Long Immersive Poems
Long Immersive Poems. Below are the most popular long Immersive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Immersive poems by poem length and keyword.
There is an immersive beauty you experience walking along the shore…
when you experience the sea….
as every sense your body possesses…feels it instantly.
You see an eternity of ocean heading over the horizon
like an endless watery floor…
You smell the salt air all around you…you hear the ocean roar.
You bend down to touch the water.
You taste its saltiness on your hand.
You remove your shoes and allow your feet
to become acquainted with the sand.
You find your voice is silent from the moment you begin
which allows your elevated senses to take all this beauty in.
As you gently walk in silence
finding peace and balance on the shore…
your senses having been unlocked…
are crying out for more.
It feels as if time slows down
just long enough for you to take a closer look….
and you cannot help but smile in this moment
happy this is the path you took.
When it’s time to go you thank the ocean…
whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back to visit you some more.”
because you know you cannot stay away too long
one you have experienced the beauty of the shore.
The early hours of dawn had just shown themselves
And I was still lost deep in the forests of slumber;
There where calming and peaceful waves roll by
Allowing me no chance to overthink and to be thus,
Overanxious, for submerged in this type of magic
I can only become a mermaid lapping joyfully around!
But then, the world of lucid dreaming, so like a game
Of immersive virtual reality pushed me to a place
Where I would receive instruction, from the most
Beautiful powers that pervade this world; that of the
Mother Goddess Herself!
The place was silent, still, chillly and laden with an air
Of divine importance
I was hushed, groomed and brought to the entrance
Of a temple standing below a huge mountain by beings
Who looked like celestial guardians;
Then, I was brought in front of the Goddess who told me
That my love story with the one she had willed me previously
Would be over by the time July would show itself!
She gave no reasons for same, no explanations, only
Plain instructions and then I was brought out of the temple
Where I opened my eyes to realize that I was in fact,
In my own bed!
I did not understand the message at the beginning
And I just shrugged it off as a mere whim,
A tantrum of my own mental senses,
But then the dream materialised itself in ways
That I could do nothing about other than
Watch them unfold and letting myself go through them!
The fact that we humans are connected to the skies
Is not a mere old tale, to be talked about when
The conversations have gone down,
Rather,
It is our whole purpose, our meaning and our sense
Guiding us through the murky waters that we wade through!
The reason we have birthed remains a question mark over
Our heads,
However, we should never forget that we are connected
To that which bid us be!
Of more messages do I await,
Hoping to be thrust on the right path
So as to receive smiles and words of grace,
Someday, when I shall meet with this power,
In the world not known to humans!
I try to avoid them in the crisp morning light,
but I hastily sink into their mud-caked bottoms.
I sink to my knees in their inevitable stratum.
One after another, beyond memory or thought,
swirling pools of consciousness unspoken.
Parallel immersive mythos together and unbroken.
Heavy here, my trudge from pond to pond,
egoless consciousness watches with detachment.
My fledgling demanding acts are persistent.
My emotions are unwitting and hand-crafted.
These ponds of my making create schemas
from hormones and perceptual appraisals.
I plod through stages of deepening awareness.
From weeping to laughter, I feel each nuanced valence.
Though I try to resist them again and again,
these are my schemas, my reckoned inventions.
Like a roaming wolf or a squirrel poised in a tree,
these emotional appraisals are my intentions.
These spontaneously self-organizing feelings
are my defenses, and my epiphanies of universal marvel
as egoless consciousness awaits, unspoken.
SHADOWS
briefly
appear
almost disengage
draining away
a cloudy
evening
at
first glance
a
setting
a gesture
an
immersive
spectacle
a threshold
is crossed
in the
silence
in the
lingering
shadow
grief
entering
symbolising
&accessible
then
loses itself
in
light
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
Generative Persistence
Give it a name; “generative presence”, “persistence”
Emergent with life, feeling and a pulse
Send it on its way while clinging to the egg
Enable it from a distance to become of use
Keep yourself in a suggestive cocoon
State of fixation, enameled in stasis
Embedded in concrete reality if only to form
Wrapped in patterns, in sequences, in character, in disarray
Care to be objective, immersive, informative, and inspired
Decline to describe, suggest, discuss, gaps between life
Grasp the past meandering. Record the record of history
Understand; you are a guest in your own home
In your own existence; fantasies not included
Invoke the yoke of yellow, involve useful dialogue
Desirable, normal, absurd diagnosis of that which is
Adapt to youth as it passes
Glanced at by events unfolding, reflected in a mirror
Placed appropriately in your path
From the context, content of that which is perceived
In the persistence of memory let it live
EVOCATIONS a still life ekphrasis
time standing
stlll
arrested
moments
revealed
in
stimulations
of
the mind
revealed
illuminations
of
the
past
yesterdays
becoming
today
tomorrow's
postponed
memory
past pictures
live
again
momento
mori
in hypereality
as
monuments
to past
existence
from
shadows
of
transience
sentient
touchstones
in
memorials
of perception
aesthetic
sublimations
of
immersive
spontaneity
with
fascinating
expectations
a visual
of genesis
in
suspended
animation
still distant
now
living
again
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.
Checkout this unique still life (on a grand scale)by Jorge Diezma 'Bodegon del Limon'
As the rain trickles down the cracks of my stained oak casket
And it stains the fabric of my tattered shirt with the crimson paint they placed upon my lips
The shifting of dirt can be heard in my worm infested ears
As the skin on my thighs is being eaten away from the wood beatles
My spirit hovers above this nightmarish scene
Broken tombstone and twisted roses cover my name
Once spoken from your tongue, now just a whisper in the wind
Can you even remember the words that dripped from my trauma fueled pens
Or have they turned to ash like my sins that were thrown into the pyre
Choking on putrid soot as you lowered haphazard memories into the barren ground
Darkness can be so blinding, don't you see now
All those insomniac nights and breathless days
Gripped by panic attacks and mind numbing depression
I screamed, pleaded, wept for longing
Just to be understood, as I got on my cracking knees
Praying with bloodshot eyes for an ounce of peace
I can't breathe, lungs swelling, tears cascading likes waterfalls down my sunken face
But you refused to see the girl breaking inside this woman, invisible scars ripping open
A spiritual bloodletting
Now the final chapter can not be undone as the bell no longer tolls for a lost soul among the deaf.
Mystical mist, mythical bliss, lucid liquid luster.
Subatomic cluster, episodic quantum structure.
Nonlocal consciousness independent of
our renderings in the space-time continuum,
in our speed-of-light, four-dimensional conundrum.
Every transcendental transfiguration transforms,
every preternatural permutation performs,
every episodic state of matter conforms.
Pebbles conceive and receive because they perceive.
Forests rest still and quiet because they intuit.
Waking, dreaming, deep sleep, and pure consciousness
are the four conscious states recorded in the Upanishads.
Waking awareness moves the photons of existence.
The observer effect is created by intention.
Omnipresent sentience breathes free of biology.
Within our telepathic telestic teleport we find
the mindful immersive virtual augmented macrocosm,
the beatific rapturous dynamism, the natural algorithm
animating all things. Monistic awareness composes
the particles of matter and light in panpsychist insight.
Anxiety, hate, confusion and suffering are squalls
of clutter in the body, energy and intellect.
Turbulence has no home in the conscious Pacific.
Individual minds are waves in the vast tide.
Carved in timeless rock are conceptual bridges,
Lotus flowers of Anahata, the fourth primary chakra,
Primordial, untainted perfection, heart-centered, and
cosmic sound, free from karmic physical wounds,
free from craving defilements to attain the luminous mind.
Free to sacrifice all, for Buddhahood in each sentient being.
Free to offer great love, compassion, and empathetic joy.
And how similar is such a bodhisattva
to a Christian Savior and a God?
Fractals.
Spawn of iterating quadratic functions.
Choreographers of cosmic conjunctions.
Impervious to human dysfunctions.
Makers of multiverses. Encoders of creations.
Limited only by imaginations.
Recursive. Coercive. Immensely immersive.
Purveyors of poetic creative cursive.
With formative fractals you’ll melt your mind’s shackles
and be anywhere that you may want to be.
You can form fractals to your own reality,
and make anything in the sky or the sea.
You can even repurpose them to poetry …
Yes, if
fractals were dactyls they’d flow off the page,
whirling and twirling, sublime.
Freeing us, being us, thoughts disengage,
teasing and pleasing with rhyme,
reaping the rhythms of time.
From mundane equations that yet yield complex
repetitive patterns that please and perplex,
come fractals so beautiful in all respects.
Constructors of coastlines and snowflake concerns,
foundries for forests, and feathers, and ferns,
the deeper you dive they have more twists and turns.
Generators of patterns, like veins in a leaf,
and the branches of trees, shapes of every motif.
Look around, everywhere, there are fractals, good grief!
From the large to the small and still smaller they flow,
simple patterns repeating, yet different, you'll know
that there’s just no escaping the great fractal show.
So, let’s face them, embrace them, we’ll host history.
Let us master them, plaster them, I guarantee:
merge your mind into fractals, you’ll set your soul free.
Reconstructed 3/22/2021, for the FRAGMENTS OF VERSE Poetry Contest, sponsored by John Lawless
Jungle clamour
Banter twisted like vines
Lions with psyche scars
Monkeys as crackpot sleuths
Snakes in a labyrinth guise
Parrots preen an oily beauty
Giraffes creak in rumpled posture
Immersive labelling
My colleagues salivate slippery ambition
Pre-occupied with image
Our digital frontier, computer glitches
Terrain fighting, coffee muted
Hidden fracturing
Beasts that claw parchment cubicles
Self propelled advancement, perpetually out of reach
Few scraps of conscience
Strong scents prevail
All of us are watchers
seeding what cannot be grasped
spirited wishing
to pass beyond our bars
to re-write uncaged narratives
Poem composed: February 23, 2021