet formless,
what is seen is slough and spillage,
mind-molt
struggling into an appearance
of notion and idea.
Now the word is flesh, a glossolalia,
a mute speaking in tongues, yet
breathless of any spirit.
At once the painted parody of self
is free to wriggle forth,
to sew and bind together
discernable images,
it must surface above the silent page,
lift up the emblematic
as the hammer-arm
of the insubstantial, until deciphered
by other necromancers
who then speak
for the dead-voiced word.
This then is the tipping point:
the space between sight and seen,
a place to speak into existence
the once immaterial
or surrender all coherence
to the un-lettered reticence of God.
For years, the ominous signs were palpable
The deep fraternal mistrust festered and discernable
Propagated by colonial masters to divide and make Rwanda malleable
And left lingering became monstrous and uncontrollable
Snowballing in 1994 into an orgy of murderous hate
As Hutu brothers turned against their Tutsis siblings
For three cruel months respect for human life was obliterated
For three bloody months sanctity of human existence perished
As the government of the day made killing an obligation
And mobilized the population through official propaganda
To destroy all Tutsis and saboteur-Hutus
At the end of the Holocaust over one million Tutsis were sent to the great
beyond
Dreams and hopes were shattered
Loved ones massacred in the most agonizing and cruel manner
While the indifferent international community looked on unconcerned
Just like after the rain comes sunshine
The blood of the martyrs of Rwanda has irrigated and purified
The country of a thousand hills
Which has risen from the ashes of the gory tragedy
To a land flowing with peace and tranquility
To a Haven for tourists and investors
To a land of calm and forward- looking citizens
Committed to work and put their past behind
And queuing behind their charismatic Leader
They cry unceasingly and with one voice
‘’Never again shall bestiality descend in our clime’’