Long Focussed Poems
Long Focussed Poems. Below are the most popular long Focussed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Focussed poems by poem length and keyword.
There may be no I in Team,
But there is one in Co-operation and another in Ideas.
A team without Co-operation and fresh out of Ideas may
Soon be beat.
There may be no L in in Team,
But a Leader sure has one.
A Team without a leader will be hard pressed to stay
Together.
There may be no O in Team,
But options has one.
A team without options may not be around
For long.
There may be no D in Team,
But there is in Direction.
A team without Direction, will not find it easy
To stay focussed.
There may be no P in team,
But Purpose is not lacking one.
A Team without purpose,
May not be of much use.
A team without any Co-operation and out of Ideas,
Leaderless, without Options
And lacking both Direction and Purpose,
Doesn't spell success to me.
Goodbye, Odie
My little old cat is dying.
His steps are awkward, eyes unfocussed
and he cries when he can’t see me.
I’m not sure I want to be in a world
that doesn’t have my tabby Familiar.
I am feeling widowed, again.
I’m resigned to be grieving, again
outliving another love who is dying.
There’s odd comfort in this ache, the strange familiar.
I gaze at him imploringly, in tears, unfocussed.
He is my greatest love in our small world.
He reaches out a snow- capped paw to tap me.
Here I go again, making it all about me,
fighting to accept death must happen, again.
It seems that these past years, this is my world,
sitting by the bedside of the dying,
as they gaze at unseen figures in the room, unfocussed,
but they hear them, and they smile, voices familiar.
I push my face in soft ginger fur, the scent familiar.
He always smelled like vanilla cookies, to me.
Green eyes stare into mine, they’re focussed.
I watch as death opaques the life from eyes, again.
I hear my husband’s voice as he was dying;
“I am tired. It’s time to leave this world.”
Death has been a constant in my world,
an entity with which I’m too familiar.
Such a selfish act on the part of the dying,
to love me absolutely, then leave me.
I feel the empty chest constriction of grief, again.
I clutch a lifeless body, I am unfocussed.
I can’t see through tears, unfocussed.
Odie leaves a gaping hole in my world.
I’ll struggle with condolences, again.
My grief is in my chest, pain so familiar.
The last time one I loved held on to me
while completing the evolution of dying.
No longer unfocussed, I rise to greet grief, again,
it’s now my world and it enfolds me,
my dark, familiar partner in the dance of dying.
Battling, To My Fight For A Victory
Mornings of my storms are coming forth to emerge,
consisting of a sleepy tempest that's sitting lying within.
The storm in its quake I do not trust,
justifying its fury's of these strong emotions, they will burst.
I ask my Lord, is this what I need to face,
why my Father, is this not easy for me to be set free?
Is rage of historic anger I have again met isn't fair,
for I lived my life in a senselessness of this agony.
Why then can I not just let this go, is it, the pride of a man,
with morals of justice that's standing in the way of his defeating?
What's the lesson here I must learn, with this constant plague that I face,
following me in desperation to be set free, and I too live again?
This blame of rage, and all of it that follows along,
how do I forgive me, coming at such a cost that I to relive?
This battling with these demons I'm facing to write it down,
clouding my way for they've opened doors of these rivers of my pain.
There's a pouring of the furies that sit at its peak,
hurricanes of insanity to the waking of my world, I do seek.
Allows the lightning to strike, sometimes twice even with thrice,
keeps me focussed, balanced, by the eye of a shining star victory battled.
Riding at its thunder over the horizon of my day with a cause armored,
brings cleansing tropical winds that calm the rage that its within.
In the liveliest REM stage of his night
Bert beholds an unusual sight.
A troupe of pink elephants sound a trumpet blast
Then stomp united towards the grass.
On the other side, a team of tall strong guys
March to the pitch with focussed eyes.
"I'll be the goalie!' Dan told Bert.
'I'm least likely to get hurt."
Bert referees. His reminder the same,
"The joy's in the play, not winning the game."
At half time, a call is heard from Phil.
"How have the elephants scored two nil?
It's not right. It makes no sense...
Football's not for elephants!"
The guys huddle up and devise a plan
To catch as many mice as they can.
When the teams take position on the green
A commotion begins. A chaotic scene!
The elephants pale to white as a goose
When all the mice have been let loose.
The guys score goals before the mice disappear
The elephants play on, when free from fear.
Bert awakens amazed and confused.
He starts to laugh, feeling quite amused.
He answers the question written on Suzanne's face.
He fills her in on the match that took place.
for : Choose a line 2
Sponsor : Joseph May
prompt: “The darkened sky stole my tears”
submission date : 27/5/25
Placed : 4th : multiple
RETURN MY TEARS
The darkened sky stole my tears
soprano crystalline they quickly disappeared
Lucy my name still neat to tweet, though
inner ocean could no longer drip sighs sweet
desert dry goals, set anew, a different stew
He no longer beheld teary dampened hues
charcoal cloud-lips licked tear salt refined
eerie seraphim pointed saffron south where
fears were consternatingly narrowed near
Danube desires for red velvet attire or
focussed cease fires mattered little
life performances madly tearless brittle
it happened during a talisman thunderstorm
this certainly phantom-like for fairy form
soul aches to touch streamlets down rosy
cheeks so charming, petulant part
of story lost, when eyes dam up but
cannot willow weep, sleepless songs seep
to soak satin midnight pillow a disappeared
right in dim bower, choking hours
‘forget sad droplets !’ flowered cupids harkened,
‘Heart scrubbed clear from harlequin waters
your taffeta tears glisten on thistle in
Garden of Eden, closely listen !’
wolf pacified, ‘not to worry, you can voice a howl’
gobi bear beckoned, ‘come prowl with tawny owl
we will hear symphonic larks in operas dark
tea-rose tears are for unopened hearts
stealing kisses or wishes with swishes
eating sumptuous dishes’
sob I wanted to so bad, be singularly sad
feel drips on hands and feet, wash out eyes lubricate lips with self’s own mineralised H2O
enriched emotion to finely comb, then hit Home
Dark sky ! Return my tears ! Hear Soul’s plea
Tears, my liquidised diamonds, an oasis for me
Loin cloth draped around his anorexic body the Buddha
Searched for the Middle Way between Nothing and All
Counted his blessings and figs as his thoughts focussed
In meditation for humility compassion and lasting peace
The tree of life’s branches lightened his shadows of doubt
Enticed the suffering of suffering to lead from above
Aristotle escaped from Plato’s cave into the sunshine
Golden Mean on his mind he foraged for balance of virtue
Moderated knowledge with feelings of exploring for wisdom
A tiny window of opportunity between secrecy and honesty
Reckless and cowardice tempting from both incomplete ends
Good humour and absurdity longing for tranquility’s resolution
Carl Gustav Jung took up the reigns drawn by polar opposites
Between living and death in archetypal subconscious conscience
Monumental conflict depicted as complements not contradictions
A seeming paradox of incongruent and existential proportions
Like the jester in Tarot’s antimony of beginning and infinite end
The persona became more than a mere mask or Janus faced challenge
The poet’s stream of consciousness meanwhile flows as ink in his pen
Scratches at the surface quite tense in his hand pointing the quill
Towards investigation and unexceptional essence of lost meaning
Guided by the inner Self and nemesis of turmoil and equilibrium
19th January 2020
I was doing a six week placement
For work experience several years ago.
Would a secretarial career suit me?
This I would soon know.
I was often alone in the office.
I wanted to give of my best.
I decided to put my ICT
Knowledge to the test...
There's a way to change the desktop background.
This I did on the boss's screen.
His was white, but large and central
Was a smiley face. Lime green.
I chose the plain white background.
But his image was not in the list!
So I had to leave it as it was.
To try, I will insist!
The boss and co were back.
And at some point during their lunch
The boss noticed the change
And he had a hunch.
He asked his co partner
If he'd been messing around
With his computer and its settings.
He denied. I made no sound.
" What's wrong? " He asked.
" My smiley face has vanished off the screen!
You know, our company logo?
Mr Smiley Green?
The computer has wiped him away!
He's completely disappeared! "
Inwardly, uncontrollable laughter
Almost to the point of tears.
But outwardly, I focussed
On the task I had at hand.
He didn't suspect me for a moment.
He probably thought I didn't understand.
Each time I think of this, I laugh
And share it with anyone near.
Did they ever solve the mystery
Of the face that disappeared?
Written 18th November 2021
Earlier today, I had a small-group evaluation
that I’ve been quietly dreading
and frankly, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
See, I’ve neglected things of late
I had the flu and couldn’t concentrate.
But once that was over, I could focus,
and I did some uneducated guessing,
about what the physiology skill-drill might be.
My group peer-assessed me, and those guys can be savage,
and a fail on the quiz could block my module passage.
I showed what I’d prepared, 2-hours focussed on things like prioritizing diagnoses.
Their questions were pointed but they didn’t reveal their prognoses.
How’d I do? I haven’t a clue.
I was quivering with exhaustion when I was through.
The professeur seemed pleased, and I got a few nods and smiles,
in my clinical-presentation debut.
.
,
A song for this:
Diary by Lucy Tun
You Need Therapy (Ready) by Mila Smith
non-compensatory - A fail in ED/PBL can block module passage
She hugged her shoulders in the morning mist,
the sun struggled to pierce the charcoal shroud,
beside her someone turned, his lover kissed,
she left as he dissolved into the crowd.
The platform full, she stared along the rails,
he said he'd be along on the next train,
last chance for them, or else the marriage fails,
ten years to make it work, but all in vain.
He left for someone else, she could not cope,
another man like him she would not find,
her thoughts now focussed on this one last hope
when someone rushing pushed her from behind.
He heard the guard say 'please remain inside'
and thought 'I hope she's not seen someone's died'...
For contest 'Your finest Sonnet', sponsor Mark Massey
22nd July 2018
EXPLORATIONS
divergent
transition
extinguish
in
surroundings
with
echoes
defined
&distinctive
crytalising
the
symbolic
patterns
fused
alongside
the
geometrical
harmony
revealed
in
deeper
things&
draw close
PRESENT-MOMENTS
different
facets
particularly
stylistic
intense
& preoccupied
enclosed
focussed
in
a
sweeping
panorama
of
naturalistic
simplicity
of
common
consciousness
closely
linked
in enthusiastic
cultures
of
imagination
OBJECTIVES
in
realistic
representation
implicated
by
characteristic
emphasis
of the
naturalistic
& contemporary
motifs
in
uniform
focus
schematically
displayed
panoramically
&
monumental
in expression
of attitude
poised
& orientated
in
visionary
emotion
of a dream