Long Fathoming Poems
Long Fathoming Poems. Below are the most popular long Fathoming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fathoming poems by poem length and keyword.
Full of flowers and thorns
Sunshine and dusk
A blend of autumn and bloom
I feel lost in a jungle
Sorrows and joy
Triumph and tragedy
Mingling like ocean and sky
Though far from being one
It pounds and beats
Sending different notes
In a magical song
Of atonement and amends
Memories turned in to
Whispers of cold breeze
Flowing through a tiny boat
In realm of placid waters
Lost desires, perished passions
Etched emotions lying in
Barren streets seeking
Forgiveness for the flop
Alas!
If clock could be reversed
Just one more chance
And all will be right
False faces and pretentious promises churn my heart,
like what the desert storm does to the dunes.
I can’t calm down my mind’s twirling turbulence
as the friction of fury shatters the shield of restraint.
Defenseless and discounted I disintegrate,
turn fanatically into discarded debris of indignity,
as the cloud of conceit rises from the abyss of intolerance.
Patience then fabricates the optimist awareness,
the invisible lubricant of the inner dynamics,
soothing the grind of exigent intolerant wheels
that pound the spirit of my muddled mindset.
Calming resilience is my smooth psychic mode,
the sense to step back to clearly assess situations,
respond sensibly rather than react rashly.
Hurt by the tough abrasion of the tumultuous life,
patience, an alchemic potion of healing serenity,
prevents me from being swept away
by the coercing currents of enraged compulsion,
enabling me to confront life’s challenges
with the innate mechanism of interactive attitude,
helping me to construct the durable connections.
In the remaining phase of my journey,
I cultivate confidently the wisdom of mindfulness,
as a virtue that not only elevates my conscience,
but flows outward with harmony and momentum,
flattening the roughness of my social interfaces,
and fathoming the depth of my perceptive essence
with the silent spread sanguine patience.
Fascination rodeoed on Jacob's face
When Grandad related battle tales
from his years fighting Vietnam War
Distant fathoming is fantasy implored
Rough ideas imagine a glorious place
With regal intention, Grandad faithfully gifted
his jungle enduring life saving switch knife
Italian stiletto, retained in top condition
Jacob thanks Grandad with astonishment
The fine strong blade with honour he polishes
Keeps it safely stowed at back of drawer
Its service integrity seemingly assured
Responsibility entrusted, Jacob acknowledges
Two years pass, horrid puberty hovers
Revealing sections with strange offers
Teenager by curious cruelty besotted
Living overseas after parents divorce
His Father, Jacob's blame directs towards
Though Mother and sister sympathise
Depth of his heart's injury not realised
Concept of vengeance dangles reward
Rejected by fast forging peers, villified
He arrives at midnight to party uninvited
Logic abondons him, seething survives
Beer drinking back yard teens, Jacob's target
Blade illuminates license available in pocket
Adrenalin aids the yank of sitting enemy by the shirt
Veins driven to violence feed voice strewn with hurt
Frenzied Jacob in chaos grabs weapon, then drops it
"What the Hell, man!" shirt fronted spits, appalled
Reality oozes in Jacob's ears, vengeance withdrawn
Quick onlooker obscures blade, blind inside handle
17th June 2020
Lee and I work for the same company. I've been here for ten years; Lee, for only a year. Her spot has been occupied by nine other young women in the past decade. They just left--not bothering to resign or clean out their desks--
simply vanishing, it seems, into thin air! They're now classified as "missing."
I hear about their cases on the news and just shake my head.
Through the years, I have made concentrated efforts to get close to the
young ladies who have worked in the position Lee now fills--and have
tried just as mightily to charm Lee. All have apparently been oblivious to
me, failing to realize what a catch I am! Oh, well, there will be others after Lee. She really doesn't deserve me anyway. None of them did--those vapid, unambitious creatures doing their mundane little duties. It's 5:25, almost
time to leave work. Lee walks to work and jogs home, after changing her shoes. I know exactly where she lives.
Lee isn't aware that I already know a great deal about her type--the barely-
average young woman destined for obscurity by her nondescript personality, incapable of fathoming that a heart can be as hard and black as ebony, unaware that she's about to be dangled over an opaque pit into which she
will be plunged, too dense to know that some nice-looking young guys hide behind a shiny veneer and watch--just watch--till the time is right to take
revenge on those who stupidly rejected their obvious charms. This woman,
my tenth, will deserve her crimson death.
The others never saw me coming, Lee. You won't either!
Date: November 7, 2017
Contest Title: Stalker
Sponsor: Silent One
Here comes the dawn
of a thoughtful Mourn.
Month of the desecrated demise
of a Monumental personage.
Unpleasant feels beclouds the air
I consume,
My structure reconciles itself
to the dreadful wake of the dawn.
Hushed his grief within,
As though He counts it less.
Burdened the hearts become.
For the weight tears apart within.
Boundary with her,
Was the sweetness of existence.
In a tick of misery
Hard to lug
Uneasy to let slip
Oh Death where’s thy sting
So fresh is the love of the parted soul
Mourning till an afterlife
In her two gems he rejoices.
As life gives succor.
Though Growth he beckons
For an extended home, before night falls.
Life’s unplayed cards
Relinquishes-daunts my being
Fathoming its depth
Again and again
Glum yet Grateful
For the Supreme One
Alone knows all and the why
We seem still within ourselves.
Three Decades plus Six
Yet I breathe
To make proud
This Monumental Personage.
The Ohio wipes its face every few miles.
This bend in the river
forgets the wharfs, the gravel silos
and power plants,
only occasional coal barges
push an industrial flatus before them.
Here cattails gather herons
into measured dominions.
The river gallops under placid waves
Fish-eyed currents dip and toggle
in the ripple.
It is possible to watch yourself
being rinsed and laundered
in this newly whisked stream,
possible to wash your face anew.
A person can stand on this reedy shore
and forget, nor see the daily grime,
but observe a lathering,
as a fishing sunlight
pulls out a new image,
the spread of fathoming nets
flung far to catch this fresh
momentary wonder.
FLAME OF ASCENSION
No-one can escape Flame of Ascension
a glance, a glimmer, a gestalted shadow
ghosts or gestures guarded Hearts to
genteel progress on a path
It nightmares numskulls and nuns alike
coffins cords, corners chains conniving
Thumb tips touch those of Serapis Bey
tippling white Flames in quantum space
as he passes with poignant eyes
“Where must sparks sagely sail now
Great Chohan of Central Sun ?”
“To those with neptunium nerves
those who have mastered their minds
who stare over lambert lagoons
lbis eyed
those who will not hasten to
taste Tophet flesh, toxined tongues
or squirm to struggle stormy seas
who live on one orange a day
from oozing boxes to city sites
Let Ascension Flame sparks fly fivefold
to those who chore by candlelight
in basements cold
gather guinea-fowl feathers in damp
dawn to create wise woman wands
to those who forgive an impoverished
rapist in a fitful farm hut
fathoming his fishtail hands
Let Ascension Flame sparks sail to those
who embrace Polar Bear spirit
stirring soup for a repentant soul
covering it with furs
flasking it’s folly !”
No-one can flee Flame of Ascension
someday it fleeces all spectroscopically
pay with sweat of your sweat
palsy, petty or posh
breath upon baptising breath
no strut or scintillating stumble
skin to self-assuming skin
spectacular sundew sing
Flame of Ascension extracts due fuchsia
fragrance from filament files
harp harmonies heightened to
a hastened hypnosis from an inexplicable
white heart field
Come
Let Flame of Ascension flower
fiddling fingers into interlinking
intercurrents of Infinity’s intimacy !
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
I can choose to be the way I am, okay?
I pray you don’t lead me entirely astray
Stop calling my intricate telephone
Yet, I feel numb and all alone
Walk in my shoes…
Sing not the blues…
Pull it together…
You’re my forever
You’re my endeavor
You increased my fervor
Sprinkle salt and pepper
Upon my distasteful flavor
Do your thing,
My everything
I would rather say nothing
Hard to do my fathoming
I need to pull it together
But, I’m a drifting feather?
I can choose to be the way I am, okay?
I pray you don’t lead me entirely astray
Stop calling my Father's telephone
Yet, I feel numb and all alone,
But not on my own, on my own
Written: August 9, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Unseeking Seeker.
******************
Line of inquiry:
The dream seems real since we don a form,
borrowed from elements of that domain,
but if we simply chose not to conform,
we wake up when desires to rest are lain.
******************
We are the shimmer; darkness cannot reclaim.
Flickers of fire on fathomless ocean's frame.
A silver silhouette against the scythe stone,
A borrowed brightness feigning as our own.
The moon quiets the lake, then lets it speak.
Standing reflected, a promise we never meek
We name the glimmer, whisper "this is real",
Holographic worlds—slide beyond a thick veil.
Body is dust that divaricates dawn-lent flame,
Seeing self as secrets with flesh called by name.
We gather our shades—shield what won't stay,
While stark certainties leach their hue to gray,
What seems solid is but a palimpsest stream,
Matter made radiant by an evanescent dream.
The mountain, the moth, the marrow, the star
Are one vibration haunting forms afar.
And when the last light slips from the land,
When time lets all faint-shaped figures disband,
Nothing is lost in the vastness we fear—
The wave folds back to the ocean ever near.
Perhaps existence isn't alabaster grace,
Still, its elfin alchemy we chase and trace.
A thousand lives tangled in an eolithic breath,
One archetype shifting shape beyond death.
You came—not as an Olympus-evoked ghost.
Nor as a celestial fire from genesis frost.
But silent silence invaded my Elysium pen.
As ink flared fact fibers, fathoming zen.
I'm dropping a path, run past my eyeballs rolling
Catch my camera holding seconds and fight the moment
Lifes an ocean, fish in this sea are gonna be caught
Death loves us all loads, but he wants to be yours
My phonics reward me with lines that form sentances
Pure strength but might not rhyme when they're said
I stem from messages I've heard, and then became
People who leave you, and therefore can't be named
My arms are plagued with chances to carve them up
But the opertunity not to, didn't seem half as good
Most won't grasp the stuff, I just said, nuff said
But if there's those who do, is that a plus? ..yes
I must stress because stress is more than pressure
And I feel the weight, and this ain't sport or leisure
Of course I prefer to write nice things, happy thoughts
But if I'm doubting everything, what am I asking for?
I laugh that your probably not fathoming this rambling
Honestly, its not postponed, your canvas is cancelling
I am a king, amoung words, and writting abilities
Dumb jerks, none of the ideas you bring are ill as these
I'm spilling speach, flowing fourth with a tidal wave
A magic carpet of letters, and everyone rides the page ..
Form: