Long Ejects Poems
Long Ejects Poems. Below are the most popular long Ejects by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ejects poems by poem length and keyword.
A season – Ages ago
Ages ago, many a seed had been planted.
Their blossoming brings, being taken for granted,
never seen, acknowledged or appreciated.
As gardeners, sowers of, we are fated
to pay an intolerable, unbearable price
for all, all we experience that is not nice
for a parent to see, to feel, believe to be,
that has come to be a part of you and me.
------------------------------------
I – like the south pole of, a magnet pushes - away ?
I – like a distant planet without gravity – ejects ?
Is it that I repel ?, instead of attract.
Is reality ?, for me, anything beyond abstract
and truly above contact ?, - such a pity
to get down and dirty, get to the nitty-gritty.
------------------------------------
A beam of energy, a wave of light, a speck of dust
in the vacuum cleaner bag of space, brought to light
within the vast womb of our universe, have I been.
My life’s impression being, being that speck of dust,
which, speck, upon speck, upon speck, upon speck
of dust gathers, accumulating upon my soul.
Dust to dust, atom to atom, gas to gas, a planet to create
until all is to heavy, I no longer am able to carry the weight.
The weight become so unbearable, these shoulders
begin to droop, drop off – back to dust, to atom, to energy,
to that vacuum cleaner bag, to the universes womb, there ,
once again to start it all over, back on the merry-go-round.
Maybe ?, a lighter load ?, a brighter road ?,
a much better story that could be told ?
What will carry us to the next time ?
What path will we walk next time ?
What journeys will be ours next time ?
Maybe ?, when it becomes next time,
and we gather, are carried into ?,
I might impart something of value,
a new start to help carry them through,
after they have been dropped off
- blown away by the winds of times passing –
to create their own planets, live their own lives,
their own experiences without influencing
the gardener with a world of negative forces,
what has seemed a lifetime of negative energy.
B. J. “A” 2
January 19th 2003
forest limbs swing wide
tails vanish betwixt the leaves
hands learn to hold stones
muscle and thought entwining-
shaping the first fragile edge
soul entered the fray
moulding spiritual form
eyes afire with zeal-
humanoid stalks the garden
a king calling the beasts names
flint sparks in cold caves
shadows dance on raw stone walls
stories find their voice-
the stone mason stands upright
stone flint and fire seize the day
now man shapes in steel
threads thought through silver-net mesh
words flap without wings-
man beyond his own making
ejects the flaws he once bore
circuits wear the crown
king of beasts remade in steel
hands that never tire-
maker bows to better made
behold the mirror ascends
Mighty flowers shake above the quake
Children run for cover under clouds of ash
Burnt down houses driven off by lava flow
The volcano makes a path
That other world we know
Sometimes survival is based on luck
Lightning bolts hardly audible
Crash anyway through the confusion
Hills stop there suddenly
Summoned up on rocky miles
Settle down exactly where they are
Once the ground calms down
To claim their own in style
By the shore before the sun forms giants
Shadows that emerge, cast on the ocean
In compliance with the winds and clouds
Pointed edges grow sharp towers on the morn
Outside where sound elements belong
Born on electric currents moving over waves
By horizons line as lightning strikes
Reflecting light lifts landscapes rolling gray
Covers Earth over on a parade with particles
Hectic red steadfast ejects metallic crimson rocks
Lays bare their soul on solemn waters edge
They sparkle red instead of living on their own
Blue oceans form complexions overhead
Far away far reaching desert sands
Can speak of dunes and sleeping suns
Too far away from clouds to touch them
Dried figs hang on the ancient trees
Suggestions of a life long gone forgotten
Lost in a deeper slumber
Summoned up, dawning on the past
While too much sand gets in the way of thought
Survivors at the waters edge ask questions
What's in the ocean but more sea
Why is the sky raining red and fire ash
Warning signals measure mysteries
Inside familiar folds of my hanging apron
I encounter a blinkless miniature figurine
Glossy, posable, plastic as a Lego creation
Loyal component of kitchen enforces routine
Breakfast allures with buttery muffins toasted
Lunch- a- lot predicts sandwich towers teetering
Dinner calls for lavish legs of livestock roasted
Day which follows knows a sequence repeating
Pack away cycle of soap, soak, replace, bench polishes
Scouring for recipes, Lego lady's eyes neatly smile
Cinnamon wafting whirlwind with servitude accomplishes
Devourers' belches earn her Master Caterer title
Beneath bed, which ejects me at six am alarm
Failed slipper search produces palm sized plaster sculpture
Icing faced, eyes without memory, eternally calm
Solid base she stands on stops commotion from toppling her
Nine am sees my arrival, politely inquiring co-operation
Afternoon forgets to yawn, incessant key tapping keeps on
Harsh carpark steps echo, repell dusk's contemplation
Traffic jams tomorrow's chasms, where dreams hold reunion
Crisp gives way to crinkles, plaster sculpture refutes
Her congeniality and aptitude due to exhaustion
Chalky cheeks split with encouragements' overuse
Legs held as one are motionless to express discourse
Steam escaped open door shows mirrored me showered
Bounce of towel buffed flesh rises in delightful nonchalance
Droplets of conciousness roll a path cleansed in empowerment
Serpent tongue hair saturates time, attacks life with vehemence
Stanza 1
Lost in a loop again,
Where assurances polished,
But actions stay missing.
Stanza 2
Lost in a loop again,
Hearing lips craft carefully
Sentences,
That collapse once the room
ejects.
Stanza 3
Lost in a loop again,
Where apologies come
Pre-packaged,
But accountability never
Conveys.
Stanza 4
Lost in a loop again,
Listening to voices rehearse
Integrity,
Like a script they never intend to perform.
Stanza 5
Lost in a loop again,
Caught between what they
Say
And what they refuse to do.
Stanza 6
Lost in a loop again,
And the echo becomes a
Warning,
That lip service is just
Another silence.
Mindful
Startled out of nonchalant light,
Wakefulness stands at attention
Ignited flame from the eternal candle,
Energized vigil of the watchman
At the soul’s dawning daybreak
Tingling in the presence
Of every dappled infinite breath.
Rotating eye of illumination
Watchful, like a lighthouse beacon hovering,
Charts rocks and shoals through clear oceans insight,
Every nerve exposed in circumspection
Sometimes cringing in wary expose
Often basking in the light touch of satisfaction
As niggling prophecy finds confirmation in revelation
Throwing off the blinded penury of antonyms,
Embracing flashing synonyms of wisdom,
Tears of the heedful heart touch drab puzzles poverty
To polish with refinement’s shine burnished enthusiasm
For the incandescent dancing mindful
Then banish chary strobes of destitute indifference
Reaching beyond self-centered parentheses.
A lantern of thoughtfulness in floodlights
Of full harvest shared – no scattered crumbs of bread
Baked to stone in scathing flashes of the false
Eloquent vigilant splendor - never morning extinguished –
Torch to awaken lambent radiance of clarity’s joy,
Identity of the pilgrim heart, ejects sightless shades
Mindfulness blends the conscious scattered fragments
For Mosaics in clear lit portraits of charity's open hands
Throwing off the numb stalker branded carelessness
Born of intentional ignorance
Seeker’s actuated incentive to the attentive –
To hear! To see! To feel! To move in birth!
Action invigorated by accentuated humility of grace.
Date Written 6-10-21
Best #1 Poem - September 2021
1st place Trophy Win Poetry Contest - Mindful
Included in Poetry Soup Anthology - It's Still Poetry
Is it love or trust, mutual desire or strong will
that ejects entwined bodies into the unknown
from the springboard of impulsiveness?
Arched in firm embrace and defying norms of life
they leap forth with passion filled
in search of fulfillment.
A moment so intense
magnetic, unrestrained,
where the movement flows along
radiating hidden brutal strength,
and yet, so graceful to behold.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Note: After attending the inauguration of Caesar Attard’s art exhibition
at the National Museum of Fine Arts, Valletta, Malta. This is about his
painting called "Locked Leap".]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Contest: Screwed III
Sponsor: Rob Carmack
Placed 3rd
(On May 1 1960, at the very depth of the
Cold War, CIA pilot Gary Powers was shot
down over the central USSR. Here we are
imagining his conversation with a charge
d'affaires of the US Embassy. Powers
is threatening to go public on CIA
mismanagement and to tell all to the
Russians - the Igors and the Borises.
Powers died soon afterwards in a
helicopter crash.)
What's Thompson's game? He's sent a charge here?
He should have come himself. So, Mister Jinks,
I'm going to assume you're with the firm.
Tell you what happened? Why don't you tell me?
Okay, I didn't trash the Thunderbird -
but I was kinda busy, get my drift?
My face was pulling g's to beat the band
and if you knew the vehicle, you'd know
the seat ejects like bats fly outta hell -
explosive bolts. I'm falling vertically,
and spinning like a top, and if I get
alignments wrong by half an inch,
the console cuts my legs off when I spring.
So what? So this. I had things on my mind.
You want your secrets kept? So train us right.
Foresee contingencies.
The silver buck?
I chucked it. Threw it, as the chute came down,
but kept the pin. The Igors have it now.
Well fella, you got questions and to spare,
and I don't like the way they're shaping up.
Oh sure, you got your job to do. Me too,
remember? I'm the guy who got his ass
shot out the sky at sixty thousand feet!
I didn't buy the farm. Is that a sin?
Tell Langley I'm an Amish - what the hell?
I told them it's curare.
Get real, pal!
They may be Borises, but I won't have
some guy get stiffed because he pricked his thumb.
They'd find out anyhow. You bet I have!
I got more beefs than Texas. Pin 'em back.
Nobody thought it through, this turkey-shoot,
or what we'd do, dumb Joes like little ol' me
when Igor got us. Unprofessional!
Now bust your ass, and get me outta here.
When I get back, I'm gonna tell the world
how Langley hangs its fly-guys out to dry.
We got a First Amendment. Let 'em try!
S mile costs nothing, so give it free and gratuitous
P leasant demeanour is a sure sign of happiness
R elate to all in an amiable way, it strengthens camaraderie
E mpathy is core to happiness, the ability to feel for others
A wesome feeling of love is like a spurt, it ejects out,
D rowning all bitterness and feelings of revulsion.
I nfuse in oneself and others an insatiable zest for living.
N either wealth nor possessions can make us truly happy.
G oodness of heart and a clean conscience warrant peace n’ joy!
H appiness comes only to persons who seek it the least,
A nd, not to those who struggle to have it by means, fair or foul.
P hilosophers agree that true happiness stems from within.
P erpetual happiness lies in being satisfied with what we have.
I gnite interest in the world outside and enjoy the beauty around.
N egativity destroys happiness and should be kept at arm’s length
E xpress gratitude to all who have helped us in some way.
S pend quality time with family and friends, spreading good cheer.
S ubmit finally to God and hopefully wait for His benediction!
March. 27.2023
Spreading Happiness Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Anoucheka Gangabisson