Long Imaginations Poems
Long Imaginations Poems. Below are the most popular long Imaginations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Imaginations poems by poem length and keyword.
I remember as a child at school drinking those small bottles of milk.
I remember feeling posh wearing a tie made out of silk.
I remember running wild under the sun of long summer days.
I remember meal tickets at school so I could eat and educate my brain.
I remember the Yorkshire hills covered with three feet of snow.
I remember those stuffed snakes at the door to keep the cold winds out.
I remember playing cricket with all the Pakistani boys for days and enjoying every single minute.
I remember using lollipop sticks to make my racing bike sound like it had an engine on it.
I remember the hours of fun we could get out of nothing but our own imaginations.
I remember going into Woolworths to stock up on mixed sweets before the ABC matinee opened.
I remember feeling free and not worrying about Covid
I remember camping at Padstow and the preceding eight hour un air-conned journey.
I remember shaking hands when I said hello to perfect strangers.
I remember the pride of Jessica Ennis winning gold on that magic Saturday for our nation.
I remember England in a time when when work felt secure and stable.
I remember my country when honour, pride and dignity were words with meanings that mattered.
I remember the NHS before it was its budgets were stolen and it’s staff were so cruelly shattered.
I remember feeling good knowing that poorer people could get good state aid
I remember being able to go to university because a grant for me was made.
What the hell happened?
Yesterday as the sun was rising on our walk…what should catch our eye….but one humongous…elongated white feather…stretching across the sky.
Our weatherman is quick to inform us…that it’s a cirrus cloud and in it we will find…crystals of ice which means…a cold front will not be far behind.
But when I see a feather in the sky…so tremendous…so long…so white…my mind thinks back to my childhood…and 1001 Arabian Nights.
A Middle Eastern myth?…you might be asking yourselves…Why…
because in this myth the Roc was a huge white bird of prey that prowled across the sky.
Who was large enough to pickup an elephant…from whose arrival even the sun would hide…who, if myths are to be believed, once took Sinbad, the sailor, for a ride.
Meteorologists today will no doubt find my thoughts revolting…but when I see a large feather in the sky…I like to think the Roc is molting.
Besides in a world where we come face to face with harsh realities time and time again…it’s fun to fantasize…to stir our imaginations a little every now and then.
Which is why when I see a feather stretched across the sky…I allow my imagination and reality play….is it the molted feather from one enormous bird…or is there a cold front on the way….
Before you scoff at my ambiguity…as most people and certainly all weathermen do…
let us take a minute and thoughtfully think this through…
A cold front on its way…
or the largest bird one could conceive…
knowing I live in Florida…
which myth should I believe?
Poertrysoup, that food for thought that keeps
me coming back to you
The poems I read from those of many up lift me
it takes me to a world of peace
poetrysoup, a poetry place for many
painted pictures of visions of thoughts
I come across when I open up my world to you
poetrysoup I am honored to be with you
Gray skies, clouds that rides the wave of the wind
before the night falls it will rain again. From someone,
a poet, I couldn't recall his or her name, the day that it rained.
the poem I read, I read, I read it as it gave me a touch of peace
my mind was wondering where could it take me, the painted pictures
of thoughts that came from thee. The night it rained, the night I searched on poetrysoup, yet I still can't recall the name
Words that can up lift you from those who share their love of poems
can move you. The wall that tells the stories, they to have joined the world of thee. Poetrysoup, where the world of poets leave their mark for many to read. A poem of the day, it reads as if it was meant for you. A site of inspiration, people of love, full of imaginations, a community as one. The tales of poetry will always be loved
If I speak of Gods romance
Without words His intentions advance
All the scene that we trust
Hidden emotions from love to lust
The colors of the rainbow
that crosses the sky
The wings that flutter
on the floating butterfly
The breeze that cools
the warmth of outside
The flavor that burst
from the taste of pie
The sound of music
from those with good taste
Flying through the air
being lifted by the waist
Dressed for the wedding
marriage being the case
Imaginations of the wonderful
a dream taking space
A pet to pet
and look into it's face
Having competition
and somehow win the race
The wonders of the world
right before our eyes
The tears of the greatful
from the one you surprise
The happy ending of a book
where in a classic lyes
The gospell set before us
and being not comprimized
At first we had traumatic stress
just being born
and later shock of near death,
physical and mental,
natural and spiritual,
lack of health
and unsafe, messy wealth.
Then traumatic cultural stresses
grew up into a global syndrome
of sad neglect
toxic fueling chronic depression,
multicultural repression
caste suppression,
cognitive and affective
double-binding dissonant
multigenerational dissociation.
Then post-traumatic historic stress syndrome
swept up panic attacks,
disabling shell shock,
invasive violent cultural shlock,
long-term victimization locks,
criminalization ad hoc
legislated abominations,
violent domestic and national monoculturing schools
of semi-thought through
flowing pure and healthy imaginations
creeping toward chronic creepy anxiety,
lose/lose de-nihilistic codependency,
mutually assured destruction
in bloodless
micro-annihilating pools.
Now we have pre-traumatic herstoric stress syndrome
for ever more biocultural pathology
in internal
and external climates,
venues,
lyrics and lessons,
narratives of unraveling devolutions
inevitably heavy self-implicating
stiff-necked stubborn scales
In-between disempowering monoculturalism
monopolistic monotheism
ego-privileged anthro-supremacism,
economic ecological lack of co-invested empathy,
And enlightened EarthPatriotic resonance
anxiously anticipating
polycultural revolutions
sustaining robust health care
ecosystemic wealth.
Why does it matter
if we sing or dance or call
"Make American Trauma Again"
pre- and post-suffering
the greatest response of all?
Isn't trauma of unrelenting win/lose competitions,
of StraightWhiteMale aggressive monoculturalism,
mono-egotheism,
monopolistic theology,
a culturally devolving climate trend?
Inside and outside,
before and after traumatic birth
and death of isolated individuals
swimming in a hegemonic
demonizing atmosphere
of win/lose capitalist self-defeating wounds
at risk of overwhelming all empowering lovely acts
and pre-post-enlightened passionate hearts
For resilient
ecotherapeutic stories
of positive
multiculturally cooperative
green peace
health care wealthy resonance.
Yesterday's Flame
The candle’s flame still dances with the breeze
and casts her playful shadows on the wall
that pique imaginations with a tease
and bring back ancient memories that please,
and yet her flame’s not bright as I recall.
This once tall, slender beauty was quite chic,
in evening's dimming light she graced the room
while glowing with a certain soft mystique
that always left emotions feeling weak,
and filled my senses with her sweet perfume.
The fervent flame that left a warming glow
and captured my imagination’s dreams,
still softly burns, though not as bright a glow
that conjured ancient dreams I used to know,
and yet she still emits her gentle beams.
Today this candle doesn’t stand as tall;
her fabled slender fading figure flees
while beads of wax, like aging teardrops, fall;
though not the tapered beauty I recall,
her gentle flame still dances with the breeze.
February 20, 2024
She was passion personified
With suicidal tendencies
One step from going over the edge
A lopsided smile with a twinkle in her eye
With just a hint sadness
She moved with the grace of an angel
Hearts fluttered as she walked by
Men intoxicated by her presence
A fight could break out at a moment's notice
Drama just followed her like a queen
Men sacrificed themselves on her altar
Drawn to sexy wrapped with a crazy bow
She consumed them with each passionate touch
Needing their love to satisfy that longing
Yet there wasn't a heart where it could flow
When morning comes their beds are empty
She rises before the light of day
Away from them their imagined angel
She leave a feather on their bed
Heads out the door and flies away
Imaginations
Let's play leapfrog with the unicorn
Careful children watch out for the horn
Let's tippy toe in the meadow with an elephant
Could a happier afternoon ever be spent
Let's swim with the goldfish in her bowl
Hunting for the treasure chest Captain Kidd stole
Let's fly with the robbins the first of spring
We can learn to chirp and flap our wings
Let's glow with the glow worms at night
Laughing and chasing whoever lights
Let's play as children silly and fun
Using our imaginations as bright as the sun
Let's stand on rainbows and wave as bluebirds fly
Where wishes and dreams are woven into a lullaby
Let's dream with a sprinkle of Sandman's dust
Where home is being with those who love us
Christmas Confections
Visions of candy canes, swirling red and white stripes,
Pirouette through our dreams spinning Christmas delights;
Sugar sticks and sugar plums tweak our imaginations
When bright store windows show off marshmallow creations ~
~ ~ ~
Truffles and toffee nestled near gumdrops red and green
Spun sugar delights fit for a queen;
Peppermint bark, only seen once a year,
Graces gingerbread houses when in villages they appear ~
~ ~ ~
Raspberry candies filled with gooey, sweet centers
Hold hands with ribbon candy - childhood remembers;
Creations of fudge draw our attentions
Chocolate and maple, vanilla nut confections ~
~ ~ ~
Sugar and cinnamon coats nuts of every variety
When coal lumps of licorice invite stocking anxiety;
Pralines, nonpareils, cocoa snowballs, chocolate mints
Sour stars and lollipops leave a holiday footprint ~
11-11-21
Contest: November December
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
Moon’s joy is a reward for our admiration
and appreciation of her light and grace.
She shares it freely with her brothers and sisters.
Mankind, beasts, plants, Earth itself are her children.
She lights our night paths, lives
with shimmering white threads;
golden fingers reach for us and reiterate her love.
Her liquid silver fire burning with elation
for the God who created her.
Fireworks of luminescence rain upon her children, her siblings.
She lights the way through the darkness of nights and lifts spirits of those who drink from her shimmering fountain; a mother nursing her young, a sister, navigating her siblings through blackness.
Moon is eternal, feeding our souls, our imaginations,
sharing insight, when she is full-figured and humming her songs.
Would that Moon were ever to abandon us;
dreams would die and Gaia turn to ash.
Moon babysits when sun naps and all life is
safe in her bosom.
Entered contest: "It's all about the moon"
Sponsor: SKAT A