Long Grazed Poems
Long Grazed Poems. Below are the most popular long Grazed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grazed poems by poem length and keyword.
For almost a decade now,
a beach ball has been firmly wedged
between skeletal roof cross beams
at my local swimming pool
No doubt some kid kicked too hard,
and it accidentally got wedged tight
But come on!
ten years later and still it’s stuck up there,
albeit slightly deflated
Every week when I’m doing backstroke lengths,
I look up and wonder, if actual information
is still contained within the ball,
Perhaps a stale essence of
chewing gum flavoured breath lingers inside
But what if that person is now deceased,
could part of the dead person’s breath
be trapped inside the ball,
Why do certain observations evoke
such thoughts within my mind
Maybe I’m overthinking again!
just like that time I purposely spat into an open sewer,
and wondered if the spit
would live on down there with the rats forever
Bits of me are scattered throughout time
Broken nails
grazed skin
blood,
Information is never really lost,
it’s completely indestructible
Past moments can flood forth almost at a whim
recombobulated back into existence
by sights, sounds, scents,
all mosaicked together by particles of abstract information
Damn that beach ball
with its unknown,
yet knowable contents
Why won’t those lazy pool attendants take it down,
do they believe it’s haunted,
or am I the only one who thinks about its breath
as I’m doing lengths
Still not all moments are bad,
some are really great,
until others permeate into my psyche,
creating images I hate
Threading time together
treading water forever
When I spat into that open sewer,
did it make the rats less or more impure
Probably the latter
of that, I’m pretty sure!
Anyway the beach ball
was probably inflated by a pump!
For God-search to truly begin,
we first cleanse heart from stains of sin,
by gentling each thought, word and deed,
in prayer, going in within.
Poised in stillness, renouncing greed,
ego cravings we cease to feed,
thus invoking the grace of God,
voice of truth beginning to heed.
We trudge along and as we plod,
joyful since giving love our nod,
bliss magnetism ignites our form,
the touch of God, leaving us awed.
Grazed by currents both cool and warm,
we yield; bliss takes us by the storm,
ego dies, we become the flame,
with heightened vibrance heart’s new norm.
We seek nothing and have no aim,
knowing life impulsed is a game,
played in mode embrace and release,
there being no demons to tame.
When wayward thoughts totally cease,
formless presence flows like the breeze
and in the void we wingless glide,
outcomes any, always at ease.
Trusting God, we enjoy life’s ride,
knowing He’s close, in heart inside
and in timeless time, we see Him,
He, on Whom, we’ve always relied.
I cast a spell for your lost soul
A woven web to make you whole
It took awhile for it to weave
It's wickedness for those to see
But you are mine a broken slave
Once free to flirt now bound naive
No walls to climb or fences raised
Tamed you are your hide is grazed
I am the master of your soul
Dauntless creator I make you whole
Your darkest moments are mine
Whips and scars left behind
But when I call you will run
Responding to my clever pun
For I am the master of your game
No longer creator of your name
My puppet and pleasure toy
Shall you remain amongst ahoy
Or simply depart like the rest
After suckling a wildlings breast?
Time will tell my fair soul
My whips and chains will make u whole
And when you end this hapless game
Please pray tell release your Name
Reflecting on the day gone by,
we looked after ourself quite well
but paused not for the soul who fell.
Did we do something we decry,
even if an unfriendly look,
at the beggar, who his fist shook?
Atonement begins with a sigh,
simple consciousness correction,
to shift to love our direction.
Our wayward ego must now die,
which means dwelling in cessation,
poised in all time meditation.
A song on our lips, we fly high,
whence grazed by divine magnetism,
igniting our mind-body prism.
Reflecting on the day gone by
Did we do something we decry
Atonement begins with a sigh
Our wayward ego must now die
A song on our lips, we fly high
The First Time
A brooding forest illuminated by a wishful recitation,
Errantly proffered, for woodland creature's, to savor,
A humble soul, who is slow in the course of courting,
A supportive procedure, of airy words to practice by.
Nimble eyes brashly grazed the overworn paper,
Promising to thoughts sake, of multiple repeats,
Apprehensive importuned by that thawing hour,
As the momentous occurrence, developed itself.
Yon floweret holds neath dangling mistletoe,
Her fervent fragrance burst to exude scents,
Ventured out eagerly entice the staled nose,
Urbane sweet-smelling embrace a new year.
The sweet nothings poured first from his lips,
To tendered labyrinths to absorb and exist in,
The elder minds remember and youth fickles,
Naught this brave budding cause for he begs.
So he gathers the courage to submissiveness,
With both hands behind his back and yield . . .
. . . fingers crossed, he leans in towards her too,
favors a kiss to be in-kind, she willfully responds.
. . . two as one . . . for the first time.
2020 January 17
What Are Your Wishes
*7th Place*
Second Chances N-A Poems From My Contests Only Part I
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke
*2nd Place*
Writing Prompt - Take the Dagger Out
~~Constance La France
Ode a Sky Light Viewed-
Orb site is blurred
Vision staring forth stares light
Flares of brilliant rays
Yellow hazel greens rites
Orange Blue back drop whiten
Spots of greys sharply
Hazed ever-grazed brilliants
Orb site stilled blurred
The light shines so ever bright
Vision staring forth sun's light
12/7/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 5 5 7 5 7 7 0 5 7 5 7 7
Total # Syllables: 67
Total # Lines: 12 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 49
In the event that I forget what this poem is about
I refer you now to the birds outside my window,
they are singing but the song is silent.
I should have titled this poem ‘Windows’
but then the silence and the birds got my attention.
Days before father died in the Hospice
he would gaze out of the same window.
On the other side of that silent window
horses grazed in a paddock – nothing special.
We both would sit facing that expanse of glass,
I wondering what to say next,
he nodding and smiling at the horses,
the green cropped grass - the occasional birds.
Not a sound did all make
but father was listening
as only those close to the center can hear.
I believe the words end now.
In the event of my losing my hearing in the ensuing quietus
please look away.
Space flickered and our heart sighed,
since the heartbeat of God spied,
though cognised by soul’s eye chaste,
offered not agape love’s taste.
Formless presence free from thought,
ego reduced to a dot,
though at peace, feeling complete,
love bereft, faces defeat.
Trudging along heaven’s trail,
savage instincts yet prevail,
which is why, God draws not nigh,
for in our eye, grows lust’s sty.
We’re almost there but not quite,
bestowed not spherical sight,
though God’s bliss boon makes heart swoon,
whenever there’s a full moon.
We wait our turn as we burn,
within this mind-body urn,
setting up an intent wave,
whilst promising to behave.
Grazed by bliss, soul becomes pure
and childlike presence demure,
upon which, we feel a surge
and in God’s heart, gently merge.
From his hands white, hang blood
diamonds and fur, keys to boardrooms
and shoes shined for climbing
ladders, a cushion upon which to sit
at the table. The eyes of a black man,
glittering, see a seed in his hand without
soil in which to sow. An Indigenous
woman’s face fades from a missing
person’s poster, one of the Canadian two
thousand. A millennial dresses for a party
as an American Indian, red stripes on
their face, drunk in a plastic tepee. When
you grazed your knee as a child, what colour
plaster covered your skin? As one family tosses
out cartons unopened, bought but not
eaten, another father stands counting coupons
cut, in a queue snaking. I introduced my
boyfriend and came out; you just brought
your girlfriend round for tea. Somewhere in
Central London a polar bear was spotted
sweating and thin, trawling bins for scraps.
i don't know. i don't know! i don't know!
each day it just recedes, like a lapsed wave on the beach slowly being pulled in by the tide. i'm not sure when it started, maybe two weeks ago? i just remember waking up one morning but not feeling her. as she rose from the horizon, and her golden touch grazed my skin, and i felt nothing. and instead of smiling, like i usually do, i did nothing. i just watched. i stared as her touch slowly trailed up from my fingers, to my arm, all the way up until she blinded my brown eyes. and now this has become a ritual for me. every morning i wake up before she does just so i can watch her blanket me with her numbing light.
i don't know. i guess i do it because i'm hoping one day, one day soon, i will feel her again. i guess i just miss her warmth.
no i know she isn't alive, but in a way she is. she was alive to me, because she made me feel alive. but without her touch, i just feel, i don't know, hollow.
yes, it's true. I did lie before. i do feel something.
well, recently the only thing i can feel is my bed. i know it sounds weird, but he continues to be the only place where i can feel, i don't know. the only place i can feel something. i feel a warmth. and he calls me, day by day, night by night. it's the reason i no longer leave my room.
i have tried to leave, but i barely made it out the door before my body broke out in a sweat and the tremors clawed their way up my spine. i missed my bed too much. i missed him. and when i lay with him, i can feel his linen corners wrap around my wrists and ankles; and i can feel his woolen comforters weight deeply on my chest. it's true. i do feel trapped, but i feel comforted by his weight. it's how he loves me.
i guess i lay with him out of fear. i am afraid, but in a world where you feel nothing you learn to cherish fear. it's the only thing i feel. i know. i know that.
i know. i am in love with my bed.