Long Energise Poems
Long Energise Poems. Below are the most popular long Energise by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Energise poems by poem length and keyword.
9.1
“Opposing forces,
duties done and left undone—
when does it end
and for whom?
Considering this, be ever desireless,
let go of all things,
and to the world turn an indifferent eye”
9.3
“Seeing all things as threefold suffering,
the sage becomes still
Insubstantial, transient, contemptible--
the world is fit only for rejection”
Sacrilege but we beg to differ
Based upon what we do infer
Detachment not indifference
Why anaesthetise sentience
Celebration not rejection
Exuberance not dejection
Pain may be but suffering imaginal
If we feel it is real not conjectural
As for the rest and reading between the lines
We do divine
That being not the doer there is no doing
In dynamic stillness too the Divine alone is moving
If we are here it is of our own choosing
Let our stillness then be our consciousness so accepting
Surrendering the illusionary ephemeral to the flow
Erasing negativity within to reveal our presence aglow
In stillness slow
(20-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Verse revisited on 29-October-2021
Earth life manifests sharp contrast
Leaving even fearless hearts aghast
We are here to energise our potential
That we may conjure our love parable
For in the domain of light our soul rests
Facing adversity triumph earth life tests
On reaching exhaustion get to recognition
That desire cessation pathway to liberation
So ceasing thinking, we meld head and heart
In the void of stillness we feel bliss ignition start
Our emptiness magnetised by bliss in fullness
In time time we merge with the That oneness
We are then in but not of the external world
In silence we celebrate as soul is unfurled
Spiritual heart, here now within our form
Enlivened by divine bliss currents warm
Layer by layer we see identity vaporise
In boundless measure does bliss rise
Negating nothing exiting stagnation
Flow of life itself is our meditation
Degradation of the soul is my lifeline. Burning flames suck out the sublime traits, of overlords stretching to take their turn in front of the lingering hatred of conformity. Your pitying powers of guilt spread over my skin, smother my well-being in sensations of over-bearing heat, lick at the open wound of my heart, as they spit the bitter taste of your fears all around. A creeping shadow forms around these bitter feelings, acts as my blanket to cover me in the warmth of their recognition, to re-energise the chemicals rushing towards their neutered end, speeding so fast they race through the kaleidoscope of my dreams. Slipping through under the cover of hollow emotions, I allow their desires to take the place of society’s army; I allow them to ride over the top of any control cells, letting chaos rain, reign over my tethered passions, the temerity of my hopes and any other sullied temptations of my heart, my soul, my whole existence. This blackening shadow, this over-riding wholeness of insanity, this enlightening feeling of impossible emotions destroys the comfort of nothingness which bears no ill health, kills all that’s near or dear and seeks company neither desired nor recognised. The banality causes the body to spread as the mind shrinks, causes the dumbing down of thoughts as ideology all but disappears, traps my silent thoughts in a veil of happiness that is neither permanent nor of any consequence, resulting in love that is dead from the waist up. This comfort, this conformity, this emptiness is not mine. I reject these and any other offering from the trough of this anaesthetised gene pool. I reject these temptations, these sterile gifts for the conquering feeling of chaos, for the feeling of an unrecognised and unchartered future, for the uncertainty of the mind, for this love of life – pleasure and pain.
Intertwined two energies in love two souls exchanging acceptance of energies simultaneously in harmony~ foreverº changing the electromagneticº size of the heart receptive? to the :’frequency & modulation obverse same frequency..
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Transmitted continuous-wave; lower the frequency the longer the pulse the discreet rapid pulse rate; the energy from the Transceiver, functional waveguides, combined to energise, two souls in love polar beauties to energise on Mother Earth giving zero bearing rate, both on the same side of the line of sound & €ngeires closing forever along the same speed….
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Quantum Continuum Perpetuated on Mother Earth’s frequency the birth of a new baby found from past energies & exchanging memories, DNA..
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Quantum €ntanglement very much the frequency you~ me an God’s creatures Amomong every Eco~ theaters~ systems º€ng€rgi€s:’ even the Universe..
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The Milky Way exchanging energies photon two photons to other galaxy s the universe integrated €nergies perpetuated continuously.. Sparkling beauties interchanging, independent €nergies €ver so interdependent:-:On A system lightspeed blazing duties cosmetic phenomenal beauties universal exchanging from galaxy 2 galaxy.. Continual €nergy potion, of £ife giving Universe Interconnected Own :’Self..* ?
?Universe interconnected?
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?{Interconnected»«Universe}?
Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
? #poet #poetry #poem
Ticks imperceptibly further from tocks
Sally-anne gracefully brushing her locks
Perusing the papers in yesterday's socks
One eye on the news on the old goggle box
Lawns that want mowing, maybe today
No firm decision on that, either way
The daffies sway gentle their livery gay
As early the spring edges out winter grey
Wave at the neighbour out washing his car
Seems in no hurry, he's not going far
Exaggerate motion of tipping a jar
Inviting a post dinner trip to the bar
Somebody passing outside shares a laugh
While yellow billed blackbird agitates bath
Fido brings slippers, wife calls him staff
Then aerates the logs to enliven the hearth
Upon us the day when no desk shall tether
And only the mower shall fret over weather
A shower means trim the lawn next week or never
Well maybe not never, simply whenever
Dinner now served at family table
Sneak Fido a tidbit whenever I'm able
Courteous chat with mum in law, Mable
Kids stifle giggles, she's slightly unstable
Now Mable snoring, I do the dishes
Kids drying up conceal Facebook wishes
Mum by the pool sprinkles pellets for fishes
Whimsically lost in multi-finned swishes
And when gibbous moon gives off scant shadow light
And gone is the sun that shines somewhere else bright
Retire to our slumbers prepare for the fight
Batteries energise over the night
For five days or six we shall toil away
Earn twenty four hours to rest and to play
So never forfeit the day some people pray
This one day in seven, the Sabbath, Sunday.
He's searching and looking in all the wrong places.
He appears to be calm, poised, and confident. Seeing
him casually, one would think he is swell and well.
But up close, you would believe that he's afraid of his
own shadows. From those shadows he runs continually,
one marathon and another, because he is not a 'facer or
fixer', but a runner. So, he runs.
A self-proclaimed 'Runner' left me a note some three
years ago. He said, "... all I wanted to do was run".
I saw his note after I moved away and was never able
to talk with him. I am pleased that Paul no longer runs.
A runner runs because he refuses to face the truth.
He knows why he is running but denies the hurts and
pains of his past as if the past, present, and future
have no connection. Perhaps he doesn't know that
today's reality is often a reflection of yesterday.
He cannot find what he looking and longing for
because he doesn't know what he looking for.
He does know that he's on the run; and his
fears energise and propel his every step.
He's afraid but pretends to be brave.
He is not a relay runner because he runs alone.
He runs alone because he refuses to be close.
He refuses to be close because he has been hurt.
His race is a race of 'one', and no one wins.
There is no life in this world without hurt,
but the runner hurts alone.
Wrongful Imprisonment
I am bowing again, in prison, no advocate to plead my case;
Forcefully constrained: by years and years of hardship and lack.
Believing, this was meant to be; this was all I was meant to be;
Who will render help to me? Who will compassionately deliver me?
Who!?! Who will relieve me of these chains? Who will set me free?
Who will truly inspire and influence my ideas to flow freely again?
If not you, who? If not you my psyche; who, who will ease this strain?
And revive, reactivate, reinvigorate and re-energise this slothful brain.
It has been a long sentence; the longevity of this imprisonment has expired;
Psyche, you have to arise, rekindle the fire; for betterment, wholly desire.
Divorce the priceless treasures of bronze shackles and the iron chains;
A new day dawns; a better purpose awaits; visualise beyond the boundaries.
No limits! None! No limits to my imagination, no limits to my life’s ambitions!
I have been paroled, I have another opportunity; I must fulfil my destiny.
I must fully reverse the effects of African degradation and slavery!
I must transform by renewing my mind: when I think liberty, I will be free!
End
By: Dion Penville
PERPETUAL POEMS
A poem is never merely still born,
It has its creator's eyes,ears and nose
Yet,unique it lives a life of its own
Independent,well able to stand alone;
On others it can,influence,affect
Energise,direct or initiate
A response,unforseen and immediate
Or lie dormant,yet not dead,but waiting;
Watered by another's mutual bond
resurrected,to live again,again.
A WORDS WORTH
I recite and read aloud,
wander, lonely as a cloud,
then emulate and create
as memory stimulates;
Swim against poetry's tide
therein,an enigma hide,
perhaps,a step too far,with
Tennyson,crossing the bar;
I dream on Will's sonnet verse,
figuratively,sweet and terse,
lazing life away,with songs
compared to a summer's day.
To conjure an opening line
ever,remembered,as mine.
A POETS PROGRESS
Through a personal lens I think,then write
Perspective's gaze alters,from night to night,
As blotting paper,absorbs impressions
Of poetry's learned and unlearned lessons;
my anthology,my journey's log book
From mainstream or the back lanes I took,
An emphasis upon a favoured form.
Those endeavours which I,on reflection mourn;
I change,I alter or perhaps stand still
In retrospective of a fogotten will,
And yet,driven by this creative itch,
Each day,I,this word tapestry must stitch.
Listen to me read these poems on youtube under the name ichthyschiro
R is for RETROSPECTIVE
A poem is never merely still born,
it has its creator's eyes,ears and nose
Yet,unique it lives a life of its own
independent,well able to stand alone
On others it can,influence,affect
energise,direct or initiate
A response,unforseen and immediate
or lie dormant,yet not dead,but waiting
Watered by another's mutual bond
resurrected,to live again,again
I recite and read aloud,
wander, lonely as a cloud,
then emulate and create
as memory stimulates
Swim against poetry's tide
therein,an enigma hide,
perhaps,a step too far,with
Tennyson,crossing the bar
I dream on Will's sonnet verse,
figuratively,sweet and terse,
lazing life away,with songs
compared to a summer's day
To conjure an opening line
ever,remembered,as mine.
Through this personal lens I think,then write
perspective's gaze alters,from night to night,
as blotting paper,absorbs impressions
of poetry's learned and unlearned lessons
My anthology,my journey's log book
from mainstream or the back lanes I took,
An emphasis upon a favoured form
those endeavours which I,on reflection mourn
I change,I alter or perhaps stand still
in retrospective of a fogotten will,
And yet,driven by this creative itch,
each day,I,this word tapestry must stitch
Whose voice is this that awakens me from a deep sleep,
irresistibly pushing me out of my comfortable bed?
It only spoke once, this voice so deep,
but it echoes countless times in my head.
Its noble sound so electrifying, soothing, strong.
Now I’m brimming over with cheerful whistles all day long
like a bird that escaped from the fowler's snare,
I don’t have a care.
Whose voice is this that suddenly opens my eyes?
My visual senses energise,
with a strength of vision that’s new.
And, lo, a spectacular view!
I see an eagle with piercing eyes
flying high in deep blue skies.
Suddenly the eagle and I are one,
swept in ecstasy toward the sun.
To the heights of heaven,
I see a pearly gate with a mirror and the number seven.
I’m in awe as I see
a man in the mirror looking back at me.
He holds a pen and a book
with magic words and I take a look.
Then he speaks with that voice so deep
telling me to go back to sleep
and promising answers as life goes on
in my dreams and in a song.
A Collaboration By: CP Collins and Carole O'Terry Duet
Copyright: Feb. 21, 2017
"All Rights Reserved"
Enlivening hymns
that inspired,
Exalting emotions
breathed life into,
Your great pen
as I longed to read,
In my dreams
to you connected,
Enlightened my mind
your words with my heart rhymed,
Trust my letter reaches and allures
your soul sits beside me here,
Dear poet Shakespeare !
Your poetic grandeur and
Philosophical splendour,
Dramatic literary playwright,
Howsoever hard I tried,
Unable to cope up current time,
certain forms of poetry
I could never write,
Is it the form
that mattered,
Even if may the
emotions lie shattered,
Invigorate and energise
whisper softly to apprise,
Dear poet Shakespeare!
Did you ever learn notes ?
Or naturally became
to be known as quotes?
Should I nurture my mind
to shape verse into a kind ?
Or let smoothly flow
the way heart may guide ?
Can you once holdon to
my pen and teach me write ?
Just in order to put up
ideas shining very bright,
Dear poet Shakespeare !
Written on 6/6/14
Contest- Letters to poets
Sponsor- Monterey Sirak