Long Elicit Poems
Long Elicit Poems. Below are the most popular long Elicit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elicit poems by poem length and keyword.
I love the rhythm of the rhyme
It's cadence forms a melody
An indelible expression
Filled with magic imagery
Poetically a skill
I love the rhythm of the rhyme
Longing to be heard, juxtaposed
The feelings, to the written word
Spinning words, gathering up speed,
It's ups and downs elicit joy
I love the rhythm of the rhyme
A conductor's musical deed
An orchestrated symphony
Words peal a beat on timpani
An aria that comes alive
I love the rhythm of the rhyme
December 31, 2016
Raging fires roared, yet nothing could hold her back;
she was born in flames...
Sadly, that which helps forge vitality, indubitably, burns.
Embers soon seek refuge in blanketed debris,
praying to fade as apathy attempts to nurture injury.
Mercy, I beg, draw near and peel back ashen veil;
enable compassion, tenderness, and understanding to elicit
tears of gratitude, for they are certain to ignite abandoned flames!
Let passion's fire forever radiate deeply within this and every soul.
May all come to know her warmth, be guided by her light,
feel her rapture in righteous endeavors, and
nevermore become singed nor devoured
by her eternal blaze.
PEACE, LOVE & JOY TO ALL
2020
A tender discourse of artistic thoughts
Ambles my mind searching for prologue
Aiming to become a poetic dialogue,
Striving for words that elicit a response.
And you enter with an aiding portrayal
Letting my words live and breathe,
To evolve into lines of synchronic rhythm
And emanate sounds of lyrical music.
And you tell me words must be set free
To hear as I hear, and feel as I do:
Joy of romance or sorrow of heartbreak,
Elation of birth, or anguish of death.
Words set free weave a cohesive likeness
Choosing a dawn or night of darkness,
Painting a world full of cheer or fear
Upon shiny meadows or wispy pastures.
Shedding limitations of form and syllables,
Guided only by poetic aspirations
You awaken me with a wondrous theme,
You think so big, poem of my dream!
October 27, 2017
Placed first in standard contest #138 by Brian Strand
In the twilight of forgotten realms, I wander
through the corridors of timeless dreams, where shadows whisper
secrets of bygone eras, wrapped in the melancholic shroud of lost echoes.
I have danced through the labyrinths of destiny,
each turn a moonlit enigma, each step a silent question,
never knowing the path, only the mystery of the journey's end.
I cradled the embers of thresholds,
embraced the stepping stones of the soul and ascended ethereal ladders,
discovering cryptic beauty in detours and hidden wisdom in ditches.
I swam through the celestial seas of desire,
constructed ephemeral castles to house my spectral hopes,
and endured the scorching brilliance of fervent affection.
No longer do I chase the mirage of fleeting ambitions,
I have scaled the peaks that resounded with my name,
and tasted the forbidden nectar of oblivion.
Now, I bow in reverence to immutable fate,
and every reckless choice that has woven the tapestry of my existence.
I cherish the scars etched upon my spirit,
and the sweet fatigue of euphoria,
my life an open book, its pages fluttering in the cosmic breeze.
I bid farewell to absolutes,
and greet the boundless infinity with a serene smile,
choosing happiness over the dogma of correctness.
Until the transcendent emerges from the shadows,
I dance in the puddles of my esoteric verses,
hoping to elicit a celestial laugh from the divine.
Swing, sweet child
Kick your legs high
Swing, sweet child
Reach for the sky
The swing's your pendulum
Gather momentum
The world's your proscenium
Elicit oohs and aahs from the plenum
Pull hard, sweet child, with all of your might
Extend your reach upward to maximum height
Rock the frame of the swing-set till the dusk of twilight
Your silhouette framed against newborn starlight
Your wondrous display of finesses linked with brawn
Has all those assembled cheering you on
As you soar over sandbox and adjacent green lawn
In your best party dress of pink lace chiffon ...
Swing, sweet child
Kick your legs high
Swing, sweet child
Reach for the sky
Finally after twenty two plus
years of marriage,
a husband (namely yours truly -
hitherto known as Matthew Scott Harris)
exhibits glint of care and concern
toward his significant other,
which wife bemoaned
absent expressions of love
particularly before the
honeymoon even occurred.
I readily admit shying away
from emotional intimacy,
especially toward the gal
whose pledge I trothed
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six,
(fifteen days hence)
yet even formative years (mine)
scant overtures displayed toward
me father, mother, plus
older and younger sister
(neither non twisted).
A strong suspicion predominates
neurological, psychological,
and social perturbations
commingled while said christened goodfella
developed in utero, whereat genetic quarks
sparked, manifested, and engendered
unforeseen grievous hardship
severely, inexplicably, and figuratively
dislocated, truncated, and uprooted
his promising, (albeit
short lived) blissful boyhood,
which happy go lucky preschool years
abruptly analogously came to crashing halt
soon after setting foot into first grade.
Impossible mission
to tease out telltale explanation(s)
only thru courtesy 20/20 hindsight
can hypothesis be formulated
regarding congenital
chromosomal cellular discrepancy
birthing what appeared a healthy baby
though prone to wailing
without rhyme nor reason,
especially if held
by any person except mother.
At a tender age behavioral blitzkrieg
rent asunder tenuous connections
shattering nascent aggregation
to allow, enable, and provide
healthy interpersonal development
unbeknownst what molecular processes
kickstarted, pronounced, triggered...
wayward son to recoil against humanity
(think how like magnetic poles
repel each other).
Most all mein kampf
scant communication brokered
never establishing linkedin bonds,
nor fostering emotional intimacy
despite witnessing overt caring
among parents who begat me
or siblings, who exuded
natural propensity to comfort each other.
Something so primal as to elicit
heartfelt sympathy I lacked
which aloofness generated offensiveness
essentially buttressed (with flying colors)
hermetically sealed existence (mine)
nsync livingsocial within alien nation.
The things I've been, the things I have been, the things I am, things I'm to be,
a symbol so dark, a sign so brite, a mark of the heart,
shadow of the soul,
rind of mind,
as the Buddhist meditates on mandalas of rich color,cycles,devas,dangers & devotions
I embrace the world with all my senses, with vigilance,
riled rhapsody,
Christians sewing psalms into the conscious
confounded with temptation, condemnation & damnation,
as Buddhists focused towards an ineffable destination
my terminus is an awareness that explains purpose without pain or pleasure
but with an indomitable patience for being in perfection,
as blue is blue for blue,
Freemasons have their acacia & aprons,
the magic of History, of memory, of Brotherhood,
I shall memorize the wrong & right of my behavior, of my beliefs,
carry the cross of carelessness, rub beads of bemusement,
scratch thy palms upon the rough ashlar,
bleed for the sake of beauty, for the right of recognition,
as a hawk glides and swoops with an exactitude
reminding One not to waste effort, to combine instinct & strategy
into trusted tactics, salvation found in solitude,
intuition aimed at the heavens can demonstrate
there is knowledge in not knowing,
serenity can be secured through suffering, happiness in creative endurance,
a nomad, a monk, mother of a nobody
may teach that freedom is measured as strength through degrees,
chessmen bespeak the value of loyalty & sacrafice,
police have a badge, judges gavels, bankers use notes, psychologists study dreams,
artists utilize shapes & sounds to elicit feelings
evoking meaning for life,
perhaps superstition is ultimate motivation,
subjective & collective interpratations for reality which make it all tolerable,
that special definition making life personal,
when a culture abandons, or forgets the symbols of it's constructs
how can it survive,
continuity can not color & inspire posterity,
a tree without water,
as when a human neglects itself,
disfiguring the ideal into something rueful or baleful,
then the mystic symbol must change with it
as rich soil to mud,
the symbology survives, elastic and plastic like a spider web in the wind,
nature will always reconstruct,
teaching that our lives are inflamed imprints for the future -
J.A.B.
"Seek refuge in inner calm, free your thoughts from
the external world and you will feel the rays of God's
goodness and love pouring over you and the universe."
--- Iranschahr (from Springs of Persian Wisdom)
Darkest night possible, looming endless, cold, and uncaring,
seemingly just outside the window.
The occasional car or motorcycle racing by.
The deepest possible bowing of diesel rigs roaring -
around and past on the lonely highway in the gloom,
roaring out of sight, but not out of mind, for the sinking feeling of
utter abandonment and hopelessness that even they elicit.
But is one indeed forsaken here?
When the good night dies, growing covetous
in the "belly" of the Whore,
and when Life merely ends in Death
and Death is no door:
that leads beyond Itself:
Is there indeed nothing more?
Is it all just time running out --- all too quickly --- for everyone?
For those unknown souls driving past on the highway, or no?
Is it all mere time, cruel and heedless,
in a dull, brute play for mere survival?
No. One must be still, must listen, must feel:
Growing awareness that humankind is not alone,
has not been forsaken, manifesting itself.
Inexplicably, a growing confidence that everywhere, everywhere, the
All-Powerful Presence abides Here and Now, abides fearsome and
Unimaginable, Infinitely powerful, but Infinitely gentle, ever
watchful, Fatherly, Motherly, Loving.
To deliver one from material suffering;
to leave one, Eternally, only blissfully fulfilled,
knowing all things an immortal human soul can Know,
as one abides with God, worshiping Him thankfully, finally,
bathing in the Light, in His Infinite Love.
Written: March 30, 2024 For Ink Empress Ethereal Lantern Contest
Quote By Rumi: “The lamps are different, but the Light is the same. One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind, endlessly emanating all things.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In every fleeting felicity, twilight dislimns.
Gaunt into gossip, gossamer of gold glove.
Sewn-in vibrant amethyst and topaz,
laden in the ethereal glow of moonlight.
An eerily lit candle glides over the sea,
brittle, bare in a lambent, gossamer veil
soft vibe exudes a nostalgic indigo mood.
A life pearl holds hope and love
exquisite lantern shapes ethos
diaphanous for a soft glow
quiet pull and rhythmic delight.
Dazzle and dance to Daunt Daub
awe-inspiring lanterns, a mesmerizing sight
a gentle glow gracefully grows with breeze,
Elysian elixir sight to elicit one to their knees.
Owls deem Nubian sky depths
a heartfelt jewel from heaven
Humanity is still a model of clay
overlooked amid the artifacts of divine
blithely beshrew beleaguer blunt battle
and how the fluid obscurity undulated
embrace that pure clarity
If gloom dulled spark of empyreal kismet.
Their genesis maunder motley mystery
their nexus is nebulous; ogle as a panacea
and possess a hypnotic, pellucid spell
It casts a glow on all who dwell.
Fetch them felicitously, float flourishing,
and feel your soul overflowing with love
amid auric doxology of celestial lanterns
Infuse your spirit with unadulterated bliss.
*Images of Deadpan by Gfycat.
Evermore
Soul savored in wealth bestowing images
plus instances, beseeching recalls throughout
the happenings of first expended journeys,
~~solely me and you.
Midnight dreamingly drifts nigh twilights twinkling
stars, drooping its points into dawn's golden sleigh
and swept via some constant sun, elicit
~~towards both of us.
Fragmenting chapters riddled with episodes,
timelessly abandons in tattered photos
loosely bordered in leather, amassing dust
~~of our life courses.
These lonely days drag into lonelier nights
and a smile on my face dons from smiles barely
shared, yet gently my eyes fill and breathe life in
~~you--happy am I.
2020 July 05
*1st Place*
STRAND completely new ( 5 ) any theme any form
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 July 06