Long Extended Poems
Long Extended Poems. Below are the most popular long Extended by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Extended poems by poem length and keyword.
Andromedan castles
moat has little blue boats
servers are maidens joyed
white iris gardens
deep canyons
radars aimed
soft cadence
magnet minds
love balanced
Orion forts marbled
shining with platinum bands
armoured Galactics cruel
stone and steel makes head reel
bold barons
orlon vests
high pylons
canon shots
warring sons
______________________________
In the absence of sunlight, darkness reigns;
and ebony pools into shifting shapes.
Color's absorbed; till only black remains:
imprisoned by shadows, no light escapes.
Shadows scurry from the light of the sun:
never underestimating its might.
Yet, darkness devourers' Day, till there's none:
consuming shadows, tethered to its light.
Without light, shadows won't even exist:
they can't take form until light strikes a spark.
Light and dark are designed to coexist:
Dawn's light gets juxtaposed against Dusk's dark.
Stand in the light, and you will cast a shadow
that will follow you wherever you go.
Every cordel tells something
I don't count at that time
because i haven't done it yet
I did not learn how to rhyme ...
It was because I look for a theme
may be the moan of the emu
or sing of the nightingale
fish without hook for thew ...
So as it’s not twine
can i write the paper
without fear of making mistakes
without censoring me. yet ....
What I did was sextile
broken into seven feet
I'm not much versed in it
it's not cordel style ..
I'm Full of thirsty
I have heart pain,
I don't wish to cry
but of much distress I can die
as bull of nowhere land
nostalgia for my hinterland ...!
PS
Cordel are leaflets containing popular poems, displayed for sale hanging from ropes or string, which gave rise to the name.
Cordel is also the dissemination of art, popular traditions and local authors and is invaluable in maintaining local identities and regional literary traditions, contributing to the perpetuation of Brazilian folklore.
A strong cooperative offense
is our most competitive defense.
Avoiding RightRed fascism
totalitarianism
terrorism, dark secular raptures and/or terrified jihad,
fundamental Nature is sinful, negative yin repressed,
while Spirit is health invested love, positive yang,
long-term ego/eco-centric,
bilateral co-temporal,
evenly humored humanistic divinalism.
By choosing divining higher
and humanely deeper
GreenLeft/RedRight co-regenerativity
strengthening LeftBrain's historic secular case
for more cooperative climate cleansing
by divesting of RedRight's competing disassociating divestment
away from
Divine/Humane WinWin MultiCulturing Holy Spirit
cooperative matriarchal/patriarchal outflowing natural
ZeroZone soulful
bilateral 4-Dynamic Primal Seasons
PolyNomial-GreenLeft ecology
for PolyPathic multicultural RedMountain Yang
speaks YinSquared Divine NonViolent ValleyLeft
PolyPhonic
Red light of dawning memories
co-invite Earth's Green reforesting vocation
in 4D bilateral Left/Right positive energy
democratic-trusting frame
dynamically parallel bicamerality
with resilient fractal string-structures of humane DNA
and divine RNA theological Origin
and 4-ecological ZeroZone Seasons
with 4-theological nurturing Reasons
for romantic infatuation
with Eastern outside red dawns
of post-millennial inside climate warning
and
Western indigenous Earth and tree
and Sun and moon
and Extended sanctuary family
nature/spirit worshipers,
singers,
dancers,
historians,
improv and designing artists,
designing and implementing ecologists,
creation and degeneration processors,
deep learning ecotherapeutic theologians
story-tellers of legends
sweeping cooperative neighborhoods
greeting travelers,
sojourners,
fellow walking
and flying
and swimming
and crawling eco-pilgrims
Liberally green
and conservational red night lovers
cooperatively mentored delight
avoiding tomorrow's nationalistic
ego-theistic
utterly narcissistic
BoogyMan
planting anti-historical flim/flam stories
hoping to fool all people
through all competing ZeroSum mythical time.
I'm standing by the mountain that reaches up so high.
I'm looking toward the heavens and asking for a reason why?
In the shadow of that mountain, I can't see my way through...
but I'll start climbing for the summit because I know I walk with you.
He'll lead me to the highest, he'll lift me and I'll fly,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm wading through the waters that flow down, so deep.
I'm searching for the answers, but in faith, I will leap...
into the deepest, darkest waters, I can't see my way through...
But I'll keep wading through the waters because I know I go with you.
He'll lead me across the waters, hold out His hand and I'll try,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm sitting In the garden that is withering each day.
I'm waiting for my time and while I wait, I will pray...
That when the winter winds begin to blow and my breath is released;
I’ll recall the mountain and the valley, with love and in perfect peace.
He'll lead me to the garden, He'll hold me as I pray and cry,
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
I'm lying in the pasture that spreads out far and wide.
I'm looking for the Shepherd who is always so close by.
There now, in the distance, He waves and beckons me!
So I'll go now into that pasture that leads to my eternity.
He'll lead me through the pastures, He'll carry me home when I die.
Father, Oh Father, You are the reason why.
See in my poem
the most common link
simple elan
that is not difficult
understand...
Feel in my thought
how relative to deny
or claim ...
See in my
point of view
constancy and
flexibility...
the search for the truth,
the pursuit of the ethereal
but with good reason ...
Feel in my spirit
the no stridency
but the conscience
and the humility of
a street beggar ...
Compare me like what
there is more pure
like perfume
of recent roses ...
Compare me with
the proximity
of heavenly bodies,
cosmic dust
that we don't see,
but happens...
Always read me,
(don't lose me)
on the slope
cosmopolitan
universality,
but telluric always ...
Don't read on me,
(may I preserve myself)
incitement to
violence,
hate...
Throw me,
reduce me
to the common
thought...
Note that I keep
idealism:
I'm synthetic,
I'm superlative,
syncretic ...
always human ...!
As a child, I found a well,
In a large grassy meadow.
And I clambered up its rocky sides
So that its secrets I would know.
On that day, I had no thirst,
Merely a child-like curiosity.
Its walls were rough and very steep,
And its bottom I could not see.
Looking around, a stone I found,
And tossed it down the well.
Then I listened for a sound,
To judge how far it fell.
After what seemed a lengthy time,
I heard a muted thud,
Which told me that either the well was dry
Or filled with thick dry mud.
People are dark deep wells
With depths you’ll never know,
And have thoughts you can’t perceive
When words at them you throw.
thought as poetry
past present future surreal
pure expressions cure
deific communing in time
softly breath stitches rare rhymes
stillness turns wheel feel
creating cosmic garlands
recognise lyrics
emotions eclectic ebbs
awakens colourful dreams
mirror reflections
nouns verbs adjectives adverbs
ether air worded
fire water earth stanzas
carries stories converses
stimulates seconds
fathoms then embraces faith
promotes perfect peace
forms galore eastern western
feeding fertility flames
intrinsic to life
advances awareness awed
forge fraternity
transmuting darkness to art
wisdom deepens liberty
_______________________
PLACED 4Th : STANDARD CONTEST
ON TANKA STRINGS
Stillness in the Storm
It isn't too far from a conceivable image,
To perceive the vast and forgotten knowledge;
What was and still is a, yet-lost tho recoverable innate and
usable norm,
We have merely been tricked to stumble and to falter,
To see only this, yet to live and just perish..there,
According to our physical form,
That they abuse & destroy upon an altar,
Weather warfare, earthquakes and genocide, ultimately we do not care,
For we reside here and so will yet survive,
All around us - here in this, our current metaphysical realm,
The imposed Chaos though surrounding every border,
A precursor to ancient prewritten solution and clumsily enforced brutal order,
A metaphor for required need within ourselves to never fall,
Do we not see an opening here at all?
Free our minds and our souls so then; by just remaining calm, all existential fear from harm,
Calmness within, proceeding to calm without,
Our sitting and walking meditation,
Hereby dissolves the seeds of doubt,
For we are inherently spiritual of course,
This we've always known, aside all attempts to quench and stifle, All adverse intent by decrepit obstinate deceptive force,
Nothing could delete the basic gnosis of what one really is,
So never give up your regenerative powers again,
To recall and never be reborn,
Innate within us, dimmed and
disabled, but never once forlorn,
Assume what was once stolen, Resume serenity once again, and for goodness' sake,
Renounce their trickery, and false imprisoned slavery, Regaining whatever it was they thought they had to take;
So as to never ever slip from grasp,
From God the origin and Source,
Ascension to freedom from our past,
Where we are from, the spark of his Divinity,
To a mindfulness and a calmness,
That our persistence then so gives us,
Rooted in our physically unforseen ability,
A steadfast grip on all around us,
Providing those of us with a remarkable and resounding..
Stillness in the Storm
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
19th February 2023
During mass consciousness awakening from this age old enslavement, culminating in their forced Disasters, Fabricated Food Scarcity, Earthquakes &
a scripted, orchestrated WW3..
There will surely be a guide ~
charting my path,
protecting,
and leading me
to my destined destination in life.
As if it were a promised payment
God made to me from heaven.
A visible hand
tucked out from an invisible tucker,
In a canoe on a river ~
gently rowing me along its flow.
Many near-deaths averted,
Many of life's debts miraculously paid,
many stale breaths,
yet never for a moment ceased.
All threats to my existence –
God canceled them,
sometimes with my sweat,
other times with just a little fret.
Yet still, I never got my feet wet or smelly,
even when I trudged through the sludge
left behind by life's avarice;
not a faint trace of the caprice
that clouds my destined destination.
There has to be only one explanation ~
providence,
not merely serendipity,
For I can see the hands of the I Am That I Am,
whispering their ubiquity,
through a tiny voice –
often feeble, yet ably affable,
I am cognisant of its presence,
especially when I disobey its warnings.
All these are never through kismet or fortuity ~
they are simply the ways of providence.
Case closed.