Long Embraces Poems
Long Embraces Poems. Below are the most popular long Embraces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Embraces poems by poem length and keyword.
Yang: What is the difference between a theist and an atheist?
Yin: A bicamerally balancing ego/eco-teleologist.
Yang: Well, so what's that; a teleologist?
Yin: You, if you believe the Earth is your co-gravitational
(0)-double-binding mind-spirit/body-nature center
epi-center
of wealthy egonomic
and healthy ecopolitical values,
each with equi-valent
ego/ecological
transgenerational health-care
deep wealth meaning merit.
Yang: So, who wouldn't believe that?
Yin: Probably no one.
Yang: So, why, exactly, is this an issue I need to look at right now?
Yin: Because, if you are an ecological panentheist,
then you are also a (0)-interest
co-invested bodhisattva peace warrior
poli-economist,
presumably.
Yang: Wow, I really did not see that climax coming at all!
Yintegrity: Yes, well, I get that all mind/body bipartisan time.
YangBright: Hmmm.... I can see purpose Now i
n sort of a 4D WinWin Cooperative Here
Ego/EcoOccupyers
Rejoining RNA Tribal Purpose
unfolding dialectical
exponential
deep fractal meaning
kinda' organic sacred WuWays.
YinPower: Don't rush, reframe our collateral flow issues,
in alpha(0)mega double-binding poli-economic
nondual crown/rooted
mind-dawn/body-dark
respirating EarthNature's
dipolar teleological appositions.
YangLight: You flow on too darkly rooted much
for optimally repurposed fire-power.
YinPower: Invest less in competing economic partial-trusts
and politically disharmonic insufficiency
of loving sacred beauty.
Instead,
invest in repurposing
every co-engaging
meaning-full
experiential expedition
only where your economic health flows out
our cooperative climatic inflow
of politically multicultural wealth.
YangMind: Ah, yes,
I see
our MidWay Zen
mutual reflection again,
where my Tao wealth
caressingly embraces your cooperative health
of coarising egomind/ecobody-engagement
Right purposeful proportion,
eco-dominant meaningful balance,
light's radiant fractal frequencies
of regenerative logos-dawn/mythos-dusk
Yang/yin
pregnant/absent
positive/double-binding negative,
appositional boundaries of co-balancing light
and prime co-relational powers.
YinPower: And you think I flow out too much feeling!
THE SUNDAY MORNING PLEA
Sunbeams gently pierce my sleepy eyes,
Waking me up, whispering, “Arise! Arise!
Gather your tools, prepare your vision,
The children await your joyful mission.”
Ah, another day for learning’s delight,
A Sunday of teaching, shining bright.
Little ones I'll meet, with eager hearts,
To guide and mend their wandering parts.
First, I kneel in prayer, humbly I stay,
Asking Him to guide my way:
Grant me patience, enthusiasm, and grace,
Tenderness, fondness in every embrace.
The lessons I present, not just in books,
But with the passion that Jesus looks—
A loving heart for each child’s mind,
With every word, may they grow kind.
THE AFTERNOON DELIGHT
I watch my beginners, their talents unfold,
Their promise like sunlight, bold and gold.
As the sun climbs high, so do they,
I dream of their soaring, come what may.
The loving touch of my hands,
My embraces, my kisses, my reprimands,
Through guidance, they’ll learn and grow,
And leave with the wisdom I bestow.
THE TWILIGHT OF DESTINY
Though my juniors now take flight,
My teaching continues, day and night.
New faces will come, fresh and bright,
But I stand firm in my calling’s light.
What joy fills my heart when they kiss and hug,
Their warmth lingers, my spirit snug.
I now realize with gentle pride,
That my teachings are cherished far and wide.
Yet my deepest longing is to see once more,
Those who walked through my classroom door.
Wrinkled faces, silver hair,
I sit, reflecting in my rocking chair.
Though the years may blur their names,
And faces fade in time’s soft flames,
The bond we share, it will never die—
A memory that never says goodbye.
THE DAYLIGHT IN ETERNITY
I ask not for earthly reward,
For my labor is blessed by the Lord.
Faithful to His truth and plan,
My heart rests in His loving hand.
Now in heaven, before the Master I stand,
Among the faithful, guided by His hand.
I walk the aisle, and I see them smile,
Then hear the clapping, all the while.
A crown awaits, my work complete,
In eternal joy, my soul’s sweet.
Zephyrus, mighty God of wind, slips over western slopes
to nudge the winter, in quick adieu, ..unfurled against the blue.
He is husband of Khloris, a goddess of the green
He is father of the fruited vine, and all the fruited trees
which bend and bow to every breeze, that curl around his head.
The stalky lupines long for him to take away the chill,
while blue wild flax, will wave and swoon, upon the purple hills.
A colored carpet wide and deep, is sweeping to the eye
with clover green, so fragrant, lush, and it reaches to the sky
to feel the depth of warming breath, exhaled with just his sigh
His warming breath embraces youth, and jealousy is kin
Appollon's love for Hyakinthos, may bring a tragic end
We must ignore his boorish pride, for he thaws the frozen land
and takes command when springtime comes, when green is in demand
_________________________________________________
For the Contest sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Zephyrus.....God of the West Wind
1/1/15 http://www.theoi.com/Titan/AnemosZephyros.html (Greek Gods)
the horizon is motionless in its red and purple hues
snow-topped mountains are shushing us with silent lips
the immobility of this presence does not hesitate to bring stillness
I look into the water’s depths; all the wildlife must be sleeping
there is not one tiny splash; this well-worn dock placates me
this is a place for eagles, but no bird is flying; the air is soundless
a meditative place, a Zen place where I could sit and emote
so I do, crossing my legs on the edge of the dock, stilling my soul
a tiny breeze barely whispers her secrets onto my face; I smile
feeling all-powerful in this sacred place, loaned to me by the Master
thoughts I could have never conjured anywhere else come to me
I begin to solve my tiny problems as the world embraces me with silence.
To let go of reality . . . with mozart playing
I close my eyes and I am a beautiful blue bird fluttering
Drifting on the wind, I soar
Over emerald valleys deep and cold streams winding
My wings tremble and quiver
Upon a weeping willow with her hanging head, I rest
And I dip my beak into the cold aqua water
This is the power of music
It will take you far from your reality- if you let it
High above I look down on a flower meadow
Hover, then glide on a cool breeze
Truly, I am a blue bird fluttering
A forest with a cathedral dome embraces me with love
I want to stop and pray and do sing a blue bird song
A cliff high and a garden lovely
I just let go . . . of reality
And float in a sweet reverie with no pain or sorrow
The music is my soul
My muse the wings that flutter
Sublime and divine is this dance
Spinning, twirling, whirling, twisting
A tangle of my imagination and mozart, entwine, mingle
Then, I am falling, falling, falling
Back into my earthly reality . . . .
_____________________________
May 18, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Letting Go of Reality
Copyright Protected, ID 16-791-719-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Reality
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Third place
Whispering leaves, summer breeze,
A time to postpone all destinies.
In crimson gown, she's on the town,
'Til the dark eyes go slowly down.
Leaving memories of the golden hours,
Laughing children in leafy bowers;
The sunny noon, with the robin's tune,
And the feverish blossoms aswoon!
But, a time comes for the surrender,
When there's nothing more to render;
And where the bluebirds I have known?
It's fate sometimes to stand alone.
In the languid, violet, creeping chill,
Night embraced before, embraces still.
Palest moon, when the stars are out,
Peace is what these moments are about!
As the ghost of day goes his weary way,
To return again through another doorway.
But, for now, he just bids his goodbye,
To the glowing, lovely ruby of the sky!
Under the ashen sky of a forgotten era,
Where the pseudo-man hides his dreams beneath the cloak of silence,
We wear paper masks in our puppet dance,
Each movement traced by invisible strings,
Public opinion, a cold wind that lifts and lowers us,
An unseen hand whispering the illusion of choice,
In a theater of shadows where truth loses its light,
And the generations to come, with their glassy eyes,
Will look at our relics with an absent curiosity,
Wondering if we were ever anything more than echoes,
In a world of noise and uncertain steps on the floor of oblivion.
Under stars extinguished by indifference, we built temples,
Made of words that scatter like sand in the wind,
We spoke in whispers that never touched hearts,
And we allowed ourselves to be led by formless shadows,
Searching in the void between us for something we could not name,
Only silence where we had hoped to find the song,
And perhaps, in times not yet born,
A world will emerge where truth is a living flame,
Where words will be embraces and not swords,
But for us, there remains only the melancholy of a lost dream,
An echo of unfulfilled desires, still haunting eternity.
“ My son is now fourteen, and from the moment he was born, I understood that forevermore my heart would be walking around outside my body.”
Dani Shapiro
His first room was inside my womb
Tiny feet kicking strong night and day
Breastfed him and he quickly blooms
Into an independent soul by grace
Watching him mature is a great cure
For anyone questioning life goals
Children are a blessing uniquely pure
Teaching you as you learn guide soul
He may be a man of thirty years dear
Still my child so proud to be his mother
No longer a minor with a future clear
Heart of love for him like no other
I await his children and I pray
They know me as a fun grandma
Look upon sweet faces night or day
Bequest love in heart that gives pause
Heart embraces unconditional truth
Forevermore love is anointed in you
Heart paralysis reflects unholy yearning.
She has wrapped her love in soiled paper
and hidden it beneath forgotten works.
Specters in the house heed alarms and float
towards daily rituals that rearrange pain.
Distant transmissions crackle through nights.
She has wrapped up her love.
Once fond recitations swam on breezes and
brushed lip to skin with infinite colour that
tattooed devotion onto vein and pulse.
Embalmed silence sits still, pregnant.
She has wrapped her love in flowered cloth
and tied it up with faded ribbon.
Home was an adorned method scorched by
evening embraces and empty bottles of wine.
Rooms now echo flatly, devoid of a beginning.
She has wrapped up her love.
We ran away together; we ran so far with
broken radar and injured souls that our hurt
became skin and forgetting became dear.
She has wrapped up her love.
Strewn to the floor he collected his marbles and memories
Had played for hours as a child with his friends in the flat
Passed innumerable hours never bored always enthralled
Abraded by wear of near instant replay nostalgia flashes past
A time of Innocence and Recall of pure Joy
Collecting from lucky packets from the five and dime store
He cherished his treasures and assembled a wealth of its own
Built a shiny smooth fortune traded with his mates from next door
Never lost sight of his satchel clinking and clonking at every stride
Foundations of Wealth and Possessions
They only had a small space on the floor boards smelling of wax
Polished the wood and their skills on their knees with great care
Rolled the little balls one at a time to get the closest to the wall
Practised side spins straight lines curve balls ingenious bounce
Perfection and Victory held their suspense
But the little buggers appeared to have a devious thrall of their own
Fell into knotholes swerved back to where they had come from
Ricocheted recoiled or stayed idle deviated from inglorious norms
Some disappeared in the pantry just in time for a substandard deviation
Snookered in unintended Diversity
Today he respects outliers and dispersion from a delusive tendency
Cherishes and embraces people and places and different paradigms
Which include eccentricity oddballs and nonconformist dissidents
Finds beauty in a spread of reasons emotions and different drifts
When Loneliness strikes he looks fondly at his Marbles
28th June 2019