Long Forming Poems
Long Forming Poems. Below are the most popular long Forming by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forming poems by poem length and keyword.
5/21/11-5/22/11
I rule over the night
undaunted with all my might
I have time to spare all I can bare
Watching the hand chime
tugging…pushing…shoving
through whirling toil
that feed the spoil
Perplexing strife
refusing to give up
Power and torment
We are too caught up in our own power
and ruling over each passing moment
each passing night…destroying the twin towers
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?
I’m tossed…shifting around with uncontrolled anguish
Zipping…tripping over rambling bolts
spiraling into a mad house
Don’t enchant your intolerable voice
I see no love dwelling in this household
Do you seek for your power…
you insufferable traitor?
Seeking our upcoming doom
brewing strife in the heap of ruins
brewing strife while we still leave room
to obey and remain under power
You are assuming the worst
father…mother…
rule over the passing anguish…circling around
stumbling around…not aware
Hey you! play fair
Behave and stay awhile
before you feed the fire that holds sheer vile
Allow love to not be thrown away
into another pile
I grasp no love engrained
In our giving garden
that plants ceaseless approval
Pardon my faults
I was far from comforting sleep
Dread is driven mysteriously
Through an endless night
Moving on the tracks
Forming into an alarming train
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?
Who did the labor suitably?
worthwhile father…pleasure-seeking mother
Don’t enchant your intolerable voices
and expect us to listen sensibly
Demanding us to do labor
and assist our displeased neighbor
Why do you melt the delight away?
Throwing away a flavor of ecstasy
and put us to glove-less labor
without putting our favor and opinion
into the overlooked pile
Burning agony
dries the buried glee
Saved for a grieving moment
Playing like a warped tune… unable to express
solitude that develops in the heart
raped by the ragged uncertainties
without taking heed of our pleas
These desirable moments
Cherished in the deplorable journey
They weren’t acknowledged by power
Love in those days were brand new
Do you have a clue?
they were cherished...
Bountiful…
stranded in a deserted past
in merciful beauty…caught under the spell
Where did that come to pass?
Where’s the love?
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?
“Thick Skinned – What it Feels Like for a Girl”
When you speak
it’s as if stars cascade
out of your mouth
galaxies you produce
musical incantations
that I listen religiously to
I watch your lips
form glistening cupids’ bows
they spread wide open
like the subtle legs
of a forgotten nun
whispering vesper wishes
before priestly sermons
and John Donne
your hushed and salient
remonstrations, you now
plant me in your
sentence,
no, that this should
never have occurred at all
we are irreverent
in our choices
forming new begottens
you usher from the
pulpit of your world
eloquent reasons
to justify wrong from right
right from wrong
as if your internal fortitude
consists within a
mirror universe
deep and soulful
it promises
more than heaven
those curves
and waivers
contracts we signed
some time ago
souls sunk in a
bad marriage
and hushed assurances
of ‘til death do us part weatherin’
kissing the skin
against my throat
the very place
my comeback is primed
to be launched, yours
deliver that kind of
loose compensation
lathered in snake oil
and a clear path
to redemption
that tie my hands
make me mute
I was launched long ago
from safe harbour,
now
off sure
to lay down all my
naked vicious antigens
I have grown in
the petri dish of my
muddy life to fight your
viral love
like diamonds
your words
they sharpen and glisten
cut through
the thick tempered
glass of me,
through the epidermis
of a close-packed woman
you laser your refined tongue
eyes viscerally undressing
you address the wide open
tableau of me, knowing
you adroitly twist your points
penetrating through
to the now
all too familiar
subcutaneous
safe base chakra of me
within a short space of time
I am sold
into
your chicanery
wanting little of the
life that was before
the unfortunate
taming of me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"What it Feels Like for a Girl"/ Madonna , Paul Oakenfold (Remix)
https://youtu.be/tbtt0WTKqnQ
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/8-steps-that-explain-why-_b_9143360
http://www.hiddenhurt.co.uk/domestic_violence_poems_1.html#learned
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/7940/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_It_Feels_Like_for_a_Girl
And we shall not love, or have affection be grown from within
Simply solace to embrace into, in my world and in your dreams”
{And my heart goes to her… my every self is in willingness
Closing my eyes for a second, I can no longer see the darkness
From time whence the last to even remember myself as whole
I realised had since, tranquility was lost to me a long time ago
Every one image in my head came and simply vanishes along
Almost as though with everything happening hasn’t once belong
And I relish this moment of heavy lightness in broken reasons
Not until, the lingering curse to remember the last were to snap my eyes open
Sylvius’s words now stains like blood upon silk in my mind
The magical moments we owed to ourselves is never to be time
I turn away from her, with my silence buried in deep remorse
My every reason for love, I must never allow for the cause
And I hear her breathing, respiring closer yet closer from behind
With her hands embracing me, love is only more pain to remind
I have to break apart, yet wanted so much this moment as well
For I know, cheating time will time be unforgivable to dwell
With newfound strength, I return to face her inattentively
Forming confusing words, I will myself to speak voice-fully
And just as I parted my lips , she encloses mine into her own
Kissing me so deeply with a passion so intense, were unknown
Lost for a second time, I surrender myself to this given while
Returning her kiss without so much as a thought somehow
With every sense becoming more to be enigmatic in every way
I surrender myself to my darkest desire I’m once to keep at bay
And I melted into her subtle kiss… her vulnerability so close
To be entwined with her, of moments upon fire to still be froze
Her hands were thus removing my armour, baring open my chest
Of mine as well, feeling her lean body before finally resting upon her breast
So filled of intensity were us exhausted from everything else
Did we even remember if there ever is love just as well?
And this one conviction is simply the notion to jolt me awake
A one reality in our path, which never must happen before too late
And I broke us apart, fearing more for her then I do myself
Had there been a way to trade lives, my soul I would sell?
And I emerged from the waterfall, not once returning around
Of waters upon skin… were in fact of tears to be found}
We were extremely delighted when we picked up the keys to our brand new house and starting at the front door, we made slow anticipative steps desirous of testing the key making sure it was correctly made. But to our utter surprise, it did not fit in the keyhole, and we were left outside our new house like house-citing strangers admiring all the landscape and beautifully designed exterior. Although my wife was calm and patient, I was steaming hot in the dead of winter sending out smoke signals both from heat and cold with unspeakable emotions which were overwhelmingly joyous just seconds before. What now and what was I suppose to do? How does one go from 'cloud nine' to free-fall far below the clouds in milliseconds? Not only did the key not fit, but I wondered if there might be some other surprises waiting for us on the inside. Although I pretended to be at ease, my wife was reading the 'waves of intolerance' forming inside of me. My curiosity got the best of me. So I took a quick peek through the key hole never imagining that I would observe such disappointing craftmanship.
That peek filled my emotional cup to overflowing and left me angrier, devastated, frustrated, most utterly confused, and my imagination grew more bewildered when I considered what it must really look like beyond the peek hole. This entire venture of home building was supposed to fulfill our quest and life-long dream of a brand new home, but it appeared that our dream was rapidly turning into the greatest nightmare by the aid of a peek hole. We wondered what revelations lie behind curtain number three or the fourth peel of the banana.
My wife suggested we get another peek from the back, and you guessed it, "The beat goes on". In our view from the front peek hole, we only looked toward the walls and ceilings, but instinctively my wife looked down toward the floors and the nightmare grew bigger. My already painful headache took on 'jet propulsion speed with the beat of the wildest rock band. Water was every where because the furnace had been left off causing the pipes to freeze and brake. Smiles and peace were nowhere to be found as my lovely wife began to cry. The beat goes on but .......
12312018PoSoupContest, Slap The Muse And Turn It Loose, John Lawless *Fictitious Narrative
Was the purpose of your absence an attempt at causing me pain?
That crippling feeling, a spider spinning its web inside my mind.
That arachnid, poisonous, jeers the word space like a handicap.
That parasitic relationship forms a cloud covering the moonlight,
A fog that swirls like a whirlpool in your absence. How rapturous
Your paradox forming a bridge made from our memories. Broken and
Reshaped they become the foundation to a journey in that sea you
Created within me. Your withered emotions and fleeting empathy
were a false proposition of hope only a jester would find funny.
An exhibition of animosity lies in the silent waves – waiting –
for our sunset. How beautiful its rays are against the black water;
falling into the abyss, hidden under that rain your pseudo blanket.
Does the sunrise when you are blind? Does the moon set when
You can’t see the sky? That colorblind man sits there on the beach
Looking in silence. He cannot see his reflection within the water, he
Stands and walks to its surface. There he finds a crow crippled, limping
In the ripples where his reflection should be. That psychedelic feeling
Draws in his drowning breathe, falling into the sea. Paramount to his
Survival the man drowns, his understanding a paradox in his memory.
Only he, the crow, remembers the light of the moon. Its pompous shape,
that transcendent light, a memory to your decay. Only when yellow hits
the eyes of the crow will that white light fade beyond the thunderstorm.
He cries to the heavens, yet his speech murmurs under the weight. That
Black water suffocates his prayer, but he finds comfort in his anonymity. In
the presence of absence the crow longs for loss. He who is stolen from
wishes to be further buried, lost in the waves. That siren sings a fading
melody back into his ears. His own prayer an anchor tied to his feet,
crippled in your memory. Fractured in his own faith, what god heard
his suffering, his murmurs clots of air in a salty sea; black as the blood
from the wound you carved out in his chest. What blessing filled
his misery, that pseudo composition you create is a platter filled
with the feather of the crow. His words held sweet your grace,
an ensemble dancing in the mind of the forgotten. in the sea of
his followers he is Poseidon, yet still the crow sank, anchored in misery.
To be different is your superpower,
An incantation hidden in the heart of midnight,
A silver vein in the dark fabric of the world,
Where dreams whisper ancient secrets and reality slips through veils of mist.
In the flow of consciousness, I lose myself in the labyrinth of the mind,
Where your inner gardens bloom in unknown colors,
Each petal, a symbol of your distinctive magic,
Among the shadows of conformity, you are a shooting star often lighting up the sky.
In the depths of my being, where silence carries ancient echoes,
I find reflections of your presence, a dance of light and darkness,
In this rigid world, you are a flowing stream of gold,
An eternally burning flame, bursting with power and mystery,
Your brilliance flowing from every step on the cosmic sands.
To be different is like a dream from another dimension,
Turning time into an eternal rainbow,
With every gesture, you break the patterns of normality,
Leaving behind a trace of unknown magic and eros.
In this universe of straight lines and rigor,
You are a magician of unwritten truths,
A storm of words and emotions defying the gravity of the ordinary,
Each thought a bow of circles, each breath an incantation.
The world wears its masks of humble uniformity, but you are the multicolored stained glass,
Every hue, every shadow of your being,
Forming a mosaic that unfolds only in the moonlight,
A story seen only in the eyes of those who lose themselves in your depth.
You are a fountain of mysteries beneath the core of the earth,
Your invisible current felt beneath the common surface of existence,
Teaching the roots of an enchanted forest that blooms at your touch.
You are that wave that shatters the rocks of conventions,
An eternal call to authenticity.
Your different magic weaves lights and shadows into boundless landscapes,
A reality anchored in myths and profound dreams, fulfilling you in unison,
Showing us that in your singularity, lies the power to shape worlds.
In the flow of consciousness, I always return to your essence,
Where rigid lines unravel into endless spirals,
And I recognize that to be different is a sublime gift,
A mystical poem written on the edge of eternity, where desires become light,
Flowing through the veins of a world that never ceases to transform,
In a melancholic dance of the divine and the magic that embraces us.
SafeHome is not so much a real place
as a destiny longed for
on our lifetime journey toward dynamic well-being,
too healthily robust to fear growing homeless and friendless.
SafeHome is not an unchanging Paradise,
statically without resonantly changing,
slow-turning nutritious seasons,
ups and downs,
ins and outs.
Such conservative stability, uniformity
could never be my red-blooded idea
of brilliantly resilient Heaven.
So, when Earth's climate pressures,
internally and externally competing
to my point of ego-aggression,
notice chronic stress climbing up my back
and shoulders,
brain stem and frontal cortex
concerned about politically left and personally unself-righteous depression,
When cynicism about never ever loving enough WinWin RealTimes
RealTalk
Real cooperative integrity walks
into co-passioning solidarity,
Then my SafeHome destined child and parent voices
prefer WinWin economic ecological sanctuary
removed from WinLose habitual habitats,
dissonant stuckness
never ever feeling like healthy SafeHome resilience.
Homes resonantly sustained
First, by dynamic cooperative resonance
with all EarthTribes
occupying compassionate health vocational preoccupations
And, Second,
actively seeking sanctuaries cooperatively facilitating,
feeding,
watering,
fueling resilient multicultural nutritional development.
HealthyWealth SafeHomes
plant and harvest socially compassionate
interdependent health-resonant relationships,
polyculturally resilient,
spiritually and naturally polypathic, nonsectarian,
democratically positive energetic, dynamic systems
forming SafeWombed
flow-functions,
universal inside survivor memories
of cooperative sanctuary, originally outside warm wombs
From SafeWombs
emerge WinWin infants, then young and free children
who become WinWin parents and teachers and gratitude preachers,
eco-listeners and ego-speakers
longing for compassionately cooperative SafeHome returns,
pilgrimages toward universal solidarity,
unitarian SafeHome interdependence.
A long strong ZeroZone SafeHome
for robust reunification
within EarthTribe graced communions, healthy
green cooperatives,
permaculturally wealthy
deep learning lifetimes
for green STEAM educational placements,
safe ZeroBalancing carbon-based residencies
in WinNature-WinSpirit learning civilizations.
I belong to metallic soiled Earth,
solar-fired water's atmosphere;
these oil and blood-fluent elements
would feel freer
not belonging to you,
to us.
They
we
are our belongings
but not our property,
commodity.
Our multicultural values
measure and calculate
design and develop
investing primal qualities of time
predicting secondary quantitative spatial outcomes.
Less time constrains freedom and value and love.
More freedom responds to surrounding needs and wants and relationships
with less dissonant restraint,
competitive response;
with more cooperative invitations
for mutual mentoring regenerate options,
our pacific path revealing positive intentions.
Missing freedom suffers,
as missing incarnation dissonates,
as absent polynomials disformate.
Incarnation's value grows enculturing time
measured with Earth's elements,
temporal functions,
systems design and development.
Each element
identity
system and set
contains regenerative potentiating value,
functionally forming network constellations
of prime-frequency, flow,
rhythmic relationships,
sustaining balanced harmonies,
an ecological economy
static until its season to unfold again.
Limited value decomposes from ego-systemic mortality.
Regenerate value emerges from eco-logical coincident, co-arising comprehension.
Space enacts time's liturgical rite of passage,
as time incarnates space's ambidextrous function
with fractal equivalent information.
Ambivalent eco-normic tipping points
out equi-valent ecological potential,
permacultural regenerate systemic nutrients
for sustaining polycultural maintenance.
We grow adeptly incarnating cooperative economies
as we become allergic to commodifying competition,
win-lose systemic incorporations.
Well-apprenticed permaculturalists,
Taoists,
Buddhists,
Fullerian Synergists,
enthymematic communicators
re-ligious self-with-other integrators,
economic ecological care of Other,
Earth Justice,
perhaps even Universal Intelligent therapeutic care,
evolves yeastfully prime rooted in multisystemic integrity.
We reach deeply and widely within remembering
our justice womb of poly-solidarity,
regenerate subsidiarity swimming
remerging toward light's bright flashing flight.
We belong to Earth
and feel freer longing with all of us together
in one Earth-bound network cycle.
Shed a tear for the stars,
Who’ve fallen blindly,
Like a slow ache,
To the still, dark earth,
Where inklings of grace,
Grow wild as the sands,
Flowing free, like make believe,
In the heavy prison
Of dusty songs,
Warring with the night,
Before life went wrong,
Echoing melancholy
To night’s wounded soul,
One who knows lonely
Never stays alone
Soon, the other will enter
The solitary pain,
Revoking the seclusion
As time colors spirits
In sentimental, gentle
As the glow of fireflies
Glistening silhouettes
Shadow’s regrets
A million miles
Yet, here we are, stumbling
Through the silence, still
As the last breath, gasping
Wandering through promises,
Stirring seasonal freedoms
Flowers, rain, reflections
In the spirit, I hear Him
Singing, singing, singing
Never giving up on me,
Hesitating like afternoon,
Healing, helping, heartening
Comforting every last wound
And I hear Him, His song
Pouring out like a river, rushing
Waters of love – softly flowing
My heart, assured, knowing
Forever is coming soon
Time never forgets
Seasons blessed by psalms,
Heart words, warring with dark
Truth that has a voice well known
For its fire, its depth, its wisdom
Reflecting all the serenity found
By those who know Him, love
Like a sea of eventual
Forming lakes of everlasting
Hopes of God’s perfection
Sunshine images erasing the pain,
Seeking to shine like the grace
That finds the lost, despite the cost
Rescuing, freeing, saving
What was impossible
Is positive of His love,
Love like a sea, splashing
Light all around my spirit
Joy without measure
Wherever I am, whatever comes,
I know One who has made a way
One who shines brighter than I can say
He is the promise that I can’t break
With all my worst sins, all my darkness
I can’t spoil the song that He wrote…
When He came to die
Then come back to life,
Making a way for you and I
Thank God for the words
Poured out in love, true love,
On pages of Holy verses,
He came to save the world
And assure the heart whose heard
What it means to follow His path
Leading to life, everlasting
Life that will never end
Life that is forgiven of sin.
I’m so thankful that I’m His
I’ve been chosen and blessed
So I’ll never stop thanking Him!
WHAT IS IT
I am thinking of you again
How many times? I cannot remember.
It still causes the same pain.
Burning in my chest, like a white steel ember.
It has been eating at my mind, it is a devastating cancer.
I am writing this now, even though… I still have no answer.
The other day, I tore up my room
In a childish fit of rage,… anger.
But that is not my strongest emotion.
I realized that, with a single tear. I wiped my eyes in shame,
I am not supposed to feel this way.
Although I did…do, I do.
I do feel this helpless pain.
I can always say to you, that we will be able to work it out.
But what is IT, this thing…..
This IT, that lovers, poets and friends talk about.
I have come to terms with this IT.
IT is us. Not our person’s, but our souls.
The two of us united, IT creates a separate entity, which lives and grows:
IT is our invisible bond,
But that is only an after effect.
IT is of dancing beauty,
A representative of our emotional elect,
Each of us selecting and giving,
To this glorious warmth, which is us,
Between us, dancing, soaring, forming something bigger than the both of us.
IT is the selected best,
These gifts we give each other, forever.
For even if we part,
IT will dance in our minds, eternally together,
IT is in me when I am down,
IT is what brings my head out from depression.
IT is what brings back my smile.
IT returns my passion, my life force, my obsession.
A feeling of greatness fills me,
A feeling so real, so powerful.
A deep heartfelt statement.
IT does not need to be worked out.
IT is stronger than any living self.
So, it should be said, that IT will be able to work us out,
Seeing that we are the unsteady ones.
And IT, our emotional creation, I will never doubt.
I am prepared to give every bit of friendship and energy I possess.
Jus t thinking of you, helps.
I enjoy the thoughts of us together.
I sought you not, for the here and now, and I have never believed in temporary
situations.
You are my completed self.
The whole of me, a wealth of joyous sensations.
My happiness is simply;
For you,
From you,
By you,
IT is you.
To end us, is to kill the most beautiful part of life, I have ever experienced.
And if IT dies, so does life, or at least IT will never be as beautiful, since.
Juan A. Rodriguez
Form: