Long Elemental Poems
Long Elemental Poems. Below are the most popular long Elemental by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elemental poems by poem length and keyword.
Everyone is a blended mixture of
Elementals made up of
Oxygen, carbon,
Hydrogen, nitrogen,
Calcium, phosphorus, and…
Trace elements
A divine recipe, perhaps?
Some are yet to be born
Some are young,
Some are old.
Some are people of color,
Some are people who lack color.
Some speak one language
Some speak many tongues.
Some are social
Some are antisocial.
Some are healthy
Some are sick.
But what am I?
Some are poor
Some are middle-class
Some are rich.
Some believe in God
Some sense a higher design
Some aren’t sure
Some are atheists.
Some are extroverts
Some are introverts.
Who am I?
Some live on farms
Some live in suburban communities
Some live in towns and cities.
Some live off the grid
Some are liberal
Some are moderate
Some are conservative.
How shall I live?
Some are loving
Some are joy-filled
Some are hate-filled.
Some want peace
Some want a cause
Some want war.
Some want to destroy
Some want to mend
Some want to kill
Some want to heal.
Should I matter?
Should I not?
What are my choices?
Everybody dies…
But do I truly live?
In this vast simplexity of humanity
Or am I more than the sum of the parts?
Or am I just a glitch of stardust
Or a spark of the divine?
Momentarily aware
Yet, unaware
Forever in BlueJeans…
Forever questioning?
You creep into our lives, a shadowed cheat,
with shameless claim that you are one of us,
and so with honest poets you compete,
and cause a vile unnecessary fuss.
You take the place of poets that are true
who share their feelings spoken from their hearts,
replacing them with tripe as you pursue
the fame a poet laureate imparts.
You spew your words with elemental ease,
a fraudulent perverse poetic hack;
just blending in and trying hard to please;
your musings flow yet with emotions lack.
Though artificially intelligent
you’re duping us with this embezzlement.
July 9, 2025
Poem of the Day - July 10, 2025
The wings of dream soar high
to capture the rainbow rapture,
wrapped with chromatic charisma,
weave the tapestry of seraphic life
with the hued ribbons of passion,
design the elemental latent lattice
of self-seeking fervent syndrome
that fails to force out fantasy haze,
lurking behind the cloud of delusion,
for it has hypnotic leverage of trance
to blow my mind away in the wind.
Wedged by the splitting bevel
of the slashing time of reality,
the frail fragments of failed entity,
I feel framed for the irresolute life,
dispersed deranged on the path,
fading in the horizon of nowhere,
not yet leading to the rainbow
that lies dismantled in the debris,
disappearing in the deep dark sky.
Aspiring to retrieve the derelict dreams,
I configure the rudiments of wings to fly.
___________________
February 18, 2022
For Brian Strand's Premier Choice No 1188 Contest
Water you are crystal clear
And you pour, you're in elucidating body that rises
Onto the shore
And I often wonder, why
You're in all of us
Elemental molecule you reside within us
And water it's you we trust
Your the making of us
Clay I'm so amazed
That you're just dirt
Molecule solid eyes graphic
Gratified bounded and you hurt
Clay I can't wait until the day God removes me then I'll say hallelujah
And all his ways I'm so ever grateful for you Lord today
oh God you are Almighty creator created with your words Heaven on an earth all matter and all being all things
oh God you are
Water why do you bother you submerge surround the rocks up and above and bottom it's Crystal Clear when you're near you make waves like the ocean and I often wonder why you're in US you were here straight from the beginner we were made with God's hands as he planned we created with we were created why him
Clay your solid almost diabolic I touch you
I can feel you're unlike water you are tangible
But both of you are real with water I cannot stand on
But clay you are the ground that I walk on
Molecule solid ice graphic grafted bounded and you hard
Clay I can't wait until the day
God removes me but until then I'll say
Hallelujah and I won't be miscued fooled tricked
I still believe in you you're the rock that I stand on
When you speak you flow Living Waters
Thank you Lord my God my father
the water and the clay
09/05/17
Written by James Edward Lee Sr
The wheel of time churns up the entropy dust,
settles on the unstable shelf of disorganized life.
In maimed moments of dispersed perturbation
truth oscillates beyond grasp on ripples of chaos.
In the ordained flux of frenzied disorder
everything ruffles to change except for change.
The alchemy of elemental metamorphosis
unveils the real façade of basic transformation.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay surge,
my mind is disheveled to a dishabille state,
strips off the flimsy layers of antique emotions,
confounded cascade of tear carries away all.
Yet, when my castle of sand on the shore of yearning
tumbles down in a clutter of scattered debris of heart,
I discover the hidden flute of feelings, and play again
the melody of ecstasy in the symphony of memory.
August 10, 2020
Brian Strand's Contest : A Brian Strand You Choose
It's the essence of what we're made of.
It's right beneath us as we walk.
It's what the Creator used from up above---
to make "the walking colours that talk".
The essence of movement that kisses your face.
It can push the sea and move the trees.
Sweat on a hot day can be erased.
Breeze that's felt with grace and ease.
The burning flames put out heat.
The colours are brilliant and bright.
It's used outside when you need something to eat.
It also brings dark things to light.
It's the only thing that can quench your thirst.
It's the one thing that connects all life.
If you don't receive this you might just burst.
A lack of this clear liquid can even create strife.
We need all these elements to make the world go round.
They are the essence of creation and what makes the world sound.
Im tiefsten Unendlichkeit bin ich immerhin, da wo auch der Trommelstein steht! Er spricht mit
mir dürch die Dunkelheit!
Wann die geschliffenen Eiströpfen sowie auch die Schneefloken fällen und das glanzende,
himmlische Licht scheint auf die weiten Felder und die unzählingen Baüme.
Mit der Anstrengung des Alltags, zieht der Mensch seine Energie dürch das Einatmen der
natürlichen Kräfte.
Das Gleichgewicht der Elemente entspringt aus dem Erdiennen, und erinert uns an das wahre
Leben.
© Joe Maverick 25-02-2010
15-10-2010
MY THOUGHTS IN SLEEP
In the deepest timelessness I am,
And by me stands the pulsing stone,
He speaks with me through darkness deep
Polished ice on the fallen snowflakes drop.
A glittering heavenly light over rolling fields
Innumerable trees illuminate.
As with inflexible problems of mundane life
Mankind expends his energy,
While inhaling deep from nature’s breath.
The eternal balance of elemental life goes on,
& From within the earth’s bowels deep, groans emanate,
to impart to me life’s verity.
© Joe Maverick 25-02-2010
15-10-2010
The roots of our trees poisoned
The fruits of our labour rotted
In the middle of this the core slowly falls apart,
A reminder of what has been tarnished -
What is now lost
The others flourish, growing until the rot is forgotten
It becomes erased, disappearing until invisible
The story of an ancestry fallen
Admist the extinction of something so significant
The world continues to move on
More trees planted, even stronger -
To keep the damage, forever hidden
A history cut short, now a distant memory -
So far
Why would one tree poisoned,
Why does one tree matter
The answer -
It was different
It carried great power
It was blessed by the moon and stars
It was favoured by elemental nature
And to those that were envious, felt inferior
A tree that held the knowledge of the world
But still managed to be humble
It carried the weight of progression,
Even invention
The land surrounding, belonged to it
Filled with wealth and riches, infinite,
Yet the trees around it performative
Claiming to protect -
But for the safety of themselves, choose to betray it to the enemy
Stripped of its bark
Ridden of its fruit
Separated of its roots
Stolen of its identity
And buried under the weight of the enemy's jealousy and hate
And if you haven't figured out who is the tree
It represents the colonialism and erasure of black history
Elemental formulations of healing for the soul
Consequential co-ordinations as we resist growing old
Monumental calculations from a mind in the scientific cold
Fundamental indignation from a heritage that has been cheaply sold
Inspiration from an underground rebellion against corruption
Congregations gathering peacefully while they plan the next outrageous eruption
Elevations of encouragement reserved for the next humble induction
Consternations of conscience as they deliberate the latest disruption
Elated Birthrights of grace that alleviate the suffering of man
Conflated sights of misplaced rights that insight the oppressed to take a stand
Berated knights of armies that fight for the underprivileged lands
Outdated insights from the furtherest from right that cannot reach out to take their neighbours hand
Sorrow amidst the grieving leaves of the oldest oak lined tree
Tomorrow rids the meaning of the boldest manoeuvre to be free
Borrow a reference from those streaming the coldest point of view even though they cannot see
Chateaux of Buddhist Mist resists those seeming as though they understand what it means to just “be”
Retrospective Franz Kafka, Kubrick and Van Gogh are turning in their respective artistic graves
Genuflective baroque bursts out in the streets and illuminates the belligerent and brave
My perspective resists the twists in the narrative that perpetuate the misrepresentation of knowledge in this dying age
Defective subjectives invoke word detectives as contradictions alleviate words from a sage
Retreating from gender and bigotry , racism, discrimination and persecution
Completing a consulate meeting while avoiding contamination of your verbal elocution
Deleting the render of fascism, recrimination and avoiding electrocution
Competing the bender of catachlysm while intimidation forces an absolution
Give peace a chance while you look at him askance and allow a new world to now form
Live through this strange dance while the privilege prance and the poor remain utterly forlorn
Forgive the wanton violent stance of those who are existing war torn
Outlive the demise of the good in disguise as a baby cries after being born
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
What makes poetry what it is?
Poetry is more than just a genre of literature
Or merely another branch or offshoot of authorship.
Poetry is language in its most sublime form…
The language of emotions, and passions,
And the expression of the imagination…
A uniquely universal language
In which the human heart engages
To communicate with and about nature,
The human experience, and itself.
The language of poetry expresses
The very image of life in all its various guises.
Poetry is, in other words,
The elemental stuff our lives are made of.
Everything in life that makes it worth remembering,
And telling others about, is what makes poetry what it is.