Long Extraordinary Poems

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Premium Member To create art is to dance with the unseen and the ethereal

To create art is to dance with the unseen and the ethereal,
A mystical journey, an enigma even to its creators.
Poets feel this deeply,
A difference they can't yet define, an unspoken aura.
Within them, emotions boil in a vast cauldron,
Every wound they bear, every fleeting joy, becomes magnified,
Everything brings pain. Everything.
They traverse this world as vessels of fragility,
Supersensitive souls drifting in a realm of the mundane.
The mundane dissolves before their enchanted gaze,
They see spectral realities, hear whispers in the celestial silence.
Others move forward, but they linger in the liminal,
Held by the gravity of visions unseen by ordinary eyes.
Their hearts are stormy seas,
Emotional whirlwinds that others cannot understand.
It isolates, ensnares, encasing them in solitary luminescence,
Yet this brilliance often feels too heavy for their delicate forms.
The raw beauty they perceive, untouched by mundanity,
Is both a shining gift and a crushing burden,
This hypersensitivity is the key to the divine,
But it can also be a curse that imprisons the soul.
In their veins flows the luminous river of inspiration,
Yet it cleaves through their existence, a double-edged knife, blessing and peril.
Seeing through this transcendent lens touches the divine essence,
But feeling every nuance can shake the spirit.
They balance on the edge of ethereal creation,
Where the abyss of despair lurks, waiting.
For some, this edge becomes an eternal battlefield,
An uninterrupted struggle to withstand the storm.
And yet, in this hypersensitivity lies the seed of magic,
A spark that can ignite shadows into radiant light,
Illuminating the darkness, bringing forth
Art that speaks to the essence of human existence.
At the heart of the artist, a sacred flame flickers,
With each creation, an echo of their soul is released,
A shard of their infinite light, bestowed upon the world,
Yearning to be felt, to be embraced.
They are both cursed and blessed,
Guardians of a fragile, boundless beauty,
Striving to navigate a world where everything hurts,
And yet, they endure, for in their pain and perception,
Lies the extraordinary magic that makes them sublime.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Tad and Them

She saw it to be an
                 excessive thought
                 tasting the clams
                  in her crumpets
                  a tad bite sweet
                    and crumbly
                  a spent of lunch
                        or supper
              More accurate than
                        the original
                 Savored with a rich
                      Citrus drink
                   One would think
                   It's accuracy is
                         excellent
                     to dancing or
                       a nightclub
                         a night of
                     extraordinary
                           flavor
                  Soothing suttle
                      bit excites
                    Ones behavior
Form: Bio

I Am Worthy

Am I worthy of your unique, Agape love?
Am I worthy of any sign of significance?
Am I worthy of higher thinking above?
Am I worthy of your righteous radiance?

Am I worthy of brilliance?
Am I worthy?

Why am I worrying so much?
Why do I long for your touch?
Your wise words fill in the gaps of my life
This jagged knife inside leaves me with shavings and wood-pieces of strife 

Delicate gravity got me feeling low
Delicate gravity lacks His sunny glow
Your unjust, insidious words drift away hoarsely
But, I flutter so far from you and weep so softly…so wondrous in serenity

Am I worthy of brilliance? Am I worthy of any epic praise with no trace of shame? 
Am I the light of the world or am I the darkness within? I am a dimming gem 
Am I worthy of the gift of creativity and logic? Am I the lunatic loser in life's game?
Lows and highs strike me odd, yet my merciful God is even better than them 

Am I worthy of Your tremendously terrific truth behind the abominable lies? 
Am I worthy of entering Your Kingdom? Is it worth the risk to earn Your prize? Am I worthy of joyous days when boredom and grief's gone? 
Your loving-kindness sweeps away my lonesome state and its silent cries 
Am I worthy of genuine passion beyond the goodbyes? Your replies is an upcoming dawn to look forward to night after night and so on

Extraordinary that I boldly met a great group of friends…my loyal and marvelous friends
Not all relationships blend together like creamy coffee in the warm, vibrant morning – sick of your  scorning 
Grateful for being brilliant and wanting to spiritually meet all His empathetic, zealous ends
My whole life has been overflowing with confusion beyond sheer comprehension, but I won’t be forlorning 

Lord, am I really worthy?
Yes, in His kind, gentle and delightful eyes,
I am worthy, and honestly, 
His truth is great, for it sifts out all the lies

Let Heavenly Whirlwind Blow

In this season of chaos, let heavenly whirlwind blow,
In the eye of the storm, you will find peace, let it flow.
For within you resides the Wind, a heavenly decree,
Shine with brilliance, be what you were created to be.

In this season of storm, rise like a palace tower,
Stand tall, uncompromising, in this needy hour.
Be like a tree, that shelters and protects,
Safeguarding who seek shelter, their souls it connects.

From ashes, let your destiny bloom, with beauty untold,
For strength emerges, born from weakness so bold.
In this earthly journey, prepare for victories to come,
As destinies reveal extraordinary outcome.

Angels With No Name

I came there for same day surgery with a dark cloud over my life
And you listened without judgment as I spoke of no hope in sight.

You held my hand as you spoke soft encouraging words
But so wrapped up in my own misery I never really heard.

The next day I found an anonymous note
And my heart was touched by the words an angel had wrote.

I sat there in total disbelief as I cried without shame
For the generous gift from some angels with no name.

But something extraordinary happened that day
That anonymous gift inspired me to find my way.

These unknown angels lifted me up when I was feeling down
And they gave me a reason to pick myself up off the ground.

They showered me with heartfelt compassion as they illuminated me with their guiding light
They taught me how to hope and showed me the true meaning of life.

Though my own wings were damaged by dark venomous skies
These unknown angels showed me that I still could fly.

I will never forget what those angels did for me that day
And no simple thank you or money could ever repay.

As I adjust the beautiful new glasses sitting on my nose
My deep appreciation for these unknown angels continuously grows.

Thank you anonymous angels for your generous unselfish gift
And for your anchor of compassion that has kept me adrift.

No words can truly express just how much you all mean to me
And how much I appreciate all that I finally can see.

Though I cannot see your golden halo or feel your downy soft wings
I know that you are all angels sent down here to teach me how to sing.

I now hold my head proudly high as I walk with out shame
Because I was touched by angels with no name.



DEDICATED TO THE MANKATO SURGERY CENTER EMPLOYEES


This poem is the very first one I ever wrote and was inspired by some angels that touched
my life in a way no one ever has.  It just goes to show that there really truly are angels
among us--you only have to open your eyes and heart to see them!
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Defying Predictability

With hair ablaze
a jester unconfined.
I scoffed at the mundane 
its life declined.
My wardrobe 
a riot
a rhapsody bold.
Mismatched socks my standard 
stories untold.

In classrooms of tedium 
rules I'd defy
Grasping forbidden knowledge 
'neath watchful sky.
Craving for wisdom in 
esoteric wells.
Chased squirrels with saws 
casting fanciful spells!

Detentions for antics 
the school's icy stare
Derided in classrooms 
a spirit too rare.
Math teacher's scorn 
a job painting lines foretold.
I retorted, "How much does it pay?" 
- detention took hold.

Mom asked me why I never brought my girls home?
I chuckled and said, "They're not the type to be shown!"
The wild ones 
the rebels 
the ones full of flame.
Not the kind for a dinner
not the ones with a name.

Misfits my comrades 
a menagerie strange.
United in chaos 
defying the change.
Years danced in a blur a pantomime bright
But a disquieting word a sense of not quite right.

A whirlwind of antics a panoply grand
Impromptu escapes with career-shifting sands.
Near-death encounters with fauna 
a squirrel, perhaps?
But the thrill 
oh the thrill 
fueled my madcap laps!

The thrill of the unexpected 
a fading strain
A gnawing suspicion 
a predictable bane.
The mask I had crafted 
of rebellion's grand guise.
Cracked and revealed 
the truth in my eyes.

The jester unmasked with a lesson I gained.
That the extraordinary in the ordinary 
can be just plain.
No longer I chase the fantastical dream...
But accept the real where 
beauty can stream.

For the truest defiance lies not in the fight.
But accepting oneself in the ordinary light.
So here I stand 
flaws and all 
unashamed.
The laughter remains though the fantasy's tamed.

With lessons in tow I'll mend and I'll mend.
Explore the mundane and find joy till the end.
For the greatest adventure 
in life's simple quest...
Is finding the magic 
within one's own breast.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Contradictions

CONTRADICTIONS

given the
presence
of connotations
perhaps
simpler
   to list
the
delicate
diminutive
&
embrace
the barbed

serrated
&
prevalent
traditions
have access
to the
extraordinary
  encased
with
narrative

siloing
in
directions
&
hogging
the
outlines
with
minutiae
 measured

of
pleasured
 pools of
 reflected light
of
the
  defiant
 rewarding
revelations

NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE   using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Form: Other

Every Thought of You

Every thought of you…
Exterminates my negativity 
I reflect upon you…wishing to see you
You’re my mirror,
Reminding me that I’m so lucky to be me
Our love is like an elevator –
It transports us to many extraordinary places…
You astound me on so many levels…
It lifts our spirits up to a certain degree
Things will work out in the long run
You’re my majestic, virtuous aura,
Hovering around my worn-out body 

Every thought of you…
Is like a new star to discover in the universe 
Every thought of you…
Is like a butterfly ready to be released from its cocoon
Every thought of you…
Is as gorgeous as a maroon rose in full bloom…
You’re a blessing from up above
Showering upon my life…renewing my self-esteem 
Trust me – you’re not a loathsome curse

Every thought of you…
Is like reacquainting with an old friend 
I cherish the thought of you 
You’re my heart’s melody – 
What do you expect me to do? 
You make my heart sparkle anew 
Our love is like a train – 
It can transport us to our homeland
Our hope and happiness has no end…
Things will be just fine, so have no worries in mind
We’ll struggle together…
We’ll walk side by side
We’ll live our dreams forever…
His love will swallow us like a tide
You’re the dawn of my rapturous future…  

Every thought of you…
Is like a new galaxy to capture in the deep, deep universe 
Every thought of you…
Is like a mother giving birth to a beloved child 
Every thought of you…
Is as striking as the jungle, full of vigor and wondrous wildlife…
You’re a dove, sending me enduring, genuine love
Rinsing away the strife…reestablishing my self-esteem 
Trust me – you’re my angel, passing on your mirth 

It’s crystal clear – 
Your beauty put me under your 
ENCHANTING spell 
Soon, we’ll meet our destiny
Our success is drawing near…

We’ll complete this expedition
Soon, we’ll be walking that road of recovery 
It’s quite obvious that you’re in my everyday thoughts –  
Soon, you’ll understand me and accept reality 
We’ll be walking that road of recovery
And complete our mission 

You’re a tranquil heaven,
Not a devious hell 
Every thought of you is a submission
To your perpetual positivity
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Things That Make My Day

To again find myself among the quick on a brilliant summer morn;
To be content with my lot as I begin my daily bourne;
To behold God's awesome universe in all that I survey;
These are just a few of the things that really make my day!

Blessed with God's everlasting love of which I'm undeserving of;
Hearing, "I love and rely on you", from the ones I love;
And hearing words of encouragement from others along the way;
These are very special things that really make my day!

Hearing the doctor say, "You're in the best of health, old boy!"
Outstanding achievements by my kin that bring me untold joy;
To freely worship and chat with The One who listens as I pray;
These are indeed extraordinary things that really make my day!

To take a leisurely stroll along a rippling mountain brook;
Ah! The joy of a rainbow trout wriggling on my hook!
A beautiful sunset reflecting upon a tranquil bay;
These are memorable things that really make my day!

Oh, that humankind would lay down arms and live in brotherhood;
That diverse cultural bars would be overcome and understood;
To find a lasting peace and all sadness and suffering allay;
These are things hoped for that would really make my day!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Believe In Miracles

Your first premise that miracles* cannot happen ignores the creator who Himself                                                                                          reserves the right to alter or interrupt the fixed purpose of the laws of nature.

Authentic Christianity rests on the reality of the Virgin Birth, and                                                                                                the Christian Faith falls apart if there is no Resurrection from death.

If there was no Ascension to heaven by Christ, the Bible is a great book                                                     of things most fantastic but could not be trusted as the Holy Book of Truth.

If The Bible is not Inspired, the claims of the first generation of Christians                                                 were false and all of Christendom is presently experiencing a great fairy tale.

04132019PoSoupContest, Let's Have An Argument, Kevin Shaw
* an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses                                                                 all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.                      Dictionary.Com
Form: Couplet

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