Long Forces Poems
Long Forces Poems. Below are the most popular long Forces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forces poems by poem length and keyword.
(“Shadow Puppet”, 2023, original encaustic)
The wise ones, who’ve figured out the basic rules
Of physical reality, tell us that for every action
There is an equal and opposite reaction.
I don’t know about you, but this terrifies me.
I’ve spent my whole life trying
To figure out and be myself,
At least after those brief childhood years
When no trying is involved,
And this means looking for what’s real
And wanting to be kind and good
And figuring what love and truth and beauty really is.
Thinking about that basic law of motion now
It hits me like a tsunami;
If I’ve been doing the best I can in life
What have I actually been creating?
What “equal and opposite reaction”
Have I actually caused?
And is my effort to do good
Itself just the equal and opposite reaction
To some other force
A creative force that just makes me its pawn?
It’s a chicken and an egg kind of dilemma,
Except in the case of chicken and eggs
It’s obvious the egg comes first.
In the case of the forces of good and evil
I’m not so sure which it is
Or how we could possibly know
Or if it really even matters.
What matters is that the action/reaction thing
Is a dance, perhaps an endless dance,
Although in the moment it feels more a battle.
And it is a battle, for our mind, for our soul
But it’s also a dance
Since it seems the two forces
Are inextricably bound.
And when couples dance,
Even those temporarily at odds,
At some point the dance itself,
And more fundamentally, the music, holds sway.
And in that moment they are no longer two,
Not two that have reunited as one from being two,
But two that are, and always have been, simply
Not two.
(11/3/25)
Fornication is
another detestful
sin of the soul,
and I resist it because
of someone's else
deserved happiness...
They call me handsome,
and that compliment
doesn't flatter me,
despite its sincerity;
I could be the guy they seek
and long to hold ...
my looks don't deceive anyone,
because I'm pretty outspoken!
They all call me handsome,
the real man of their dreams...
if only one could convince me;
my intentions are clear,
and I don't intend to interfere,
or cause anybody
a single heartbreak...
'till reality forces them to forsake!
I'd rather stay faithful to my darling,
trust her when I'm out-at-sea sailing;
and I find more pleasure in one,
worthy of being loved...than
making up exscuses and lies
and pay the ultimate prize!
The victory will be mine...
fidelity will win me a crown;
and passion will be something wild:
a flame declaring the truest love around!
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Ta pime yaah ta pimi yaah bam
Tears drip from the face of the weeping drum.
The drum the drum the drum
Screaming and shouting
Crackling and rackling
Dispelling a mighty woeful sound.
Ica mama ica mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Thousand of them pouring in the street
Following the sorrowful and painful drum beat
amba picka amba picka amaba pika bam
Girt up your waist and run
Ban your belly and come
Weeping and wailing flooding the street
Mournful singers and dancers entertaining in grief
While traditional women light thousand of candles
To feed the souls and expel the dark forces of the devil.
Ah namba ramba tata ramba tata bam
Emotions run high, increasing tension in the sky
Filling hearts with burden too heavy to bear
Causing them to rent their garment in despair.
lingo bam bam lingo bam
bam lingo bam bam lingo bam
The sound grew louder and louder
Waking everyone out of their agonizing slumber
And forcing them to congregate in village, cities and towns.
They beat the drums all night, and marched around the city wall
Blowing horns, chanting despondent words that it might fall.
Beat the drum brother man
Round up the youths to join the band
Sound the drum a little louder
March into the devils territory
And trample Lucifer under your feet.
Beat the drum brother man
Beat the drum and sing a victory song
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Beat the drums brother man
Beat the drum for Mr. Steve and drag him into the circle
Ica mama ica, mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Expel the tormenting spirit of that relentless destructive devil.
Rata tata rata tata bam.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Unseen forces are adjacent to spiritual,
Mental and family battles. I stretch out
my hands toward intangible fibers.
Yet spirit knows all things that vibrate
high and in low places. Thence as above
And below like birds that soar high like
a Phoenix. roaring of the seas is this a
dream? My soul perceptions are like
tossing with grit and turmoil, My flesh
and my heart grow weary.
My feet stumbled, your foot is balanced
on my neck, grasping to catch my breath,
My back has been up against the wall
numerous times, I've witnessed great
and severe experiences presently you
will continuously rescue me.
On july 21'st 1942, seventy seven ANZAC
militia, had a breath taking view.' Imperial
Jappanese forces fourteen thousand strong..Moved upon Kokoda they moved
Back let them take the village, yet soon the
Test would be on.! They fanned out in the
Jungle; each side of that thin trail, the first Firefight was soon joined, and forty enemies died all entailed, six Aussies out of
Action, now only 71 guns full strength, they had
Decided their tactics, exact a toll for each
pace lent...Every foot of this track.'
Every inch would cost real dear.' They intended to drive into the Jappanese forces, pangs of caution and
fear, after a week the advace was at a
crawl, Jappanese deaths now in
Hundreds.' And the Aussies began recieving calls..Douglas MacArthur exclaimed and complained.' They were cowards going backwards.' They should be immovable on that bloody trail, he railed.' They were having none of it..By now the Jappanese were
Much slower moving , both sides had
Dysentry and maleria and skin ulcers..
And old MacArther he still
Railed..Third week and two hundred
ANZACS reinforced the gallant few, their
Punishment escalated the Jappanese still
Trying to push through.' By the twenty forth
Of September they were 450 men strong
So they began ' counter attacking' hitting
out strong.' We all know the story they
drove on to the sea..Smashing the enemy
Who were now on their knees.' Old Doug
MacArther..Here I give him his dues addmited his under-estimation.' The ANZACS did know what to do.' He hailed
Them as fearless ( for their time best in the
World ) and soon we will see Australia day
All credit.' And honour my praises i hurl.'
At
To the feet of the 77..And those who
joined the fray
In who kept freedoms light burning,
and their country itself un-dimmed those days,
It could have been disaster.' Upon that tough dirt trail, but the ANZACS endured their country
They never failed..So stand up Australia on
The twenty sixth to celebrate the spirit that
Thats uniqely in your mix.' Play march and
Celebrate..Under the clear blue skies..its
All to do.' C'mon and see your great
country through.
In peacefull celebrations flood the streets
And parks and beaches, too this a time ( that belongs to you' )
Cold shower today - (early afternoon)
September eighth two thousand
and nineteen more challenging than June
dog days of summer test tolerance
to feel alive and bark at the moon
hypothetically imagining myself
alone in the (suburban) wilderness
fabricating, envisioning crossing pontoon
bridge while humming nonsense tune.
Jolt to body electric induces zing
unlike missus who cannot wing
subjecting her sensitive skin
versus modest bragging
rights of this faux king
please pas din me boasting,
but perhaps explanation
I shower without hot water
linkedin to aging.
Which (no matter cumulative
chronological orbitz around sun
just a number), the fleeting
passage of years doth stun
more so forces me to assess
mein kampf, retrospective
devoid of nothing merit but pun
hushing disappointment plus
self deprivation of fun.
Alas within narrowly
circumscribed realm stale
stagnation doth prevail,
I easily overwhelm
courtesy panic attacks of this male
bred avoidance behavior
(cue Pavlov's dog) hearty and hale
trained to withdraw
from challenging tasks
markedly pronounced when fail
my middle name,
where besieged psyche doth ail.
Fatherhood, albeit necessitated taking ace
sip of courage, sometimes
adept to chase
fear of unfamiliar, though
never totally erase
sing passive behavior
I attest infrequently to face
anxiety inducing situations
poise zenned clowns
feign amazing grace
me convulsing with intimidation
agitating, flinching, recoiling...
retreating into isolated place
while profuse sweat drips
from every porous space
heart beat does madly race
despite absence of any threat
exhaustion spent without
factual, logical, rational... trace.
Time and again work fraught
self into lather for naught
recurring soap opera taught
me impossible mission
to rinse figurative suds
unlike showering/washing hair,
whereby cleansing wrought.
It’s palpable wherever I go…I can feel it as I view it…
how love and happiness form a magnet…attracting more love and happiness to it.
And the wonder of this magnet is how the two forces interplay…
how, while it attracts more love and happiness, it pushes hate away.
I find the more I choose love and happiness…the more I begin to see
how more love and happiness finds their way to me.
And I find the more love and happiness I’m trying to create
keeps me pretty busy and I don’t have time to hate.
That’s not to say choosing love and happiness is always easy.
It can be difficult finding time to love and dance and sing….
but I do my best to keep them in my life…
and let the magnet do it’s thing.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Forces swirl and invisibly embrace.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
A grain's rest changed when burst and sweep align,
And the push of fluid leaves a thin trace.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Sense of self, so many actions refine,
A presence of touch, awareness of place.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Water apart, lifts in towering climb,
Falls, swirling to seep through bonds, then erase.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
Unaware, traits set us free, or confine.
Testing strengths in conflicts many to face.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Layers concentric in nature outline.
Lives tied, or apart, forever in place.
Life's likes gather to be cycles in rhyme.
Tiny motions mark the passing of time.
There are those who wait until,
Something happens to their will,
To change their minds about their actions.
You can see they waiver still.
Those who want to wait,
For God to make them change,
Make the mistake of thinking,
He forces like an agent.
But He made us agents unto ourselves,
To carry out His will’s desires.
We gain ourselves unto Him,
When we yield ourselves as child to Sire.
With this comes all victory,
The way to happy holiday,
And just before you know you’re there,
You’ll hear a welcome symphony.
Reach out now to His holy hand.
Bow down at His welcoming feet.
He paid the price, unlocked the way,
And snatched you for the perfect day!
Jesus has won you now to be,
One with the kingdoms of deity,
For all is yours, you cannot repay,
But by willingly choosing to obey.
“I Am” He says, “the way to life,
The key to victory, for all who strive,
Steadfastly, to stand in awe eternally,
Of all the powers divine indeed.”
- The Villanelle Of The Look MINDSET MISCONCEPTIONS-
Misconceptions babbling unspoken about the look
Deeply was just so broken and outgoing
Forces could never forget the outcome book
Stories miss read, Mindset was shocked by the rook
He found himself feeling rather flowing
Mindset couldn't stop thinking about the look
Misconceptions was spooked by a notebook
He thought the situation had become rather seagoing
But Mindset could never forget the outlook
tried to distract misconception with a hook
Hook-Line and sinker like a fish time to start thinking a boing
Bells ringing couldn't stop ding-donging about the look
Misconception took action like a snook
The look was becoming too easygoing
Mindset could never forget the outlook
Misconception nosedived like a dreamy overlook
His mindset became dangerously glowing
Misconception couldn't stop thinking about the look
But he could never forget the outcome shook
2/15/23
Written words© by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©
A Villanelle poem type