Long Disentangle Poems
Long Disentangle Poems. Below are the most popular long Disentangle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disentangle poems by poem length and keyword.
Just Smile
Written by D.W.Breidenthal
Just smile
For a while...you have a # to dial
I'll clear out your pile...I'll fly with you above the cemented tile
Unto the bright blue sky...
Everything's gonna be just fine
You have a special place in this heart of mine
Just smile
Just keeping trying x3
With all your remaining might
I'll help you discover God's light
In no time, we'll get through the callous night
Just smile
Everything's gonna be alright
Just smile
Paste a smile on your once frowning face
And have a positive, healthy mindset, oh buddy
Just smile,
No need for weeping...
no more sorrow...wait for tomorrow
And we'll receive perpetual delight
In no time, we'll get through the callous night
Just smile one more time (last time)
It's not crime
To smile just this time
Just smile once more
Before you shut the front door
Just smile
Embrace a positive mindset
Just smile
And I'll get you out of the net
And pay up all your debt
Just smile once more
There's more hope in store, I'm pretty sure...I'm absolutely sure...I'm positively sure of it...
in no time, we'll be set free from captivity
My feet are soaking wet
But they'll dry out I bet
So don't be upset
Just smile
And forget the regret
Of rising debt
Just smile
And I'll disentangle you out of the lament net
And pay up all your debt
When Patty was in the manic phase, she'd ignore dangers:
She'd hold parties in her motel room for hordes of strangers.
One of them she married after knowing him half a day -
Did it occur that something could go wrong by acting that way?
Who needs the wisdom of George Schwab, or boring investment schemes?
She met two dudes in a parking lot, trusted their get-rich dreams.
What could be wrong with giving strangers chances?
Predictably things went wrong when they managed her finances.
[chorus]
The question arises, how do we know?
Which feeling is right - the high or the low?
Do thoughts determine what we feel?
Or do feelings determine what we take as real?
Carrie was bipolar too, wrote a book on crazy acts
Her daily moods were divorced from daily facts
She used illegal drugs to tame the unruly ocean -
Yet she took a wild ride on a bronco of emotion
It was found for depressives the windshield is more clear
Rewards motivate them less; risks spark the proper fear.
But gazing at the downside leads to helpless despair
When reality gazes back, it has an unblinking stare.
Halsey had a million ideas and couldn’t get them done:
But when she was manic, she had the most fun
She says it gave her all she has; she made her best art
Her album named "Manic" rose to two on the chart.
Kanye, in his manic state, paranoia gripped his heart,
He feared the eyes of hidden spies, his world set apart.
This was knowledge he got from what he would feel
Between feeling and knowing, who can trust what is real?
[chorus]
The question arises, how do we know?
Which feeling is right - the high or the low?
Should we withdraw, should we take the fling?
Or flatten out the waves of the mood swing?
[outro]
Does what you feel guide your reason
Is trusting emotions akin to treason?
Can you disentangle thought and feeling
Sink below the floor, or rise above the ceiling?
Oh, the enigmatic dance of life we tread,
Which feeling is right— the elation or the dread?
The September I met him remains etched in my mind
One by one the minutes rolling by ever so slowly
I sat in class awaiting an explanation that never came
I surmised he’d been a burn victim ~ suffered and healed
How could he now sit there so serene and nonchalant
Over my inner spiel I hadn’t heard a word he said
So consumed was I in wait with my unanswered questions
Then spending the second half of class feeling stupid
Regretting the meddlesome monologue in my head
It was three hours of my life I would never get back
Really ~ how was it any of my business?
This was all way back in those pre-internet days
Before google searches easily unraveled any mystery
For weeks he never spoke about the elephant in the room
It boggled my mind why I expected he ever would
In a short time I became enchanted with this man’s soul
Respectfully in awe of this cultured learned gentle man
A poet possibly a genius ~ he was ordained to touch lives
To shake and rattle foundations ~ disentangle paradigms
A transcendent grace exuded from his every word and glance
AP: 1st place 2026, 1st place 2021
Whispering wings ~ feathers afloat,
Molting and marvelous, magnanimous
Wonders, alighting in familiar places.
~
Each feather remembers the warmth,
The pear-shaped cradle ere birth.
The quietude-nest, the guardian enfolds.
~
Even in rapid flight, into ebony night,
Wings, like a butterfly’s, though they sing,
trumpet no sound, unless one’s in tune
~
With God, unless the Spirit is just right,
Unless the Father is prepared to save
Or take away or just delight - just because…
~
Molting and marvelous, plucked from memories,
The magnanimous calls to the perceiver —
The flight, the whisper, the hesperus-hour,
~
Tingle of senses, the angelic featherbed
Releases an echo of space and time
To loved ones left behind…a single dove.
~
Even the blind, deaf and dumb recover
their senses, grab hold of the felicitous flight
…somehow, one’s guardian angel delivers this gift.
~
Godspeed, feather-light, wings that glow
whiter than snow. The Holy Spirit prepared
to disentangle truth from fiction in one’s frightful season.
~
Guardian-wing’d, miracle snow-drift, lights up
those dust-filled dendrites, attempts to clear
the cobwebs — spread of peace and light.
~
Next to her, smiling wide, exact replica
of an angel - Mom. Next to her frame —
a feather-gift treasured by my father.
1/12/2022
You know how a cat is? The way it awakes,
how its eyes open, for a moment
not seeing anything,
how it blinks slowly
eyelids washing a mind
of anything but satisfaction.
Legs stiffen, stretching out,
paws opening and closing
as it arches its back.
Lithe sinews ripple under a velvet pelt,
its whole body a rubber band of pleasure.
I used to wake like that - almost.
This sleek, self-absorbed feline
who owes me at least
some cursory acknowledgment,
just slinks away without a glance
as I struggle to disentangle
my creaking form from jumbled bed covers.
It has prowled through the cat flap
probably stalking garden sparrows by now.
I make coffee
once more vowing to get myself a dog -
an old one.
I often sit and wonder
why ancient man survives
Lacking all the gadgets
modern man and woman have in their lives
Why me I am an example ,
all the things I have acquired
Gathered all around the world
from countries far and wide
Downstairs there is is a sauna
doing what the sun would surely do
The slant board replaces
lying upside down upon a hill and there's a wagga too
There's a mobile phone, there's a computer
so we can disconnect
Physical engagement with our fellow man
it's wrecked
I've got picks, I've got shovels. I've got forks
to build a garden bed
Ancient man and woman just wandered
when they wanted to be fed
So how to disentangle
from this crazy style
It's a complicated answer
you are going to have to wait for a while
Footnote; Wagga our nickname for a Zen Chi Massager
life has somewhat
calmed down now that
I’ve bowed out from the rat race
and officially finally retired
I’ve learned to disentangle myself
from the merciless mundane madness
I don’t miss that old hamster wheel
always spinning out of control
I’m now at peace with myself
I’ve become my own jury and judge
questioning my every choice and decision
to ensure they fall in place with my master plan
the voice of my conscience keeps me
aligned and on track as time trickles away
ultimately I know I’m not really in charge
but I can at least be master of what I can
one day I know I’ll be facing my Maker
and there will be no sanctioned excuses
down to my very core I’ll want to be proud
of what I’ve done and become
Read on air by invitation ~ June 5, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 1st place 2021
Submitted on June 2, 2021 for contest VOICE OF CONSCIENCE sponsored by UNSEEKING SEEKER - RANKED 5TH
LUCKY MAY
May, May is welcome
And by these roads, these lanes
Young people come to home
To sing to my sisters.
What pretty they are
With her golden hair
And coloured lassos
And my mother combing them
To disentangle it.
That is their faces
What face so bright¡
Their lips, what loveliness¡
Painted with lipsticks
Where the same Cupid
A Kiss plant.
Their eyes, waht pretty and lovely¡
As star lighting the same Sky.
Their snub noses
(I wish I could to have them¡)
Silver twists are
That none of the jeweller
Knows draw
Only mother Daniela
As their ivory teeth
And their two little bust
Behind their white blouses
As two early lemons
With a dress of virgin
With brads in its shorts
Straight to the point
Axle of dancing and music
Moving their nice legs
And their agile feet.
And Me, now, an injured angel
With all my features as seraph
Imploring to our mother
That she plays a May with me
Dressing me as my sisters
With Rosemary flowers
With legominous flowers
Puting in my hand
A palm of Sun and Moon
As my lovely sisters
Because I want to dress as a little girl
And don’t want to be more
The Little man of the home
In the Lucky May.
A delicate dance, a balance to abide.
Let me share a verse, a tale profound,
Of union wed in hallowed ground.
When vows were spoken, love's embrace,
Within the walls of sacred grace,
Two souls entwined, a blessed bond,
In faith and hope, their hearts respond.
The church, a haven, where spirits soar,
A sanctuary for love to explore.
With blessings sought, in prayers they knelt,
Their union sealed, divine presence felt.
Yet in the realm of worldly decree,
Lies the state, where laws decree.
An earthly realm, where lives entwine,
Where unions formed, but can decline.
The state, it claims a different role,
To govern lives, the heart's control.
Through trials faced, its duty clear,
To grant divorce when love's austere.
For love is fragile, human, frail,
And sometimes falters, starts to pale.
The state steps in, with measured might,
To disentangle bonds, no longer bright.
Though wedded in the sacred place,
Where heaven's grace did interlace,
The state, it follows rules laid bare,
To sever ties, love's weight to bear.
The separation of these realms, you see,
Protects the church, protects the free,
To let religion guide its course,
While state ensures a civil force.
Thus, if the state may seek to part,
What church bestowed, two souls held in heart,
Remember, dear friend, it's not their aim,
To tarnish love or cause you shame.
They're bound by duty, laws compiled,
To navigate love's ebb and tide,
For if love fades and peace departs,
They offer solace, fresh new starts.
So let us honor this subtle divide,
Respecting both realms, hand in hand they stride.
For church and state, they coexist,
Preserving freedom, love's gentle twist.
Stepping back remote from urban rhythm
Dizzy I take flight asking only to surrender
Wishing to drown in a long lost forgotten calm
Reminiscing of that distant youthful idyllic calm
When day and night danced in divine rhythm
To soft nostalgic memories I ungrudgingly surrender
Disentangle me I give my all and do surrender
Desperate to retrieve a soothing blissful calm
To reunite with mother nature’s nurtured rhythm
Synchronize with life’s rhythm I surrender my heart to calm
AP: 1st place 2025
Submitted on February 12, 2019 for contest A TRITINA FOR MESSINA sponsored by CHARLES MESSINA - RANKED 3RD