Long Find oneself Poems
Long Find oneself Poems. Below are the most popular long Find oneself by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Find oneself poems by poem length and keyword.
SUGAR, SPICE, SOUL
Oh, yes~ my friends, that is what poet friends are made of!!
Givers, in the main, not takers. You can count on their constancy.
They read you more than once a year. Not…run over your poem
like a speed bump with no feelings!! They even soupmail you, to ask,
“How’s it going, my friend?” And you really should do the same!
If they really are your friends, they do not, like ghost-ships…disappear
into the foggy night! Nor worse, have the rule…
” I only read, who reads me!” This really would limit my world!
Just pretty words and form-acumen, nor cleverness, a poet,do not make.
It takes a true, warm soul. Whether simple or complex the poem, it is still great artistry! It is sugar and spice for the soul!
Find some soul poet friends, you can trust.Not rare, but you may find
some out to harm you. They haven’t the courage to tell you what is wrong.
So they sneak under other poet’s comments to insult you. It’s painful to
find oneself being shredded. But for me, simply confusing.
The ones with fangs work behind the scenes,actively, working to get you removed from the site. Yes, no kidding. So be forewarned! There are poets with backbone who do stop this infantile and malicious behavior.
God bless them! Hugs to such genteel poets.
I have poets alert me to any evil going on. Hugs to them all. Their numbers
are few, but such poets with high integrity!
Such chutzpah, they have and will back you to eternity.
There are excellent poets on site with over fifty years experience writing
poetry.
Then those who just began. Like myself! Be patient with yourself. Learn the
classical forms. It helps control your thoughts gets your message across clearly.
I wish you all sincere, long friendships here and the joy of writing your best
poetry. An acclaimed poet told me, “The number of poems you write is highly
insignificant. The quality of the poem, is far more important.” I
I do miss Connie Wong as many of you still do. She was the poet’s poet!! Unafraid to pen more than four words in a comment. Never a cookie
cutter comment from her. One felt embraced by her. Remember that?
No “drive-by” comments from that angel. Now in heaven.
Wishing you all sugar, spice and soul! Not only in poetry, but in life!
Panagiota Romios
10/7/2022
To be insane and psychotic that is what I'm being called
The tendencies that I find myself face;
To lose my memories, my personality;
To forget myself,
Only to be reborn time after time again,
With new experiences as they are 'new'
Only to be forgotten again...
I cannot help but to call this a curse...
Despite its treasures of being able to forget
And unable to relive segments of life
Which I found to be
Horrendous,
Devastating...
Painful.
I find myself in debt of also forgetting
Moments of greatness - fond memories
Of gatherings with loved ones,
Friends and family alike...
The long feigned desire of that smile...
No amount of pain
Neither the threshold of human capacity of ignorance
Could equate to such a paradise
Of thoughts, of wonders, of life...
And yet do I find myself in this cursed curse...
To be 'blessed' with this thing at the top,
To be 'blessed' with the ability to think deeply and profoundly,
To be 'blessed' with the inability to sleep,
To be 'blessed' with the immediate misunderstanding with others...
To be 'blessed' with the ability to forget.
How would one preserve one's memories?
Experiences in such a way that he could relive
That very temporal stability at the shut of the eyes,
How could one cope with the loss of such memories?
An unimaginable extremity - they say write;
But it could not possibly amount to any measure of specifications and details
That one endures through the six senses,
The sixth especially, more than any other...
My fear is not of that of a menial thing - to sit there,
Being fearful of not relocating that memory again;
My fear is much, much greater,
It is the one fear that exceeds all others,
Even my fear for my own death,
My fear for God;
It is simply, the fear of oneself,
Myself,
Me...
I.
The fear that comes with the loss of memories,
Which, inevitably leads to the loss of oneself forever,
And to find oneself change forever to a person,
whom may not want to relive that moment again...
I fear him.
Form:
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Now that I have gotten that over with,
Being straightforward as a piss-ant on fire,
Telling you it just is what it is,
That behind all the frizz,
Is a beardless fake whose heraldic bearings
Are the arms of a sickly snake,
And that all this derogatory self-derision is decisively the result
Of a disease smitten assault by a prodigal bug
Whose virility is known to create sterility of poetic taste-
Oh what a waste to find oneself in such a caste,
Outcast in a landless mire of sea,
Where there is no Sea king to lead back to land,
Where seeking leads not to seeing
But only to being the miserly plot written by this poetasters hand-
Now, to repeat, that I have gotten that over with,
I can really try,
Once and for all,
To really get it over with.
Like really really real.
So here it is,
In medias res,
The big ordeal:
Merde! Merde!
J’ai oublié on this very day,
To have taken my ressurectine,
The nectar which this fool requires with some dismay
To not forget his pointless points.
Where is my medicine Edison?
Where is my pill?
How shall I cart this over the hill?
O’sir,
Dear sir,
For in the middle of this rabid petri dish of sheer excitement,
Close to moiety’s shribble,
With voice shrill,
Ready to take aim and avoid all shame,
I was, I was, I was, I swear
Almost there,
But alas,
I am,
Now out of gas,
With nothing more to gain,
A timid loveless swain,
A witless poet with no further words to amass,
A neutered puppy in a jungle,
Without a rumble,
To stumble upon just the right word,
To close off looking less like a turd,
Then this early morning bird,
Preferably one day,
Could theoretically mumble.
Did I mention that between finding Absolute Knowledge,
And miming Absolute Knowledge,
I would like to find myself snuggly ensconced in the arms,
Of not only Winnie the Pooh,
But surely Yogi Berra too?
Loneliness...!
Loneliness - the one that visits you in the womb,
keeps you accompanied, well past your tomb!
Brace yourself to that friend - once and forever,
shying away from it, you should attempt - never!
Meet her with elan and meet her with grace,
meet her with silence 'n' calm with a smiling face!
Remember, all those who came along were alone,
and those who come across, for sure are - alone!
We fail to take note and ignore that lifelong mate,
attempting to gain knowledge and chart our fate!
In this competitive world, we rush in to compete;
survival of the fittest and chaotic madness replete.
Surrendered single status to club oneself with one;
find oneself asunder with desire one's own none!
Running amok from pillar to post - none to pay heed,
groping in lonesome dark, only ruminating all deed!
Change of status, from spouse to parent and beyond;
yet, deep inside in loneliness - that incessantly hound!
Spot-on with her, the one 'n' only all weather friend,
with all time to spare and broad shoulder to depend!
Search for ancient wisdom in books or a wise Seer,
to steer through the course, though himself a wayfarer!
Discrimination, judgement and decisiveness imparted,
set to roll within - find anxieties and sadness departed!
Home-in further within deeply and look nowhere else,
in solitary contemplation - a state of thoughtful trance!
Seeking higher knowledge on that 'One Absolute Truth',
finding which, none comparable, will ever internally soothe!
Awaken and realise in that deep abyss of lonesomeness;
envelopes in entirety, with a sense of wholesomeness!
the free state is actually not free
casting my line into the many manipulations
worked by dust devils and hierophants
gambling their grunt wages on my young ass
like cowboys on a cattle free vacation
unwelcome by all rational standards
it's a new skill set for those complicated shadows
and their thistles and thorns tearing at the flesh
hounds snuffing and baying and getting close
wishing for an angel to wrap her arms around you
swindled by Fate that two bit alley hustler
while storming the gates of credulity
a knight most errant enters at a slant
lance lowered at the donjon's holy centrifuge
and its manifold rank ranks of rank
an armload of blackmail mail to deliver
keeping those bacon and eggs on the menu
with every move and happenstance an augury
the one thing that can never be said
with all such derivative conclusions
from those who fear becoming has beens
more than they fear the death wagon
an envy complex every child's heirloom
Fate's leg rubbed mine under the table
hunted me down with yellow eye wolves
her deluvian templates swung into action
contouring my meat manikin to the last atom
in a mechanical avalanche of likenesses
credibility factor fading like a wet witch
being clueless this seemed applicable to my case
unable to attenuate the accursed guilt magnets
a contriver of advantage beneath the beasts
a product of her times assuredly no excuse
concussion therapy and then crimson horror
you'll want to live among people that talk straight
not having to be lunatic or trapped in ethnology
to find oneself receptive any longer
Dreams came true
Between me and you
The circle of life
What a fight
reincarnated to take flight
Only to be gunned down
Regrets at night
Sadness in the day
Discouraged on the way
Followed with fright
To find oneself in a sorry plight
The sun always shines bright
Ready to get back up and fight
To correct my wrongs and make them right
For life is beautiful
Now get some sleep tonight
what has been manifested
Will leave me well rested
Left out a few details
That should have been invested
Fears became a reality
I have ruined my family
I swear dreams do come true
For I have manifested the life between me and you
As the rain hit aganist my window pane
Decided to write one of my pure thought of myself
What passed into and across across my mind !
Where to find oneself one love inside oneself to one.
one flesh to speak the whispered voice of Godly Love.
My soul and what would be written about me so Speak.
A whisper of joy and wonder in the shift of jubilee and happy times thoughts Spirt Speak Remember
God is Love atmosphere Alpha Energies from all angles Alpha he be Omega he be the beginning but also the End the frequencies of a heart beating like a drum
The frequencies of all the love would be God Is Love. Nothing is lost
A feeling of sort on my mind my spirt soul
equations of God Almighty. Son and Holy Ghost windy day time breeze
the flow pedal to the floor of inside soul the inner hurts the sadness
but now none of that exist
Love one joy at least other souls arrives what is soul and one with some one
let this be my comment eveyone or what soulsoul to
thinking fully understanding. When understanding whispers in the still of the night shine day time bright you be you you is you There is just one of you any where now in the space called Planet Earth Hope of the Soul!
God Bless the loves of mind of soul ideas gives birth..
.every nano-second. God Bless Amen Amen Amen.
Knowing that hindsight is today’s wisdom
And yesterday is where my smarts come from.
Of many lessons learned ,some I can share
So that maybe others may be more aware.
So, from now on I will check for my keys before I slam the door, and not use pledge to shine the hardwood floor.
From now on the bread will be at the top of the shopping cart and that garden rake will be teeth down from the start.
For it’s no fun to be locked outside or find oneself on a flat sock slide.
And slices of dough that are flat as pie are hard to see through a rake handled eye.
So from now on
that sun lotion is applied first thing and the phone is off before I sing , I know who’s car that I am gettin in,and that spare ain’t flat before I need the thing.
For a sunburned noggin hurts,we clear?,even when screaming my song in some perplexed persons ear,
And those folks were sure fit to be tied when I opened their rear door to climb inside and changing one tire is bad enough, But a flat for a flat is really rough.
From now on speaks volumes to me, for it allows transformity.
So as long as I can say “from now on”
I can look forward and back with great anticipation,
For hope and reflection equals my transformation.
A single love will touch you with wings of light,
an eternal flame that dances in the depths of your soul,
it comes like a gentle storm, without signs or warnings,
and rewrites your destiny, bringing a longing that knows no bounds.
This love, like a deep and honest river,
melts our heart like wax under the full moon's rays,
humbles us before destiny with humility,
even if we believe ourselves to be titans on this ephemeral earth.
Without this love, life becomes an endless wasteland,
no matter how far we run, everything seems devoid of color,
and even if this love hides in the past,
its memory remains eternal, a wound that does not close.
O, supreme love, that has illuminated our soul with stars,
shown us what it means to lose and to find oneself,
and even if we wish to forget you, to erase you from our soul,
you are there, in every dream, in every echo of our heart.
For you, immortal love, are the dream that guided us,
you are the ray of sunshine that embraced us at dawn,
and even if time will shroud memories in mist,
you will remain eternal, love, in the heart that has lived you.