Long Existentialist Poems
Long Existentialist Poems. Below are the most popular long Existentialist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Existentialist poems by poem length and keyword.
In this vast world, alone, I wonder astray
Yearning for meaning every single day
In desperation, often times I look at the sky
Pleading God for a sign as every day passes by
People killing each other in broad day light
And dark figures haunting innocent girls in silent nights
Where are you God during all this? The question remains
Your benevolence is yet to be seen in life's intricate chains
Through suffering and pain, I desperately seek
The answer as to how evil in this world could exist
As I see another child dying in agonising pain.
I wonder why couldn't God intervene?
If you are listening, listen O God
I am lost in this world of frauds
Like a begger I am knocking on your door
Have brought nothing with me but my remorse
A constant fear persists in my heart's core
Do I have the courage to accept the truth I search for
What if at the end of the day there is no guide
And I am all alone, in my thoughts and in my life
In a world where people have taken solace in religion and mystics
I choose to remain a skeptic. An existentialist or an Absurdist
Life is but suffering, without any ultimate way
An endless meaningless journey, day after day
Everyday, there is so much pain to feel and evil we see
There is no one out there to listen to our pleas
Alone, we must navigate and bear life's cruel schemes
Until we can create the illusion that it's nothing but a dream
19 August 2023
For the contest "Why are we here"
Sponsor "unseeking seeker"
Life secretly offering fleeting moments of happiness… but the underlying sadness creeps through; the grief of human condition always seeps through from the unconscious. I always imagined it as the watery liquid separating from the unctuous and the solid matter of the brain as a pervading force that relentlessly pursued my happiness.
I am reminded often that this life offers no protracted security of contentment only taunting bits of joy.
Is that what we must satisfy ourselves with then? We are to be grateful solely for the passing seconds of joy.
In this life we are offered only an empire of dirt and the subconscious encumbered with the knowledge that we are merely destined become part of that empire.
Anti-intellectualism may breed anti-curiosity.
Harsh reality can frustrate existential sternness.
They tied backlash against "mere" curiosity.
Yet, every human behavior has a purpose.
Conveying a full breakdown of all the key sights.
Tangling, multiplying tendrils sepia from white.
My character has changed significantly already.
Rhododendron in blooming; existentialist edgy
The moon pendulum is at its most vulnerable.
Strong, direct sunlight makes vivacity visible.
Recognizing oneself in the gaze of the Other.
Transtemporal throws ages in a shadow cover.
Romance, paraphyllium, and aurora snow,
harvest moon, opaline luster, and coral glow.
Eurasian plant calyxes with spicate bloom.
Five stars in the sky; a red glow in the gloom.
Wake up, mystery, and join me on Mars.
Latte, belt out a song that heals my scars.
Opal in black, a ruby for the crown gem,
Is that thunder? You infer my heart hem.
Is this a dream, upon a shimmering silver sky?
Antsy flow, a phantasmagoria of my avow mind.
Chimes in Venice, a piercing stare into my eye,
as though we've always been close, my kind.
Sparkle up the universe and unveil thyself.
Moon wake, I'm steering my rise from a shelf.
Who were we if not to serve the whole world?
How do we fathom where we'll be stirred?
The darkness shrouded the vision of man.
Scattering flies at dawn since they had begun.
We face the share of the world with blackness.
Having to push and shove away the darkness.
1St Place Contest Winner
Written: December 18, 2022
This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Your Favourite Rhyming Poem From
The Second Half Of 2022 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
told, I’m …
purveyor of a pen
drowning in the anguish of the heart …
bulletin:
love - not always love
love - always pain
always -
all ways …
wherever, whatever, WHOever the
soul divides for,
consumed, one day …
lost to time’s bitter casualty -
forever’s coda,
postscript of existentialist id …
not an iota
escapes the darkest of fates
ALL is impermanent
and sorrow, the outcome …
in contention, then -
pray, how moans the sea
if not broken on a reef?
how chants a catbird
if not mourning for its mate?
how drinks the earth
without heaven’s weep?
and how bright a sun, if not immersed in
the bitter, unforgiving black of space?
please fear not, that ache -
those throes of casualty are but
the ripples of passing on love’s expanse -
those prayerful pangs,
the precious payment for
life’s dearest …
so, if that blessed abyss be
the stead of my demise,
embrace it, I shall …
and if those briny beads of the
eye are the only coursing for my ink,
so be it …
there are far more poisonous
potions to waste words …
upon.
Absurdity, chaos,
strife:
The poet chooses
virtuous reality.
Sisyphus, a
titanic wave of metamorphosis, waiting, salted nausea:
The thinker roughed by sand
a solitary tree in a barren desert
defies absurdity
by seeking meaning in the absurd.
Authenticity,
vision, conformity, religion:
The rebel a roaring
wildfire igniting change like:
authenticity,
vision, and non-conformity
forging their own path.
Project,
reflect, individuality:
The human river
tasting the minerals of experience
expresses identity
and discovers themselves.
Leap,
Übermensch,
ethics,
logotherapy:
The agent
acts with freedom and responsibility
finding purpose.
Meaning,
joy, void, hope:
The sweet-smelling optimist a sunflower
fills emptiness with hope
seeking light in the darkness.
Truth,
illusion, reality, fiction:
The rationalist
discerns the real and the imagined.
Contradiction,
logic, emotion:
The harmonist
strives for balancing
the rational and emotional.
Freedom,
authenticity, manipulation, conformity:
The individualist
resists pressure and influence.
Awareness,
paradox, courage, hope:
The existentialist
embraces the absurd and transcends.
Leak,
speak,
strike,
kneel:
The activist challenges-
The status quo and injustice.
Tirelessly fights for justice!
Death,
suicide, violence, genocide:
The mortal
faces limit and horror with courage.
Despair,
nightmare:
The lover
shares and cares with love.
Existence
precedes essence?
Or essence
precedes existence?
The question
haunts forever.
The Stoic
Observes, unmoved yet aware:
Virtue alone suffices
whether essence or existence;
In reason and nature
we find our constant companion.
my voice may not be loud
I may not stand out in the crowd
not game changer
but a strange stranger
that's me
others have a louder roar
other wings, a higher soar
but, listen...there's more
epic doesn't negate my tale
Nor does fame make it pale
watch out for me
I date destiny
in my little sphere
I oscillate
making waves that vindicate
purposefully planted
I speak the
unique
a different take
a different shake
awake
faking fake
I'm real
sometimes a whisper
sometimes a shout
or in monotone metronome meter
I...get...the...truth...out
influence is what I'm about
silence is not golden
when happiness is stolen
catalyst reviver
destitute dream finder
prejudice grinder
a healer, binder
I am reality
existentialist examiner
look at me
I'm here to leave a mark
I'll not stay in the dark
Little light shiner
I may not be the blaze
but i'm steady,
it only takes a little light
to ignite
the world
I am me
not a Shakespeare or a Donne
no, neither one
but my place I have won
with a party of one
that's still influence
that's still power
in this time and hour
that's all we need
one person
to change...
one world
with one word
it can be done
I'm here
I'm your party...
your party
of
ONE
Eileen Manassian
there is no going back the innocence is gone
life as we knew it will never be the same
scarred from fear and loss of loved ones
shaken to our core that we are not invincible
inhabitants of the world survive a global attack
behind closed doors we face our conundrum
we’ve had the time to take a long hard look
revisit existentialist values and priorities
watch in awe how our neighbors react
we’ve redrawn boundaries in the sand
i have the outlook of an aging babyboomer
never more grateful that we got to enjoy our freedom
in the sixties seventies and eighties ~ nothing like it
the call for peace and harmony, how the lovin’ was easy
a simple life satisfied with a pair of blue jeans and a guitar
till we rectify the present we can relive the past
while finding ways to make new memories
one thing for sure is that gratitude is strength
stay cheerful ~ things could always be worse
be patient ~ things will definitely get better
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~COVID 2020~ 2020
AP: 3rd place 2020
Submitted on July 10, 2020 for contest STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (8) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
That's a long way from sighing freely
just one calm brushstroke
wrapped in a sea of tranquility
to suit phantom clustering to occur
soundless groans of despair
permeate deeply below
vacant plenty and lots of depth
holding tanks for trinkets
still swallowing down
to its essence, it's stifling
In the bowels of the abyss
with staggering madness.
a piercing squeak emerged
the darkened horrible torture
emotional feelings swing the gamut
ensuring the gusts of grief are at bay
the brief bouts of peace were helpful
In the hopes of lasting harmony
while maintaining a silent beat
Irresolvable and convoluted
retain your cool and stand firm
the self-aware rule of one's mind
a sharp jolt to one's daydreams
restrained my forward motion
the sleepy origins of the phrase
my heart ached for alteration
according to the distorted sobs
between the quaking anger
plus the carefree merriment
waited in fear of a phantom sighting
we are sincerely moved by to silence
an existentialist perspective
hidden and unyielding; a mystery
It aggressively drops its coat
trauma-induced coldness
the silence was jarring.
still, a swing of the pendulum
tears the mask off the difficulty
capturing the essence of times
time spent in relative stillness.
Written: April 13, 2013
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1208 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!