Long Imminence Poems
Long Imminence Poems. Below are the most popular long Imminence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Imminence poems by poem length and keyword.
It is said that the world is quite strong.
When we both agreed, we were wrong.
But systemic risk leads to a spare call.
And it makes life hazy, as we shall.
When weak surfeit fulfills incisive inquiry,
the diction is made utterly dull and wiry.
Implied options for a farewell gathering
The effect is similar to lathering.
A dreadful jester with mixed craziness.
When guilt clouds your eyesight, haziness
A genuine illusion and a shaky submission
You are vigilant in the face of recognition
Lacking a faithful foe as a recent symbol,
To a mindset that is wrong at its core.
For the moral majority, act proudly humble,
to develop skills in each particular sector.
While skilled amateurs and realistic untaught,
assist fetch harmony to the dissonance.
This reliable test incites calm unthought.
That is aimed straight at the outer imminence.
It requires steadfast cynicism and rustic grace,
so as to withstand this negative preening.
And sway away from school without a trace,
to allow the word "normal" a fresh meaning.
Written: September 29, 2022
but there standeth one among you, whom ye know not;
He wakes and walk with you,
His breath gives you Life,
He fashioned you in the womb,
He saw You soaked in your blood,
form conception to the birth.
I give Life he whispers.
the creator of the universe,
walk his earth in every home,
He kept you still, though a rebel you remain,
with entreaties beckoning in love,
Open to me Your impenitent heart,
I am the Way, the Truth and The Life.
Your fickle frame you hold so dear,
and bid Him come another day,
His mercies kept and keeps you still,
while others as young and virile
passing the vale into eternity
Live Live, Bruised for thee.
Dispel your impenitent heart and seek Jesus,
see the imminence of the doom,
bow to the Judge and Let Him in,
Even You can come.
For His cross admit the worst.
"Let me in" I'll give you rest
Tonight, I sit watching ebony skies
feeling the need for silence and seclusion
admiring the glitter and glimmer of stars
before one by one they disappear.
There's no solace found
when one loses luster and then dies.
As its twinkling torchlight flickers,
I drink deeply of its beauty.
In this haunting darkness of night
the taunting of its dimming light
once twilight's tattered tint loses its glint,
a star makes way for the moon to take flight.
I fear the imminence of its daunting death,
the last gasp of celestial breath
as it outshines the galaxy
before its flaming core collapses.
Suddenly, the night grows cold
and dire darkness holds reign
but not from a lofty throne.
Luna's halo has lost its glow.
How stark becomes the emptiness
where a star once heavenly hung.
It's not an illusion of pain...
I feel it as I feel the chill of winter rain.
It's as if into a black hole of stellar mass
it passes through mordant shadows
and I, although I fear the dark
would light a spark as it leaves
and time travel with it as luminance dulls.
If only wings were allowed mere mortals,
the portal they enter, I would breach
to reach its final resting place.
Sometimes, it seems as if in dreams
I follow where faded stars go to die.
Entering the depths of an abyss
from which they are not reborn.
I shiver while watching them flutter
the last pulsing beats
of dying hearts sputter
in demise before my eyes...
never to return to celestial skies.
A somber thought enters my soul,
that soon each dying star will depart
its shimmer veiled then extinguished
as if snuffed because of its beauty.
Stars should not be doomed to dwell
in skies with holes of desolation.
I mourn with miserable melancholy,
the glorious grandeur of its light
each time I see a fading star,
languishing as its journey ends.
A cry escapes my pouting lips
for all that's left of its existence
is stardust clinging to my fingertips.
Mother Earth
We all share this green planet we call earth
We all have been here since our date of birth
We all are guests on this planet we call home
We all are given this gift we neglect to atone
She gives us the air we breathe to sustain all of life’s continuance
She gives us the sky above, shelter from abysmal space imminence
She gives us variances in all of her terrains, many places and wonders
She gives us stability beneath our feet to grow, explore and wander
We rape all of her resources and consume them at will
We have been doing this for years, and continue this still
We pollute all her air, her lakes, her rivers and her streams
We live at the precipice of disaster, yet do nothing it seems
I am in awe of her beauty, her resilience, her strength
I am aware of all the damage that we all inflict at length
I am consumed with the fear, all we love and cherish may come to an end
I am confused that we, her guests on this planet, are not a better friend
Ask yourself this question, what can I, just one person do to help, to save
Ask yourself, have I been one of many that have consumed the all she gave
Ask yourself, have I been a true friend to her lands, a true human being
Ask yourself, do I take personal responsibility for all I have been seeing
Mother Earth, my deepest apologies
Eyeball god in mouth
Ostara?...Dio?...Luna? ...
Is light as hunger for colors?
Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings
shameful man with erect cock -- sighing sex
in his heart -- a crack, deep and wide!
Black Hole!
Punk rock for a Black Hole!
Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood!
Like a ***** universe all of our pornographic desires
moments of starving stars and **** stars!
An eyeless god living in a glass tube with hearts
like hot flashes in heat-blasted rooms!
Pulsing pimples -- swirling while a midnight sky
brings forth a cacophony of cosmic screams!
More impassioned raw-animal! More barking!
more vibrations -- more imminence!
More sinewy limbs on show -- I'm looking at --
lifeless grey body but voracious pink face!
It licks and whimpers, suckles and sucks!
Shall I become a statue again? -- glazed face with eyes
sheers-white in precession of Venus?
Hey! Taint! Milk it!
:: 11.12. 2020 ::
Written: August 5, 2026, for a contest by Brian Strand
*******************
Artist Synopsis: Inspired by Edvard Munch, this ekphrastic work explores "The Sick Child," depicting a mother at her bedridden daughter's bedside.
her pallor smolders with fever
ethereal star ensnared
flickering amidst orbs
in hospital harsh haunted husk
her mother's vigil-worn hands
charting the astral lattice
each breath a star-shivered
seraphic benison—
soft-spun in starry status
ceiling cannot c o n s o l e
painter stands at the threshold
brush astral-shivered presciently
nebula silhouette of imminence
his sister's silence
moon-murmur mantled in mind mist
mother ministering miasma
mirrored in her mute mothering
blue room breathes its borrowed time—
but no hours borne in benediction
but layers brittle... blooming...
memory manifold memory
until astral air—
harbors hard-to-handle hazy halo
painter revisits bedside vigil
consecrating grief in cobalt
then cerulean
then ultramarine,
until silence found its color—
until blue could bear
what blood could not
child tilts toward our blue hush
pale as fledgling frostlight
her gaze a frail... flickering... frontier
fetching farewell & forever
between earth and art
behind her... mother bends
like a prayer half-remembered—
pale benediction blooming in the blue hush
everything falling—
time... breath... hope...
blooming downward
like frost-born f e a t h e r s
this is how grief becomes light—
not healed... nor forgiven...
but given enduring form,
a luminous presence
that outlives the hour
outlives its own pale hush
blue room bears witness
bright with buried breath
bereavement becomes blessing
& flame forbids forgetting
a fathomless... fire-forged haven
where ephemeral... evanescent eternity
embarked on an eternal expedition
summoned silently... sketched in stillness...
where silence
found its forever in g l o w
Written: September 25, 2023
__________________________________________________________
Deep in the realm of nature, a raging inferno
A power that was blazing for eons, a volcano
It is always there, on the verge of imminence.
It will sing and act for plenty across Providence.
Shrill cries of the toadflax, as sounds in the night,
Whispering secrets upon the ash-covered sight.
Petals of vibrant shades, ablaze with life
As the fire rages on, its flames spawn strife.
The wind carries its messages far and wide.
A scent of pine wood wafts on the ember side.
An unparalleled sense of power imminence.
In the midst of a warm embrace and eminence
It writes its chapters among a million stars.
Flapping in the breeze, carrying the scars
The pooled image vaults and historic tomes
Rooms loosened with worth, cups of roams.
The natural world's walls are akin to a scroll.
The mind-roaming eye captures control.
Praying hearts caught as a leaf in the wind.
Months spent taking solace via lap of mind
One of the first officers to venture door to door.
Lost troops who drove amid peak fires that occur.
The edge is rimmed with undulating brilliance.
Wise lands contain the key to valuing endurance.
To a fire-forged past, a narrative carved in time.
The might of nature is shown by undying rime.
During darkest nights and most severe storms
It stands towering and sturdy, a symbol of reform.
It remains unwavering in the face of adversity.
It understands its flames have power worthily.
To be reborn and renewed as rising out of fire.
Eternal flames, a testament to nature's dire
Tonight I’m in my element
I sense the power surging
To place of imminence
Taking control
I will whisper my demands
Into your soul
You will be transformed, Woman
I will make you
The Mistress of the Night
I start my transformation
By visiting your lips
I cherry stain them
I enable them to turn seductress
With a smile to beguile, I grace you
You will part them to whisper
Words that will render him weak
Helpless at your feet
I will bless your lips
Tonight I’m in my element
I will tangle my beauty in your hair
Leaving my essence in it
The virgin softness of silk
The scent of summer dreams
The strength of the bonds of love
The flowing movements of liquid passion
His hands will feel my presence
Drawn to these tresses
I will move them
To touch and caress
And at my height of domination
His hands will tug and pull
His lips taste the strands
Inhaling me…
Listen, I am Desire
I Speak
I am in my element
Let me caress your form, woman
Your skin I will soak with my wine
Spilling myself all over you
To make you sweet to his taste
His tongue will be filled with me
As his mouth takes you in and travels
To those places where I lead
For I know your form well
And what pleases you
With essence that inebrites
Your navel will hold him for a while
Until I move him to taste inside
Cherry sweetness of my smile
Opened wide
I am in my element
I am Desire
I speak
Woman,
I have visited and ravished you
You still quiver from my touch
I've empowered you
Made you a goddess
A Goddess of love
A Passion Queen
Conquer him and subjugate
For I am Desire
I demand it
Remember my name
You will cry it out in ecstasy
When you come into your glory
When I am fulfilled
I will quietly leave
Like a soft evening breeze
Until I visit you again
I now kiss your lips
Where his taste still lingers.
Eileen Manassian
Form: Tanka
Passion for what still exists
Phonon of ones fists
Durance of eclectic hours
Fire on the hell gone towers
Phenomenon is.
Formality for passion
Lacks it's existence
For it's agnostic purpose
Keeps as moving in a sense
keeps as running fast.
Now we are talking about a synthesis
Signifying why all the resulting heat
Actually its how we make sense to all this
Not talking about the fire they burned at feet
For his true imminence does no wickedness
His light shines complete while darkness retreats
What will 's shall be, always will this be
That is the nature of existence
a chemical reaction insistence
The Maker imparts the mystery of Messiah.
Many imagine him as a militant,
mighty and masterful, yet He’s meek and mild
The Messiah becomes Minister.
He mixes with the materialistic mob and remains moral.
merciful, mystifying, simple
The Minister becomes Mediator.
He multiplies meals, calms madness and mends miseries.
model of submission and amnesty
The Mediator becomes Master.
He motivates men to mourn their meager mindsets and motives.
Messenger, Example, Redeemer
The Master will become the Millennial Monarch.
His dominion unmatched in merit and majesty.
infinite, immortal, supreme
The Monarch is manifested more and more, moment by moment.
Mortal men must move to maturity in kingdom matters and
like the smart maids maintain lamps primed for his imminence