Long Fluidly Poems
Long Fluidly Poems. Below are the most popular long Fluidly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fluidly poems by poem length and keyword.
Underneath all these layers of has been memory within
and should become remembered without
I have nothing left
to late evening evolve me.
An exhausted creaky ghost
of organic chemistry reunions
inside a worn dry and peeling boundary membrane
surrounded by EarthTribe's climate of perpetual
polycultural EarthMother becoming
relentlessly final unvoiced
unchoiced answer
Fluidly disturbing as pulpless onion water
free for nothing but hands to wash
this scent of ghost.
A randomly thoughtless feeling
almost enfolding smell-swell memory
of full-filled time
spatially dynamic
sustaining while straining
refining redefining
ghostly present flowing grace
of former future fine-edged life.
Immortally peeled of all spatial dimension
to be left only with timelessly unbound
reverse of future flowing time
ReMembering a fully unpeeled union,
embryonic promise of a sacred organic space
to recall original impassioned home.
Ghostly identity of unfeeling light
surrounding darker memory powers,
loving unformed organic chemistry,
integrity's unchosen potential
Memory regenerations
reconnecting co-empathic trust,
remembering unpeeled flowing
in and out Othered lust
for more belonging love
than unfelt longing life.
(“Depth Psychology Merit Badge”, 2015, original oil)
The mind is a mysterious thing
Handling the conscious and unconscious
Simultaneously,
A true multitasker behind its multimasked face.
So much remains below the surface
Monitored, projected and reacted to instinctively
Without even needing to rise to the level
Of conscious awareness.
And what does rise, getting all the attention,
Is often the same old stuff
Patterns and habits, worries, hopes and fears
Wearing deep grooves so hard to erase.
Below, the current shifts, fluidly
In tidal rhythms but with a constantly creative
Playful air that seems to defy
Its survival imperative.
How can the mind be so accepting
In the face of change’s annihilation?
Maybe it knows something in the depths
Which we mere mortals with rational logic reject.
Something fluid, tidal and creative
Something both above and below
Something which is a nothing
But the light reflected in her face.
(10/7/25)
It was all a dream then,
I just saw you alive again,
I just thought about it,
how I never touched you...
and with the great future of our imaginations fluidly flowing south to the sea, where our spirits live we make love-
all the time actually, just enough to feel like we're never even here,
I heard your voice inside,
so deep,
so caustic,
I crept into a void like the 'nobody can have it so swell, this whole being must end-us in hell!'
It was said in magnificent books
how long it can take to fall in love,
with me I simply laughed at you laughing at me-
I simply let in the imagery,
and then the feeling that protects us,
I simply looked at myself, right after we're done and fell for a thousand years.
Now and here
Love sums bliss;
A sacred space
~~~~~~~~~
By koi pond
Aqueous surprise;
Lively zest colours
~~~~~~~~~
Old kung-fu master
Fluidly agile;
Pugilistic dance
~~~~~~~~~
Dawn sunshine
Stray birds sing;
Window ledge chorus
~~~~~~~~~
Busy streets
Winding into nightfall;
Moonlight lady
~~~~~~~~~
Chinatown buzz
Mid-autumn festival;
Tea and moon cakes
~~~~~~~~~
Hazy skyline
Smell of distant burning;
Choking sensations
~~~~~~~~~
Work on words
Haiku fragments curl;
Profound moments
~~~~~~~~~
Feel of moist air
Cool breeze signals;
Abrupt rain falls
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
11 September 2019
Singapore
She lovingly smiles at him each evening
dressed in palest silk, a gossamer gown,
brushed with hints of silverdust shadows.
Her shapely fullness casts a womanly glow
across his surface in ripples of light.
Enthralled by her shimmering beauty,
he waves to her from Baltic blue depths
of his longing and unspoken passion.
Her reflection swims in his crests and troughs
as he cradles the embodiment of her perfection.
Crested fingers rise to fondle her magnificence
but vast distance keeps them too far apart.
Her heart guides the ebbing and flowing
of his tides in their nightly dance, spent romancing.
Fluidly, he waltzes her in rhythm to the shore,
serenaded by a chorus of flickering stars
singing a tune written eons before
Gershwin could dream of Rhapsody in Blue.
Little more could either of them do as
their song wafted in a dolorous lover's lament
known by humans but perceived by few
as a divergent love between two of Earth's forces
whose liaison would be a tragedy for me and you
Inspiration is her word of the day,
for she feels it now come the final sun ray.
She is weary from the sunshine hours,
but her mind is filled with subtly coloured flowers.
She writes sturdy, yet not so fast,
even though thoughts keep streaming past.
She fears she may not capture many a wonder,
but then again, she is certain her dreams will ponder.
So when she awakes to a new agenda,
she puts pen to paper to continue at her minds surrender.
The refreshed blues of her widened eyes perceived
the adventures of her sleeping state as something so greatly achieved.
Inspiration flows fluidly in connection with her soul
and she can say it has beautifully taken its toll.
For she is perpetually in anticipation
of continuing to paint with the colours of her happy imagination.
Here is my ecological faith
rooted in experience
yet to flower in things unseen,
relationships unfelt,
communications not yet heard,
tasted and spit out;
Savored
When I touch another life's body
with kindness
I am thereby touched in return
by remediation,
immediate
intimate compassion,
CoPassion
Perhaps this is also innocently true
of touching minds
with kind and curious intent,
compassionate purpose,
But,
that is about my active hope,
already extending out
further family projections
from healing inside faith experience
that reemerges faith healing imaged future,
fluidly resonant
and co-presently resilient.
Swimmingly
that's how we flow.
We're so
easygoing.
Love is good to us!
I love you
just as
much as you
love me.
Fluidly,
we flow just...
like a mountain stream;
deeper than the ocean
is...
a love like ours!
(Yalto)
BRIAN'S CHOICE X,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/27/2020 (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
"Yalto" is a form invented by yours truly
Line 1-15: 3,4,2,4,5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5 syllables
Date written: 09/28/2019
To whom it may concern,
We wrote in a rhythm that was soft and slow
Between the lines where we could go
You brought the bass, I brought the breeze,
Dancing together, pens moved fluidly
No label fit yet promises were made
Ones said were real never to fade
You spoke in beats, I answered low
And in between I thought we’d grow
But then you left without a sound
No soft goodbye, no common ground
No final line, no open door
No last dance, no nothing more
I searched the space you used to be
A half-lit room inside of me
The words we built began to fade
Yet my heart still hoped you’d stay
But hope gets tired, worn and thin
So I turned the page, let healing in
You won’t return, and that’s okay
Some people aren’t meant to stay
So I end our chapter, close a book of shame
No bitter ink nor shades of blame
You were the verse, I was the theme
For a little while, we shared a dream
And when you paused, I took the floor
Not begging you to give me more.
I danced alone, and in that space
I found my strength, my quiet grace
So here’s to us, the brief, the bright
The words, the rhythm, and the light
No bitter end, no final blow….
Just love, and time, and letting go
Love always,
Brenda
Moving more slowly than it once did
and not so fluidly
it leads or follows me
down the sidewalks and paved streets
in my well-populated little town.
Walks are most pleasurable
when the sun allows my companion to go
even if it is dim.
Not slim and lithe now
and though the knees are arthritic
my shadow stands arrow-straight
thanks to Mama:
“Sit up.”
“Don’t slouch.”
“Hold your shoulders back!”
I reflect on the long-gone days
when it accompanied me
on the shoulders of narrow gravel roads
miles from the nearest town,
speeding up to accommodate the flurry of
young-woman urgings to get home
grade papers, cook, help with homework, . . . .
I walk now with my aging shadow
pondering lessons learned
grateful for every blessing
intent on pursuing dreams till life’s end.
Posted April 28, 2020, and entered in Chantelle Anne Cooke's Shadows poetry contest placed 6th of ten
entered in the Strand Number 740 contest on May 1, 2020
May 23, 2020, entered in John Hamilton's Best Free Verse 2020 Poetry Contest
Placed 4th