Long Encounters Poems
Long Encounters Poems. Below are the most popular long Encounters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Encounters poems by poem length and keyword.
Treat yourself, why don't you
Only you know the sacrifice
And how short life can be
Seek the small pleasures before
They escape you forever
Happiness is on a plate
Annotate your life with fantastic
Stories of immense
Hope and adventure
Bravely respond to life's challenges
Recuperate when necessary
Organise and rest
Weave peace into your schedule
Never compromise on self-care
But be generous. Outrageously so..
Encounters are opportunities
Anxiety is the thief of your joy
Never let the loud noises dictate.
Silence your spirit, surrender to God
Whatever good things
Arrive at your table
Festivities or
Failures
Learn every lesson
Embrace each with gratitude
Seasons mean growth; under or above ground
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.
So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.
You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.
Thank God we’re only young once.
.
.
Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
Yin is my Taoist contemplative
named Jonathon.
He still longs for his King David intimacy
unblemished transparency.
Middle Eastern King,
a yang CEO
who also writes
and plays
and sings, maybe even harps,
ecofeminist anthems,
brave psalms of sacred gratitude.
Anthems raving organic purity
humane eco-care
filling nurture meetings
greetings
encounters of my most vulnerable
and best public-health transparent
love.
Grace as wealthy beloved days
through Global Climates,
cups running clear healthy water
divinely ecofeminist,
resonantly First Nation,
polypathically Taoist Yang over...
Yin, an ecofeminist monk
dreaming Jonathon.
Laurah Maybelle Rickborn
1907-1935
Life was such a excruciating bother.
I’m happy the long drama is finished now.
My childhood consisted mostly of chores and lessons,
While my teenage years were devoted to daydreams,
Dancing, and the work I did ceaselessly,
On my parents’ modest farm on Painter Avenue.
Indeed, I acquired the dogmatic idea early in life,
That chickens are undoubtedly the filthiest creatures,
Ever created by our very creative creator.
So it was with a strange dose of personal joy,
Whenever I accosted one of our hapless chickens by its neck,
For the celebrated purpose of a quick slaughter.
Then, with speedy relish, I’d chop its beady head off;
Finally, with determined aplomb, I defeathered the thing,
As it death-spasmed still on my bloody lap.
Such are the memories I choose to remember,
As my final pathetic epitaph,
Of a life I found ultimately annoying and frustrating;
Of having to put up with arrogant selfish men,
Who smelled of cigars, whiskey and sweaty talcum;
And who desired more than a quick dance under the stars, indeed!
Of having to endure obtuse women with no life at all, except drudgery;
Simple-minded women who worked like willing slaves,
For their blow hard men-keepers; Blecch!
I wanted no part of that, thank you.
Like I said, I’m happy the drama is finished.
Happy, deliriously so, that
My daily encounters with conceited boorish men,
Are, at last, at an end!
Brava I say, to all women who fly freely!
Fly! Fly! Resist men! Fly!
"our strange duet"
our strange duet is not strange after all
unveiled were light unexpected encounters
relentless being unlikely and unforeseen
still our crossing paths was meant to be
throwing thrills with excitement our way
running as fast and furious then finally
a shining star lit brighter than a rainbow
never giving pause to a perfect silhouette
glowing far beyond the canvas of darkness
everything to this was our strange duet
despite odds and expectations of passion
unleashed was true love and grace gifting
enchanting elegancies to our lives evermore
this our story and our not so strange duet
SkyWatcher
07-24-23
the Virus from Hell is amused
the Virus from Hell is amused
laughing at the world’s panicked reaction
as it marches through the world unabated
infecting everyone in its wake
as the world awaits its fate
the virus smiles he ain’t no fake
he is the real deal
he is death itself
he is the end of the world
the grim reaper is smiling
god is silent as usual
and the virus is the world’s worst nightmare
the world’s leaders dither and dather
as the economy craters
everyone hoping that God will save them
the virus does not care
insults and orders do not work
the virus simply does its virus thing
infecting everyone it encounters
and thousands will die
equal opportunity offender
killing the rich and the poor alike
the virus smiles
the virus's work is done
and mankind is doomed
so be it the virus thinks
that is the way of the world
and the virus is the new king
of the world
One need only open an old chest, or turn on a light in an attic, to journey back in time. Every scrap of clothing, old photograph is a life and a history. Essence remains.
As I often write at night, while many of a more rational world slept -- pacing, muttering poetic phrases aloud in a possessed manner, to keep my marriage intact, a seldom-used backroom of our house has become my addiction sanctuary. Soon it was a habit of mine, exhausted after composing for many hours nonstop, my psyche too spent to carry myself the distance needed to reach our conjugal bedroom at the other side of the house, I simply stretched out on a tattered sofa adjacent to my writing desk, and quickly dosed off. Strangely I began having a recurring trance-like dream of an ancient tormented soul beseeching help. He seemed trapped. For it was male. Distressingly disoriented. I asked what was wanted of me, tacitly aware that our languages were foreign to each other, yet we clearly communicated through some indeterminable articulate mysticism of the mind? His replies were confusing, mostly speaking in haunting, meandering riddles. After this went on for several more consecutive nights, somewhat spooked, I finally told my wife of the strange happenings. Swearing to her that the encounters seemed ultra real~ too real, dreadfully fearing that it could not be merely sleepy imagination alone, but perhaps, manifestation of a demonic entity. Following lengthy, involved research, it turned out that my wife harbored some old Indian artifacts, long forgotten, saved in a file cabinet near to the desk where I wrote, a headdress and eagle claw necklace her cowboy uncle had acquired somehow in the late 1800's, obviously sacred items that once belonged to a powerful medicine man. Well, the next night, in deep prayer, in consultation with higher divine elements, I helped the suffering deceased Shaman, whose spirit was firmly yet attached to his personal earthbound paraphernalia, ascend to a metaphysical realm long awaiting his overdue blessed arrival. His spirit was the size of a mountain as he lifted from the earth into a seeming celebrating night sky.
Draped in the luster
of glistened endeavors
Evergreen silhouettes
cast on the lawn
Tracing our twilight
enchanted encounters
Dancing in stardust
ahead of the dawn
Firefly wishes
on grapevine horizons
Spider web tapestries
spun through the trees
Pine cone sonatas
the key of our heartbeat
You in my arms
as the night wanders free
Halos on moonbeams,
the heavens a’ glimmer
Beauty euphoric
abloom in your eyes
Lips warm and tender,
a kiss in the darkness
Love unrehearsed
under crystalline skies
Whispers symphonic
'pon breezes a’ flowing
Softly their music
sings sweetly above
Drenching impassioned
melodic embraces
Here neath this canopy,
bathed in our love
I HAVE BEEN TWO PEOPLE
I have been two people, maybe more,
devised ways to meander through the
lives of those I’ve touched.
These encounters have not all been pleasant.
I have been defender, protector, anger’s liaison,
pained deflector of the sanctimonious rhetoric
of the shameless.
I have been lover, consort, friend, mentor,
comforter and comforted, stood strong in
the face of weakness, my own and others.
I carry the beatings of life’s whipping post,
lashes applied in my youth, consequences
of lasher’s lack of conscience.
I have become a divided house that
must stand alone. I have cowered
courageously, stood defiant in cowardice.
I am the hard muscled sentinel,
sharp eyed searcher, scanning
for the signs of evil’s stealth.
I am the hands that hold a baby’s breath,
the eyes that see not what might be, but what is,
the voice that hums a gentle song of peace.
I am the steadying shoulder for the old to lean on,
the unknown snow shoveler in the night,
the song of comfort in an old man’s dreams.
“I have looked at life from both sides”,
enjoyed loves clouds and rain,
I have been two people, maybe more.
John G. Lawless
7/23/2014
contest – Both Sides Now
sponsor – Alfred Vassallo
'Breaking the Trauma Bond'
Do you still like me?
Let me count the ways.
The tired old familiar abuse,
The ugly scowl,
The “get outta here’s!”
“Don’t give me that kind of sh..t!!”
Vile venom heaped upon an unwary lover.
I’ve been sucker punched, again.
Fallen for the antics of yet another
Unwilling, unable, unstable, and uncommitted to anything
Other than his own pain and confusion.
Oh, good!
Someone NEW to hate!
I know what comes next.
The gifts I have given
Treasures I’ve shared,
Regard, respect, admiration, adoration and affection
Willingly offered
And received,
Crudely discarded.
Run through the disposal
Put out with the garbage
Neatly packed and
Hauled off to storage.
Archived with
All the other
Past violations,
Slanders and
Cruel rebuffs.
My body is crushed.
My spine is mangled.
My nerves are seared.
“I don’t NEED any more PAIN!”
I wail
Mentally shuffling through
Well-worn files of
Past encounters.
Rage rises,
The Ogre is demonized.
Humiliated and dis-graced
Tears fall from fresh wounds.
I take refuge
In dreams resplendent
Of laughter, pleasure
Joy and enjoyment
Where wishes of the wisher are fulfilled,
Where food and delight are found.
Fueling fond fantasies of nobility of character,
Decency and courage
An Equal.
Bitter tears cease,
Fury finally fades.
And yet curiously,
The guilt remains.
I choke on the olive branch of forgiveness,
Again.