Long Identifiable Poems
Long Identifiable Poems. Below are the most popular long Identifiable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Identifiable poems by poem length and keyword.
Can I walk away for once?
To walk away from everything I've ever known
I want to give chance a chance
For that everything I've ever built that isn't a home
I do not want to travel to run away
I want an imagination that could change my life
Not that my life is so hard I couldn't stay
Just that my life is a becoming constant without drive
There simply isn't a new meaning anymore
Can I un-know all that I think that I know?
Everything is becoming increasingly difficult to adore
Is an aging life subjected to go with only the flow?
I grew myself everyday knowing lesser of me
To look pass years without an identity
I could've been a one identifiable to be
Or perhaps an every once can only ever be a memory
Can I ever walk away from everything I'll ever know?
Am I not already living an everyday to chance?
Am I a delusion mind with a body I only but borrow?
Or have I already walked away beyond chance...
Holistic position
simultaneously invites further co-passion
and celebrates having become ever more compassionate,
Inspired that Earth stewards hope to rightly balance
human relationships
with our wider ecological responsibilities.
These right relationships
and EarthCentered responsibilities
need not compete
with more anthropocentric views
of care-giving and -receiving rights
within theologically reasoned
and sensed,
thought and felt, responsibilities to Earth's wealth
of health.
How I rightfully invest in family
and friends
and vocation
operates integrally
(not disassociated from)
with being
and becoming
a healthy resilient
and wealthy resonant
Earth organic energy system,
one identifiable ZeroSoul
interdependently individuated,
and yet still individuating.
Because humans are sacred sons and daughters
of matriarchal EarthWombs,
and DNA strictures within health strands
and maternal histories rebirthing toward future regenerations,
unbroken webs of intersectional win/win interests,
bleeding our past for mistakes
and breeding our future healthiest opportunities
EarthRights
predict humanely cooperative Asylum,
prophesy invited Green organic
global and individual intentions
toward Win/Win Sanctuaries,
Shared sacred
safely invested
places and times
co-owned and eco-managed
where now lie more disassociated apartheid communities
of diverse idolatrous/industrial bodies
associations/dissociations
divisions/multiplications
corporations/decapitations/recapitations
organic and mechanical
divine and robotic
complex and chaotic
unitarian networks and universal bosons,
exterior ecosystems and interior egocenters
compassioning timeless EarthWombed gratitude.
Compassion is not a fixed state,
not a property I can autonomously own;
As gratitude is a verb of positive emergence,
a property we can only cooperatively co-own
as perpetually timeless
and yet momentarily eternal
becoming together
compassions
rooted in leisured songs and lovely dances
unfinishable
this side of Earth's death.
This holistic life position
synergetically activates love's compassion fruit
and celebrates becoming ever more well-being
ego/eco-passionate.
Without doubt true,
and yet too redundantly lectured,
especially to our young of body and mind,
the virtual world is not reality.
And yet,
Elders seldom hear
when youngsters pout back
what must equally be true,
Earth's reality is no longer devoid
of virtual communicating worlds
without so many competitive walls
to hinder cooperative re-education
about mutual relationships
between polynomial information trends
and polypathic energy economies
and polyphonic co-relational politics,
all networks for off-line Earth's reality
and on-line virtual ego/eco-centering systems.
The story of information systemic regeneration
reweaves Earth's creation story of Gaian Cooperative Hypotheses
knowing we are already a cooperatively intended democracy
living in diverse locations,
identifiable 4D geometrically revolving spacetime locations
emerging from advents of fertile prehistoric winters
producing reborn ecopolitical springs,
diastatically mature summers of healthy wealth revolutions,
harvesting AutumnElders of poly-nutritional wisdom,
restored in understories
of Yin's first and last winter blanket;
egocentering processors
re-aligning with eco-centered Earth's fractal-regenerate realities,
virtual on-line
as 4D cooperative off-line.
Without doubt also true,
and yet too redundantly gamed and networked,
especially by our young of bodyminds
with bilaterally thinking spirits,
Earth's reality includes on-line virtual cooperatives
and off-line ecological Tipping Points,
climate change
as both potentiality
of cooperative health
and WinLose reality
for competing flesh and blood pathologies.
Truths,
1 is always positive or negative in Earth's metric LeftBrain languages,
just as timeless 0s are both/and equivalent notnot double-bound with 1
co-binary RightBrain balance,
virtual-digital and historic-analogical waves
between past and future,
tipping toward co-present.
rich inspiration
complements
&augments
at
that
crucial &
originals
positioned
so
precisely
identified
theme
a movement’s
heightened colour
impresses
with descriptive
energy
shifting &
contorted
yet
beguiling
displayed
makes beauty
apparent&
identifiable
as
a conceit
in
a
sense of
the emphatic
stillness
splices
the
enchanting
unending stream
into
a
strange wonder
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Marvel's Fantastic Four: Mr. Fantastic, The Invisible Woman,
The Human Torch and The Thing.
The best memory of the Fantastic Four cartoon characters
that can be best realized, of good measure, was their
live production. Unfortunately, not one episode
is resurrection-able of their cartoon version.
However, that filmed production wherein human characters
portrayed their cartoon counterparts as singularly
different. Granted that there'd be others that
were produced on the silver screen
whereto calls into question
my 'good measure'
ergo, google
ID it to be
a 2005
film.
First off, ...
The Invisible Woman was visibly
fetching and was indebted to
Mr. Fantastic's character,
yet not by definition.
The Thing's character was quick to temper
and getting stoned whenever ...
The Human Torch,
combust.
Albeit, Mr. Fantastic's human counterpart was
misleading as his appearance rendered him
to be fantastic-ally half his portrayed age
and that protege veneer was studious.
The contrast between Mr. Fantastic's cartoon character,
stems from Dr. Ben of The Jonny Quest Adventures
who shares that '60s science-like qualities
whereto Mr. Fantastic bears a streak
of gray hair--defining age factor.
Furthermore, the content of that movie is fleeting other than
the fact that The Human Torch is excessively
--cold.
Sadly, the complete genre of cartoon episodes no longer
occupies my memory banks--blank. Whether they'd
be televised or store-shelved, it'll also include my
children's. Most characters are more noticed
than the show/comic/toy they delivered.
Noting their identifiable names, Popeye versus the
boys' Pac-Man and the girls' Barbie, and beyond
that ... nothing,
"C'est la vie, mon ami/amie."
"That's life, my friend."--> Masculine/Feminine: French translated
(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)
They all heard that,
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days.
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation.
I was counting those quarters. One by one.
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store...
When silence honors every single voice out there
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper.
And slowly,
I sustained.
I was tamed within
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes.
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper.
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand?
A specially biased right hand?
There are need of mirrors, here and there.
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too...
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.
What makes a poet, be a poet?
What makes a pilot, be a pilot?
What makes a janitor, be a janitor?
Circumstances bears some weight.
Determination will unlock doors that circumstances bars.
Natural abilities also bears weight in what they call, 'a gift'.
Same rules applies, doors will unlock that circumstances bars.
It is a 'cake-walk' if there are no barriers to their goal/s, whether be a poet or a pilot.
Are you a good poet? That is subjective and left to interpretation.
However, that sort of statement is not applicable to a pilot, until the plane crashes.
If it has been determined, not to be an act of God, nor the fault of the plane, then we will know that it was pilot error.
A poet can be raw, use simple vocabulary, and be 'street savvy'.
A poet can be educated, English major, knows A-Z of a dictionary, and a walking Thesaurus.
NOW, in this high tech world, the former is easily identifiable, because of its perpetual use of it, whereas, the latter, it is debatable without a piece of paper with a University name on it.
I believe an unwritten 'pure thought' makes a good poet.
I know that of what I have written, some have been written by others, namely my mom songs, my older brother 'Sandless Sandcastles' (he supplied the title), some from friends who are nameless to me of some circa in my lifetime, then again, if it were.
It is safe to say that most that were written and dated here on PoetrySoup, are mines.
My quotes, like most quotes, who knows who said them first, lest it was recorded on paper, and then again, what if it was said before that recording, by another, who may have been famous as well, and was stolen only because it was never recorded.
I can say that the majority, if not all, are my own quotes.
Some are newly, noted, quotes here on PoetrySoup.
Then, there is the third poet, one that is a true natural. Not of the streets, nor well learned, but a true 'gifted talent'. Their words are lights of their souls that they pull from their hearts and share with this world.
Just do not ever stop, Soupers--not for the slightest--Write On!
05/29/2019
— I take a dose of my own medicine and gage on my pride. Bitter sweet truth, leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Realization that it's time for me to move on. Admitting defeat, accepting the truth. You are my best friend, as a matter of fact, you have been my only friend for years now. I've been leaning on your crutches and using you as an excuse. Enabled by your constant presence, my loneliness has become my personal sanctuary. Practically giving up hope on everyone else, we hid from our fear. Hiding in our room, where our beds were always made to our liking. Obsessing over solitude; avoiding the entire world. Putting up emotional walls that are only identifiable through our actions. Afraid to open up to people, I limited my emotional availability. Giving it only to you. Being Just a little off, just enough to keep people away. You constantly make me feel inadequate. It's hard to hold my head up high, when you are consistently putting me down. Please understand that it's not you, it's me. I am my own best friend and it's time for me to move on. It won't be easy getting over myself. It's been a blast and I'll never forget you. I'm going to move on and never look back. Reality is only a phone call away and my own head can be a tough place to be. I'm dropping you like a bad habit. This chapter of my life is coming to a close. Farewell old friend. —
[2-28-15]
10th Place in SKAT A Contest
People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream,
With dead dinosaurs, my eternity embroidered by extended time.
May new beings be born from the manure of life, all at once,
Identifiable in the ecology of the world, sometimes alive-alive.
The emotion of the sun, an immense mirror in which we lose ourselves,
I, the animalistic poet, reflecting God in verses that burn.
Blinding us in all things, our gazes are strange shards,
My words deceitful, vinous, full of bubble-poems, oceans.
Feeding hungry thoughts, wrapped in vain hopes,
For I have died formally, before my time, in empty days.
To the venal criminals, secretly scolding life's partners,
Covering the sunken graves under the impenetrable rain.
Under the rain's immensity, measurable, we catch ourselves in a dance,
The supposed heroes, pure sources of lightning, with pale color,
Bringing from the horizon the languid light, the extinguished dusk,
The humanity in me and in him, balancing the dawns in dreams.
Beloved, the night tilts the balance of dawns that intoxicate us,
In the paradox of life, where light and darkness get drunk.
The Echo Of Stars
Galaxies away the echo of stars make her bloom
this rose made of warm inside a heated hand *
Fine tuning her soul to the chime of a thousand crystal pieces
she blasts out and planets resound within her Chalice heart;
Resonating inside her, the peeling bells of Notre- Dame
contain her whole Universe...
Tucked safely inside an IVEAN cloak she lives free
no longer part of this global world.
A star of multiple constellations, she belongs only
to One identifiable light, HIS own.
Evolving endlessly in time she reverberates and rings
entering God's vestibule of heaven without a single sound
Wearing the immortal crown of existence she delves
in, a crowning moment of glory
The mirror shatters in a million tiny pieces and all of truth
arrives, making her whole once again.
“it’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”