Long Experiences Poems
Long Experiences Poems. Below are the most popular long Experiences by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Experiences poems by poem length and keyword.
Aliens DO exist and they are observing us guys
The way we interact with each other
What advice do you think they would give us
Would they throw up their hands in disgust
And say, “it's no use... people of earth, you just don't get it!”
Or would they see hope for us and offer to help
Perhaps they've gone through similar “growing pains”
Wherever they come from
And wish to share their experiences with us
At my advanced age, I hope I live long enough to see that day
To suggest that we are alone in the universe
Is absolutely absurd and beyond my comprehension
There are billions upon billions of other galaxies
With billions upon billions of other worlds like ours
To assume otherwise
Is UTTERLY, UTTERLY, PREPOSTEROUS!
© Jack Ellison 2014
My little Mustang Girl
Lost am I, in this gray wilderness.
A beautiful place, but what a mess.
An exotic vision, riding your Mustang.
A heard, the head of this wild gang
of experiences roaming this wilderness,
electrical impulses, I must confess
permeate every, neural pathway,
every synaptic cleft willing to fray
within this old brain, this fragile heart,
yet never to know the joy of a new start.
I see you upon your Mustang, sitting erect,
sun in your lovely face, hair streaming, what effect.
A vision of a wild and beautiful Mustang, free,
mane and tale floating upon memories, for me.
Galloping down the hallways of my memories hoard
where all the beauty, I experienced with you, is stored.
Leading this heard further and further into the universe
you’ve run me to the edge, leaving little more for this verse,
except to wonder, why ?, do I still hang on so
to this love for you that I came to know.
B. J. “A” 2
January 11 2015
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
I am nothing but a raindrop
Sliding down the path of life
I feel in the beginning I was pure
I was wholesome
but as time went by I collected dirt
I lost myself along the way
And now I need only look back to see
Parts of me that rubbed off
On the world
Sometimes I feel lost and afraid
Feeling like the path I'm on is predetermined
And perhaps that's exactly what life is
Maybe we're all sliding down predicted paths
To what will likely be similar ends
It's not as if I'm the only raindrop on this path
For there are millions of raindrops just like me
Yet each raindrop tells a story
In the pathway that it leaves behind
And perhaps one day my story will be told
Or maybe I'll fade insignificantly
Yet all I can do is keep sliding down this path
The fear of the unknown is always there
And perhaps that's exactly what life is
We're all fighting our own demons
Hoping to defeat them before they defeat us
And perhaps every raindrop loses part of who they are
We only need to look back to see
But what rubbed off someone else
Has become a part of who we are
I feel that maybe in the end I'll be pure again
And I'll be whole with a lifetime of experiences
While the dirt will be cleansed
I am nothing but a raindrop
Sliding down a windshield
Preface to this brief bitty
written snap ting snapshot – word ditty
dates back before I reached gritty
age of eight and fifty, aye recall a kitty
rescued by my youngest sister, who took pity
and felt aghast,
at a potential cruel fate no witty.
Upon return home from an Antioch College coup
(so many diverse work experiences required -
some involving offal goop
i.e. case in point being this anecdote,
which may fall outside the loop
of common “hands on
off fish shawl” employment,
thee tasks on par with handling poop
stoically accepted by Shari Todd
(name of said sibling),
who when home from Davis, California
(albeit temporarily, and before she returned
to Yellow Springs, Ohio) divulged
how she did scoop
dread, dreck, dregs, et, cetera –
i.e. by product amidst fish farm
didst set her dead against being linkedin
purr animal cruelty, thus play role of troop
er – which tummy
earned her kudos a resounding whoop!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Before launching into this poem purr say
lemme mention how thine late mother
took an immediate affinity and hence no delay
that this lucky creature became akin to a bebe.
Main Coon, Felis catus, nicknamed Boozie
raccoon features, face mask, brown thick costume
handsome boy, affectionate personality, expressively vocal
Pink wet nose, emerald eyes, pointed ears
cavernous mouth, sharp teeth, rough tongue
striped design, massive fluffy fur, bushy tail
Soft paws, padded cushions, retractable blades
wild animal, predation urge, survival instinct
agile movement, swift motion, unfortunate victim
Door prize, flies feast, whitened bones
loyalty strong, pageant display,
splayed across kitchen table courtly dignity
Quiet house, sonar sounded, Cheshire upward smile
purred softly, rubbed legs, warm vacant lap
Jumping agility, firmly sequestered
Contentment expressed, internal hum, reciprocal therapy
beautiful petsmart, little monkey, comfortably sleeps
peaceful slumber, wakeful stretch, ideal life
Fortunate intervention, cat whisker to demise,
brush avoided becoming piscine meal,
kingly privileged role, heartfelt love.
Many musical giants sprang from small places in the region of my birth.
I heard some of them live as they played their guitar or harmonica.
Others I heard by way of radio from fancy faraway and distant places.
Their discovered talent had made them famous and taken them away.
They had lived where I live; we walked the same delta dusty roads.
Their stories like mine originated from the cotton fields of Mississippi.
Some of us drank away our misery and pain; others sang and played their pain.
The songs were called 'the blues'; that 's why I call that region Delta Blue.
It is said that fame is fleeting, and I believe it to be true in that sense.
But in another sense, it is also true, because it makes the famous flee.
Away they fled to places North, because they refused captivity by misery.
I knew them from afar, because they became bigger than their place of birth.
Humble abodes and inhumane experiences often made them sad and blue.
Experiences were internalized and recycled into great sounds of popular songs.
From Delta Blue I too did sprang, but I sing neither happy nor sad tunes.
When I hear those home grown sounds from Delta Blue, I understand them.
03112017 PS, Any Poem Written in March-Not for Contest, Laura Loo
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
It has been there for ages,
perhaps older than anybody alive.
Radiating dignified peace, it stands
enveloping everything under it in a cocoon
of soothing shade. A patient listener whom I
consider my companion. On lazy noon, I'd weave
uncharted territories on paper to bury in parched trunk.
With numerous thoughts I couldn't share with others,
I had bubbles of exuberant stories to be narrated. It
swayed lush green branches and dropped a few leaves in
appreciation. A young thinker humming to serene tunes
of cooing wind on starry nights would teleport me to
a sphere of leaves sparkling with coloured dreams.
Over the years, the pile of buried pages from my
memories, fears, experiences, years simmered
into the roots of that old tree. It stayed
patient witnessing my journey, shedding
agony with withered leaves in autumn,
buried under layers of winter snow,
reborn every spring.
From crumbles of
my old struggles,
figments of my
journey, drops
of patience
nurtured it
to my essence.
The tree now
lives as my
legend, hope
rising from
legacy of
showers
that drench spirit
in soaring ecstasy. The
leaves fly afar, spreading
through blue rivulets, blooming
orchards and sing of a lonely tree
that grew in a barren land with courage,
turning struggles into elixir for leaves,
a newfound freedom for memories to live on.
August 30, 2020
All The Little Pieces Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Dodalita
Do you know what that is?
I don't either
But sometimes we have to do the don't(s)
before we can understand the do(s)
It's called obedience
If we always do what we understand
We may miss out on the what we don't understand
For starter, we may miss out the trivial, mystic
of the grander life
Do we always understand ourselves
how else do we expect to understand everything?
Are we limited
by our own mind, experiences?
Only when we let God open our mind
filled with the unlimited
could we be able to live life to the fullest
Should we question God on everything?
We should
But not to the point where we stop listening
There is a price to that
That is called impediment
It is impeded on your development
to your higher walk with God
God does not lead you to danger
to the opposite of where you need to be
So trust Him
And say 'here I come
understanding or not'
That is true obedience
That is what I leave for now
Until I feel like it
Or God make me
See - obedience :)
What the hell is poetry?
Is it just words that sound pretty?
Or is there something deeper here?
A way to move beyond our fear?
The beauty of a well-crafted line
Can induce us to feel as if we're divine.
But the power of poetry goes beyond that.
It can touch our souls and break down our hats.
Through rhythm, rhyme, and metaphor,
We can express what words alone can't explore.
Emotions, experiences, and beliefs
All can be conveyed through poetic relief.
From Shakespeare to Maya Angelou,
Poetry has been a way to pursue
The human experience, the joys, and pain,
And inspire us to opine and create again.
So, what exactly is poetry?
It's a way to connect with our humanity.
To express ourselves and understand,
And ultimately, to unite us as one grand band.
2nd Place Contest Winner
Written: June 05, 2023
W T F Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
How would Earth create
and reconnect
regenerate
a species still needing ecological acceptance?
This need to be accepted
and accepting what cannot be win/win changed
just yet
in troubled
and troubling relationships
This need for acceptance
born of trauma,
past experiences
not being acceptable
as is,
feeling depreciated
not appreciated,
consumer commodified
not unconditionally cherished,
warmly accompanied,
touched
by win/win communications
Not tolerating chronic
win/lose aggressive
patriotic capitalism
as the best RightWing Business weapon,
fighting wars
Against:
Economic
and political appreciation,
nonviolent communication,
compassionate invention
for trauma prevention.
If babies
and marriages
are made in Heaven,
then we should not be surprised
when they are aborted
while surviving silent
secluded
obsessive-compulsive
patriarchal-colonizing Hell
on ecocidal Earth
Which may speak out for warm acceptance
rather than continuing cold
impatient tolerance
for LeftBrain AnthroSupremacist
fears of dark and shameful
idolatrous
and/or spoiled
and selfish brat inadequacy
To learn why Earth has created
LeftBrain verbal dominance
for reconnecting
regenerating
a species still needing ecological acceptance,
unconditional warm regard
for MotherEarth
Restoring sacred Justice
Touched by Her trust
for Yang external Truths
with Yin internal Beauty
thought and felt accompanied
compassionate
Self and Other
warm NonZero-Soul Acceptance
Is a whole lot healthier
and environmentally safer
than cold Zero-Final Sums
patriarchal-corporate
mortal competitions for
bankrupt Tolerance.