Long Finding myself Poems
Long Finding myself Poems. Below are the most popular long Finding myself by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Finding myself poems by poem length and keyword.
In the southern land of cotton, corn, hay, and beans,
where it seems that through clouds and rain, the sun also beams;
There's always a place to steal away and feel the rays of blues.
Of course, it doesn't take much stealing away. It's just that some
like to mix it up a bit with solar rays laced with energy tones.
Hot, humid, and rainy, are a great recipe for common southern pain.
You will see and understand it plainly in the evening news.
There are blue skies and white clouds, but the atmosphere is also
kind of blue. I've known it to be that way since the day I was born.
And although much has changed in the last 50-plus years, much is also the same.
Many attitudes have changed, but no one can tell much about what's going on in their hearts, because the atmosphere all around embraces one and makes them feel kind of blue. I must confess that the blue I felt 60 years ago must be in competition with the none blue that I picked up out west or up north, and although it's still kind of blue, it doesn't pain me nearly as much as it did when I was just a kid.
Moreover, I hasten to say that there is more to southern land than feeling kind of blue, and I experienced it personally twice within a few short months of my return. It's duly called Southern Hospitality, and there is no doubt that it is indeed the real McCoy. I was new in town and in search of the DMV. I was growing impatient until I came to realize to my surprise that there were
two DMV offices-one for driver's licenses and one for auto registration.
Finding myself at the wrong office, I requested directions to the one I needed. The young man refused to give me directions. He simply said, "Follow me". It happened again as I was in search of a certain grocery store. She too refused to give me directions but simply said, "Follow me".
Feeling lost and tensed
Being tired of everything
And obsessed with many things
What to do, don't know?
Just lost in myself, neither anyone nor everyone
Just finding myself in the world around me.
Worried about many things but the actual
worry isn't about finding myself,
Soo is about when?
Lost in myself but still can't find myself
The child inside me has gone far away
Given his shelter to an adult man,
responsibilities and realities......
Juggling high to be in the race of life
without quitting or looking back.
This word isn't so easy for living so
"Let me test myself,
Let me know the worth of my time and responsibilities"
It is not just about finding myself,
So is about what I have to become....
Oneday i will findout myself
But till then,
"Let the hunt go on"
"Let the hustle go on"
"Let me test myself"
"Let me find my path to find myself".
The destiny I am moving towards isn't easy,
Feeling scared to move alone
Hope to find myself soon
Accompany myself with me on the way to my destiny
The day I would find myself will be the beginning of my successful life.
"No measure of time will be long
enough but we'll start with forever."
Quote from the movie _Twilight
a promise of forever
and in my heart's temple I hang my memories of him
as clouds swirl as gauzy curtains
my hair a tangled flowing river
and suddenly I am lost in an ocean of butterflies ~
our love is a shadow on the wall of time
where love comes unbidden
for love is
a journey
a rapture
a garden
a fragile flower opening
an endless aqua ocean
a photo album of memories
a fine red wine in a goblet
oh, his K I S S was like a flower blooming . . .
in the magic of dawn's veiled sun
and the quiet serenity of bird songs
I gasp for air as I wake from a dream
to behold infinite butterflies in vast colors
watercolor brushstrokes dancing
exquisite
then, I hear the butterflies whispering
go to him
go now
he moans
then, I am transported to the old cemetery
finding myself walking among the moss covered tombs
until I am standing at his ... beneath a weeping willow tree
and I kneel weeping ~
until the magic is broken- by a black bird call . . .
In the quiet hum of the screen’s glow,
fingers dance, tapping keys,
each touch a spark, a ripple in time.
I am filled and emptied,
a vessel for voices long silent,
echoes of dreams, shadows of thoughts,
memories interwoven with the present,
stories waiting to be born.
Liberation, a paradox,
chained to this luminous expanse,
yet free, soaring through realms
of imagination, across the tapestry
of space, touching the untouchable.
Words, laden with riddles,
tunes unsung, ideas like constellations,
guiding me through the labyrinth
of the mind’s secret corridors,
the heart’s hidden chambers.
I write to feel the pulse
of existence, to breathe life
into the ethereal, to give shape
to the abstract, a sculptor
of sentences, a weaver of tales.
Journeys with words, paths
unmapped, leading to the in-between,
the liminal spaces where reality
and fantasy blur, and the soul
finds its true reflection.
Hearts bleed, minds soar,
souls quake with the resonance
of crafted thoughts, emotions
poured out, captured in lines,
alive and eternal.
So I write,
a pilgrim on this endless journey,
finding myself, losing myself,
in the boundless expanse
of the written word.
A lamppost mirrors my frame drooping
while I close my eyes, awaiting morn
to flicker on spoiled dreams: till angelic whispers
begin a hymn through pin-points
of notes along sedate trees;
yet, the fire from my belly breathes
again like an orange wave...
how in this open pain, a light draws
me close to hope's rebirth
within a new world,
feeding my roots , my veins
borne from self-love..again.
"We can't be so desperate for love that we forget
where we can always find it; WITHIN.”
? Alexandra Elle
------------------------
The Most Important Event In Your Life
Contest Sponsor:Nayda Ivette Negron
10/7/2015
You want to know its merits?
Very well, then. Daylight slants
deliciously across the boy's
inclined, thoughtful face.
His lace collar, crumpled,
houses valleys of shadow.
Or what about the Water Seller?
Look at that poncho's warm
woven woollen texture:
and isn't the rip in the shoulder fun?
And the dimples on the pot!
They scream "potness" at us.
Or the beads of water
clinging to the larger vessel,
whose horizontal striations
practically smell
of the potter's wheel.
But oh, that drinking-glass!
Does it seem possible to you
that unctuous oils and minerals
of earth, gouged from the soil,
can render the ethereal soul of glass?
It was a winter afternoon.
I'd gone along to the gallery
on the off-chance.
Standing before this marvel,
I found myself entranced.
But even as I gazed, the sun
(though never very confident in London)
stepped out coyly from behind a cloud.
Duck's-egg orange light, resplendent,
now fell aslant the canvas.
Surely this was harmful?
Sunlight bleaches (does it not?)
the colour out of things.
Alarm bells should be ringing.
I summoned a uniform attendant.
He nodded sagely as I explained
- but did nothing.
Why should he care?
Minimum wage is no great motivator.
An hour from now,
he'd be hanging up that peaked cap,
and be a person until Monday.
No point in bursting
a blood-vessel
over a silly painting. Later.
But I couldn't leave it.
If I stood just thus,
my human frame was just enough
to block the sun.
One little skirmish could be won
if I remained here
until the sun’s trajectory was done,
or the gallery closed,
whichever came the sooner.
So I did. On tip-toe,
spine inclined, quiet,
I crowded out the light of day
for more than an hour.
Pointless, you say.
I can't deny it.
The very next day,
And each subsequent foray
of Phoebus would
merely recreate the problem.
That's hardly the point.
Finding myself there,
I beat my ploughshare
into a sword and,
for that tiny slice of time,
I made the sacrifice,
bore the quizzical looks
with equanimity, quirky,
standing like a turkey
on tenterhooks
and saved the painting.
Calm is a creek--also a BUBBLING brook.
Creek fits better for crooked is its path.
Journey unknown, yet no hesitant look;
TRICKLING on, it SPLASHES stones in a bath.
Above, an owl SCREECHES, BUZZING bees prowl.
Ladybug SIPS nectar in tiny SLURP.
Baby bear, covered in fuzz, starts to HOWL,
drinks from momma then issues a loud BURP.
Breeze WHISPERS poems, jays HUSH all CHATTER,
leaves softly RUSTLE their thrills in her song.
Raindrops begin: so gently they SPLATTER
on leaves RAT-A-TAT while singing along.
Could this be heaven? In daydreams, it could:
a bird choir CHIRPING sounds of silver BELL.
Dreaming mid tangled plants and oaken wood,
finding myself again 'neath summer's spell.
CRACKLING with magic, it's my perfect find.
Does it matter it dwells but in my mind?
July 2, 2022
for Onomatopeia poetry contest
by Emile Pinet
Howmanysyllables.com=10 syllables/line
(Couldn't get "bold" to show)
Becoming AWARE of who I am
Was the first step to accepting a greater calling in my life
We would all like to think we’re Whole
But the process of spit gluing all those broken pieces together
Is something we don’t see while it’s happening
Nor do we recognize this process as NOT only being about US as individuals
The outcome of the process is much more
Affirming one another and exhibiting genuine Kindness
Brings forth Enlightenment into our purpose as human beings
The Newness of a day and the Inspiration it can bring, if we allow,
Moves us to a path of Nirvana of sorts
Grateful I am, for the peace and happiness in finding myself
While lifting, supporting and encouraging others in the process
This
Is
My ……
A - WARE
W - HOLE
A - FFIRMMED
K - IND
E - NLIGHTENED
N - EW
I – NSPIRING
N - IRVANA
G - RATEFUL
January 3,2022
~Ms. Affection
Clicked did my camera on a Myena eagerly feeding its young one.
Fascinated, my heart pulsed warmly on this nature’s wonderful creation,
I turned back in muse but my smile was wiped with a sight so scary;
A young black girl struggled with a dagger stuck in bosom, dress torn apart.
Paralysed I stood gathering my wits, knowing not I was part of a time unknown.
She pointed to a small track voicing out some words incoherent and collapsed.
Disoriented I followed the track shown, some steps ahead I found
An infant lying in the bush, inert and naked; carefully cradle it, I did.
A moan I heard, loud and agonised, I tread back the path dumbfounded.
The girl’s hands flayed out desperately and her face softened in a smile.
I handed her the baby, she sat ignoring her stab to hold it to her bosom.
To a slap, I woke up finding myself on the grass, my camera at some distance.
I stood with caution and looked around in a maze, the trees stood alert.
I slept a deep sleep that night, dreamt of a happy black girl, baby in arms.
She said “Thank you” with eyes glowing and vanished in the heather.
A picture that came out from my camera looked quite weird,
By the two birds, there was a shadow, a column of smoke it seemed!
17/07/16
Contest. In another time
Sponsor: Ironik Zinc
As time ticks, the outside woven souls make up our world.
I am in an impregnable world, quite challenging and competitive.
The sun casts shadows through the large windows upon the large study,
where I sit behind my desk, exposing the darkened room.
Trying to ignore the piles of unopened bills.
Feeling overwhelmed, looking at a letter stamped “Final Notice.”
I opened and read it, wishing it would disappear.
The bank's final repossession notice.
Feeling in a downward spiral shell, praying to be rescued.
I put in as many hours working to make everything go right,
but it was just not enough.
Finding myself reaching the nadir of my despair,
I knew now my emotions were hard to conceal.
Reflecting on the beginning, I thought it would be easy;
I was mistaken.
Whispering,
"Lord, if it is your will, please help guide me in this crushing storm I'm in,
and bring the calm of the waves' embrace."
12/1/2025