Long Disrupts Poems
Long Disrupts Poems. Below are the most popular long Disrupts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disrupts poems by poem length and keyword.
We cannot worry over-much,
'Bout things we can't control.
Too much worry disrupts life,
And at length rots the soul.
Worrying 'bout this and that,
Can spoil your whole demeanor,
Causing you to disdain,
What makes your pastures greener.
Reality of fact is that,
Life has it's ups and downs.
Stomp and snort all that you please,
And growl and glance around,
To find someone to blame it on,
Although no one's to blame.
Sometimes things happen, this is true,
And it's to no one's shame.
Often we avoid some things,
But sometimes we just can't.
If we could go through life unscathed,
We'd be some kind of plant,
That simply sits, says not a word,
And never does a thing;
So learn to take life as it comes,
Relax and learn to sing;
For worry never solved a thing,
In fact it gives you ulcers,\
And makes you old before your time,
So relax, gain some culture.
Learn to control your inner chi,
Your yen and then your yang;
Because worrying all the time,
Won't gain you one dang thang.
Liberty, Equality and Fraternity, three precious ideals, blinded by the darkness of xenophobia.
The Republic, democracy and human rights are the pillars of a just society, but in the depths of Marianne, their fragility reminds us that nothing can be taken for granted.
Perhaps it will be necessary to decapitate a few heads again on the Place de la Concorde, so that the age-old splendor of revolutionary France can be reborn from its ashes.
Foreigners are constantly discriminated against and treated like cattle, their dignity trampled underfoot.
Illegal immigrants, without a residence permit, live in promiscuity, seeking refuge in a nation that rejects them.
The homeless proletarians, scattered in the streets of the homeland of human rights, are proof that equality is slow to become a reality for all.
Stigmatize Africans by systematically associating them with delinquency and drug trafficking,
It is to ignore the segregationist policies, applied in disadvantaged suburbs,
It is choosing to look elsewhere, faced with the cruelty of France's criminal shenanigans in Africa.
Racists, racialists and nationalist supremacists propagate toxic ideologies that divide rather than unite, creating deep fissures in a France with a legacy of slavery and colonialism.
Negrophobic xenophobes are chained to hatred and intolerance, they despise the salutary values ??of inclusion and the riches of diversity.
Enlightened pan-Africanist sub-Saharan Africans carry a vision of solidarity and continental unity, which advocates the search for the realization of Africa's potential.
Terrorism, capitalism and globalism form an explosive cocktail that disrupts the balance of the contemporary world.
Patriotic fascists, racialist stereotypes and colonial reflexes are infringements which hinder the evolution towards a community attached to egalitarian principles.
Under the lights of the slave trade, amnesia is a medicine for all those who want to forget the past and the horrors of the dark pages of the lugubrious history of sweet France.
The Code Noir gave rise to the transatlantic slave trade, and the Code of the Indigenous was the foundation on which colonization rested.
Life is an illusion
A transient phrase
of reality
Nothing is real
We’re all living in
a fantasy
People die
Friends disappear
Money goes
And some reappear
Empires vanish
And then replaced by
others
Some things are
constant
While some are
adapted by our
brothers
Good and evil
Will remain with us
Throughout our
existence on this
earthly bus
So what is the
hurry?
What is the fuss?
Everything to me
seems getting worse
Why not seek
immortality
Through the deeds
that we do
And let that flame
of eternity burn
forever in you
Life is an illusion
It will always go
away
No matter how hard
we try it will not
stay
Wealth and power
Are like chasing
after shadows
And the more money
you chase
The closer the
hangman’s gallows
Why put your hopes
in a man
He is an illusion
Why puts your hopes
in a system
It is an illusion
Put your hopes in
the Wise Maker
He is the taker
Of all that you see
And the giver
To those before you
in history
And our unborn sons
and daughters
One day you will
wake up
And realize that all
ceases to exist
All that power and
money
You could not resist
Like mirages in the
deserts
Illusions are like
oasis
My thirst for water
Disrupts my
homeostasis
And in the year AD
8700
We will still live
in an illusion
As mighty hands of
time sweeps us away
to the days of old
And the earth that
we wreck
Becomes cold
And the oceans and
the seas rise
Like a tower
Hour after hour
Hour after hour
Man’s panacea then
lies in space
For we must build
galactic arks
To save the human
race
And preserve all
species of Fiona and
fauna
Jet to the high
heavens
Where darkness falls
But we cannot escape
this illusion
As it calls
Taking hope out of a gloomy day
is like living without a hopeful heart;
and waiting for miracles without praying
is bringing on a specter of infidelity,
which disrupts my daily living...
making me ponder faith with distrust!
Before it rains, I hope for a rainbow at five...
believing that it will there for me to admire,
not merely imagining, but envisioning its beauty;
what is hidden from the eyes shouldn't be a mystery,
and this Humankind has created myths and legends
for the ones lacking the sixth sense!
Embarking on that journey of incognito,
solely relying on this overburdensome ego,
causes me to experience inquietude
in a most unfovarable latitude;
and freedom is confined in short miles,
when my ship comes to an halt for guidance!
Before it rains, I'll see myself securing the anchor,
and step on the pier of the safest harbor...
waving at the fading rainbow over the refulgent horizon;
taking pride and remembering the grueling fright
of a captain who never displayed a doubt...
even when the storm dashed the agitated ocean!
CREDO-POETRY IS AN ORAL ART AT ITS BEST WHEN RECITED
it then becomes a two-way unique one-off.experience .
TRADITIONAL LINE CAPITALISATION RHYME ..in tetrameter (ABBA).YES..
but NOT otherwise as it creates a natural pause (ie it stilts) & thus disrupts the flow
WRAP AROUND LINES are a no-no
they are not visually conducive to read digitally or otherwise!
POETIC NO NO s -acrostic,kyrielle terzanelle villanelle ,pantoum & the 'syllablics'
they can be good for a learning exercise,a bit like scales are important when learning the piano but are too contrived & mechanical IMHO for our art form
PROSE POETRY ok if visually shaped in open form style*
FORMS THAT ALWAYS RING MY BELL shape,emagi & ekphrasis ,imagist Rhyme,alliteration,clerihew,footle&hiku*(both in the singular especially)
*OPEN VERSE uses spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols relies upon 'the one breath limitation' this intuitive cadence pemits the 'reader' (reciter) to respond in an interpretative - interplay unique to the ' happening
Imitation of unmerited personality can be called
envy when its impact disrupts the daily routine
of an individual who's not happy for anything good
given to him by God: is it a mere lack of fortitude?
Find me a pure mind so unspoiled by sinful thoughts,
it's a surprising rarity to encounter one that matches
such a quality instilled into the obedient souls of angels
faithful to their Maker presiding over them with holiness.
Being born naked and innocent is as brief as a momentary breath,
years to God are minutes but eternity awaits us if we choose it
in our quest for salvation to discover other universes beyond it;
we aren't confined to complicated tasks relating only to our earth.
Your search among roving wolves can be a dangerous gape,
never be their prey, however incessant seems their frightening howling;
whisper the psalms that David wrote: they are your escape
from the trap set up by those malicious folks with an agonizing gnawing.
Should a pure mind so unspoiled by sinful thoughts swerve
from commitment: would it deserve harsh punishment,
or reprimand? Who oversees our conscience God or guilt?
Brace for fear and despair if nothing conveys deligence.
Some insane person is planning a conspiracy
against us to weaken our bond of friendship,
and this malicious person is attacking us
with vulgar and unsound comments,
which aren't as ironic as he thinks;
let us all give the delirious bully
a strong dose of our reality...
by declaring his insanity!
Police must track this maniac down,
put him behind bars for his vulgarity
and death threats meant for this community;
freedom of speech is deliberately being abused
with constant obscenities lashed at us
by this undesired member full of hostility...
a misanthrope speaks obscenity
to express his unexplainable hatred and envy;
and the wider attention he gets, the sooner he's gratified!
Devoted poets, continue writing your beautiful verses,
and ignore his wasted energy on deliberate foolishness;
the real satisfaction doesn't come from a vindictive attitude,
but by letting justice make him feel the harshness of its law!
Look at the bright side...he will be caught and and charged accordingly;
and do not attempt to pity him when is convicted of his crime...
we have warned him many times, but he wouldn't heed or comply;
And who needs a sociopath, who disturbs the peace and disrupts creativity?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Amidst the ebon of my lonely room
I feel a covert brush across my face.
The phantom from my dreams disrupts the gloom,
which terminates despair's profound embrace.
Her mystic coffee eyes entrance my soul
as freedom's blanket warms my frigid heart.
This charmer's stitch has sealed seclusion's hole,
now dammed, the flow of somber tears will part.
My trusting fingers grasp her guiding hand
as flames of adoration burn within.
I bow before her sensual command
and let the blaze of passion's fire begin.
We sail the sea of fascination's kiss
and bathe in waves of rapture's soft caress,
then anchored at the dock of Eden's bliss,
we mingle on the beach at love's address.
My spirit's flooded by enchantment's rain,
which resurrects a buried peace inside.
Beneath the midnight moon she's freed all pain.
Upon her magic ship my dreams now ride.
"say Brian"
what is your poetry creed?"
POETRY IS AN ORAL ART AT ITS BEST WHEN RECITED
it then becomes a two-way unique one-off.experience .
ok then...to the detail-
"So is traditional line capitalisation ok with you?"
In RHYME ..YES..
but NOT otherwise as it creates a natural pause (ie it stilts) & thus disrupts the flow
"presumably thats why wrap-around lines are also a no-no for you? "
YES but mainly they are not visually conducive to read digitally or otherwise!
"Ok,I see that but what have
you got against those five forms
and the like,you know
acrostic,
kyrielle
terzanelle
villanelle
&pantoum etc? "
NOT against them per se
they can be good for a learning exercise,
a bit like scales are important when learning the piano
but are too contrived & mechanical IMHO for our art form
"Yet you like shape,visuals,emagi & ekphrasis verse! "
Indeed,they reveal my weakness for art in poetry!
"So why do you appear to dislike prose poetry!"
I don't dislike them as such, the two arts just don't mix for my taste.
"Are there particular forms that appeal?"
Rhyme,alliteration,clerihew,footle&hiku*(both in the singular especially)
tanka& American cinquain-will always ring my bell.
& of course
poetry in the OPEN VERSE style
which is what Brian?
**OPEN VERSE uses spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols relies upon 'the one breath limitation' this intuitive cadence pemits the 'reader' (reciter) to respond in an interpretative - interplay unique to the ' happening
In the veils of dusk, where whispers merge with shadows,
My dear lover, do not seek a soul like mine.
Seek someone more radiant, or a spirit akin to yours,
But not someone who bears the unseen shadows I keep hidden.
I do not wish to see their tears for your broken fragments,
Nor for you to live in the silence that suffocates and demands quiet while screaming.
Do not bring back the scene where only one character declaims
In bifurcated silences, where hearts beat to dissonant rhythms.
So, my dear, seek someone brighter, but not like me.
Search for beauty without my hidden scars,
Embrace the moon while holding the shining stars,
Find that perfect being who is in harmony,
Unburdened by words that float empty in the air.
Thus, my dear, find someone better, but never like me.
I hope you do not encounter a heart consumed by unseen flames,
Nor a soul at war with its own essence.
Avoid those caught in the whirlpools of their thoughts,
Someone who loves you deeply but disrupts your peace too often.
So, my dear, seek someone better, but not like me.
When it comes to me, I will wait in the shadows, counting your smiles.
Do not worry about me; they say time flies.
Once again, I will hide my insecurities,
Deeply knotted and perfectly entwined within my veins.
So, my love, I might search for you in the tides of longing,
But you, you must never find anyone like me,
For my wounds obscure your bright stars,
And my soul burns with flames that do not bring you peace.
So, my dear, seek a gentler light,
Someone who embraces you with peaceful harmony,
Where words are windows to a serene heart,
And love floats like the song of a falling star.