Long Discovers Poems
Long Discovers Poems. Below are the most popular long Discovers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Discovers poems by poem length and keyword.
Absurdity, chaos,
strife:
The poet chooses
virtuous reality.
Sisyphus, a
titanic wave of metamorphosis, waiting, salted nausea:
The thinker roughed by sand
a solitary tree in a barren desert
defies absurdity
by seeking meaning in the absurd.
Authenticity,
vision, conformity, religion:
The rebel a roaring
wildfire igniting change like:
authenticity,
vision, and non-conformity
forging their own path.
Project,
reflect, individuality:
The human river
tasting the minerals of experience
expresses identity
and discovers themselves.
Leap,
Übermensch,
ethics,
logotherapy:
The agent
acts with freedom and responsibility
finding purpose.
Meaning,
joy, void, hope:
The sweet-smelling optimist a sunflower
fills emptiness with hope
seeking light in the darkness.
Truth,
illusion, reality, fiction:
The rationalist
discerns the real and the imagined.
Contradiction,
logic, emotion:
The harmonist
strives for balancing
the rational and emotional.
Freedom,
authenticity, manipulation, conformity:
The individualist
resists pressure and influence.
Awareness,
paradox, courage, hope:
The existentialist
embraces the absurd and transcends.
Leak,
speak,
strike,
kneel:
The activist challenges-
The status quo and injustice.
Tirelessly fights for justice!
Death,
suicide, violence, genocide:
The mortal
faces limit and horror with courage.
Despair,
nightmare:
The lover
shares and cares with love.
Existence
precedes essence?
Or essence
precedes existence?
The question
haunts forever.
The Stoic
Observes, unmoved yet aware:
Virtue alone suffices
whether essence or existence;
In reason and nature
we find our constant companion.
Patrick Brennan enters the Craic Pub
His wife is at home, twisting her Celtic knot necklace
Enticing him to come home early, before he is too far into the cups
Gaelic love sent to him courtesy of her Great Grandmother Magda
Magda was a female druid, and her essence lingers.
She is one of her namesake’s spiritual guides.
She follows him from the Craic to the Brazen Head
Giving him severe messages that he is to return home.
Patrick hears the voices, his grandfather was fey, was he not?
He was going to have a couple of drinks and then head to O’Donoghues.
He reaches into his pocket and discovers the Druid sign.
Tree and full moon, unity between the Gaelic and nature.
He turns instead toward home, having no idea that he has been manipulated.
His grandfather and her great grandmother follow him along the path.
Awen's new ideas for next folk song, shows him lyrics that are available.
Wife is thrilled to see husband return so early. Knowing not her role in this.
Eternal buzz of voices, heard by the wind
Stilling the music of yesterday,
Reassuring the soul has a friend
Breathless music of hers and his, in amazing
Stories, poetry and senses, embracing
Kissing away the melancholic wounds, feelings
Dazed by the night who is no substitute
Inspiring colors, in whispers of light
Softly flow from yesterday throughout paradise,
Rising in blending wishes for grace and ghostlike
Psalms, blessings remembered by the fall,
When wind feels like a promise of what is meant
By gentle and honest, gratitude’s permission
To erase the past with its heavy grasp,
Warming by the fires of wonder found when
One heart discovers the meaning of a kiss…
Is it the river of feelings, flowing, knowing
That wind through the spirit,
Awakening the music of a passion, sensations
Alluring, assuring, enthusiastic as trust
Washing the heart in grace, and feeding the feelings
Like faith who is absorbed by the way
Hearts heal when God’s love stills the spirit,
Resting His calm, like a clear pool of unforgettable,
To the tune of eternal truth, easing away the shadows,
Filling the soul with sincerity, serenity, silence
In peace, two wishes find the music that sees
Through the darkness to the destiny,
Believe, just believe, and receive what God brings
When He sends His ultimate beautiful, His music
In the seeds of lasting wonder, a muse
The feelings who grow and continue on, forever
Wiping away the tears and the fears,
All the past’s melancholy and bitterness
With light that frees the spirit,
Considers what has been and leaves a watermark
Of what it means to be free… free at last,
Because, in God’s grasp, there comes a true freedom…
Free as the wind and the sea,
Free as the music that resonates
With a feeling that can only be stirred
By two who know, with God at the center
This wonder will continue on… forever and ever,
Love that causes the wind to vibrate, to babble
The words of a love song, a fire burning
Like the promise of everlasting – free as the knowing
Love knew, all along, love knew the song
Freeing those who simply blow their kisses
In rhythms of praise, just praise, praise the One
Who brings love it’s light, brings hope its sight,
Brings faith its everlasting fight…
Sing the song, it’s a love song – God is strong
God will sing along, because God’s love is never wrong!
An ache colored Mary’s heart,
Erasing the joy, the soft, the hope.
She felt destroyed by that dark
Moment before three days had gone,
By, when she’d find…
He’d been moved from that tomb.
A hollow feeling, it’s emptiness,
More daunting, more fearful
Than the brink of death,
When He said, “it is finished”,
His voice keeps ringing in her head,
As she remembers… He’s dead.
A grief more lonely than she can explain,
Haunts her spirit, washes her in gray,
But, in time, her heart will find consolation,
When she discovers, He is risen,
He is showing the world that believes,
His plan, His destiny…
Refrain:
He is risen, Our Savior has climbed out of the tomb.
He’s given our hearts reason to assume…
Forever, our lives will be changed, we’re all new,
Pieces of His victory; yes, He always knew…
He would rise,.. a risen Savior, Jesus Christ,
Forever saved us with the life He sacrificed!
A beneficial mediation for the mind...
being immersed in peaceful thought,
seeing clouds drift towards sunset,
imagining places pristine and wild.
On a shining rock facing the breezy West,
I lay whispering what comes naturally...
to make a connection with the Almighty;
I praise His creations being laid down to rest.
Colors are lively images of the fading evening,
the slower the ruddy sun reaches the horizon,
the stronger the jasmines smell without repulsing...
picturesque valley, tarry much longer and glisten.
Feeling and looking happy and so serene inside,
I breathe in and out to let gladness overwhelm me...
looking in a certain direction with my glance of intensity
to connect with the spectacular planets that seem to glide.
Let this face glow without denying its deserved joy,
let my contemplation carry me to the ends of infinity
to bring back healing secrets Mankind never discovers...
see me immersed in peaceful thought among marigolds!
Trip Hazzards
Do only poets expose them
Trip Hazzards that trip us
Its the small things that trip us up
Like friends that are false, I know I dont have to tell you
You have to keep your work area clean
Because if your like me then your a work in progress
A masterpiece isn't discovered
It is stumbled upon and a long shot
A long shot
Yea that's my next poem don't trip I sow a lot
Don't forget come close to the light
I love it when they lie cause they can't look me in the eye
They forsake me and betray me
But games they don't want to play with me
Tricks alright, I'll just hit the switch and turn out the lights
Thank God I am more than just a candle
I do more than just light minds and burn slow
The whole Empire is full of darkness
Cosmic soup, swallow some
You can lead a man to water
Was it Discovers or Trip Hazzards that we just stumbled over
Remember its the little things that trip us up
Son, you haven't really experienced life,
(And it will surely make you pine for a wife!),
Until you are thrust into noisy open-bay coops,
With fifty other snorting and snoring troops!
The sergeants demand that things be just right.
Bunks must be made with blankets smooth and tight!
Clothes must be hung straight and boots shined to a glow,
And all your shoes lined under your bunk in a row!
As the bugle at early dawn is blown,
Fifty guys rush to the latrine as if chased by a cyclone,
All vying at once for a place at the sink,
Because the line gets long as quick as a wink!
You're invited to a GI party on Friday nights without miss,
But this is no occasion for a cool beer and socializing, this!
On hands and knees with a GI brush in hand,
You'll be scrubbing and waxing until the floor is grand!
Saturday you'll stand by your bunk for a white-glove inspection,
The eagle-eyed captain checking everything demanding perfection!
If dust he discovers you'll receive reams and reams of demerits!
Forget the weekend pass - you'll be on KP peeling taters and carrots!
disarrayed sands
dislodged
from
timeless terrain
captured
by
chaotic instants
settle ceaselessly
bemused
on
stratified shelf
of
languid life
disorganized
in
moments moving
dismantled
with
dispersed dust
of
petrified perturbation
truth of trust
embedded
in
sanguinity suffused
with
random rhythm
of
ruffled ripples
of
disordered discontent
oscillating
bewildered efflux
of
delinquent dismay
transmutes exhilaration
tousled
mystifying alchemy
of
metamorphic illusion
reveals pretense
real
of
traumatic transmutation
tormenting
somber squall
swirls depression
sweeping
through
whirlpool void
of
despondence deep
where
mangled mind
drowns
in
distraught nothingness
disheveled
splinters leitmotif
of
ethereal emotions
configured
in
confounded cascade
of
consternation disquiet
carries them
detached
sandcastle fragile
on
shriveled shore
of
yearning
tumbles down
in
confused clutter
of
disorientated debris
in
divesting mayhem
psyche rises
revived
shape-shifts
to
intonation lilt
in
cadenced time
harmonic
instantly discovers
enthralled
covert flute
of
sensuous symphony
plays the music
of
ecstatic soul
entranced
convivial concerto
reverberates
the last refrain
of
melodic memory
euphoric epithet
of
transcendent essence
resonates
in
cosmic concerto
eternal
L.A ‘62. English professor George (Colin Firth) is mourning the loss of his gay partner. He's
spent the day reliving memories, but that night meets his student Kenny (Nicholas Hoult),
who secretly admires him, in a bar. The two end up at George’s house after a spontaneous
ocean swim. Kenny has just emerged from the shower,wrapped in a towel. George is making
a fire. When Kenny goes to get a beer, he discovers a nude photo of George’s dead lover in
a drawer. His suspicions about his teacher are confirmed. A beautiful score of stringed
music, nostalgic and tender draws me in to every nuance of Colin's performance.
George, feeling foolish and seeming a bit flushed with anticipation (yet restraining himself
from improper conduct), sits on a chair across from the young man when the boy returns to
the living room. A conversation ensues in which George asks Kenny questions, trying to
discern the young man’s reasons for being there that night. The boy, too, is trying to learn
things about George, but keeps hedging with his responses to George‘s questions, and
nothing completely “telling” is ever said. Meanwhile, their eyes linger on each other. The
young man’s eyes are an enchanting almost gleaming blue; I find it hard myself to look away
from his sweet face. My eyes are also riveted every second to George’s face and to its many
subtle changes of expression.. Finally, the boy asks George something and at that moment,
George’s face blurs. My curiosity is very aroused when suddenly the scene has switched to
George awaking at about 3 a.m. from his bed.. The young man, however, is not in the bed
(as I had hoped he would not be). He is asleep on the sofa, and he clutches in his hands the
gun which George had planned to shoot himself with. Had George revealed his plan to end
his life that day to his student? Was that what happened in those missing hours? Had the
boyish Kenny (while George was sleeping off his drunkenness) found the gun in the same
way he had discovered the picture of George’s partner and now was holding it to prevent
George from carrying out his suicide? I know I am soon going to learn George’s fate. . .
At night in dreams, he learns to fly;
Soars high in open skies.
The feeling of euphoria:
To catch a warming rise.
But then one day he finds an edge;
A dome does all surround.
Constraining flight, his freedom too,
It arches to the ground.
Soon he discovers it’s a trap;
He’s in this lofty jail,
And knowing that the heights are capped,
No longer yearns to sail.
He tries to fly up high enough;
Escape is at the top?
But always there’s a ceiling there,
All exploration stops.
And worse, there’s running down below
To where he’s going to land;
They mean to make an end of him,
Just as his feet touch sand.
And then he’s running for his life;
His legs don’t seem to work.
He’s thrashing, and he’s crying out
In fear and half berserk.
He screams and screams to wake his wife
But doesn’t make a sound,
And finally, the moans and kicks
Arouse her, bring her ‘round.
She shakes him by the shoulders firm,
Makes sure that he’s awake;
Then turns to face the other way,
And sleep soon overtakes.
For him, the night is full of fear;
He’s shaking, soaking wet.
He hasn’t a way out of here;
He’s caught within this net.
The dream repeats most every night;
He’s haggard, and he’s worn.
The nightmares always end the same;
He’s bleeding, tattered, torn.
This vicious loop goes on for years;
He’s weary in his soul,
He hasn’t yet connected dots
On why he’s in this hole.
In desperation, he cries out,
The nightmares finally quit.
The Lord, it seems, had heard his cries
And pulled him from the pit.
No longer dark, my dreams of late.
The night; no longer dread.
And now, I do not need to fly;
I've found true rest instead.