Long Element Poems
Long Element Poems. Below are the most popular long Element by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Element poems by poem length and keyword.
What if you were an inhabitant of a world
Where there's no hate, greed, jealousy, envy, and pride;
And one is not enraged by the prosperity of another?
What if conceit and enmity are erased from the course of history,
And malignity is perpetually swallowed in the deepest of pits,
Sinking to rise no more?
What if your subconscious ideate a world
Filled with love, peace, and harmony?
What if Seven Billion human beings could live together under one canopy,
Tending to and upholding high esteem for one another
As benevolence becomes the ultimate act,
That reigns over all timelines?
What if we put aside the destructive comparisons and competitions,
And every individual follows his or her own path
While uplifting all others at the same time?
What if the promotion of individuality and self productivity,
Was the niche of every human —one to another—
And every gift and talent was equally consequential to society?
What if there was no lust for power
And political leaders as well as government officials,
Assume offices not to seek their own selfish interests
By misappropriating public funds, and embezzling state owned belongings to enrich themselves?
What if they had the sincere dedication
To ensure the welfare and security of the state and its citizens?
What if this world was a sanctuary of peace with the nonexistence of violence,
Where nations were aimed at building, rather than destroying one another?
What if unity becomes a compelling force
That binds the Earth to its core,
And compassion remains the lifelong element
That keeps the Universe in motion?
What if the globe was entirely void
of racism, prejudice, discrimination, and partiality;
Where each and every human was afforded equally the same opportunity
Regardless of their race, sex, ethnicity, culture or nationality?
What if we could finally dwell in a word once dreamed of by Martin Luther King Jr.,
Where "humans will no longer be judged based on the color of their skin, but by the contents of their character"?
There is an extreme power in these questions!
But what if they were a reality, can you imagine what we could all achieve?
What if you allow that imagination to create pictures of transformations?
What if you act stepwise from these unceasing questions,
And give it a chance to become a momentous action,
To make this Planet a better Creation?
What was missing in my life?
You!
I lived many years without you,
not knowing what I was missing.
One day a surprise came to us
at an unexpected late- in- life date,
it was a baby boy.
He smiled at us with blue eyes
and bald little head,
and we were complete.
I treasured the cuddly feel of you,
fitting into my arms so well,
your weight seemed just right,
to pack you around every day,
even as you grew and grew.
You added an element to my life
that had been missing.
I now learned to slow down,
stop at playgrounds, push your swing
and sit in the one next to yours,
leaning back, looking up into
the crowns of swaying trees.
Taking walks, delighting in gathering fallen
red maple leaves, watching bugs
and birds.
Frogs and crawdads appeared in our bathtub,
I emptied your pockets while doing the wash
of rocks, seashells, dried katidid shells,
sticks and marbles.
I learned that stepping on jacks
at night while going to the bathroom hurts.
On your first fishing trip you accidently hooked a duck
and cried because you thought you hurt it.
I already knew of your compassionate heart.
You and I laughed and cried watching " Free Willy,"
"The fox and the hound" and "Alladin."
You brought joy to my life.
I learned that it is exciting to watch you play soccer,
I cheered and hooted and watched from the bleechers,
while you ran your little heart out,
I watched for signs of your asthma acting up,
but luckily you seem to outrun it.
On the first Halloween you were a little
smiling pumpkin that I pushed in the stroller,
but soon you were running with your buddies,
dragging a pillow case filled with candy,
and I had to scurry to keep up with you.
On your first day of school I was nervous,
I had to leave you with strangers.
Several of us Moms were hanging around the hallway
peeping into the door's little window,
until they made us leave.
Then came field trips, help with homework,
I was "room mother" to be near you and help,
and visited you in the cafeteria at lunchtime
on "Parent's day."
Suddenly, you are taller that me!
The braces came off, and you have a summer job,
and you are very good with it, I am proud of you.
You now have a Highschool Diploma and
are getting your driver's licence,
but you will always be my little boy,
and I will love you forever.
Love, Mom
The idea of a living constitution
has the same forensic indeterminacy
as a committed dream.
I am content to trust this dream to the end
to have it fill my cup of hope all day and night.
I am content to receive its order
to hasten to obey without a pause.
But, the old voice sounds
unrelentingly in the chamber: Do not
compromise. Punish.
Crucify him.
The infirm musing of a perpetual dreamer
rising up with eyes wild for relief.
I am content with the terror and anticipation that
keeps turns by watching me:
Justice, once imagined, cannot be undone.
I have been left to think along these lines
to look for the abandonment of arcane unfairness
months after months.
The months
burn up as a fading lantern
homage to the majesty of the absurd:
A muse easy to bear, Camusian laughter to
suffering’s exalted well —
what single rule might break the dry spell?
Sometimes the unforeseen, the unpredictable
springs in the heart of justice
bending its way upward
again and yet again
towards a distant point
all unaccountably, into the strengthening clasp
of fresh now-born idea,
nearer to binding faith
than wild dismembering injustice.
When the far-distant element
of suffering humanity
looms out more clear;
the faint, far, complex notes of hope
its head moves near
and new flicks of justice’s well
unfolds beyond the known.
Is there any new depth to this well?
Say, what is its true nature?
Quietly nature covers over
the dying bird and the dead rover.
If justice’s dead, it is as though
a robin died beneath the snow
tucked away neatly, whose bright eyes
once stared with impudent surprise
at every tit-bit flung to her.
Now every season we must bear
to live without its whistled air,
for law lives beneath the Spring,
like a sequestered paradise
exiled from the steady hammer of faith,
a trackless rice field
ever trudging through groves of
crouching, unconquered territories.
Oh enchanted universe
conqueror of earth’s stadium
in your wild, singing glory
the faults you committed live.
Come hear my sharpened cries
surely, you can hear my note of crisis.
Ceaselessly I raise my cry.
My cry ascends and floats away
scattered by whirling winds afar.
* “Endure what you suffer as being a father’s punishment.” (Heb. 12:5b-7)
Author's note: written on the anniversary of Harvard's abuse of my human rights
I belong to metallic soiled Earth,
solar-fired water's atmosphere;
these oil and blood-fluent elements
would feel freer
not belonging to you,
to us.
They
we
are our belongings
but not our property,
commodity.
Our multicultural values
measure and calculate
design and develop
investing primal qualities of time
predicting secondary quantitative spatial outcomes.
Less time constrains freedom and value and love.
More freedom responds to surrounding needs and wants and relationships
with less dissonant restraint,
competitive response;
with more cooperative invitations
for mutual mentoring regenerate options,
our pacific path revealing positive intentions.
Missing freedom suffers,
as missing incarnation dissonates,
as absent polynomials disformate.
Incarnation's value grows enculturing time
measured with Earth's elements,
temporal functions,
systems design and development.
Each element
identity
system and set
contains regenerative potentiating value,
functionally forming network constellations
of prime-frequency, flow,
rhythmic relationships,
sustaining balanced harmonies,
an ecological economy
static until its season to unfold again.
Limited value decomposes from ego-systemic mortality.
Regenerate value emerges from eco-logical coincident, co-arising comprehension.
Space enacts time's liturgical rite of passage,
as time incarnates space's ambidextrous function
with fractal equivalent information.
Ambivalent eco-normic tipping points
out equi-valent ecological potential,
permacultural regenerate systemic nutrients
for sustaining polycultural maintenance.
We grow adeptly incarnating cooperative economies
as we become allergic to commodifying competition,
win-lose systemic incorporations.
Well-apprenticed permaculturalists,
Taoists,
Buddhists,
Fullerian Synergists,
enthymematic communicators
re-ligious self-with-other integrators,
economic ecological care of Other,
Earth Justice,
perhaps even Universal Intelligent therapeutic care,
evolves yeastfully prime rooted in multisystemic integrity.
We reach deeply and widely within remembering
our justice womb of poly-solidarity,
regenerate subsidiarity swimming
remerging toward light's bright flashing flight.
We belong to Earth
and feel freer longing with all of us together
in one Earth-bound network cycle.
Niitthaar Perumai: The Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Kurals 24, 25 & 26, Translations with commentary
K24: niraimoli maanthar perumai nilatthu
maraimoli kaadti vidum.
The might of men whose word is never vain,
The 'secret word' shall to the world proclaim. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
* In the Pope edition of the Kural, this's number 28.
He who guides his five senses by the book of wisdom,
will be a seed in the world of excellence. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
In this world, the ascetic's greatness will reveal itself
through (magically) unfathomable means. (Tr. T.Wignesan)
K25: suvaioli pooroosai naarramen rainthin
vagaitherivaan kaddee ulagu.
Taste, light, touch, sound, and smell: who knows the way
Of all the five, -- the world submissive owns his sway. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
*In the Pope edition, this kural is numbered: 27.
The world is within the knowledge of him who knows the properties of taste,
sight, touch, hearing, and smell. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
Only ascetics who control the five senses: gustatory, visual, tactile, auditory,
and olfactory - can influence (and possess) the world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
K26: seyatkariya seivaar periyaar ciriyar
seyatkariya seikalaa thaar.
Things hard in the doing will great men do;
Things hard in the doing the mean eschew. (Tr. G.U.Pope)
The great will do those things which it is difficult to do; the mean
cannot do those things which it is difficult to do. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)
Men who have renounced this world can do what is out of reach of those who
remain attached to this world. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
(Here, it would be tautological if "niitthaar' were to be translated as"great or noble" men in the sense of the "jun tzu" of the Yi Jing. The emphasis is clearly on the element of sacrifice: the wilful suppression of the rewards of the five senses and their concomitant detachment of benefits available for selfish indulgence, so much so that a more literal translation would sound rather platitudinous, such as:
Big things can be done by big people. Small men who attempt to carry out great undertakings will fail.
In other words, the purpose of this couplet is somewhat dubious (it doesn't add to our knowledge); it rather looks like a "filling in" of the decade. T.Wignesan)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Eldest daughter – I Praise
Twenty two years ago
December twenty second,
two thousand eighteen
"star student" born
this papa (and most
likely thee birth mother)
initially felt ecstatic,
dramatic (yes frenetic),
and careworn
as freshly minted parents,
but gifted with a daughter,
whose existence far
more precious
than any Earthborn
rare widgets, gewgaws,
gems, et cetera, despite
evoking unsolicited,
unpleasant, and
unmanageable forlorn
communication "dirt poor"
living (at least ten years
of wretchedness at 1148
Greentree Lane) unable
to toot your horn,
cuz unbearable, undesirable,
unforgettable, et cetera,
and manifold challenged ,
when beloved Shana
Punim evinced inborn
developmental delay,
(which severe electric
koolaid acid test
patience of this father),
much more difficult
than playing krummhorn,
now after tendering the trials
and tribulations, an
amalgamation of
poignant affects,
whereat your
permanent presence...
(must never NOT precede mine),
cuz..., I would definitely mourn,
your absence, thus felt the timely
opportunity to dash off
a birthday poem to you
in tandem with sharing,
(while comfortably numb
and figuratively licking war
torn psychological wombs) - torn
and ripped, queued,
peppered natty psyche
pockmarked with scorn
from self, (and those lives,
this dada immediately
impacted) particularly
your person roar'n
with cumulative anger toward
this insightful fellow,
(who claims to know
what thee feel toward me),
especially when ****
hours of valuable
time, now caught
(say, eh...approximately, fraught
upon the half life of rare Earth
element Eden), not
just strictly naught
heard thru the grapevine,
but forcing Math (hew)
analysis, via meditation, poetry
writing therapy, et cetera.
Hence...I apologize,
asper unasked for pain wrought
thee, sans being unemployed,
demeaning "mother Abby,"
bumbling, horrid house
keeper (Hagrid himself,
would turn down invitation),
plus Facebook fiasco,
imbroglio, and locomotive -
complicit in behavior
comparable to pedophile,
yet please let me conclude
by admitting total lack
of wherewithal.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR DAUGHTER!
One dark and cloudy day, [on a Sunday] in a ruggy old church that sit on a hill,
member's and quest, gather's in together and all takes their seats. The loud noise
of thunder (outside) startle's everyone inside and many were murmering quite worr-
isome, but as situation's be as they be, inside, the atmosphere was anxious and frill,
in this church that sit's (?) on a hill!!.. So with all of the worshipper's back inside, its
10:45 in the morning, I began to wonder, "is there someplace else I should be", "the
devil", had my thoughts on undefile things, but the sereal sound of the sister's and
brother's-praying and the choir singing, quickly the voice of an angel{whispers in my
ear} take a seat you're here by divine choice not of your own, but it's my Master--
Will. "This-this church that sit's on a hill". They were singing. "Hail-le-lu-ah(Lord) hail-
le-lu, there's mercy in the atmosphere-hail-le-lu-aaaah. "He is the screamer". God's
powerfull and mighty-he's able to send blessing beyond the stratousphere-hail-le-lu-u-
aaaahh. "He blesses the screamer". "My Redeemer". Now the pastor enter the (sanct-
uary) from another door I did not see, step's up-everone claps their in acknowledge-
ment & repect, not unto him(he's just a vessel) but to whom thundering voice become
louder (outside) the light's flicker off and on, he comforts everyone to sit down and be-
gan to tell-us-that on his way here this morning, he seen one of the members who was
just baptish about a month ago. On the corner looking sad and so frill, come back home
my sister (he tells her to get into the car) God got something better for ya, (in this church
that sit's on a hill). "My Redeemer, My Redeemer", he instruck's everyone to touch 3 peo-
ples and say. My Redeemer, my redeemer, he knows that whatever is troubeling you-go
ahead and be a screamer-for he is our Redeemer. Again everyone clap's and I myself be-
gan to enjoy the serenity of friends and backslidder's crying just like me. Pastor - SHOUT's
OUT-over the storm that's approaching outside, let the outside amendetie's reassure you
of the element that's on the inside. {God} He's the author and the finisher of all the ele-
ments in the mindset of the silent one's & the scream'mer's. Pastor, "whom do you speak
of (?)... He's known as the Redeemer".
Elusive pursuit endeavoring to craft a great poem
I (analogous to a rolling stone)
confess, no deliberate intent, yet often wonder
what spurs me to nudge, goad, coax, et cetera
semblance of reasonable poetic rhyme
despite modesty regarding
ably linkedin words for others to ponder
more often than not experiencing nonresponder,
nevertheless share mine writing
with folks cyberspace out yonder
or aliens occupying
beyond the pale of outer limits
amidst the twilight zone,
where dark shadows
looming near the edge of night
hint of spooky forebodings.
Without lofty literary ambitions,
more so stream
of consciousness abandonment,
yours truly rests content
to cobble, gamble, noodle... courtesy
swifty tailored stylishly harried element
mild mannered modest gent
bumbling along boulevard of
broken (po' whet) dreams intent
far less superman than Clark Kent
exercising mental cogs and wheels meant
merely to liberate momentary overconfident
zealous spontaneous inspiration,
albeit ordinarily quiescent
ex post facto concluding
equals time most salient
direct object lesson learned
lame, insipid, feeble resultant
effort generates undercurrent
aghast how rapid
(think lightspeed) went.
Yours truly his own worst critic ad aware
how avast mein kampf replete with bare
inducent to tap into latent fledgling clear
propensity to express creatively, I declare
bonafide potential to join pantheon excelsior
reserved for established authors within their
respective canon, genre, league...,
nonetheless an obvious flair
seemed evident perhaps coalesced
when in utero biological gear
yielded wiggly, ugly, scrawny,
quirky Harris heir
(sole son and second of three offspring)
an older and younger sister,
which introverted brother bullies
did constantly jeer
token scapegoat suffered
one after another kingly leer
pushing psychological state near
precipice off into dock side of moon,
who sought
(wharf far art grim reaper) to pier
without naked qualm evincing
one very bony rear
without sympathy for the devil
merely spells severely
pockmarked psyche therefore
impossible mission to set tattered self esteem
tacked toward in opposite direct where
dark shadow of doubt doth not veer
me into apathetic, horrific, pathetic...
suicidal mental state of yesteryear.
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration