Long Fast one Poems

Long Fast one Poems. Below are the most popular long Fast one by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fast one poems by poem length and keyword.


In touch with silence of the Self

In this noisy world of busy lifestyle
That seldom show silver lines on dark clouds,
When time speeds so fast one can’t hope to catch,
And goals flex such that one can’t hope to reach,
Where’s that tranquil time with one’s very self
To fill up stillness to its spilling brim--
Absolute silence? It’s nigh but a dream.

One might go to the wilderness of poles,
Or reach to the roof of world’s tallest crest,
Relentless would the heart beat, nonetheless,
The sound of breath taken in and released,
And that ever present noise of one’s thoughts
That whine even when one’s alone with skin,
O Absolute Silence whither art thou?

To escape, one flees to world’s far edges
To be in touch with one’s inner most core,
A few moments far from maddening crowd, 
But what when this passing haven’s no more, 
Time comes to leave, back to the hell called world.
Oh, so soon from heaven and back to hell! 
Fleeting proves such silence sought from without.

Life is to live on one’s abilities,
Experience all one’s possibilities,
To sit beside one’s Self, listen to it,
And in end see the light of self’s lamp lit--
Much harder than scaling a tallest peak. 
Man’s mortal weakness starts when he can’t sit
Alone and be in commune with his Self.

One wonders if the truth of this cosmos
Lie buried deep in such silence of self
Along with all of doubts, all of questions,
Man’s ambitions and all mundane desires.
And all this when spill over from his mind,
He needs to be at such secluded spots
Of sheer stillness, be they tall mounts or poles… 

Well past hurries to be bodily still,
Past all worries be utterly tranquil,
Hustle, bustle, all flurries, just to chill, 
And in touch with man’s true nature to feel.
And still. a passing cloud, a fleeting dream,
Which when ends back to reality grim,
Unless one rises from bottom like cream.

Poets perhaps feel it once in a while
When after all the mental marathons
And catharsis of deep-felt emotions,
A poem just fails to materialize,
And all his being goes in deep silence
Of thoughtless state we call meditation,
And in the end is born that lost poem.
______________________
Reflections |15.12.2024| silence, spiritual

Poet’s note: This is a blank verse. Each stanza is a septet, no septet royal nor any rhyme scheme.


Premium Member Choreography of Life and Death

CHOREOGRAPHY of LIFE and DEATH
(Four times I have crossed swords with death up to now!)


The cheerful trumpet of 
Miraculous life,
Imperatively sounded in 
My mother’s life-giving womb,
Heralding with its melodic tune 
Another animation:
MINE!
And as my innocent 
Infantile heart, provoked by
The challenging divine call, 
Started beating tenderly in
The rhythm of the never-dying cosmos
Thus making me 
ALIVE!  

The promising sound was 
Still ringing in my delicate
Ears
Singing the marvelously hopeful song of life,
When the sound of a second trumpet, similar to the first,
Filled with its melancholic tune my tiny world,
Announcing the coming of calamitous death 
Thus
Condemning me to die.

LIFE and DEATH beside me they stood,
Facing each other, 
Tenderly, holding my hands
And claiming me as their child.

Life was the first to whisper into my ears,
Promises so many.
She talked to me about joy, happiness, love and
Procreation,
About thousands of other things that
She would like to offer. 
Only a favor she asked in return;
To be hers and only hers forever! 
-
When death heard all this, didn’t make any sound,
Only sardonically smiled at life first,
And then to me emphatically declared:
“The cup of joy you can never drink before you empty 
that of sorrow, and no matter what life says to you, in the end,
you will be my very own.”
-
That’s the way my trip in this ephemeral world began,
With vigorous life, leading and tracing the promising way,
And death kept following her, just a few steps behind
Patiently, was waiting to catch up with her pace,
But, 
As years, were passing fast one after the other,
Death was approaching rapidly each, and every day.
So the fight they had begun so many years ago,
Relentless war now becomes, with life still the
Winner.

Yet, the ill-fated date, unexpectedly, came to my great surprise, 
When the cold hands of death I felt around my skeleton waist,
Squeezing the life out of me with all their force and main.
Eager to extinguish in me wished, the very last spark of life,
And as the shrilling wind of death was howling throughout 
My body, I fell at once breathless, dead and
Still over the ground remained!

© Demetrios Trifiatis
       2 February 2013

Prologue The Mall continued


    Besides noticing a few people who quickly turned away into the stores, (like a cockroach when the light switch is activated.) Penney also noticed that she had forgotten her bra. Well, she didn't forget one and didn't usually even wear one, but in this instance it really helped them out. The husbands upon noticing and gawking were blocking the path to them briefly, until they noticed Michael "bouncing" and got the hell out of dodge. But any amount of aid they could get was welcomed. They really needed an ace in the hole. If they could distract Michael long enough to enter the "escape rooms", then even if seen, they could run the Scooby Doo gang "nether realm voodoo portal gag" with all those doors in there, would really be a shot in the arm to their "staying alive" campaign. Well, son of a , it would be alot of fun and after all they had been through today, that would be just what the doctor ordered (if he was a non licensed witch doctor nurse practitioner, like on the Mario Bros. Cartoons, remember when he made that itching powder?, that was awesome!) For that matter, I wonder who could eat more, Scooby or Yoshi? Hey, wait a minute, wth do you think this is, you trying to pull a fast one? Back to the action.

The mall Easter Bunny was making his rounds after a liquid lunch and some car "video viewing". As Mr. Cottontale noticed Penney, she noticed him and "gave him notice", if you know what I mean. Some military Men on leave noticed too and saluted. The Bunny noticed Michael pursuing and did not need the competetion. He stuck out his leg and sent Michael flying into the railing, that sending blood gushing from Michaels nose as it planted a kiss onto the hardwood. It didn't deter Michael, however, the First Ladyboy picked himself up and the eight inch Bowie Knife (a knife given to him by David Bowie) that had spilled onto the hard tile floor. Gus who had noticed this from his hiding vantage point (and job as scout) from the escape room thought, hey, it has been well over three minutes, Michael must have ditched or disarmed the bomb during all of this. But that knife looked serious. He was not about to take his chances with a crazed lunatic.....
Form:

Dual Controls, Electric Blanket From Hell, Part 2

He was cold, and, suffering bad...
She was far too hot,
A cooling breeze...
She wished that she had...
So he turned up his temp,
And her's, she turned down,
And it's more than hard to believe,
Just how fast one can be turned,
Into a sad clown...

Further up, he turned,
His heat control number,
did he dial...
While she turned down,
On her's, praying for,
Relief, all the sweat soaked while...

But he just got colder,
While she started to roast...

But he just got colder,
While she started to roast,
It was fast becoming unbearable,
My dear aunt very near,
Turned to burnt toast...
And my favorite uncle...
Now near frozen solid...
In frozen fear he did clutch...
His oaken bed post,
Which, oddly, now seemed quite warm...
And this was, for sure, 
Never before the norm...

Now was the time,
For drastic action,
Each turned their temp dials
Up or down to the max...
Would'a been much more easy,
For each to learn, in a mere hour,
Just how to play jazz sax...

Now each was quite desperate,
And anguished beyond belief,
Burning and freezing,
There seemed no relief...
Who sold them this defective blanket?
Just who was that nasty thief??

Almost as if well practiced,
and seemingly on cue,
Each jumped out of their,
Respective  torture device,
Seemed all they could do,
Ready now to call an electrician,
Or psychic, for some sorely needed advice...

Next day, when their bedroom door,
They did finally unlock...
To finally check on inside,
Expecting some horrific shock,
Like the bed partly frozen,,
And part melted away...
Knowing that, if such should be,
They would have not a clue,
On just what to say...

The electrician soon did come than...
A $160 call...
For a 2 minute peek...
And even that was half stall...
One thing you could count true,
He was pissing off us all...

He explained to them...
The problem, he did diagnose,
It wasn't evil spirits...
It was not a ghost...

See each had,
their wires crossed,
The dual control temp dials,
Oh, brother!!!
And they had only controlled...
The temperature of the other!!......."
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Burlesque

Pull

yourself together, out the stops                                                                                       
A fast one, the wool not over your eyes cropped                                                              
the plug, the strings                                                                                                     
the long haul will bring                                                                                                    
of the moon that causes loon’s                                                                                         
the leg they are, not your hair so far                                                                           
ahead, not back, rent                                                                                                   
from the written print                                                                                                      
up stakes put them back                                                                                            
your own weight, slack                                                                                                  
not away repent, not down, through                                                                                 
it off, around, we are for you                                                                                           
over, the stroke of your boat                                                                                          
the wages of sin is death, quote                                                                                      
of sin’s influence death, no punches                                                                                
away, apart, out hunches                                                                                              
the drink, return to the Father of spirits                                                                          
the resources of a life lit
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.


I Am the City: the Being

Words unsaid can be undone
And in this way our liberty's forgone
Are we so abandoned in our quest for the throne
That we leave each other starved, carved and alone?
That we remain quiet in the face of adversity
In hopes that there is still a round-about way to own the city
What you fail to see 
Is that the city is me

A thought unspoken goes unheard
It is like an unsolved crime
Where for a time, the criminal is you
Why do you not speak, but fester instead
With this confession rotting inside of your head
Think not, want not.
You've made your thinking so breezy
That you've made it easy
For the media to pull a fast one on you
I shall scream it until I'm hoarse.
When and why did the war against terror change its course?
Because they're traitors? 
Because of treason? 
To what cause?
Treason is just reason, with a cross in front of it
Think about it

And still, the question is unanswered, like so many others.
When did curfew begin to extend past the street lights?
When did guns begin to define a fair fight?
When did learning become memorization?
When did pharmaceuticals begin to run the nation?
When did black on black violence become a second rate topic in rap?
Replaced by the conformity of uptowns and throwbacks and caps?
When did nineteen become the average High School graduation age?
When did teen pregnancy set the stage for the commonplace?
When did Latinas forget that sexiness is more than an outfit?
When did New York become so counterfeit?
When, when or more importantly why?
And perhaps I will believe no answer, because…

My thoughts design me, but 
It is my voice that defines me 
And I am what society is afraid to see
I am a 30 line long side effects warning label
I am the lesson in Aesop's fables
I am the contradicting line in your history book
I am beauty that warrants a second look
I am the reason for which lightly you tread
Because I am the voice inside of your head
I simply am
I am the reason you hate and love the city
But what you fail to see
Is that the city is me
Form: Bio

The Starchtarian

probably had their heart set on
consuming only greens,
probably thought that’d they’d
shed the pound, might’ve been a
resolution for the new year,
might’ve been a sudden love of
animals that led them to getting rid
of anything that hung in their
wardrobe,
that they washed their heads with,
rubbed all over their body or
stuffed in their stomachs---
might’ve been a life growing up of
meat n’ potatoes & a sudden assertion
of freedom to eat whatever the ****
they wanted, once they left the nest,
might’ve been a movie that showed the
cruelties done to animalkind by 
humankind that shocked the *****out 
of em’,
might’ve just been a want for a change &
on the micro,
up came 
vegetarianism.

in the short range,
they stuck to the program,
they shoveled in the carrots, the lettuce,
the cukes, the tomatoes, the celery, the 
green peppers, the yellow, the orange,
the red & 
along with the veggies came a long list of
fruits, to try to pull a fast one on that 
sweet tooth with
natural sugars.

seemed like it could last forever,
before being confronted with that first source
of starch,
which isn’t against the vegetarian law---
though most will say that they eat mostly
vegetables, they be lying through their teeth---
so with this,
more breads, more cereals, more grains, more
cinnamon buns, more potato chips, more
cheese pizzas, more breadsticks, more
bagels, etc.
weasels its way into the life of this
vegetarian, whose life becomes more of a
dedication to the starches than the
veggies,
for they fill the stomach, 
for they are easier to get (available at every
fast food place---a la sugars, fats, starches &
barely any veggies anyway) &
said vegetarian better face up to what it is that
they’ve really become,
a starchtarian.

Premium Member Academic Masks and a Commitment That Should Last

There once were masks 
Used in drama class 
One was happy one was sad 
After the lecture the students mastered the art to hailing a cab 

There once were masks 
Used in health care class 
One worked hard wearing a white coat one was busy healing due to someone’s fault  
Having knowledge on how the body was tinkering
Despite needing help from the nurse to decipher the handwriting without bickering 

There once were masks 
Used in economics class  
One studied the numbers one had money making wonders 
Learning how to negotiate taxing times 
While staying away from business suit collared crimes 

There once were masks 
Used in communication class 
One was fast one was a convenience that spoke to the ratings mass 
Deciding to report the news 
Or uncover those who refuse an interview 

Once there were masks 
Used in agriculture class 
One bred for dinner one help bring into the world a competitive animal that was a winner 
Food for thought when everything was taught 

Once there were masks 
Used in culinary class 
One had the meat one had the potatoes 
Each dependent on the presentation of the waiters 
Keeping everyone fed while packing away pounds avoiding debt 

Once they had their masks 
Now not needed since they graduated and had class 
They both walked down the aisle 
Showing an honest smile 
Now inches apart 
A lifelong relationship dreaming and ready for a start 
After a wedding that brought the two loyal friends together 
With a bond that made their lives stronger and better 
Finishing their education gave them maturing protection 
Featuring strong individual stability giving them the ability 
To take off the mask they used sitting in class
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member An Inquiry Into Poetry

An Inqiury into Today's Poetry

Poems get shorter.
Emails near non existent.
Texts really shrink!
We live in a world of 'xoxo'
Or -)) an amazing, endless list.
Our time, we tell others, is short.
People have to guess what we think?

Time so valuable, our full
baptismal, wonderful names as initials?
Do you fully get that?
The question is existential.
To me, your name is reverential.
"PR" is so very cold, compared to 
Panagiota which has spiritual meaning

Why, even our dogs and cats we call by
full name!
We poets claim a connection to the stars,
yes?
Who has ever called Orion, "O" of the moon,
"M'"
Or is that next? I see it coming!

Where did this beast come from?
Who destroyed the English language?
I do not know, it leaves me distressed.
The many languages from whence
our rich English vocabulary comes,
In the trash can of convenience rests!
Now a tragic happenstance.
We've shifted into a brave new world
of Far Eastern poetry.

I am grateful to all poets anywhere,
who have not lost faith in English!
As it developed and are masters with a pen
and it's delegation and know very
eloquently how to use it.
Thanks to you, who unknowingly are keeping
the full beauty of English alive for the coming
generations.
And not selling your heart to fast, one line
poetry.
And I understand some will disagree with me.
I much prefer a fully literate humanity.



5/27/2019
5:45pm  PST

I can tell which of my poems are not even worth the 
name...."poem". I leave them there as a reminder to
not do that again. Thank you!
Apologies, Panagiota
Form: Rhyme

She Is No Better Than Me

11/5/22


On a damn lot
It's always blast off
Still out to hit the jackpot

For too long I've gotten nowhere and
I know I am
Still a lonely man
Not all goes to plan
Across an unholy land
Where precious resources are mostly scant
Too many don't understand
Quick to show their hand

Took everything not just a right hook
Rarely was I shook
You've no idea how much time it took
Lives were put
In the sky or brooks
She's constantly judging people by looks
Like a book

She's always shallow
For less people got hung from the gallows

Damn son
She thought she pulled a fast one
Looked back none
But the war I already had won
Because her impact was, like that of a capgun
Now that that's done

Regardless if it ever was good enough
Still I stood up
Always it took much
Otherwise it was easy to remain hooked and stuck
Too often people would bluff
Attempting to look tough
Yet so quickly they were shook up
Before another could wish them good luck

Life comes with set backs
I often wear Jet Black
With good reason less chat
You bet that
In ten flat
She taking a step back

I've been down bad or up good above the sewer
Always pulling off a bunch of maneuvers
She thought I was just a loser
And drug abuser
Believing each and every other rumor
All of it brought me much humor

Truth be told she is no better than me 

Never once tried to reach out
Peace out
From the picture she's out

Still it's all the same and a shame
Often playing the blame game
Form: Rhyme

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