Long Expiring Poems
Long Expiring Poems. Below are the most popular long Expiring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expiring poems by poem length and keyword.
Blank page syndrome
feels like full page longing
to be done with some work project
that will not slowly grow worthy
of my time
and certainly no captivated reader.
I feel victimized,
tortured, actually,
by blank page syndrome
Where I want to feel some opening
and rewarding opportunity
and not dull risk
of further unnoticed failure
to richly
and wisely communicate
warm and wild communion.
My blank pages
demand content
spilled across blue horizontal lines
with a red left side vertical
boundary demarcation
Remarking where orderly thought correctly begins
to unfold top left
unfurling cause effectively
sequentially
toward right bottom
Yet Left dominance
overpowers Right feelings prominent
circling and recycling
whirling and spinning
spiraling out of win/win control
re-membering risks
of nontransparent failure
falling brawly short
of both peaceful Truth
and vulnerable Beauty.
Yet a bleakly black blank canvas
with no red
or blue bicameral communion rules
or tools
feels most frightening
intimidating of all
unbalanced
anthro-privileged
vaporous calls
My
"I can't draw,
or sketch,
or paint,
or write,
or sing,
or dance,
or speak out woke"
Can't preach
or teach inside voices
ignoring outside echoing choices
to evoke
childish dreams,
daydream schemes
to become Earth's greatest love
of blank paged warm regard
for how we flew
and walked
and swam
and grew to Here embodied
meets Now compassioned mind
Greatest
deepest
widest
trusted EarthBeauty
dipolar co-arising
all scared yet sacred Time's unfolding
Win/Win regenerative
peaks and valley sand
defining ecstatic
aesthetic lines
refining intimate circling spaces
etched throughout
neuro-systemic elegant
regenerational potential
for healthier lands
Not not synergetic journeys
deeply and widely
back and forth
out and inside
polyculturing communion
While staring at this straight lined
and otherwise white privileged
square-cut manufactured page
Holding my green health hope
and content contented circling pen
praying for worthy expiring
inspiration.
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Dopey . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
I beg your pardon
My dearest peers
If I played part in
Your past years
This is my best
Most formal apology
Acknowledge you’re blessed
No one gave one to me
I don’t like to pick sides
I see no clear answer
Often changing my mind
A fluctuating canter
Most can be relentless
Un open to change
Opposers are senseless
Flexibility drained
But is there a clear choice
Only a wrong and a right
Or is the sound of my voice
Just a trivial plight
Despite any facts
I have an unbiased wiring
There’s no changing that
It won’t be expiring
So I cop a plea
And hope you accept
Down on my knees
No dignity left
It was a desperate situation,
Regimental honour at stake,
Decision urgently needed
As to what actions to take.
The Colonel was in paroxysms
The RSM was spitting blood
The M.O. was overworked and
Things just weren't looking good.
An outbreak of indiscipline was
Fast spreading through the ranks,
Squaddies dying without permission
Without a by your leave or thanks,
In such sloppy situations which
Caused the C.O. to angrily mention
They didn't even have the courtesy
To die properly lying at attention.
With ruthless Military action
With no thought of pity
Permission to die withdrawn
Without the relevant chitty.
Two weeks notice of intent
Sent with an application
Was now the requirement
To sort out the situation.
Expiring without notice
Became a disciplinary offence
Combined with an appeal
To use their common sense.
Extra duties to be imposed for
Future unauthorised expiration,
The deceased’s unit being held
To blame for the situation.
The system worked a treat
For any squaddie hates
Being held responsible
For letting down his mates.
The situation stabilised
Until finally at length
The regiment returned to
Fully operational strength.
Sanity quickly established
Thanks to the decisions made
And the Colonel and Sergeant Major
Held a celebratory Regimental Parade.
Pardons were quickly issued for those
Who’d died without permission
And the Regiment quickly returned
To its allocated operational mission.
Feeling depressed put down a drug of choice
Reminisce remember when you were a babe
You were innocent
Snuggle
Swaddle
Embraced by mother
God was in you then
He's also in you now
So why all the give ups giving up
Throwing up their sins
Throwing it into the wind
They lose they fall
During withdrawal
Why must they give up, give up
When there's a God of Grace
In space
He's around you
With the love that's ever true
Nothingness
In your distress
Keep on or wait you're waiting swallowing
Waddling
Waiting through the test you give up
Or just a breath a whisper
In The wind flowing
Blowing
Traveling falling
Expiring so when you mess up, mess up
Only give Jesus your sin
That's the only way you going to win
This is the song of the give ups
6/26/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Leaking pontoon predicts my departure
Impatient yacht chases nautical next
Mislaid terrain erases my history
Grim authorities in obvious places patrol
Timidity prescribes aghast of tranquil abiding
Windwaken, I'm admiring the Sea of Revolt
Remarked upon in wonder, venture presents
Treasure indiscernible beneath tumbled tumult
Bold abandon condoned by bow of rationale
Faithful lungs serenade the speed of sails inflated
Turning back causes hair whipped vision to opaque
Potential's yell propels me from return's persistence
Society's twine allured by Twitter lunacy
My social media expels expiring bubbles
Sunk with rusty ruins of past governing
Continents are considered impediments
Ballast beckons ocean of observation
Jubilation journeys my adjournment
Angels guide navigation wide eyed
Fleeing seabirds call for recognition
Wave over waves of sweeping search
Unlikely dream festered in slumber of time
Shaken awake by inspiration's finger nails
Carries message of necessary momentum
Voyage for knowledge graces me
Extremeties are empty, planets drift
Virgin space accommodates galaxies
Originally written April 2020
Submitted for John Hamilton's
Free Verse of 2020 Contest
Expanses are tomorrow's territory
Horizons amplified by my wing span
Strength developed in feather tapestry
Shifting locale afforded with agile plan
Ocean's edge sends mayhem forceful
Detected slipstream among punishment
Aids spread winged hunt for salty morsels
Harmony on coast's cantankerous currents
Silver seaside high tide grasses kindly submit
Myriad of scurried meals by beak sting stilled
Sharp penetration permits energy replenished
Distant destination found rewards strong will
Emitted persistence, rhythmic ritual circle
Swirled arcs shrill remarks of dominance
Prevailing patient weathered fellow eagles
Declare stubborn intentions of prominance
Gathered sighting innately demands I pitch in
Tightly packed muscles drive flight equipment
Evolution necessitates expiring weak specimen
Keen eyed females favour winners' enrichment
Tormenting mountain draws crazed tenacious
Rugged random avalanche presents no threat
Closer to our Maker, my meditation spacious
Challenge breeds sage old age can't forget
Hundred mile distant haven spied by astute
Richer realms' conquer deem fear redundant
Headed to adventure, potential not obscured
Tough trend upwards, spiralling triumphant
Them whom say he's a hoarder;
Juz-cuz he's buying things the same things over-and over;
Mattering’s my mind races just spiraling;
Going, going, moving on;
Spawns are the curses deemed;
Resources deem desponded bond;
Passionate are the dream;
So over bearing I consume so much I buy, buy, buy Why?
Boarder line hoarder purchases stacked toward the skies;
Just what are we looking for I’m expiring?
Midst calms justice’s screams;
Values costly rallies dreams;
Just ain't got no "enough"
Cuz, it's the end of the world ya know it!!
6/26/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Valencia, a return to the Spanish coast, 1966
Nineteen and running wild, searching
Conversation turns to idealism, liberty expiring
Port and starboard, hand shake, maybe again
Two nights, same bar, Listened to the stories
Eleven years since he’d seen home
Adventure sets a fire in a young man’s soul
A need to spread your wings
We’d meet by chance again in Barcelona
Sorry mate, need a diversion, see those two.
Texas bar, broken chairs, bottle thrown
Turmoil and the back door’s open
Saw him smile and wave goodbye
Yes sir, those two over there, don’t know why
Damn that’s funny
Never saw him again, unspoken friendship.
Just wonder sometimes.
Back in ancient matriarchal time
Divine inspiration told sacred stories
of epic journeys
for creation and birthing re-creation
and against death and degeneration
Around fire-circles
for cooking
and cleaning
and keeping wolves
and shape-shifters at bay
away from form-drifter nightmares.
These were told
and retold
like a wealthy creolizing river of DNA codex
speaking in four gospel prime voices,
And only then
began to become more patriarchal orthodox
as written down
in fundamentally evangelical missionary monoculturing
monotheistic Bibles.
Yet, even so,
what were they breathing in
while divinely expiring out?
As if DNA diversity
would be more self-regeneratively fluid and effective
when labeled in LeftBrain deductive networks
growing more pathology free
through authoritative cross-referenced liberty to read
Codex Either/Or
with Both/And double-bound
in-between binary binomial bilateral ingenuous integrity
of Left secular commodification
with Right sacred unification
co-operation
Dipolar co-arising
Left scientific Right sacred co-evolutions
of ecopolitical empowering/disempowering
scripture telling
Original multicultural matriarchal outside CreationStories
inside deep ecologically wealthy Voices.
Back in ancient matriarchy
timelessly understoried
warm womb of Time our reborn effluent selves.