Long Impressions Poems
Long Impressions Poems. Below are the most popular long Impressions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impressions poems by poem length and keyword.
Fade-in to darkness
Blink slow, quicker ... eyes open
Still dark, but I can't go back to sleep again
I WON'T!
I feel like death ...
Exhausted, and such dysphoria
Oh, to go back into slumber and never wake again
Just to be free of this horrific feeling
But Life tugs ... just enough
Vague impressions of struggling
Gulping for breath ...
Heart beating through my chest to get air
Broken, fading memories of nightmares, deep
Dreams of drowning, being choked ...
Roped from a tree and swaying
Dangling feet twitching with my final gasps ...
Or sinking slowly ...
Tumbling into the abyss
Rays of sunlight light pillars
I grab for them, futile, as I swallow water
And fade into the cold depths ...
Or giant, sharp-nailed hands around my throat
Squeezing slowly as a sick grimace contorts and twists
Its cold breath spit in my face
Cartilage in my neck snapping, crunching
My breaths slowing ... gone.
Never exactly the same
But always the same outcome ...
NO AIR ... and struggle
Then waking to this depression and fatigue
So intense that I wish for my end
But responsibility forces me to rise ... again
And slowly ... slowly ... slowly ...
I feel a bit better
Say a prayer for the day
And hope that maybe ...
Maybe tonight ...
My apnea won't be quite as bad
Or the dreams ...
As terrifying.
* FIRST PLACE in the "Morning Ritual" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Sponsor. *
Sickle moon gray above the waves
The quiet directionless wind
On the earth, and in the sky above
A veil is drawn, cutting into dark spots
Slowly round and round,
Murals are etched into the sand
The statue waits with eyes unblinking
Silent wonder, solitary armless stone
Twisted, counter-pose, forever fixed,
Wonder, what does she see under water?
Rusty bows and sterns, shipwrecks,
Silvery fish fluttering in and out of hulls, a
graveyard outside hallowed ground
Archway, the great doors dark and closed
Murky, wet light pours in vaulted windows
Through water-worn edges of stained glass
Seaweed tendrils curl around an altar
Once, quiet processions marched up the aisle
They are now only filtered ghosts,
Murmuring, wavy impressions of what was
Forever, the tide calls upon the great steeple
And the lonely under-toe,
Pulls a mote in the sand around her,
To protect the bastion in the sea,
Dark, lovely, lost forever to those above
"feeling whole"
waking to songbirds and sunrise
the morning starts in a harmonious way
as curtains unfold the world opens wide
with each taste of dawn flavor instills
allowing me to breathe feeling whole
looking to moving skies I see shades of blue
perfectly in between are trends of white
such colors tell the world all is right
such impressions last and live inside
still I breathe feeling whole
in my four corners of this venturous life
darkened clouds have no place to fall
only the sun showing a new day will do
her warmth and light will lead the way
allowing me to breathe feeling whole
SkyWatcher
02-16-18
hello
below are three separate entries
may this day find you well
thank you
"the beauty of life"
show us such beauty of life
a running horse who is free
an angelic bird who sings
a love that is forever real
take us to the worlds of
sky with suns and moons
sea with illuminating reflections
earth with colors of the rainbow
have us feel the richness of life
let us witness every creation
have them embedded in our souls
let them reach us with open eyes
SkyWatcher
04-21-24
"moonlit blues"
skies of night
with illuminating stars
you open an entire world
reflective far and wide
yet close within reach
we breathe grace
until the break of dawn
high above a wondrous realm
reigning guidance and light
moonlit blues softly sail
revealing extraordinary life
we savor amazement
radiant are skies of night
stunning are moonlit blues
SkyWatcher
04-23-24
"more than a feeling"
more than a feeling
our insides awaken
riding nowhere yet
everywhere within winds
the impressions are infused
holding life to our souls
and light to our hearts
nothing measures nor compares
a bond of horse and rider
forever one
everything embraced
everything trusted
looking to each other
including the feel of love
not understood by most yet
greatly touched by passion
SkyWatcher
04-29-24
In shoes with their laces untied, a picture frame with image faded,
in a hotel room whose guest is dust, a drawer, empty, but for rusted pins.
In the letter that you never reply to, the bin not emptied,
in a phoneline disconnected, a priest flockless - no sermon to utter.
You got up from the dinner table and told me to wash the dishes.
I put them in the sink but left them, neglected, and the memory
of you hardened, crusted. I told myself I’d scrub them when you
came back. Flakes float in greasy water like leaves aimless
in a puddle, the suds lamely lapping at burnt leftovers - a
tired ocean current feigning interest in destroying castles.
In a kettle without water boiled, a car seat with no belt,
an artist’s palette blank, a notebook with no impressions of thought.
The deaf person’s signing without hands, in the umbrella without ribs,
in calendars void of days, a clock with hands counting backwards,
trapped in the amber of time. A mosquito caught in a tree’s sap.
In the meadow where memories softly grow,
Waves of grasses tenderly bend and blow.
Underneath the sky’s endless, azure sea,
Memories dance, free and jubilantly.
Wildflowers, vibrant with stories old and new,
Spring from the soil where once they grew.
Each petal a passage from days gone by,
Whispering tales beneath the open sky.
The willow weeps, a cascade of gentle time,
Singing softly in its melancholy rhyme.
Its branches whisper of loves, lost and found,
As they sway above the memory-kissed ground.
Here, footprints of yesterdays subtly lay,
Impressions of moments, not faded away.
Ghosts of laughter echo in the serene,
Where the past and present beautifully convene.
A brook murmurs tales as it endlessly flows,
Through fields where the memory-wind blows.
Its waters caress stones, worn and smooth,
Polished by time’s unrelenting, gentle soothe.
The daisies nod under the sun’s gentle light,
Guardians to dreams held softly in the night.
In this field, the memories weave and intertwine,
Creating a tapestry, simultaneously yours and mine.
In the gentle embrace of the meadow’s arms,
One finds peace amidst its timeless charms.
For in every blade, blossom, and the buzzing bee,
Resides a fragment of our shared, cherished history.
May we visit this place, quiet and divine,
To converse with memories in the space, they enshrine.
In the meadow, let your spirit gently roam,
Amongst the memories, a place to call home.
Oh, how erred
the impressions of a life can be ...
we humans, with our lofty views of acumen,
pride ourselves on distinguishing a creature's habits
by merely appraising its footmarks in the sand.
And yet we fail to estimate the full relevance
of the imprints WE leave behind,
and what may be assumed by them,
right or wrong or indifferent.
Looking back, I try to focus on a pattern -
My prints in the muck ...
the only true wisdom gleaned
from an irreverent, sullied journey, is this:
such an existence,
while oft' feigning the emblems
Of mystery, adventure, and passion -
while sometimes gaining a wisdom of the dark
that only a burning ardor for the eventide can accord -
and while flesh and marrow may come to savor
the sublime anguish of extremes -
Such a life is NOT romantic,
or charming,
or even enviable ...
whatever bleeding typewriters may say
to the contrary.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Strand Select K Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Life is an interesting phenomenon
Everyone talks about it.
But who knows about it completely?
Is it so difficult to be fathomed?
Having said that it’s not bizarre to comprehend.
All scriptures teach the logics of life.
But the journey of life provides one to make it out better.
If so, why should we read those sacred teachings?
They are the documental evidences
Make us get convinced with what we experience.
But experience is not mandatory to learn so many things.
What does the pedestal of Ozymandias speak?
But what is remained there?
The dangling hands of Alexander the Great teach the noblest truth.
The bloodshed of the Kalinga war transformed Asoka the Great.
Arishadvarga, the six enemies exist in every mind.
There is no exception to any mortal.
They stay in dormant state.
When evil impressions intensified, they unfurl their wings.
Fulfilling desires adds colors to life.
The more you want the more you get tangled and life becomes a Gordian tie.
"Desires are the root cause of all sufferings," Lord Buddha said.
We come and go with empty hands.
Give your best during your sojourn on this platform.
Agape love alone brings the lasting happiness.
Now that we are here
Let's carry forward the call -
“May Ben Adhem’s tribe increase!”
PLACED : 1st
Now that we are here Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 27-03-2023
Since Psychiatrists have lost their superficial reputation,
applied philosophy as metaphysical existents is the realization.
That ideology proofs the infinite potential of the mind,
by the soul enabled life force that provides all challenges behind.
Mental surface impressions making the mind to an emotional sponge,
whereas spiritual aspiration are the negating conscious for once.
The mental eye blinded by immediate result and satisfaction,
while the soul knows the purpose related determination.
Not given the real source enough attention introspective,
creating lost personalities in related circumstance respective.
The individual soul as part of cosmic consciousness,
create the prowess of the involution of karmic justice.
The mental disorder is the lack of true intuitive perception,
the logic contaminated mind as handicapped conception.
Digging deep into profundity is nothing new,
ancient theories provide lots to ponder on and to chew.
Mindology just another name for the same problem,
peoples superficial thinking and not getting to the bottom.
Cinematography of Chaos
Cinematic impressions, climatic sort of dream,
upgraded to pathetic, idiocracies new theme.
Temperament unadjustable,sleets of snow heat wave,
melted in unhappiness, metaphorical life slave...
Mind divisioned split end irreversible destination,
the ends split, nowhere fits, ageless in estimation.
Sightseeing with psychtoherapy,crawl deeper, farther within,
Creative Chaos called Manarchy, the evil mannequin!