Long Immediate Poems
Long Immediate Poems. Below are the most popular long Immediate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Immediate poems by poem length and keyword.
my body moves before my soul
hands lift cups my legs walk streets
my mouth laughs at jokes that used to matter
my eyes follow suns that no longer warm me
i speak words that once meant everything
but they are hollow now, echoes in a canyon i left behind
my chest rises and falls like a drum
but the rhythm is empty
and the air tastes like someone else’s memory
i hear voices that i cannot answer
smile at faces that feel like paper
i remember nothing but the shape of myself
a shadow walking through a world that has already forgotten me
i lie in bed at night
listening to my own heartbeat
like it is a stranger pacing a room
and the darkness presses in
filling my ears with every laugh i will never hear again
every hand i will never hold
every word i will never speak
sometimes i catch myself reaching for someone
and my fingers find only air
and the panic is sharp, immediate, unbearable
like my skin is screaming for a soul it will never hold
and the cruelest part
the part that no one can prepare you for
is that the world goes on
as if i am still whole
while i am already unmade
my body a puppet
my mind a grave
and tonight i look into the mirror
and see my own eyes staring back
empty as a coffin
and i finally understand
that i am already dead
shifting into the void
yet in occupation of form
as identityless presence
we cognise that what is
what was and what will be
is aliveness as awareness
immediate and intimate
awareness self aware
eternal and unchanging
as the life essence of self
the self we allude to
is neither narrow identity
nor conditioned thought
rooted in habit patterns
relying upon blurred memory
based on foggy perception
orbiting ego borne craving
in the world of transience
where resident in feeble form
the entity flounders about
self as presence self existent
is as is complete and illumined
detached from this mind body
though in occupation of it
as a vehicle to navigate earth
via sheaths of consciousness
vitalising the material casing
by three pranic electricities
energised by spirit at the core
blissful in the cave of the heart
the three electricities alluded to
first being the very breath of God
enabling we as He be breathed
feeling through the senses five
having outer and inner polarities
with lower mind for discernment
higher connected to the universe
thus jiva & Atma & Paramatma
or we may say body & soul & spirit
as manifestations of the That one
the true purpose of life begins
when the three aspects of the one
come into alignment with love
being the only true God vibration
reflected within as our conscience
all else but ego thought constructs
thus upon the ego or mind body
aligning with soul or higher mind
merging by melting into spirit or love
then free of all bondage we awake
11-November-2020
I live by love, as I live by food
I anatomize my days,
weeding my time
to invest in him.
So I may love better.
For as heaven hath sent me fortune
heaven hath sent me love also
and it’s no counterfeit success.
He knows me - my moods -
when I’m dispos'd to be merry
or as the windy sky changes
and my mood's turned to scorn.
When we're in tune
we come, peremptory,
as if for dinner
to our more giddy desires
for I live for that love
as I live by food.
.
.
Songs for this:
Constant Craving (Fashionably Late Remix) - k.d. lang & Tracy Young
Champagne Problems / I'm Yours (feat. Alexandra McGoey & Riley Fleming) - The Sirens
Nothing Can Stop Us - Saint Etienne
.
Webster: Peremptory: prompt requiring immediate compliance
Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris -
November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words
helps me (with powder milk biscuits)
gather courageous foray
and means to grapple with demise
of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end,
where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind,
vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation
playing game versus sobbing as corpse
driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs
bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum,
trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance,
but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves
agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow
with the sounds of silence
despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue -
boot invariably bono fide, green day,
Lady gaga emitting beat,
per the human league (plus the culture club
of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll
traversing into nirvana)
creates clangorous discordant ringing
increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
First I lost my mind, then my heart.
And then my senses, I lost the whole of me.
I was absolutely broken without immediate solution.
But they say time would heal,
When I was downcast from the top into the valley,
Just like an outcast, I live in solitude.
Others said you don't heal you just let go of the past.
That what had happened, happened for a reason.
And it has happened so move on...
Even the tears I cry could wash a whole city clean.
Just as white as snow.
Slowly I begin to Imagine a day when things will fall in place again.
Then a voice inside me said out loud, don't just imagine boy,
But rather turn your thoughts into reality.
Then another whispers hey you,
You did it before, you've done it several times.
Now look at you boy acting like you ain't capable,
Of what life had thrown at you.
Now wake up to your true-self! And see how powerful you are!!...
Life wouldn't give you a battle you can't conquer.
When life itself is not ready to give you away to death.
Remember the strongest of all the soldiers,
Fight the hardest battle.
Don't let the shackles of pains hold you back,
Or the chains of the old pull you back from rising,
Just like the phoenix which rises from ash to the top.
And never go down again.
Wake up now!... The voices keeps screaming.
So you can get hold of your mind,
Your heart and then your senses again.
So you can make use of your life.
I ponder over this while still listening,
To the echo of the voices inside.
Then there comes a risen light for me,
To use in seeing in the dark, my mind, I retained.
Then another leading me with all light to the precise location,
Of the God (PURPOSE ON EARTH) in me, it's my heart. I retained.
The joy of my heart and power of my mind,
Did send the light back to my senses, my brain I retained.
Amazing grace became the song I sang all day long.
Now I know I am the driver of my thoughts and life.
For I never knew I was the light at the end of the Tunnel.
Then comes the voices inside whispering slowly and loudly.
don't let the situation of life dim you again,
Stop searching for the light at the end of tunnel,
Be the light by staying true to yourself.
He said ALOUD you are the light, so shine BRIGHT
DEAR ONE. He whispered aloud SOFTLY before disappearing.
Flawless
Down in Florida on the twenty-ninth of May,
the Phillies had a pitcher named Roy Halladay.
There was a show in store for Phillies fans in town.
In each inning, three came up and three went down.
In this one game during a pennant chase,
not one Florida Marlin could reach first base.
The only run scored on an error by Cameron Maybin.
However, that was all the Phils needed to win.
When it was all over, Roy pitched a perfect game.
There is no better way for a pitcher to achieve fame.
Flawed
A Major League team that used to be in Montreal,
is now in Washington, DC playing the game of baseball.
In the nation’s capital, they are again playing the game.
The “Nationals” is this baseball team’s name.
They have poor hitting, lousy pitching, and make errors by the score.
As a team goes, they are the same as they were before.
To see where they stand, they need a periscope.
The team is in bad shape will little immediate hope.
The Nats have given their fans little to cheer for each season.
Their annual dismal performance is the paramount reason.
look at me
water shoes on
beach chair buried in the sand
feeling like an overtly energetic six year old again
acting all shy as she grabs my hand as the water freezes our feet unexpectedly
remembering the loneliness
cable off
vhs on
same movie as the last four days
wondering how i got there
not caring about freeing myself
here i am
new swim trunks on
fast food gut rumbling in continuous anticipation
staring in awe at the ocean like she is a celebrity
acting even more shy as she lifts my chin up and brushes her lips against mine
remembering the darkness in the lights
electricity off
heavy blanket consuming me
1988 walkman playing 60s reggae sounds....perfectly blinding me
mental starvation for immediate escape
verbal starvation for immediate escape
wondering when the electricity man was gonna come and turn the electricity back on
imagining a gun and a few bullets....to shoot the dream i am suffering dead
wait a minute
i am totally on vacation
got me a beautiful blessing of a travelling partner....thick in all the right places
on the next to last day....still in complete disbelief that i am actually here
acting yet even more shy as she smiles at me with a look of sincere affection....as she rubs somewhere....she considers absolute, natural fun
I discovered the mystery
Of her painted runic stone
Immediately upon opening
The dainty envelope
She'd so thoughtfully sealed
With a Valentine sticker.
With comforting impact
It dropped unexpectedly
Into my conveniently located hand.
(Conveniently unexpected
And unexpectedly located,
With immediate and comforting impact.)
And in the moment of discovery,
I recalled the perfect sweetness
Of her Cheshire smile
As she stood self-confidently
On the sidewalk of the thoroughfare,
Like a danger girl who had captured
A spy boy's complete attention
With effortless persuasion.
That’s typical of her.
Does her mojo ever sleep?
___________________________
Very little mercy remains in the modern approach to euthanasia; it has become a contradiction in terms. While the concept may sound ethical to outsiders, for the immediate family it often boils down to sheer economics, moving far beyond a simple legal subject. Even when legal systems allow mercy killing after lengthy deliberations, it is restricted to the passive type—forcing both the patient and their relatives to endure silent pain for an extended period. In desperation, the final lines of this piece are written one foot longer to mirror that agonizing, drawn-out struggle.
________________________
Silent my heart goes to souls long in strife---
To those in ailing beds, to drooping chins,
In hope who treat as god the mute machines
Linked to lifeless wires, breathing borrowed life.
The life in coma may no longer feel,
But those who tend them pick an humble pie,
And suffer worse in watching loved ones die,
The sick may fade, the wardens feel great ill.
Poor patients live a life of virtual corn,
In beds of death to nameless numbers turn
In health-care shops whose ways and means we mourn,
Whilst loved ones watch blind to the goings-on.
These wealth-care shops, not health, have one-way lanes
Called ICUs, hidden black-holes so mean,
Each life policed by a callous machine,
While near and dears peep through the window panes.
Nurses come and go taking copious notes,
While monitors keep up robotic beat,
Pump blood, but scarce the life as human treat,
The doctors deign, but where are rescue boats?
Intensive care goes too extensive now,
Expensive too as measured by the bills,
While pockets pinch, the wounded, weary wills,
What price is life? The dying shows us how.
The fate must rest on medical mercy,
On chance, not choice, the game will end one day,
When switches flip, poor life is left to pray,
The patient, impatient, pleads: end my agony.
Yet, mercy killing, barred from the halls of ethics,
Is left to wail elegies on economics!
___________________________
Musings | 02.04.2011, revised Sept 2026| care, compassion, death, life, Elegiac lyric
Note: One may read also two more pieces on the subject: In search of dignity (04,03.2011), and Gentle unto death (02.10.2008).
Hello, come into the inside of me,
And let me show you around.
Please leave your shoes there by the door,
And try not to make a sound.
This first room, dark green and blue, my survive,
It runs my liver, my heart, my breath.
My most securely, fortified room, and,
If it broke it’d be my immediate death.
Next is my fight or flight room,
Where instinct has a hold of my arms.
This is my secret where me is all me,
This’ where I store my spell, my lure, my charms.
Down the hall and to the right,
Is the room of logic, with a clear black border,
And back, through the opposite door,
Is my music, my artistically bent creative disorder.
That’s it, that’s me, this’ where I live,
This’ where I think. It’s simple and plain.
I hope you’ll invite me over to your place sometime,
And you can show me where you live, in your brain.