Long Exploration Poems
Long Exploration Poems. Below are the most popular long Exploration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Exploration poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh
Your whimsical
Words and whiles and ways
Are like Vaseline on a chapped baby's bum
Or camomile on sunburn skin
Conservative journeys traversing the vacuum
On the dark side of the moon
Only the true believers
Are destined to see
If Apollo goes to plan
And the shuttle lands
The future is in your hands
Fire up the marching band
And make a stand
For a return to mother earth
Re-entering in a blaze of firework glory
The countdown where Rockets left
Sound a crack of warrant thunder
No more under
The spell of magic
The whimsical reside
Man has been to the other side
And there is no going back
The heaven's are no longer black
Back to the motherland
Where the only thing to fear
Is conquering army's
That fund exploration
Just leave behind your paint-by-number days
Move in to your reflection in my eyes
I'll finger paint my love over your grey
So all your daydreams will be colorized
I'll paint a world beyond your wildest dream
With colors undefined on any chart
You'll find with me, no mundane color scheme
Each stroke, I'll add more depth to your fine art
And after each day we will paint the night
The hues in all your dreams will blend with mine
Imagination sparks, then love ignites
Exploding fireworks as our dreams entwine
These eyes are radiant because of you
Your beauty is reflected in my view
(fireworks 2 syllables)
by Daniel Turner
My response to Nicola's Radiant Eyes.
Radiant Eyes
Radiant eyes, you haunt my dreams,
And ignite imagination.
Piercing gems, a hint of moonbeams,
Spark my quest for exploration.
Just like a lighthouse, at night, they gleam
And guide me to your loving arms.
Your love and strength govern supreme,
And protect me from daylight harms.
But soon, the earth, in all her schemes,
Pulls me from salvation.
At dawn’s early rise, I am, it seems,
Bled of sweet intoxication.
Oh radiant eyes, where do you go,
When the nightmare of morn has begun?
I try to forget, but the soul with the glow
Lingers ’til I come undone.
Hours are so long, when will I see you
In the waking light of day?
Colour my world with your radiant hue
And end my nightmare grey.
by Nicola Byrne
The smoky clubs of thought/ where shadows dance and poets talk of truth whispered low/man, a story without end/ can you dig it, my friend/ improvisation’s the key, always unlocked in time, a jazz riff echoing truth in research of a paradigm/
assumptions about the nature of reality in jazz talk, scales, and harmonies, the framework we embrace/is not life the same? like established knowledge, but thinking out of frame, lighting up the space, to build on a jazz note we create, we innovate, say, give the funky drummer some/
just like Miles on his horn, exploring what's in the score, man, the vibing brain, a hipster’s thought, where networks of creativity ignite, and a conscious soul control breaks through/
The mind unfurls its thinking wings, a melody takes flight in a jazzed-up symphony of science, burning ever so tight/
a rock steady beat, the rhythm deepens, but the jazz spills over, it paints a wider scene, Pollock's action strokes, vibrant, raw, and jazzy, mean/
Oh, but the freedom in his canvas, a rhythm in his hand like McCoy Tyner’s dancing on the keys/
improvisation's spirit, always in jazz and graffiti wall art on subway trains sprayed across the Bronx highlands/Miles himself, he painted too, abstract hues so bold, from horn to brush he journeyed, a creative, restless soul/ life jazz influence profound, taking its hammering toll on his body and soul/
man, the tempo picks up, into the evolution of funk more emphatic, much more in the pocket of James Brown/ ya dig? exploration, a pattern found, a quantum leap into the unknown jazz heap of sounds/ like a jazz horn solo taking a giant step into the ubiquity of a jazz riff, a seed that has been sown across the river of stars/
In science and music, the spirit intertwined/a quest for understanding, etched upon a circle of fifths/ and the universal wind cries Mary, a jazz solo vast like a Jimi Hendrix acid jazz blast/
repeating rhythms echo across jazz music and cosmology/ in spoken word harmonies with in and out thinking with room for improvisation, improvise your life, and breathe it in/ get hip to the rhythm in your soul/ let it flow, man/
Let the jazz of physics make you brilliantly whole/gung-bow-chi, chi, gung-bow/ drums as the backbone to the funk thing/ It’s a strong emotional and spiritual bond into Life, and the physics of the Jazz sound
I have forsaken all to be with thee
might those I had created
and
there mothers be secondardary to
my needed
now I may speak of in tenses
that I have curse the
foods of her table as
(wHoop: Hooga;hooga< Ployed!)
with thyn Roosters
as (put, ting: plerb!)
and there Hens
Whoomp: ah Lumpa Whooga!)
Our Wedding
Hour Wedding
Suite Our oh Sayer
Plung: Plung: Pling
The invoice for dah
Clothes from
the Fat-People Store
or the Phat Peoplesz Stow
what ya'll talking bout?
Exploration into The Construction of "Father's Door "
A new concept City. Which with have a townseat named
Mother Apron. The place is beleived to create a manmade waterfall
and a man made volcano
that will house a water treament. A plant to build and sell
Crate and Barrel dwellings
that will suport mid poverish lifestyles.
This promagram is designed to use materails that support warmth and are easily cool
Equipment is half of the national avergae
meaning new compact equipment to regulae. Compact frigs, compact
washer, dryers
Do you like reading deep into a calling for truth, a mutual exploration of existentialism more profound questions, and closeness?
Within an invitation to meet—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in a place of honesty, wonder, and romantic mystery filled with mythical possibility?
Then read on.
(A lone voice whispers as it reads the letter for you)
Would you meet me at midnight?
Amore Mio
In the Green Forests of The Great In-Between
If l lit a fire to guide you after I invited you
To sit and just talk about all The Mysteries of Life, over ice
Like The Trinity of Happiness, Sadness, and Madness
The three things involved in all things
Things that could then turn into something that could be so nice
And then to count the flashing stars, shimmering from afar
While listening to real Country Music, played on real guitars not the new music played by AI
An extension of the fallen Morning Star
For within this invitation, to Night of a Thousand Stars, in sight
Our first topic of conversation would be that night
As we looked at Heaven's Endless Door, with wonder
Does true love even exist and live for evermore
And is there a chance for us, my Amore Mio
To walk upon its heavenly shore
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Amore Mio: Italian for my love.
Acquiescing to its allure,
you surrender your heart to love.
And, relinquishing innocence,
indulge in sexual pleasures.
Desire inflames your libido;
igniting smoldering embers.
And passion burns within your heart,
free of doubt, pretense, and deceit.
Sweaty bodies tightly entwine,
tangled in this moment in time.
And they experience feelings,
that approach pure exaltation!
Extraordinarily superb,
sex just keeps on getting better!
And within this fantasy dream,
happiness and pleasure abound.
Trust fuels two hopeful hearts on
their journey of exploration.
And sharing intimate movements,
each touch is dually enjoyed.
Children's minds, a shower of light,
Pouring down understanding, love's nurturing sight.
A bridge of sensory exploration, within the play,
Tiny ships of knowledge, gliding through the joy's way.
The seed of learning, sprouting tall,
Self-directed clues, the quest for knowledge's call.
The vast library of knowledge lies within their souls,
Clearing confusion, in quiet, self-discovery's bowls.
Through exploration, a journey of discovery,
Learning's path, independent, filling minds with knowledge, true.
In the continuous growth of knowledge, light,
The bridge of learning, open to all, together, taking flight.
In our hug
My body shakes
As it strikes me
That this is the last.
This is goodbye.
No sleepovers
That fill the house
With endless screeching,
Inside jokes and continuous laughter.
No horror movies
Encouraging the thrills and scares
While one sits upright,
Unaffected by the terrors adorning the screen.
No pillow fights forced upon us
As the other grabs a pillow and starts hitting,
A constant repetition of ‘pillow fight’
Until they can’t breathe.
No painting nails or the face masks that never got done.
No outings together
Where exploration is done, pictures are snapped
And enjoyment is had.
No more fights for the front seat
That end with one winner.
No dumb jokes from me
That is followed by one laugh;
The only appreciator of the terrible humour.
Family gatherings of that side
Will never be the same.
There will be dread as we go
Because there are cliques within
And ours has been snatched from our grasp.
No more dishing of drama
From the tea fairy herself.
We had our last sleepover,
One final outing was missed
But the clique was together
At that last family gathering
Of a big celebration.
The last of the tea
Had been dished to the group.
One final meal
And the last in-person hug
As we bid them goodbye
With tears in our eyes.
Its goodbye
To another set of cousins.
Now its our turn.
Brutal honesty in the inward spiritual search requiring discarding all lower mind thought constructs, including anticipation borne of perception arising from memory imagery, Krama mudra is the direct and fearless exploration of each enabled vibration, directly cognised in wonderment and astonishment within our energy body. Essence of being is realised as resident within the rod of initiation or staff of power, as the Sushumna is often called. The radiation of ineffable bliss throbbing within the central funnel as bliss climax in renewal continual, heightened at geometrically spaced chakras is unmistakable. No doubts remain.
The energy grid
Radiating inside out
Bliss within throbbing
Sturdy within myself like I haven’t been before. From the penthouse of my mind to the dirt in my basement floor.
Wasn’t focused on the destination as that would have been a chore. So I climbed the stairs one step at a time without pushing for more. Leaning into discovery along the route to guide my tour. The trail was littered with roadblocks and detours. My soles became tattered and torn as I questioned if I could endure. But courage kept me on track as eventually unlocked the door to my soul. After swinging it open I realized it was on the journey where I developed my ability to soar.
What started as whisper soon turned into a roar. Now I’m infused with resilience through every corner of my core. Not sure what’ll come next but I’m ready for whatever the universe has in store.