Long Explanation Poems
Long Explanation Poems. Below are the most popular long Explanation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Explanation poems by poem length and keyword.
hear me out on this
I invented the "just understand"
when the feeling of sadness
gets way out of hand
a way to unravel
truth at its core
not focus on an event
or excavate more
for sometimes I was hurt
didn't know how to respond
the 'why' is quite complex
something that went way beyond
not a heartache
or frustration
but deeply felt pain
extrapolated past this
and to that again
a deep well of fear
and self-contained hate
that I didn't want to explain
define or dictate
so here is the answer
the "just understand"
as simple as quietness
and a gently held hand
reassurance I'm known
and can rest easy now
no duty required
I can unfurrow my brow
no overthinking
or exhausting explanation
simply cradled with care on titration
I won't explain more
as it defeats my invention
but rest by me
and you'll feel the removal of tension
calming of nerves
as we exist side by side
no unnecessary words
just allowing energies to collide
it's not on prescription
unfortunately still rare
most of the ingredients elusive
but now I know they are there
I know emotional pain
isn't an eternal state
that being "just understood"
is something we can co-create
The Vagabond Friend
He appears as if out of a mystic unseen wind
Adding sparkle and warmth to your life
His personality is intoxicating and charming
A breath of fresh air
Lifting your spirit above worldly strife
He's enchanting and captures your heart easily
You wonder how, without him, you ever got by
Then suddenly he's gone ..no explanation
Leaving you wondering why
He sails away silently into unchartered waters
Searching for what he himself is unsure
While you're left with only memories of his love and laughter
And an ache you've never known before
Still your adoration for him lasts forever
And your missing him will know no end
But you will never forget nor will you regret
The magic moments shared with your Vagabond Friend
by Joan Donnelly Ellis January 22, 2016 inspired by Joseph Tomkiell
Maybe all imagination,
Takes us to a fifth dimension.
Where our dreams feed aspiration,
Or some thoughtful facsination,
Gaining knowledge for invention.
Maybe all imagination,
Concludes with an explanation,
Memories seek some attention,
Where our dreams feed aspiration
Free will or hallucination,
Animation in suspension,
Maybe all imagination
Wasting time procrastination,
Consciousness without pretension.
Where our dreams feed aspiration,
Changing thoughts in meditation.
Hair brained schemes saved for retention
Maybe all imagination,
Is preordained, with creation
Why evil is the evil?
Is Satan evil? Is the Satan the Evil?
God and Lucifer are enemies.
Hmm, Because the Angel of Light
rebelled against his creator God
millions of years ago. But why?
This is a good question. But then,
the answer is given, Nobody sees it
But it is straightforward. Can you see it?
Nothing else. It is quite obvious though.
Yes. What was the problem? - Hmm?
The two-way. I mean the Two Way
The explanation is this, only this
What way? Material? Or immaterial?
Jesus – I love Him – points to Heaven
But where is the life? There or here?
Yes. Again a question. – Everywhere
So, life can exist everywhere. Yes. Sure
Okay, But what was the problem?
The way
Means what way?
Satan needed civilization development
– to the humanity
Jesus needed to ascend into heaven
– to the humanity
But what is the better way?
Both.
Not the separated.
Together.
Live together.
So?
Oh just a moment
Satan wanted to give the whole world to Jesus.
(Matthew 4)
But why?
Because Satan wants to create civilizations
This makes intellectual and spiritual development
For the people.
I think, but this is my meaning
Satan is not Evil
Why?
Read the Bible, please
There is the answer.
Jesus says all the evil things
come from the human heart
Not from Satan
God and Satan must make
peace with each other!
And create a new
And peaceful
Future!
Words schrunk, the entire explanation smoldering the ears
Of the giant seven-toed humans who lived here
Colors appeared like new flavors of ice cream
One man fantastic then the last!
They traveled in pairs, glowing for a few seconds, then laughing
And darting away, I heard my name in the distance, a feint echo,
Strangely familiar
I still was unfamiliar with their method of movement
As gravity seemed to change weight with the scented breeze
Always delighting my senses with flavors
Like butterscotch and blueberry, and feelings,
Like refreshment, and fresh popcorn
Everlasting made no sense
Outcomes never arrived
But love survived
love survived
11/03/11
I'm squirming in my chair of oak
with narrow arms, and folks lined up
in two long rows of growing thirst
and hunger for a breath of air
Like sardines in a can of worms
we are strange, unlikely shipmates torn
between one salesman's limped plea --
the other shark who disagrees
Gray flannel suit, the stiff white shirt
with slicked down hair, accusing words
persuading few with his hot air
The black suit spews his declaration
a quite contrary explanation
Until my mind is torn in two
and in a room we must decide
Confined inside, a dozen votes
where six say yay, six more say nope
We're hanging by a thread for days
and rumor spreads, with dreadful words
He has finally coped with deadlocked folks
But sternly looks a bit provoked
We sit there like a row of stones
of wounded souls. We are excused!
We grope for keys, and leave our thrones
And as I'm walking out the door
No longer needed any more
I see the face of one accused
Then count the blessings in my life
and take a breath of freedom's air
So glad to know some welcome arms
are waiting there, at home
_____________________________________________
"Person"
The Life Is …
The Life Is …
When I was young, there was no pain,
The only pain was to complain.
When I was young, I did not care,
Just as long as my love was there.
When I was young, my life was great.
But I was there a bit too late.
A bit too late to know life was,
being young and having no flaws.
A bit too late to celebrate,
What I had then was called my fate.
Now it’s different, weather is cold,
I turned into a man that’s old.
The spring has passed, summer is gone,
Autumn at rest, winter is on.
I am too old and know it’s gone.
It is too dark to hope for dawn.
Now I know that a part of life,
It is old age and lives with strife.
Now I know that my life is not,
The perfect plan when I had thought.
The life is not the silken dress,
Unmarked from flaws, full of success.
My life is just a song I sing,
It is winter chasing the spring.
It is sorrow, it is laughter,
It is hope for morning after.
My life is just a long poem,
Had a young star; none would know him.
The life is just a shooting star,
It is so bright but can’t go far.
Blink your eyes; it’s all be gone,
I played this game like a faceless pawn.
I played so well; somehow, I lost.
You don’t want me to count my cost.
My life is like a field of dream,
Or maybe like a moonlit stream.
My life is like a drop of dew,
Waiting the Sun to say adieu.
My life is like the dew at dawn,
The sun will kiss; it will be gone.
My life is not to be just young,
It is okay to be unsung.
My life is like the morning breeze,
It can bring storms or bring you ease.
You are hoping for one more dream,
That wakes you up in golden gleam.
The life is like a candle’s flame,
It lights up love or burns to blame.
The games are on, and the moves are fast.
I do not know how long they last.
For some, it’s short; for some, it’s long.
Go have more fun; it is not wrong.
Remember now, it might get late,
Go play your move before checkmate.
10/2/2019
Haloo
Note: The painting is called “A reminder”; it’s acrylic on wood.
Note: This style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is the spiritual couplets. This particular masnavi consists of eight syllables in each line. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
I Theme To List Toward Secular Humanism ©ø¥
Mine excel leant
powerfully pointed
nonestablishmentarian
outlook accesses
prolix laced threads, whereat
aye weave with zeal
spinning, sans metaphorical
loom min esse
cent invisible wheel
finagling, incorporating, and lurching
sesquipedalian ward webbing,
sans existential warp and weft
asthma trademark seal
begetting poetic offspring
for no rhyme, nor
reason and less real
than an actual progeny,
(das papa percolates,
per predilection toward prolix)
as poor substitute
to apply seminal seal
if only...grace with
a younger fecund wife,
where becoming
pregnant would ap peal
and be chronologically viable
plus said mother
hood ambition would,
(asper this
hypothetical scenario)
might warrant me to inculcate,
and if necessary
take a knee to kneel
yet stopping short
of any Machiavellian
(cut throat...er rather
umbilical cord) tactics to activate
no explanation why
hankering to create
additional "NO FAKE"
fallacy aye in inflate
cuz, nothing compares
to sire (with love)
heir or Harris heiress,
and coveting father hood again
a son or daughter
even though pushing late
fifties, which age finds me
to instagram, shutterfly,
or snapchat with disbelief
aware that divulgence to experience
such poignant pang mate
be attributed to absence
of mine deux darling daughters
ah...juiced a small
pipe (petty filed)
whet dream wracking ma pate
no great expectations
by dick ends
for any physically
intimate tete a tete
thus assimilate call
of the wild crafting writings
with my huff firm mitt heave
gen till loin that doth undulate.
The child wonders how does the refrigerator light
always know when to come on?
There must be an answer to this or
an explanation to this phenomenon.
Well! There lives in our refrigerator a little man
top right hand corner.
You would never know that he was there
if it was not for the light.
He sure can run faster then a road runner
getting from left to right.
Not to mention all the things he has to run
Around that's old as well as new.
The child peeks in to the refrigerator all is dark.
He opens the door a little wider there's a spark
So the child opens the door all the way.
You may have seen him and not ever realized it.
When the bread wrapper jumps,
Or there's a loud bump that you can not explain.
For you see by now your light
Is on for your eyes to see your snack by sight
With out a doubt the keeper of the light
Is forgotten until you think of your next food delight.
Form:
Since Kash revealed "her" secret, I have turned red.
All day I cried onto the pillow on my bed.
I think the whole true awful tale needs to be said.
A tragedy! I now feel like a blunderhead.
And though she is a vixen, I have to say I led
Kash on that “love rail” with me. Bold-spirited,
with lustful Soupmail, eagerly I visited
this "lass", who seems so manly! Lies had been fed
to me by her. She’s not a man, and I misread
her amorous responses. All my hope has fled!
There’s more! I’m gay. My real name's Andrew. Now with dread
I face the fact I can’t have Kash. My poor heart’s dead.
(I decided I better put an explanation here because I wrote this more than a year
ago for a contest in which we were supposed to write a poem that could be either
a lie or the truth. After Kashinath, my good friend and a MAN, wrote a very funny
poem proclaiming himself a woman, this was my way of doing a fictional poem in
response to his funny contest entry! OH, the poem of KASH POET is called A SECRET FUNNY TALE, I hope you will read it!)
For Shani Fassbender's really cool contest: Tell Me a Secret
And now for PD's contest: Make me Laugh