Long Dweller Poems
Long Dweller Poems. Below are the most popular long Dweller by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dweller poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me keep day dreaming
for I do my best thinking
when I'm not blinking
Like a child's toy my thoughts are spinning
I float amongst the Stars
Big Dipper drinking
even when it feels like I'm sinking
Other worlds are my dominion
I'm not tethered to ego or opinion
I let a single star lead me to a billion
Some might think I'm nuts
Perhaps I'm Brazilian
I think about never
Until it bleeds into forever
Small things are my biggest treasure
I know and feel Gods pleasure
Traveling distances too far to measure
Although I work hard I'm a man of leisure
I can be and talk to anyone
today tomorrow or whenever
be rich poor or a pensioner
I can sing like an angel
Or boom like a Tenor
That's right
there's benefits to being a pretender
top of the heap bottom ender
I'll receive the signals
You be the sender
in fantasy lands I'm a dweller
Watch as my pupils increase in size
You see I carry my thoughts in my eyes
absorbing silly until I locate the wise
I detect the truth in people's lies
Within the shouts I hear whispers
I recognize when someone tries
Who cares if they're not one of the girls or guys
Traveling alone won't prevent them from reaching new highs
Happily ever afters don't end with goodbyes
Forget fretting the music never stops
no one truly ever dies
Watch how a bird flys
On an unseen current each spirit will rise
no logic applies
Be the me in "Me oh my"
not afraid to ask why
hear the music in a sigh
Join me in a day dream
There's room in my sky
Stretch your arms into wings
after all you too were made to fly
The stars tonight are scarce
But hell, every night they are scarce
A city dweller longs crisp air
But is forced to breathe in what is there
It’s a shame really
To be somewhere you don’t want to be…
But hey, no one’s forcing me to stay here
See, other elements are at play
I believe more and more everyday
That we are in the way of ourselves
Our thoughts torment and jeer
Though often we sugar-coat ourselves with cheer
In a way, the stars tonight are scarce
Because of me
They don’t have to be scarce
They could be multitudninous
If only this half-hearted mind was free
Man, for once
I should really consider not being me!
My happiness is overflowing
I do NOT really know where I am going
The destruction was WAY too much
Somehow, we became out of touch
Two times in my life I am grateful for
First, when YOU Said that you would be mine
The second time when you said the word Yes
I was out of line when you left
I was surrounded by darkness and alone
Truly, in the Lozer Zone
Yet, it is still the band
I can NOT play without you or have fun or be proud or even feel like a real anyone
They say I am codependent
Yet stuck on an island
I am now more than ever a broken man
It is NOT your fault though
I do NOT ever need any more time with any bros
When my heart feels you near it always glows
When you picked up the phone and gave me a future
I forever changed my ways and was NO longer a user
If you can forgive me now like you did then for following some stupid trend
I will begin to do even more and more things very differently
If who you want me to be is with you again
You will always have me in the end my closest friend
I life of commitment is what I wanted
We started out possibly in what some of these mojos would call sin
Yet, I would do it again
Loving you could NOT be even remotely compared to strumming this toted 6-string in the...
You called it Lozer Zone
Maybe, I made a ***** or two
Ended up acting like Homer Simpson and coming unglued
I can still hear in your voice two different people
We do NOT need a steeple to gather under to steep some good tea
For me to be me
For you to be you
For me to be true
Or for us to both be able to do what we want to...
I think that Sean along picked us and that was what he wanted too
Just saying, NOT spraying babe
Let me know what you want to do...
I will be there for you when you want me to
As far as the Valley of Hope NOT dope goes
Even the word Glen can be translated to valley dweller
Out of my own sick type of homemade wine cellar, I will tell yak...
I always hope for the better days and dwell on hope in many ways
Those lazy, fancy, prancy, antsy, or even the days we go dancing
I might as well name off some reindeer with that last rhyme
But this time, in as much time as it takes
I want you to feel the comfort I know you need so that you too can take some breaks
To every bogan, woman and man..Who ride the surf
Who tread our sands.' To every city
dweller and professor too.' The crop
Dusting pilot or Jackeroo.' Let all the shearers
Hear my call..Mates i'm beside you (one and all)
Brian Woodly and daughter Claire, are national treasures
I put it out there.' Then there are doctors like Hobart bold
i tell you Melbourne ( he never sold.) And Nick Patterson
He ain't forgotton, unlike old dan andrews.' Completly
Rotten a ' SHOUT OUT TO KERRY.' OF Silver top taxies
You brought me to tears, when i made t
hat call, i fell to pray on my knees
For they forced the needle into their people all.'
I won't forget victoria brews..With their poisionous
Jingles..You can go and stew.' Hey theres an education
No money can buy..' Its the spirit of Australia
I keep it close by.' So listen up now do and not fear, reject
That bloody; morbid mob so drear.' Go out and lend a hand
And smile..And bear with each other all the while
Observe those who'd; shut out all discourse
And only frown.' and avoid them as the
plauge, they'll only drag us down; of course'
Look out for those who took the hits.' And
Back them up..And never quit.' Learn from your
Land beautiful and rare.' You will find real education
There.!
we make these short notes
perhaps for a latter review
as a historical landscape
marking events significant
as it happened within form
in definitively felt physicality
that our affirmation reassures
others along the same path
of the validation of this truth
around the autumn of 2018
our heart asked a question
asking why we choose fear
arising out of misalignment
of mind with current of love
needlessly causing anxiety
consciousness contraction
distanced from divine source
of bountiful loving abundance
truth always is unapologetic
as also inconvenient to face
since the ego feels insecure
being a dweller of darkness
thus fears self-luminescence
innate to our soul presence
which is so until we pause
shifting into tranquil silence
abandoning all that is false
no sooner we took one step
to drop evident negativity
the divine impulse filled us
bridging illusionary chasms
beginning with tranquil calm
as we internalised attention
divine energy one day rose
from root to crown swiftly
ushering polarity balance
parallel inner developments
oneness experiences in void
culminated in divine union
of the one divided into two
within Anahata heart centre
resulting in a bliss explosion
igniting the central funnel
as benediction permanent
purring within day and night
wisdom downloads followed
signalling love alone as real
with truth of oneness known
samadhi state experienced
as invisible space flickered
palms and feet soles aglow
transmitters and receptors
in resonance with vibrations
emanating from our heart
bliss apart now sheer power
as the spinal column shakes
with million volts of electricity
reverberating within uniformly
this happen chance automatic
with no doing done on our part
save witnessing in acceptance
as thunderous benign brute force
thus makes its presence known
in stillness
01-April-2021
Poem written near a Cemetery 1 of 2
On 13th February 2012
While moving near the walls of a cemetery,
I saw the glimpse
Of a bunch of some tiny wild flowers,
Blooming in the golden Sunlight falling on them,
They were waving their simile,
With every gush of wind,
On the monument of a deserted grave.
For me it was a new and exciting experience,
To enter in that cemetery of eighteenth century,
What had brought me to that spot,
Where those wild flowers were still smiling,
Remains a mystery
Every time, I think and rethink.
I saw hundreds of monuments and tombs,
After entering in that preserved cemetery,
Some were telling the story,
Of the grandeurs of its dwellers,
While others were there,
Standing without a crown or a story.
The grave on which, I saw those flowers,
Was not showing an appealing face,
Age had withered its luster and charms,
And time had left its marks on its face.
Being in the last line of that cemetery
It was waiting in the long queue,
For some kith and kin of Sophia Ress,
May come some day and
The face of that noble soul’s grave,
May once again obtain its lost glory and grace.
There I found those lonely wild tiny flowers,
Still blooming and smiling and dancing,
With every gush of wind,
Telling silently a beautiful story of its dweller,
As if, they were paying their homage,
While remembering her lost songs and images.
In the morning hours of the Autumn,
The tree leaves were falling,
Everywhere on the ground,
And some were even falling on me,
Either to tell the universal truth,
Of the inevitable departure of everyone’s one day
Or perhaps to accompany me,
In that graveyard of all those,
Who were totally strangers for me.
After watching that grave and
Appreciating those tiny flowers,
I explored each and every tomb and monuments,
Standing in the memory of those British,
Who had lived a royal life during those days,
When they lived here and ruled my country,
For a very long time.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 18th Feb. 2012 concluded in Part 2
Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
"Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
In the memory of Sophia Rees Owen
The beloved wife of H T Owen Esqr.
Of the H C Civil Service, who died on the 27th
Nov.1834 aged 31 years 11months and 18days.
Leaving her husband and Six children to lament
Her loss. She was a sincere friend, a truly
Attached wife and a devoted Mother.......
Line of inquiry: “the essence in us is the same
as the essence of the sun”
Dweller of Our Heart
I can’t hear its crackle or sizzle. What am I?
Swaddled in the all-encompassing wisdom
of light; it burns slow. I develop: a seed to die.
My eyes move as my head spins around the world.
There are only so many spaces my foot will land;
not on the moon; moonbeams in my burnt-orange hair.
Warm-blooded rays reach out and touch; skin to skin.
I illuminate someone else’s countenance with my smile.
My Summer eyes grab hold of theirs; a plum blush.
When Winter comes, I’m far-removed ; housebound.
Still, I will be replaced; it's not me. What are they?
“The essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun”
You’re somewhere in my chest, a fancy place to hide
like that heat creeping in when I’m half asleep, kinda shy
We all got that fire the same one the sun’s rocking
sometimes flickering, sometimes straight up shocking
No not a clean flame, more like stubborn smoke
hangin’ in the ashes, refusing to choke
In all my cracked-up moments, you pop up like a start
raw, real, unpolished, right in my heart
No smooth lines, no perfect art
just you, me, and sun, tangled from the start
8/10/25
Contest: Dweller of our heart
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Though not exceptionally
famished, I took one bite
after another until tureen
licked clean to the delight
of zee missus, whose tasty
two stuffed peppers numbered finite
adequately apportioned appeased
served December 26th, 2020
supreme supper highlight,
hers whose non verbal expression
translated high as kite
beaming satisfaction at husband
well fed fueled might
dare attempt to craft following
reasonable rhyme posted
for many readers onsite
passable endeavor hoop fully
buzzfeeding fanciful kudos - quite
acceptable to critique
mediocre outcome,
maybe ye suburbanite
dweller or thee might
perchance be longtime urbanite.
Nevertheless (me) de facto
de jure guinea pig cannot abstain
availing self as willing subject and feign
to gag on culinary entree with cuisine plain
no spicy food to avoid aggravating reign
of terror within
lower gastrointestinal tract,
a worse fate than being slain
in battle and/or
drowning within gravy train.
Most meals prepared courtesy thy wife
I masticate without any
(loose) indentured (sink false teeth into) strife
both of us quarantined as our typical nightlife
Covid-19 jazzmatazz planted
well rooted herbalife
such tranquility emblematic
when I become gratefully dead and
consigned to mounted afterlife.
Thus hoop fully
ye accepted poetic side morsel
(mine) somewhat wry
wordsmith (me) rather bland,
yet not averse to satisfy
merchant of Venice
much (moosh pit) ado about nothing, well nigh
preferring a midsummer night's dream afore
all's well that ends well
as you like it (poetry soup)
mine sense and sensibility doth defy
ratiocination minus any helpful alibi.
Methinks what future savory dish
the spouse might cook up,
what with an abracadabra
prestidigitation (Nike) swish
right before these myopic eyes witness
whatever mine heart doth wish.
I sit enveloped in a fog
That never breaks but for the rain
Of salty tears and oozing blood
I've loosed from yet another vein.
While all around me lovers kiss
And mothers give their babes a change
New love, new clothes, each a fresh start
I see as sickeningly strange.
I crave the putrid and the shunned
The dusty corners webbed and dark
A bottom dweller, fetid form
Cast out from every patriarch.
I am not fit to walk this earth
Indwell this body I sear in
I am ruined, unfit, unclean
My bulging middle screams my sin.
If I had the strength to end it,
But Evil bids me to stay on
And face the shame I cannot speak
Birthing my brother and my son.
8/22/2016
For contest: Five rhyming stanzas and five only
Rhyme scheme:
ABCB