Long Honed Poems
Long Honed Poems. Below are the most popular long Honed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honed poems by poem length and keyword.
we’ve been told, God is love
and so it is
the clear truth undisguised
for mind, love is a concept
ego may adopt it as a practice
because it is fashionable to do so
generating within a feel good factor
of a doer doing something
thus deepening delusion
for heart that feels
soul recognises blockage
childlike playfulness long lost
innocence of presence ravaged
walls of resistance are built
which blocks porosity
but there’s hope
through prayer
in surrender
to so transform
by inviting grace
with steadfast resolve
and if head and heart align
with pulsations of magnetism
we slowly become love enabled
reflex instincts honed and gentled
by contemplating on our responses
moment to moment in waking and dreams
until there remains within us pure love alone
non-judgmental eye oozing compassion
flame held steady in sconce of bliss
pulsating within by day and night
exuding a sublime fragrance
recognising we all are one
being breathed by God
wonderstruck we see
His light in all hearts
Feeling each pulse
Hoping we will
Radiate love
Heartthrob in damsel drag
Belief of human bile
Completely instilling cascading dregs of mechanical flesh, bones and spit
64th avenue
And coiling deft doom
Winged balls of bulging blood and speckled steel
Merry wails and flutters of moths unsealed
Fitted upon falling kneel
And reckoned release of rotten roadkill-
Rats and babes and brats
Congealed candy and sickeningly sweet brandy
And hailed light of epiphany to choke, swallow and spit
And strangle without a hand nor handle but grit
Of groil and crevices of menaces heralding honed notes
And a lone liver in fathered infirmary
Black backed in breachers
Potted a bulge to indulge the fickle maggots of dissociation
Emulsification and hearty sniff of
Whitened slice and slithers of snow
Dregs to drag and hone and throw
Up upon bedded saline laden road
Of rows and rows and pounds
That drag rotten flesh afresh from the hound
Sutured from spine to fluttered wing
The hide
Plucked apart from rat to brat
And collared collier stepped afresh with new hide and throw
And stubborn stubbled child with a new mind in tow
5//5//2025
Against light source well crafted
tubular structure appended with eyepiece gazing
offers viewer eye-opening, mind boggling
instantaneously birthing then vanishing
resplendent myriad colorful
geometric awesome shifting shapes
hypnotizing sight seer into a whirling gigolo
where multifaceted fractals display pin-wheeling
arithmetically perfect triangulate squarely
with proportionate arcs astounding
blind faith on microscopic scale
analogous to cosmic big bang spellbinding
mankind from time immemorial
when her/his gaze turned heavenward
peering into azure vault –
one macrocosmic hint
per origin from when on-looking
proto-humans ruminated inscrutably
enamored at the spectacular eminence grise
forever holding mystery of universe
evolution in shroud of secret
continually mystifying one generation
after another until...
twenty first century astrophysicists
begin to unravel evolutionary tale
writ small on planet earth yet storied tome
pried open from scientific revolutions
enabling birth of cosmos honed with more
fine tuned precision to zero in
precise second, whence explosion filled void
nebulous material coalescing
into rudimentary galactic masses generating
vast surfeit of globular structures evincing
conically swirling
millennial futuristic clear cut entities
upon which one – namely gaia
finds this sole member *****sapiens
reveling in his makeshift primitive contrivance
teasing ocular sense with visual orgasms
begetting thought provoking questions
into this eternal wonderment
that perchance some intelligent deity
willfully rotates planet like some plaything
synonymous with mere mortal
peering into magic of kaleidoscope
whereby generic one primate in love with words!
As subtle obvious
from above and bellow doth burst
this non quitting chap doth tick cursed
with avidity, cupidity, electricity durst
flickr ring, google ling, and high five ving first
to flout conformity, and will when
coffin doth bear me away,
lest cremation mine ashes get disbursed
aspiring to wax poetic fur better
or hud duh livery wurst.
The book holds every thought I’ve never had,
each spine a doorway to another mind’s terrain,
where silence isn’t empty but a comrade, glad
to let me disappear inside a stranger’s brain.
The smell is dust and lignin, old and sweet as grain,
democracy in alphabetical rows displayed—
the poor man’s university, the free domain
where knowledge asks for nothing but the time I’ve paid.
The paper’s edge is innocent until it’s not—
a blade so thin the eye can’t see its honed intent,
and then the sting, the line of red, the burning slot
between the atoms of my skin where something went
precisely wrong. No warning given, no event
to justify this pain that throbs beyond its size,
this microscopic violence that the page has sent,
this proof that beauty sharpens what it occupies.
see my hand it has a gewgaw in
and to my lips I kiss the day
with her sounds I repeat back
in overtones and harmonics
of a heart whose breath is wide
horizonal, for scope, there is scope
and much to fill with a beauty
of song and call and secretness
yet do I not keep the outside out
these harp filled moments
allow my alone to distant inwards
solitary in an openness of voyage
among this voice of many voices
for it is here in this everywhere
that soothes, that steals, that builds
and my direction honed, renewed
oh these moments pass too quickly
once I’m out of the eternity
but the whet and drive has thirst
see my hand it has a gewgaw in
and to my lips I kiss the day
Slotted rocks allotted in a stacked wall of stone
Greeted me gray as smoke, carved statue honed
Halted my walk among sun snuck tall trunk home
Flatly reminded my psyche I'd arrived here alone
For beyond its forbode, forest sprouts unknown
Told to me only in rubbed limbs creaked moans
To quenching's quest, searched soul seeds sown
Willing to merge with alternate ways, I will atone
With whatever whirled leaf torn trauma is thrown
Where woods go, be guided by my bravery shown
Hammered heart tells me climbing sparks danger
Safety belt suffocated, thus love stayed a stranger
Signals from scintillated stems, summons known
Spurs me toward side greener, a renegade ranger
2nd October 2020
'Wall In The Woods'
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Tigers in the tall grass.
Bruins in the buckwheat.
Sirens, sing of sassafras!
Eagles, time to eat...
Linger, O my looking-glass...
Red run in reply.
Languid liquor, poison gas!
Death, glance at me sly...
Frankincense burned on the tomb?
Ashes, coat the walls.
Belladonna, how you bloom!
Funeral, how ye palls!
Pyramid, best to get rid?
Gold on rim, crater?
Hell and Heaven, hid or bid?
Only if you're sure!
Wind, over the atolls fly!
Cold as coffee fields!
O my Spartans, don't be shy!
Win or on thy shields!
Forbidden City, thy birth?
Life, what are you worth?
Decency, dismay, thy dearth!
Estuary? Firth!
Honed like blades of iron!
Shining in the air!
O chessmasters, sac the pawn!
Tortoise, eat the hare!
Heaven and Hell, apply. When?
Beginning again!
Coyote, doth fear the hen?
One day out of ten...
I rescind away from the multitude
In search of quiet and solitude
To safeguard clarity of thought
Even at the expense of wind to be caught
For engagement can be an extreme sport
Against which there is no fort
But from time to time I emerge
With summaries of the by and large
I topple honed skills with a punchline
Endless talk falls as I declare a lifeline
And whether I storm or am anticipated
God’s Word meditated has them medicated
For the search of matters delights kings
A far greater thrill than the pursuit of things
And as such I have become with no feign
God hath made me such, so I reign
Though I have no earthly kingdom of mine
Royalty as I have received feels just fine
K. Muitherero
Sea Glass 7-11-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sea Glass
On strands and shoals, waves of rolling tides,
Neither pro nor biased,
Tumble castoff vessels, emptied of purpose,
Into scattered shards of sharp amber remnants
Piercing tender soles.
Bits of blue and green edges,
Rub up against mica’s pearls,
Refined by fool’s gold -
Brokenness in metamorphosis
By stoic tidal pulses
And lurching tide’s undulations.
Discarded gypsies from bonfire’s passions
Laughter, nostalgia and desolate strolls
Gestating in a matte chrysalis,
Life’s thesaurus honed into shapeless dregs
By gritty fingers rising
From the cold fire of the abyssal plains.
Hate Is Not A Crime
I have hated
still bear the scars
that caused the hate
and the scars of hating
those who caused the hate.
I know the darkness
of my hate, its futile
longing to be freed
from it’s sordid legacy.
I fear the demons
it holds at bay
in a molten ball
of raging regret.
I have honed the edges
of my hate, cast the sword
heavenward into
an empty sky
Yet the forge still
smolders, new blades glow
reddened-hot
in the flush of feeling’s
lingering lunacy.
My hate gave power
to too small hands,
purpose to an
uncomprehending mind,
fever to a dying spirit.
The healing power of hate -
the purified
cauterization of
un-healing wounds.
For hate was all I had
and hate is not a crime.
5/19/2017
submitted to – Catharsis – Poetry Contest