Long Food for thought Poems
Long Food for thought Poems. Below are the most popular long Food for thought by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Food for thought poems by poem length and keyword.
People have forgotten,
How to use the old grey matter.
They can make good conversation,
But it's mostly mindless chatter.
Seldom do they ever,
Hear the words as they are said.
They rearrange them and they change them,
As they swim inside their head.
Moving aimlessly about,
The empty cavern of the mind,
They often form new meanings,
Growing stranger over time;
And by the time we hear the story,
That began with just one line,
That was uttered in all innocence,
It has become a crime.
It's brand new news we haven't heard,
And it can really stink.
All because it was repeated,
By a mind that didn't think.
Rest thyself weary traveler, enter into my welcoming gate.
Tarry a while, may thy wearisome burdens time abrogate.
Sit with me, tell me of thy arduous and itinerant bourne,
And of the many roads thy feet have trod, paths now well worn!
Sup with me, partake of my bread and effervescent wine,
That for this moment in time our souls may intertwine,
Sharing food for thought, musing upon ideals to which we aspire.
May lofty reflections flow from us that others we may inspire!
Share the exhilaration of the towering mounts thou hast scaled,
And the depression of valleys in which ye sensed ye failed.
Of sere deserts where sheer determination dwelt midst thy entourage,
Facing disappointment as ye strove for that elusive verdant mirage!
Share with me the perils ye suffered upon the raging seas,
And the calming of the waves by God in answer to your pleas.
Ye hath borne with grace the vicissitudes of life, that I can see.
I am truly blessed by the time I have spent with thee!
Many are the bold adventures thou has beheld in thy days.
Would'st not thee now shed thy rambling vagabond ways,
And linger a while longer to fill my being with eternal hope,
To impart thy wisdom that my soul with life can better cope?
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Burnt CDs, black marker spinning,
Discman walking through the seasons.
Ford Tempo losing ground,
feet dipping through the rusted sound.
On the bus I felt protected,
public-transit bubble, youth connected.
Till the night the danger shifted,
instinct sharpened, whole world twisted.
News broke, breath broke,
shape of everything revoked.
I blamed my feet,
trampled dreams, incomplete.
But I still hear the soundtrack calling,
even when the sky was falling.
Girlhood stitched in ice and steam,
ringette blades cutting through the dream.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Girl-power spice on frozen rinks,
tweens spliced between the ice and instincts.
Cutting habits meant to break us,
rage for show, but truth remakes us.
Gloves off, kick it, tape and stitches,
es get riches, survival switches.
I got the deal, sealed it tight,
peeled the dream down to the light.
Acid truth to clear the bruise,
systems built on old abuse.
Cheshire grins and Garbage nights,
In Utero and failing rites.
But the beat keeps pulling through,
rap and blues in every hue
Saturated food for thought,
gum-stuck rhythm I never lost.
My burned CD,
my lifeblood, my mythology.
Spin me back to who I was —
fire, danger, music, trust.
I was dancing in the room,
between despair and breaking through.
If all that’s left is memory,
then let it ring —
my burned CD.
Lineage laid out on a tray —
Elton John, Lion King days.
Foo Fighters stalking teenage nights,
speed and roads and manic rites.
Lock it up, pack it in,
get thin, detonate within.
Cut the joints, remove the bones,
pressure carving through the tones.
Jelly heart, but still I’m able —
wobble steady on the table.
My burned CD,
my lifeline, my identity.
Spin me back but let me be
the girl who learned her alchemy.
From rusted floors to northern nights,
from fear to rhythm, wrong to right —
if all that’s left is what shaped me,
I’ll let it ring —
my burned CD
Poertrysoup, that food for thought that keeps
me coming back to you
The poems I read from those of many up lift me
it takes me to a world of peace
poetrysoup, a poetry place for many
painted pictures of visions of thoughts
I come across when I open up my world to you
poetrysoup I am honored to be with you
Gray skies, clouds that rides the wave of the wind
before the night falls it will rain again. From someone,
a poet, I couldn't recall his or her name, the day that it rained.
the poem I read, I read, I read it as it gave me a touch of peace
my mind was wondering where could it take me, the painted pictures
of thoughts that came from thee. The night it rained, the night I searched on poetrysoup, yet I still can't recall the name
Words that can up lift you from those who share their love of poems
can move you. The wall that tells the stories, they to have joined the world of thee. Poetrysoup, where the world of poets leave their mark for many to read. A poem of the day, it reads as if it was meant for you. A site of inspiration, people of love, full of imaginations, a community as one. The tales of poetry will always be loved
She is Pacific ocean
Tranquil from outside
tumultuous from with in
Shallow it seems from the surface
But deep, very deep it decends
And what things it carry inside
Lively Coral reefs
And Volcanoes
Ready to errupt...
A world that can never be uncovered...
She is a cloud
Floating on air waves
Struggling to find a place
Where it will shower all of its gems
And those won't go wasted
But will reborn the dead soil
And the sleepy seeds
So precious, so full of potentials...!
She is a butterfly
With the heart of an eagle
Standing like a mountain
Against the Tsunamis
That rise when stones are thrown in the sea
Fragile yet very strong...
Emotional but Taciturn...
She is a moon
Having different phases
Which come out to roam every night
To enlight the valleys
To listen to the untold stories
And go back in morning to burry them....
She is light, she is beauty
A food for thought, a key to imaginations
And yes she is a flower
Scared of taking her hands of her face
For she will be cut, put in vase and eventually thrown away
Fate has this in store for flowers
She is but she is not
She exists but she does not
Like stars on a full moon night
She is there, and she is not!
She exists yet she does not...!!
________________________________________
~Paghunda Zahid
Placed 01 in Brian's J. Select any form any theme poetry contest
Science yet can’t find the link
to what it is that makes us think,
to what it is that guides our way
and makes our choices day by day.
No proof that good or bad exist,
no evidence upon their list,
no theories that can shine a light
on what is meant by wrong or right.
So lacking proof for what is plain
man had to find a different game,
in many ways these games were sought
to find the reason for our thought.
God appeared in many ways
to give man reason for his ways,
and just to balance right and wrong
the Devil now joined in man’s song.
So now content with mankind's song
he found his thoughts could get along
with others of his chosen kind
and didn’t have to blame his mind.
But maybe good and bad exist
as living things that science missed
and influence our every day
and guide the way that mankind play.
Then monasteries are goodness source
to spread out goodness, but much worse
our prisons shelter evil’s power
and spread this evil hour by hour.
It could be science one day will find
some things exist beyond man’s mind
and really give us food for thought
about the things that we’ve been taught.
Ivor G Davies
Russia has indefensible missiles
that can carry a nuclear warhead.
And climate change triggers bells and whistles,
for future predictions look bad, filled with dread.
Kim Jong-un has built a nuclear bomb
threatening to nuke the United States.
And ISIS kills in the name of Islam,
thriving in the shadows of our misstates.
While the free world’s led by President Trump,
allies are insulted and potentates kissed.
And the market's heading into a slump
that's sure to place poverty on this list.
Today’s spicy news bits are food for thought
should these fail to frighten, I’ve got a lot.
(Sonnet)
Jan. 3, 2019
What, Where, Who
If I where asked the what, where, who
That drives me to write poetry
I’d say that if I only knew
I’d leave right now this misery
But I’m afraid I’m not the sort
To answer in straight fashion
I have to offer my retort
With words of heartfelt passion
For just the other day I found
Encounter gave me food for thought
Soon the words they were outbound
Jumbled as they rushed and fought
Though ne’er the less inspired me
To battle on my way
Look toward the end and see
Which words I could display
Confess do I quite openly
That I am ignorant
Of poetry’s technology
Coz grasp it I just can’t
I wouldn’t know a what’s it called
From a what’s its name
In my mind won’t stay installed
Confusion is its game
But I somehow, find I can
Muddle through at best
Organise a crafty plan
And set my brain the test
For out there I see loneliness
Suffering and pain
A world in turmoil and distress
That cannot stake its claim
I look for every trait in man
Into the soul I stare
At his betrayal and flim-flam
Also the ladies fair
Dear love will always be there
And so will Demon war
And my thoughts on these I’ll share
Of that you can be sure
Laughter I would hope to bring
Sadness sometimes to the fore
Of natures forces I will sing
The list goes on galore
Yes I will write throughout the night
With hope to de-confuse
I’ll try to offer some insight
By giving up my muse
So now you know the what and where
But what about the who
Inspiring people are out there
Who knows - it could - be you
And what about that misery
I spoke of up above
Well, I gave that up for music
Of the poetrysoupers love x
Breath In Breath Out,captivated by a white substance that moves at a paralyzed pace,tied zipped in a clear see through coffin,but yet we're the ones buried alive,Breath In Breath Out,I'm the one to blame for reaching out giving it life pulsing,in return I feel extincted and broken.Disorientated lost in clouds filled with images of skeletors prison within,shackled down in smoke,Breath In Breath Out.My hourglass of life became a instrument of a pipe,spiraled down to a endless road and believed in what I was told,I'm nobody,there's no hope,Breath In Breath Out.I live my life with no regrets,In my vessel,bodysuit of flesh and tattoos,is the canvas of my experiences and only I have authority & obligated to label my legacy,not society itself,Breath In Breath Out.My reflection collaborates in unison,my shadow,my soul,my silhouette to define my best ability,is to have availability,Breath In Breath Out.Who better to give opportunities than yourself,to fill the void that we created,then to rely onto unknown entity that's been plagued with toxic disillusional lies,Breath In Breath Out.Exhausted and hungry depriving myself with no food for thought,maneuvering through life like Vegas,we're the night never dies,only the ones who live by day,Breath In Breath Out.Now open your eyes and imagine you was blind,we tend to forget about the obvious and take our peripheral vision for granted,as I digress,remember this,Love with your Heart and not with your Mind,what your eyes seek,your Heart will find,Breath In Breath Out!
How can one hold such fondness for a spot?
Yet, here I fish, knee-deep in my best friend ...
We share our quiet meals of food for thought,
And leave the day concerned with its own end.
We charge not, he or I, those weighty loads,
Our mundane cares left to their worldly pace,
So when we've traveled all our earthly roads,
We'll wind them here, together ... in this place.
Written and submitted on May 11, 2019
For the "Free Verse Or Rhyme" Poetry Contest
Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
* I used photograph number three. *