Long Formulas Poems
Long Formulas Poems. Below are the most popular long Formulas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Formulas poems by poem length and keyword.
My food is simple, unlike my music
Most of the time I spend in excellent company
My muse is unobtrusive and only appears with dessert
If I were vain, I would compare my work
To the labour of Sisyphus, but incidentally, I don't consider it meaningless:
I see more meaning in the fall of a boulder than, for example,
In the jumps of parachutists who risk getting tangled in their straps
But vanity is infinitely inventive, I like to observe
The tricks of the psyche that justify these pleasures
My music seems abstract, although it is merely
Autobiographical, and therefore translatable into the language of emotions,
At least in allusive episodes
Although I am not inclined to reproduce ready-made formulas
To serve as a worn-out armchair for the audience
I am for leaving the comfort zone for the zone of sadness
The zone of rhetoric of deliberate inconveniences, where I am like a fish in water
I ask questions and answer them myself, or
I simply ignore myself, thereby mocking my
Scattered plebeian curiosity.
If the crowd listened to my ellipses and exclamations,
My falling cupboards and jokes at funerals
Would be appreciated and supported,
And I would be recognised as a genius, for which, of course,
I would apologise to the crowd, even though their romantic ideals
Are utterly nauseating, but well paid.
But the number of simpletons is truly infinite
It is inversely proportional to the number of geniuses
Cynics write music for the crowd
Something like Yesterday and Candle on the Wind
And my indulgent attention goes unnoticed
My subtle jokes do not elicit smiles
And therein lies my happiness as an avant-gardist
Success would destroy me, but the indifference of the noosphere
Prolongs my life, which I pay for
With my music of spheres, squares and tendons.
Shayari bunne waali zubaan,
Ab formulas ratte hain.
Kaagazon mein apna dil behlaane waale haath,
Ab projects likhte hain.
Jo dill azzad udd, kitaabe likhte the,
Aaj wahi kitaabon ke bojh tale dabe hain.
Jo aankhein sapne dekhna ko bane the,
Ab raat raat undekhe sapnon ke liye jaagte hain.
Jo pair duniyaa dekhne ko taraste the,
Ab classes se tuitions tak ke chakkar kaantein hain.
Fankaar toh kayi aaye aur chale gaye
Kayi sayariyaan suni unsuni reh gayi
Kayi kahaaniyan kahi unkahi reh gayu
Kayi gaane apni awaaj tak naa dhoond paaye.
Kuch samaajh ke bojh tale dab gaye
Kuch kitaabon ke bojh tale.
Par bhala kyun kisse koi farak pare
Fankaaron ki kadra kyun kare,
Akhir...
"Sharma ji ke bete ko 98% aaye hain"
Bas yuhi sapne dab gaye
Yuhi zindagiyaan katt gayi.
Kayi baatein unkahi reh gayi
Kayi sapne undekhe reh gaye.
Sarkaari naukari ka zamana hain sahab,
Yaha dil ki baatein nahi, dil ka ilaaj hota hain.
Amirron ka zamana hain, meri jaan,
Yaha sapnon ke peeche nahi bhaagte,
sapne khareede jaate hain.
Bhalaa kyun kisse koi farak pare
Fankaaron ki kadra kyun kare
for you to pick up your dreams again and spend no more time on the more than one wrong paths you took..click redirect refocus on ideas and formulas to change a previous consistent background track with everyone of your worn wrong paths, you know the tune..joy and pain.
it's time now..all the maybe tomorrow, it's probably not going to work and all the other negative not factors have been deleted, it is time now you get some completed dreams, gleam with your new self esteem and renewed confidence and any recurring inclination to revisit one of those former paths, you realize those negative paths have become roads and that big ole road gonna swallow you up..ya know they's all waiting to go..what a waste!
While some formulas have long been agreed on,
With specific weights and measures defining them,
And as anyone who has failed an exam,
Because they tried a formula previously proven unreliable,
Will tell you,
Tis wiser to have learnt them by heart,
Than to rely on the one written on your shirt cuff,
Not being a blot on future career prospects,
There are some formulas that are still as elusive to us today,
As they were to all those generations who came before.
The problem has always been in duplicating them outside of the laboratory,
Every person of note throughout recorded history has produced a formula,
For success that nobody else has ever been able to duplicate.
The same with formulas for longevity, happiness, a perfect night's sleep,
Or one that allows us to stop drinking wine at a point where the effects,
Are only beneficial.
This leads me to the conclusion that some formulas,
Are only meant for single use,
And never to be entrusted to governments,
Multinationals or those,
Whose eye is always on the next sure thing.
Displacement, transfer's exchanges, formations words formed formulated, landscapes, the citys like a safari, No Escape! I FEEL completely motivated, I notice, no need to make explanations , upheld reinforced by the depth of thought and comteplation, it’s an Honor I’m Blessed beyond phrases, destined , I leave the truth undressed and bare naked, I cherish every precious second, becuz I just might perish in the very next second, And the best one's and the Biggest, And the lessest man is the Greatest one in Heaven, we understand, we suffer set-backs, we rise and raise those that fall down, The Potter's Perfectin is a vessal of Honor, And I send my Praise straight to The Father
I just came straight from the slaughter, you can still smell the blood coming off me
yes thats hell, yes thats where the devil dwells,
And since we're on different kinds of mail, I whisper those messages quiet well
I don't give a damn what a Anne might spell, or what a Poet Destroyer might kill
With a canvas this large, I chose black paper
And fruitlessly wrote with the same ink I did before
A silent voice calling out to the deaf
Smoke-strained and hoarse
Remaining static at 25
The smallest of steps pushed back by quarantine
Losing myself in stories of what once was
Or what could be were I a different person
Three and a half years static
Having climbed dazzling heights
Sweated in the loathsome summer sun
And lived a taste of promised dreams
Have I burnt through a lifetime supply of adrenaline?
Or am I still shell-shocked from years of bombings?
How long do I get to fear her name?
Do exit wounds that bloody ever close?
The credits rolled a long time ago
And sequels were written, canned and derided
What does it take to free yourself from a page
You so gleefully shredded in the first place?
And three years deep, I fell in love with my lover
Only to find the depths of incompatibility
Or merely two viewpoints that reached the same conclusion
With two different formulas
Having returned to zero, such pain is divine
To weep so freely, to feel so sad
The warmest, most comforting pool spills from my eyes
As emotion returns to crack its dam
Will I wake up tomorrow as empty as the years before?
Most likely so, but with salt streaks as evidence
Joy, sorrow, it's all higher than zero
I call your name as proof I can still write
On this space-dyed canvas
My perspective wrote with jet-black ink
But with this single crack
A dam can jot down once with white.
The rationalist must reduce,
It's in their nature.
Pragmatic logic insists,
On conformity of thought,
Anomalies will not be tolerated,
Measurable verifiable data,
Equations balanced,
Algorithms written,
Formulas deduced,
Universal laws obeyed,
But shadows still linger,
The face behind the face,
Unconscious chaos,
Irrational processes,
That feeds the soul.
Ah but we have no soul,,
For logic deems it thus,
No individual light,
Only predictable
Chemical reactions.
And biological impulses,
And our bones rot into
Infinite night,
Not for me,
Give me wisdom
Beneath cool moonlight,
And wild gypsies songs,
Give me anarchist poems,
And the strange happiness
Of religious folk,
Give me anything,
But your sterile world
Washed in monotone grey.
It has come to my very attention
Life is a series of formulas and equations
In order for us to be complete and whole
We must balance and equal situations
A formula to determine that which is required
Referred to as lifes trials and tribulations
Outside help may unexpectantly be summoned
We deal with this as industrial relations
When there's confusion and no clear answer can be found
Discussion offers options along with sound conversation
When out of balance and have no sense of clarity
Reconnect and listen, tune in to your inner vibrations
The times that life seems balanced and all is going well
Share with the world your confidence show no limitations
If life seems to be going off track and balance seems lost
Take some time to relax your mind show no expectations
Balance is a skill we're taught from birth
Ensure to listen as advice is given from previous generations
Those that have lived and walked before us
Know the answers to lifes' questions.
I like his confidence, that working the problem
will certainly result in better outcomes than guessing.
A rationalist who does not depend on a higher power
to direct his decisions, but who may concede,
observe, realize and accept that he lacks the data
or the skills or tools to interpret data and these
decisions he leaves to his god.
But not before
thoroughly assessing the limits of his power. Guessing
before guessing is necessary makes things worse. The skills,
tools and experience are the accumulated wisdom
of earlier experts in his field.
Yet each generation
of communicants must examine the assumptions
from which the mathematics, logic, science or law
was derived. Rebuild the proofs from the simplest
truths, laws, physics. Taking God's first and only words
and extrapolating correctly, getting the trajectory
right for successful take off and re-entry.
And then
to explain the derivations to your students.
Until they too can care for the species and the planet,
making whole sentences, formulas and melodies
from few words, numbers, notes.
They reside on the other side of the city
They bathe in the quiet and still fertility
They own yard-keepers and docile servants
Dogs, cats, hyenas and precious plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us
Swallow the transparent and abominable dust
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers like saints
Like our siblings living under the tiny tents.
They reside on the other side of the old towns
Over the mountains, not too far from the plains
They bathe in tranquil fertility
Of the country-side, not too far from the city.
They ignore that we are the same, the same formulas
And that we live and endure daily the same dilemmas
And one day, them and us, all of us will answer
Present in the river, under the bridge of forever.
Copyright © September 1982, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.