Long Gradients Poems
Long Gradients Poems. Below are the most popular long Gradients by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gradients poems by poem length and keyword.
In the language of Spirit
it is said: “that we must die before we die.”
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In the language of Sprit
it is said: “that we must die before we die.”
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It kills me,
a lot of things kill me.
I mean the kind of ‘killing’
that blinks you out for a moment,
that kind of little death.
Such instances can be exquisite,
like when your life unlatches,
you stop in mid-throttle,
halted upon a careening mania.
There are no increments,
no gradients,
you just jump out of yourself.
A powerful ****** can kill you
with one thrust of bliss.
Holding your baby for the first time,
a sudden inexplicable gnosis
obliterates your present,
past and future.
Writing a killer line in a poem -
that can kill the reader
for a bitty twitch of time.
Those quiescent extinctions happen,
in a single tick of abeyance,
transient wipe-outs
(too abrupt to me measured),
when we forget
to be both happy or sad,
in nothing-flat
we have ceased to be, we succumb,
only to return.
Between each taken breath,
these little deaths may, at any time,
undo time,
revealing much more than we,
the living,
might care to admit.
I want to ride a zebra
and race the rays of radiance
through heat-waves’ sailing gradients -
a folly wild - a mood untamed
elated hands in bristled mane
unbridled veins uncorked champagne...
yes! elevate sedate heart rate
I WANT to ride a zebra
stripes yin yang oasis sweet and
whimsy rules a drumroll beat as
gallop sways euphoric roughness
crossing plains of dreamy lushness -
steed’s exotic tender toughness
pacing thrills in state of luscious...
yes! animate to sate my wait
I want to RIDE a zebra
savanna grass a grand expanse
a lion’s roar - hyena's rant
amuse myself with peril’s speed
adventure sows romantic’s seed... so
gestate date with fancy’s fate
YES! I want to ride a Z E B R A !
4/14/24
I'm not sure exactly around where
But I know she's out there
With or without brown hair
I can't sit and wait like a lounge chair
I have to keep searching I'm now aware
Too much time I've been wasting it
Across all gradients
Her presence full of radiance
To me she is regarded in salience
She has a heart of gold
I start to not feel dark and cold
In every part of my soul
It's sad that carnage grows
Yet truly amazing how karma goes
I was down a path battling the hardest throes
Then I stopped and said it
She deserves lots of credit
Difficult to say if she got the message
And if what I meant was or was not effective
Beside all these pots and pans
Having honor can
Turn you into a stronger man
For you I offer my hand
Originally something I couldn't grasp
Now I've understood that
No need to always look back
Hard times should pass
In the present it's nice to share some good laughs
Sure at some point I could crash
But that's life not everything would last
Outlooks and outcomes always seemed grim and rough
The never ending pressure like I never did enough
I was beginning to get sick of much
But with a bit of luck
Plus willpower helped get rid of stuff
Since it's easy to give up
Yet to always go on and live is tough
Next thing you know it's all gone into dust
Funny how it's so different with her
My life doesn't wither
I always thought I'd be chopped liver
That the end would not differ
My choices were an odd mixture
Drowned my sorrows in lots of liquor
Was still lost no elixir
Until I finally got the picture
I was headed toward the gravesite
She helped change my way of life
With more than great advice
Day and night
She's a ray of light
When I went to break the ice
I figured she'd tell me to take a hike
But what she had to say was nice
"At times we all face a plight
May pay the price
Yet we can still make it right"
As if a child should understand an adult’s muddle,
putrid oil slick puddle,
the dreadful pain we foist on wide-eyed offspring.
Robotic elders crush with rigid slabs of Portland censure whatever spark remains in those tiny rosebud cheeks before their prime.
Those innocents should never have to wrap their nascent minds around the wanton desecration of intertidal lakeland wetness gradients,
the callous douse of velvet purple algerita berries,
blighted by the stark timbre cloud forms
that recklessly pour bile on every genus.
The rug rats at our feet may never know the joys of sap-addicted sugar gliding nocturnal possums, whose acrobatic tree to tree mirror ball exploits mock Isaac Newton,
or the kinkajou of tail grip fame who flaunt their tan glow wooly fur coat in broad daylight,
or the dawn to dusk fennec fox, that doughty eagle owl and jackal dodger whose kissing cousin dens pockmark terracotta forests. But not alone in wider worlds are children being deprived.
A heartless milieu also asks our clutch and clan to dwell in
alloy girder mousetraps, those pale decor rat infested tumble downs gouged out by scrimp and scrape rust bucket caterpillars.
Beyond belief we tolerate the nick and hoist elevator,
that pressure cooker transit flight abduction of the harried wage slave parent,
those cotton garment dress code senseless
dragonfly stand-ins that hover in mid air.
There’s every chance we’ll leave our nursling’s ire to future bands of mutant stem cell rockers who are duty bound to sculpture rimshots meshed in suckling chimes,
when validating rawhide rattle chainsaw fret board anthems
at crowd mosher mud fests,
where rivers of apocalyptic visions burst the bank.
If only grown ups listened to that inner vocal quiver that we
may not yet have cast into plastic resin folly for the generations weaned in toxic smoke rooms,
we’d pollinate a luscious fairground acorn dotted garden with childhood zest its one and only buzzword.
A sweet treat gift with natural flavour pending,
eternal life for baby planet daisy chains of tender petal linkage,
who‘d finally experience pure clutter free environments,
an eco world that values new born thirst for natural realms
Canopy’s aperture, spilled light’s nuance, tinted,
as my eyes arrested, to attest fall’s saga…
A tree proclivity, had me stalled in Ashland,
watching the leaves succumb, leaving stark limbs barren…
Those with temerity, plunged at high speed, head first
Others spun dizzily, tornado-bewildered…
Few flew in gradients, of sideways-sloped descent:
wishes on air sustained, just a little longer…
Some seemed to ride gentle, invisible, sleep-chutes,
touching down easily, with wizened acceptance…
My marrow slowly chilled, as damping moisture crept
But cheer was soon bubbling, as merry maples fell:
swaying in zigs and zags, frolics of to and fro,
to come to a smooth rest, on the glassy brook’s face
Alighting sans ripples, their fate in water’s hold:
floating on a mirror, reflecting their past life,
ere being swept by currents, to their next journey’s start…
(11/4/18 - Repost of Ashland Autumn for P contest hosted by Constance la France)
Written: November 24, 2024 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
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In a calyx of ambivalent dreams,
where shadows swirl as silken strands,
I slip through the surface,
a sailboat in a tide of thoughts,
where colors speak in whispers,
and sounds weave a tapestry
of guffaw and sighs.
I am an astronaut,
zipping into a cosmos of canorous clangor
past comets with names such as chimera
and planets blooming with a corpulent deluge
simmering under layers of desultory dust,
each a sun waiting
to ignite an encomium spark.
Footfalls on the ledge of splendor,
swirling in circles,
a kaleidoscope of moments —
jumping from the quicksilver
of a fleeting glance,
to the deep sinkhole of silence,
where time slows to the pulse of heart.
Here, on this canvas of perception,
the boundary of self dissolves,
melting into the esoteric ocean
and excruciatingly eviscerated thoughts
are squid jauntily joined by caring currents,
amber-colored fires dancing on the horizon,
unraveling secrets hidden in their stings.
I chase shadows,
those swift-painting phantoms,
a ghostly gap in gnarled grooves of life,
seeking sincerity in a swirl of sights —
the stillness of awareness,
longing wrapped in vibrant coils,
darkness stitched with fragile threads of light.
In stillness, I stroll.
feeling every pulse evolve into a quilt of colors.
tracing trails tracked by supple notions.
as the clock spins dizzy tales —
my pen touches the sky,
gathering glimpses in gradients of glides.
a jaunt laced with lingering layers.
charting caverns of concealed aspirations.
where wisdom blooms in wild gardens,
Inviting all intrepid inclined to intrude
the twinkling, tantalizing tones
of existence, endlessly entwining
every exhale an echoing essence.
of something that yearns.
to be liberated and let loose.
The radiant shine leaves your aurora
dimming ever so quickly,
as in northern regions you are—borealis
falling into the southernmost Sahara
negative gradients descend—australis
The gloss of moral sanction
The glitter of a social butterfly
The prism of a love sonnet
I thought it would never end
False is an outward appearance
Black smoke puffed
charcoal ashes
spread amongst the masses
Snuffed are the soft eider white reminiscence
Left are the burnt embers of memory
Janus face so striking
truant tradeoffs at any cost
totality misleading,
yet, narcissism becomes you
A most plebeian diagnosis
Self-absorbed egotist
with delusions
of grandeur
You’ll popularize
popularity
while it condemns you,
A cowardice,
believing
YOU were a soldier
Yet you hid when all battled for you
a fair weathered friend is no
friend at all
You’ve painted a Renoir of you
an illusion, it's a Goya—El Greco!
A bruting intimacy restrained
a duality in an Art Deco
mask off, mask on
Disguise!
Hide what’s just another espy
I was wrong about you...
Words spread eloquently
A perennial drone others reality
If cruelty, are your real realms
Then I am just another casualty
Taken in by your devilish charms
when Moon and Sun collide
allied with the charred stars
A false hope maker
dream taker,
heartbreaker,
faker
Fare thee well...
You’re of them
No one special after all
a let down
draining
I want no
part of you
Spring imbues a refreshing
morning mist;
with a kiss of moisture,
and the promise of renewal.
A budding artist:
Spring saturates the scene
with gradients of green;
that morphs into a rhapsody of color.
Filling Her canvas
with floral beauty,
She flirts with the senses.
Fueling a tantalizing array
of scents and sounds,
that amplify our love
for Nature's purity and wonder.
The woods and fields get transformed
into a garden of wildflowers,
as Spring uplifts sagging spirits,
weighed down by the blues.
And suddenly, Winter's sullen, bleak look,
magically blossoms
into a rainbow of vibrant colors,
tethered to the whims of Spring.
With my mind trapped in the deep crevice of blue
I travelled across barren landscape’s depression
to the scenic aegean beach of the cobalt sea
as the cold sun sank in serene indigo splendour
down the steep gradients of the lapiz horizon
in the departing gleam of the teal twilight hours.
Through the fleeting ribbons of periwinkle cloud
blown by breeze sailing with aquamarine whisper
the shower of cyan sky’s remote reflection fell
and dissolved on the rolling swell of silent waves.
You came flying on the sapphire wings of zephyr,
slate hair kissing the lips, lacing the prussian eyes.
From the azure shadow of my mind in despair
I swam to the turquoise sea shore of your eyes
that led me to the tinsel niche of your heart
where cerulean ecstasy waited to embrace me.
January 7, 2019.
In Winter it's a new laid blanket of snow--
pristine, immaculate, innocent...holy.
Spring brings a softer air, at once
both fecund and perfumed, and
wildflowers leap into life, and trees
are reborn in gradients of green,
and life is temperate, gentle, fragile,
caught dangling between two brutes.
Summer feeds me: passion-hued
strawberries, fat blueberries, corn-
on-the-cob fit for kings and queens,
while fireflies dance and crickets sing
for our secret and quiet pleasure.
Now Autumn is different-- a season
to glory death and singe our unseen
immortal parts awake. The trees shed
their technicolor tears to lay a carpet
of sadness: by far the bravest season.