Long Ecstatically Poems
Long Ecstatically Poems. Below are the most popular long Ecstatically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ecstatically poems by poem length and keyword.
Elder RightBrain felt compassions never die,
they simply enter colonizing peak
and complexly exit creolizing deep
erotic/agapic sexsensory sleeps
co-arising passion's positive redemption
Not quite so much ecstatically felt
in our first inhale longing breath
as in our last surrendered exhale
Synergetic belonging
co-redeeming breathless pleasure,
however unrequited,
resiliently touches sacred peace
with all indigenously resonant souls
ReGenerating EarthTribe's healthy heartbeat way
panentheistically anticipating wealthy paradise life
first inhaling birth of longing truth
last exhaling re-birthed belonging
Within Elder EarthMother's root felt
pronoia choice
empowering FatherSun's light crown
touching pleasure voice.
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
Who are we
in ego's deductive dark winter
decomposing fallen embryos
nurturing healthcare?
Who are we
springtime consumers of inductive light
and dark wet nights
nourishing ecstatically growing life systems?
Who are we
in diastatic summer's full regeneration,
bright light warm absorbing flows
of water's baptismal promise?
risk,
opportunity
for future replenishment?
Who are we
producing fall's winnowed harvests
branching
flowing
flying scattered seeds of time's intense dense integrity?
Advent of four-prime spiral seasons,
light's empowerment
balancing heart-root rhythmic systems
flowing Earth's nurturing river
of rich polycultural
polypathic
polymorphic becoming
Understory for Earth's Ground of Being,
RNA soil languaging DNA soul regenerators,
revolutions enfolding evolution's bilateral Tao way.
When I was a newborn,
I had no experience to reassure me
my first gasp for air
would not also be my last.
Between that first second inhaled reassurance,
and now,
I have operated under a romantic assumption,
More clean and nurturing air will follow.
Now, I have enough post-romantic experience
to deter me
from assuming this next gasp
for healthy air,
for more time to listen for compassion
still surfing in and out
EarthMother's warm bath of nurtured reassurance
will not also be my ego's last.
My dramatic eco-memory's first romantic breath
now also echoes my last timeless moment
Fully
ecstatically re-investing
away from ego's autonomous wall
of lifetime erected identity
into a webbed forest's nutritional re-memory
faithfully resurrected again
not autonomous,
unpropertied
unincorporated
unbreathing
more than me.
And I hope I will not be troubled
or even distracted,
by all those competing for air time breaths
assuming falsehoods of ZeroSum economies
in-between first and last.
I seem to remember
a golden post-toddler childhood
in which each day was a journey
ecstatically timeless,
yet within bookends
of coral dawn
and bruised dusk,
between waking from true timeless sleep
and returning to my evoluting inside place
for adventurous pilgrimage,
courage in face of nightmares,
curiosity looking full-face
between inside enchantments
and outside ecstasies.
But now
I am that parent who calls to liturgical dinner,
harvests and buys the victuals,
plans the sacramental meals
on my better focused days,
administers all cleansing rituals,
defends all rights against retributive trespass
and pollution
of sand and soul
water and soil
sacred energy...
Secular disenchantments
distract from Here we are in this inviting,
yet constantly changing,
day for just us Now,
far outweigh sacred enchantments.
Ecstasy feels like a reserve
preserved for early WinWin childhood
on a glorious summer day of liberty,
While mendacity of time's turbulence,
downdrafts,
push-back,
competitively usual business
projects lack of time for leisurely enchantments
from unseen dawn
through vaporizing dusk,
Two moments of each outdoor day
unlikely to engage my full, ecstatic,
still-parenting old age presence
remembering golden enchanting childhood.
“Stardust is falling!” I heard my son cry,
his small precious face looking up at the sky.
“Stardust?” I echoed, and thought how my son
had such a vivid imagination.
“Yes, Mommy. Look!” he said, taking my hand.
He led me outside; the sky I then scanned.
I felt an enchantment, for what did I see?
Myriads of stars shone down brightly at me.
And the harder I stared, the more that it seemed
the heaven above was like something we dreamed.
The sky was a forest, and each star - a tree -
was blazing in splendor against ebony.
A celestial wildfire spread there overhead.
“See, Mommy, see?” my dear child then said.
No dust falling down from those stars did I see,
but his eyes now looked downward ecstatically.
When I followed his gaze, my shock was so sweet.
A blanket of stardust I found at our feet!
The goal of life is rapture. Art is the way we experience it.
Joseph Campbell
A calm, unpretentious, breathtaking connection,
A hypnotic glimpse of Zen-alike delightful flection.
Spirit healing serenade into the borderline,
A serenity of a viable pond is lost in perfection.
The laconic calmness that is invoked and divine.
A magic soul, soaring in sync with heaven's shine,
untying of mind and soul from bowing emptiness.
A sigh of solace is followed by another whine.
Achieving inner peace and tackling stealthiness.
Silky ripples, awash in tranquility and richness,
Innate calm is layered with rustical sylvan charm.
Embraced by the arms of unwavering prettiness,
Words began to ooze from the scarlet smarm.
This work was iconic; I've never seen a palm.
She moved ecstatically; she had no tale to tell.
Defeating demons and surviving a swarm
Dance, dance akin to a child before he fell.
Lose your inhibitions below orbs and spell
In the glow of affection, dance to the glee.
Dance, dance, as a baby learns to quell
Dance is a trick to happiness and ecstasy.
Dance is the dialect of a huge banshee.
Dance is a specific way to discover your mood.
Dancing before a kid is dangling on his knee.
Written: April 02, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'R' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
When in drizly April, I am swayed by
incredible petrichor, run to the window,
watch pouring rain on every trembling leaf,
every quivering branch, caressing the trees,
ecstatically savouring every bit of
those tiny raindrops… as if trees waiting
for so long to get drenched with passion!
I only live to dream about you!
I only live to pine for you!
When in majestic Fall, I get intoxicated
with vibrant colours of the universe, leaves
whirling, swirling, twirling, fluttering
all around, I want to dive in the piles of colours
like a soul in ecstasy, and feel the
warmth of you clasping my hand tight!
I only live to embrace you
when my eyelids droop in slumber,
in frosty chilly winter nights, scintillating
snowflakes covering the treetops,
rooftops laced with silver ribbons
of shiny white, evergreens bejewelled
with snow pellets, I wait and glance
through the hazy misty window panes,
and reminisce about the unforgettable
precious moments of our togetherness.
I only live to read poetry with you!
when the moon glistens in hushed darkness,
stars twinkle and sprinkle stardust
in our dreamy eyes, fireflies glitter
and moths surrender to their destiny!
your tender silky voice makes me fall
in love again and again...and again.
I only live to read poetry with you!
April 7, 2023
"I Only Live To Love You" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
Placed Sixth
To avoid the pale blue pain hue
I do not visit the river shore any more
If I do sometimes by chance
One by one
Our spent moments
Both closed and open
Come in a long bluish queue
And in the snow of thought grow deep blue sores
Hospital odour
shreds of blue in the air
Prayers seem hollow
Blues inexorably follow
The river-shore blue beauty
Is elegiac and unbearable for me
Do you remember
The blue river shore
Would madden us more and more
The blue air from your hair
That we ecstatically shared
While dissolving our lips in the mutual cups
In the veins
In the blue lanes and bye lanes of our laugh
Would gallop the horses
Now they are dews on forceps
Of the frightening time
In tattered rhymes
All chimes robbed of
As one day all on a sudden you fell
The current went pell-mell in the river
Leaving me sobbing
In those blue myriad cells
Very pale by your sudden departure
Into the ethereal air
Never to return
Time sits in urn
When I come here
The moment broken seemed irreparable
The embracing blue unbearable
____________________________________
2/11/2016
Or ~ Breakfast in the Fields~
The animated, joyful couple, just you and I.
With our picnic, wicker basket wonderfully full.
Of Brioche,our favorite cheeses, fruits, Chai
and mirth.
It's so wonderfully quiet here except for the
sound of bountious butterfly wings.
And I can hear the sound of your soft eyelids,
moving with love, as you gaze at me!
This is our forever time!
Since we met, I have always been thine.
This is our time to enjoy, we are the happy couple.
Who very long ago, found me, just a pretty girl.
And you, my destiny, my eternally handsome
and sensuos, forever, boy.
You still drive me wild, ecstatically.
As it was, and ever shall be!
August 28, 2019
Noon PST