Long Filters Poems
Long Filters Poems. Below are the most popular long Filters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Filters poems by poem length and keyword.
It is a visualizing tool not much more.
That grey matter was not ever meant
to actually see reality,
evolutionary biology never designed it to,
it is a video game - nothing else.
Thinking is not what we think,
brains collates and sort,
they are filters to shut out a much greater view,
brains are blind to higher states of consciousness.
Mind does not see itself in, or as the brain.
Mind is what we are.
What can we do?
Firstly acknowledge that this reality we experience
is a collective agreement
it is pre-wired to only accept
a narrow spectrum of perception.
Secondly, don’t mention this out loud.
There are a million rabbit holes to fall into
and we already are looking up from so many.
Thirdly, set aside some small time in the 24 hour cycle
to ‘not think’ - to 'no think.'
This is hard to do, it may take lots of practice,
for the brain is like a chattering monkey -
just don’t feed the monkey.
Sensual your form that filters through lace
To warm my eyes in its glorious glow
As candlelight lays still, upon your face
Shadows dance across the room very slow
A night bird calls as lovers we whisper
Silence is too inviting while heart's sing
The candlelight flickers its soft glister
To show a glimpse of the smile you bring
The morning sunrises kisses still burn
The memory of each kiss stays for days
To leave an image in our souls to yearn
Kept in the dreams from love that always stays
We found in our eyes passionate desire
The ecstasy from love's wanton fire
10/8/20 contest love sonnet
Lustrously exposed, save the lamp posts;
How inviting...shadows of two
wrapped in pearly silver---
a moving photograph in pastel colors
framing a moment's rendezvous
as dusk filters the pavement
riqht where bodies shimmer undercover :
Trees wave at the moon for traces of bliss
on a byway of sinuous motion,
the silhouettes hazy vet lightly engaged
in malleable outlines when hours
linger to wait for an affair's finale
past the radius of lamp posts ,
the eerie gray from night's paean
seeps the view, collapsing into bloodied glass...
A forlon figure stands alone
...while the tint of intimacy
pours its last glow.
Tap, tap, tap on my window, pat, pat, pat falls the rain.
Subdued light filters through the smooth fabric of the curtains.
Low rumbling of distant thunder soothes my brain.
Outside I spy the night garden, the moon flowers beckoning,
the rain's tear drops gently drip from their pink and white petals.
The crimson bougainvillea hugs tightly to the arbors where they cling.
Softly the glow of the moon peeks through wisps of dreams wafting slowly by
casting sanguine shadows, specters of my cloudy thoughts,
the dilemma of the darkness inside of me, the hidden pain I cry.
Lying in bed, thinking, never a good thing to do.
The night seems so endless, so eternally lonely,
lost in my senses, eyes closed and weary, my thoughts turn to you.
What happened, who can say, all that matters is you are not here.
No anger, nothing, like a ghost in the mist you just disappeared,
without a word, without a goodbye, without so much as a tear.
It's been so long since we've spoken, the image of your face slowly fading.
Only your essence remains, your emerald green eyes, the curve of your neck,
your gentle touch, memories of you over time slowly degrading.
Yet, at night, thoughts of you still linger, you seem so distant, so foreign,
but dawn breaks the dark and the garden rests, as do I in a hazy slumber.
Through the fog I see myself picking a flower, a Fairy Iris, for Lauren.
09/02/15
Bing informative
the SCHWA sound
become the topic of the day
Dipithong, Dipithong
ooh, ooh wee!
Schwa:schwa!
the Schwa sound
the schwa sound is destroying me.
T notch filters.
Try to spook the others
they used unsafe tactics
that caused people
to boo and jeer.
The Schaw sound
shall maketh him
smarter
then he will never be in need
of these types of Chanagans.
Speakest Lammbeeria the Whorish Harlot of Dikkinism
Larghissimo!!!!!
that he shall streess in labor and shall be
poorest in Dipipothong. His streesses shall cause him the error
such oppurtunies shall allow others to have me as I am a whore.
Than pregant I shall say to him.
You'didist and now you must largemente with money. If this is real and I have no secrets. Denounce me that we have prominated on the shores of the Creeks and the ponds have feed us with fishes.
Drought the earthen shell fish-pow'da-pow-da, pow--dah !!!!!
grind the snouts to pow-dah!!!
Spoke the whorish harlot!!!!
Rolled up tobacco,
Left over filters,
That life,
Yeah I'm guilty,
But you know,
At least I'm still me,
If you haven't understood,
You'll still understand,
Question though..
Have you shook hands
With hope?
Hoping about cope,
How will you?
Could you have?
Nah, maybe ..
Yeah I could see it,
But you didn't,
Did you?
Oh wow,
Oh no,
It's getting truthful,
Apologize?
Never that,
Too human,
So can't,
Yeah okay,
But you witness,
This whole world,
Around us,
Connects all,
Yet we cant connect,
Or can we?
We just haven't tried,
Scratch all this,
Only if I lied,
Goodbye
Form:
Got to fix the car’s flat tire
the grass needs to be cut
All the gutters need to be cleaned
and fix the gate that won’t stay shut
Winterize the doors and windows
wash the grime from the car
Clean off the garage shelves
just to find where all the tools are
Pull the weeds out of the garden
test the water in the pool
Change out the furnace filters
make sure the condenser is running cool
Repair that leaky faucet
find out where the dog is getting out
Go across the road to the neighbors
to see what his digging is all about
Run down to the hardware store
buy tools for a project I’ll never start
Cut down that vine out back
before it tears the siding apart
The roof needs some new shingles
I have to watch some football with the friends
Nascar, basketball, fishing, and hunting
it seems that a husband’s work never ends
Count all them chores a husband does
adds up to be about one thousand and two
It’s no wonder I’m so blamed tuckered out
by the time the weekend is through
Golden sunlight, soft and bright,
Filters gently, warm with light.
Through the branches, high and low,
Warming all the earth below.
Azaleas blush in pink and red,
Geraniums lift each vibrant head.
Roses whisper, petals wide,
Bottlebrush stands with crimson pride.
Rhododendrons in magenta hue,
Hydrangeas paint the world in blue.
Zinnias sparkle, bright cascades,
Marigolds glow in golden braids.
Star jasmines mist the air with fragrance,
Butterflies heed lantanas’ bright summons.
Ladybugs twirl, insects glide,
Nature’s rhythm sparks a smile.
The pool, a mirror in the light,
Cool and crisp—a shining sight.
I dip my feet, the world feels kind,
A grateful heart, a tranquil mind.
A mother of eight
Left to raise them on her own
Damn that man...for dying
And leaving her lost, alone
A soldier of valor
Stood his ground in the face of fear
Now, he is court marshaled
For the lies they wanted to hear
A child hides in a closet
Hearing every thwack of the belt
Fighting the concern welling up
To be experienced, processed, felt
.......no grid
Pain beyond measure
Racks the prisoner of war
Trying to get through the moment
Til there will be no more
.......breath
Relief doesn't come
In fact, it builds and festers
Til the filters, ideals, beliefs
Are sequestered
.......to show themselves
and .........Give an account
to WHO?????
If one has no reason
And finds no need to question
Life is just a series of events
A journey without suggestion
Hmmm....what's that like?
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-06-2019
Note: I have always had a grid. My encounter with TRUTH at 18 months set my path. Here I am now, faced with a truth I had never considered...it's a gift; therefore, compassion is necessary for understanding. I hope I have entered into the Grid deep enough to provide insight.
Truth be told I don’t have many
Truths…that is
My beliefs have changed
Over the years
Not always for the better
According to some
Who hold their “truths” paramount.
I tell those people
“I am what you made me”
It’s been said that
I have no filters
Will say whatever runs
Screaming through my mind
My parry and thrust
Usually involves subtle
Quixotically imbued ideas
As I bear scars from battling windmills.
I have learned to
Question the question
Question the questioner
Question why they asked
That question
In that way
At that time
I also learned from my dogs
“sniff it, if it stinks
Don’t bother to chew on it”
I haven’t mastered the licking thing
But I do clean up after myself.