Long Extremities Poems
Long Extremities Poems. Below are the most popular long Extremities by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Extremities poems by poem length and keyword.
you and i were the 'good kids'
only spoke when spoken to
never picked a fight
didn't color outside the lines
later we learned that they
were sifting through all our art
ascertaining who lay on the
extremities of the bell curve
who might have a troubled home life
and/or
who might have an aptitude for fine art
... we were somewhere in the middle
fast forward thirty years or so...
we discovered a magic quill
that served as a machete
clearing out the underbrush
of this dense jungle we call
life
we learned to think outside
the quadrilateral parallelogram
and found the outer rim
of that bell curve
we no longer raised our hands
waiting to be called on
we delved deep and found
a singular
phenomenon
inside us -
our voice
MY ROBOT BENNY
I have a robot at home, his name is Benny,
Who is also, extremely office friendly.
He wakes me up every morning,
As a new day is dawning,
And taps my hand, ever so gently.
I wanted him dressed in a vibrant colour,
So he was delivered to me in red suited armour,
With extremities of a shiny silvery pallor!
He felt at home from the moment he came,
And loves us all, one and the same.
He is an excellent PA, none equal his talent,
And never sprouts arrant,
Nonsense, is always polite, cute and gallant
Keeps rigidly to a daily agenda,
And has been programmed to shed a tear
When he is feeling loving and tender!
His memory is incredibly large, Benny holds a
Phenomenal amount of data,
And has a robot girlfriend called Zeta!
He loves to impress and is rather vain,
Nobody would ever deign,
To outwit him, for he has a certain pout,
Again programmed, and beyond any doubt,
Has a capacity of many bytes
To flirt with the ladies in our office space,
As he twirls and spins, showing a
Blushing face!
What a special robot my Benny is, we have
Reached an era, a future phase
That dictates,
We will all soon adopt a Benny,
Who I have programmed to say
I love you Jenny!
Somnolence of sweet dreams.
These are given to be most combustible or tranquil.
Taken them in midday and midnight flights.
These truly are a delicate delight.
Now, soaring adoring and affixed with inner might.
Mortals dream to release a dove or hawk tonight.
To be exercised is our inside plight.
We have been given grace, mercy and divine inspiration,
to surpass these extremities in life.
If, we do not defer hope, we are able
to elevate ourselves to greater heights.
We only being bound by Earth’s invisible
gravitational atmospheric rights.
I feel, I see, I live, and yet, still possible to die.
We have an ethereal essence;
ours is an entity of intrinsic light.
A spiritual immortality given us at birth with foresight.
Our future already written on invisible scrolls for us to recite.
There are angel allies traversing multiple dimensions
of time and space to unite.
Winged warriors warring and winning
a contested celestial battle and fight.
I do ride upon golden and platinum colored
feathered wings of a very large eagle this very night.
This to win the battle of the imagined Enkro land
most lethal of sites.
The morning time abruptly commence.
I realize that I had been dreaming, to be
awakened by the dawn's early bright rays
of the sun refreshing and renewing sunlight.
The children of Israel were in a dire situation
Oppressed by the Egyptians with their extreme manipulation
God then told Moses for you I have a mission
To deliver My people for that will be your great commission
For Moses' name means to be brought out from
He was destined to be a vessel for the Holy One
Now mankind can be extreme in their behaviour towards each other
We can sometimes be overly harsh to our fellow sisters and brothers
But the Egyptians were excessively rough on the children of God
They poured our bitter afflictions just to break their spirits and hearts
Evil in motive, it seems their only intention
Was to annihilate the Israelites to the point of extinction
But what the Egyptians failed to even understand
Is that God is the Creator and He has a master plan
Infinite, omnipotent, invincible and always on the go
He called upon Moses to let Him know
It is you that I need to go tell Pharaoh that his party is about to end
For the children of God, the Israelites are about to transcend
It's set time to release them from your tyrannical reign
Let my people go or the wrath of God you will obtain
And trust me you don't ever want to be
The one that God sees as His enemy
Now there have been many harsh taskmasters who truly serve no purpose in life
Their only mission is to be bullies and to give others strife
Ungodly pumps, police and people in positions of authority
Just making lives bitter that produce poignant testimonies
Addictions and afflictions are also dreamkillers that destroy everything in sight
They'll take your job, your family, your home and leave strung out and uptight
They'll make you sick, they'll make you ill and may even make you kill
They'll make you do things that will destroy your will
But God sees it all and He despises man's extremities
But He can always turn it into a godly opportunity
Yes, God can deliver you from it all
You only have to respond when on you He calls
With a willingness to want change from the depths of your heart
And a desire to now walk in the ways of God
Daggled and bloodied, the young man lay upon the ground where he’d been
left.. .left by vile men who, spurred by senseless hate and ravenous for a taste of
violence, had lured him with false fellowship and brought him to this secluded spot
by veil of darkened day. At first, they bound his arms, rendering him defenseless to
what was to ensue. After dragging him a small way from the back seat of their van,
they proceeded to pummel his stomach and his face, breaking his nose almost
instantly. When he stumbled to the ground, he received the heels of their boots as
they kicked at his extremities and then again, he received their cruel blows to his
stomach and face. When certain they had done enough damage so he would not
last a night in the cold, they spat on him and drove away.
As his attackers sat far away in a bar, drunk and boasting how they’d “done the
world a favor,” he’d already passed the stage of vomiting and gasping for his
breath. And though his brain was writhing with awful pain, with knowledge of his
sure obliteration, his chilled and broken body stayed inert. Reposed as if inside the
womb, he felt the ache receding, and before night’s shadows passed into the dawn,
his blood had stanched.
Now as flesh turns into carrion lying undiscovered in the dust, his spirit… never
quashed. . .cries out for justice.
A ghostly shade of white that cloaks the ground
Of contoured guesswork and ominous mound
With flecks of skyward flakes tossed by the storm
That frost the gray, obscure the day and change its form
Observed within to look beyond a misted window pane
Into bitter extremities of ague and blaine
A snowbound silence that inhibits the soul
And uncertain depth that impedes all goals
Struggling iconic beauty that stealthily grows
Haphazardly drifting across the moors
Confining rugged scene of whitened dune
Snowbound and shackled this afternoon
To gaze and sit and reflect and ponder
The greenery beneath the shroud out yonder
From this indeterminate point in the universe
These eyes roll in search for the bounds common on earth,
Find nothing but fiasco in its immenseness
And believe that the Omnipotent gave it birth.
If I counteracted the state of the vacuum
And fell astray in space to no sure direction,
Would there be ground to catch me, ad infinitum?
Could numbers manage to describe my position?
If energies could send this man light years away,
Passing by countless stars and galaxies,
From a distance where travel stops and I may stay,
Could space seem like a dust from these extremities?
If we were ignorant of nuclear fusion
And believers of the sameness of fire and stars,
Could the sun last in its celestial dominion
Only with fuel that turns to ash as it sparks?
Introspection
suspends in dark blue amnion
as rainwater blooms a reflection pool
an oasis of energy for contemplative embryo;
in stillness I grow.. my pulse a flowing stream of raindrops
my body the rhythm maker
my mind the artiste
in a cocoon a rhythmic womb —
a primal nest gestates my om
b r e a t h i n g i n
b r e a t h i n g o u t
saturation of breath
soaks and stretches my cortex canvas;
within the indigo sphere
I paint a mural
upon my sacred temple walls
a self-portrait
with a benevolent brush dipped in starlight –
I surrender staying and portraying within the lines
uncaged colors roam
beyond my human extremities and Earth’s edge
gouache-plashes of teal and fuchsia
fraternize with fibers of flesh and marrow
conceiving abstracts as airy as sparrow dreams
as I - a mindful explorer flies an inner cosmos
beyond the confines of the canvas white
outside the frames of physicality and reality
to throw open window panes to the unlimited
to banish pains of the limited — free
my meditative spirit making art with the universe
Susan Ashley
September 7, 2022
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 18
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Photo: The Seer; Laurie Bain Hamilton - owner of primalpainter
Within this realm I can converse
Palaver, prattle or parley
So many words from which to choose
A choice to winnow, will and weigh
With words I can tell a story
Anecdote, fable or novel
Or just convey some useless facts
Unmistakable, data, gospel
They can tell you what I’m feeling
Sensations, semblance, perception
Even describe the way I look
Visualize, perceive, envision
Words can induce feelings of love
Affection, fervor, ardency
And all to often inflict pain
Suffering, anguish, misery
Sometimes words are thought provoking
Impelling, cogent, alluring
While others can keep you guessing
Uncertain, assume, surmising
With words there are no boundaries
Barriers, brims, extremities
So free your imagination
Invention, idea, artistry
East Devon Beacon
by Michael R. Burch
Evening darkens upon the moors,
Forgiveness?a hairless thing
skirting the headlamps, fugitive.
Why have we come,
traversing the long miles
and extremities of solitude,
worriedly crisscrossing the wrong maps
with directions
obtained from passing strangers?
Why do we sit,
frantically retracing
love’s long-forgotten signal points
with cramping, ink-stained fingers?
Why the preemptive frowns,
the litigious silences,
when only yesterday we watched
as, out of an autumn sky this vast,
over an orchard or an onion field,
wild Vs of distressed geese
sped across the moon’s face,
the sound of their panicked wings
like our alarmed hearts
pounding in unison?
Keywords/Tags: East, Devon, Beacon, England, Moors, Forgiveness, Maps, Miles, Lost, Directions, Compass Points, Moon, Geese, Lights, Headlights, Headlamps, Fugitive