Long Impulse Poems
Long Impulse Poems. Below are the most popular long Impulse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Impulse poems by poem length and keyword.
Hope waits for cheer, hope waits for joy;
Ink a fond rhyme, ink a grand line;
Ask truth to steer, ask love to toy;
Trust beyond time, trust beyond fine;
Urge hurls verse here, urge trends new ploy;
See merge of chimes, see flow of wine.
Hide your sad tears, hide your harsh pains;
Indulge your heart, indulge your soul;
Attempt good cheer, attempt new strain;
Trust feel you start, trust thought you hold;
Undo right here, undo the vain;
Sense end of art, sense end of cold.
Heal your sad pain, heal your refrain;
Invite pure grace, invite sure will;
Allow disdain, allow complaint;
Touch hurting space, touch wounded feel;
Use senses plain, use impulse slain;
Speed hiatus' pace, speed piquant deal.
Leon Enriquez
23 Apr 2014
Singapore
The Game remains the same,
blame the law enforcers for acting on impulse,
or blame the law abiding citizens for reacting only when destiny's overflowing cup of disdain reaches Mozeltov!
Still I remain unchanged!
Even with the whips and chains,
that have only leveled to flashbangs and fire brigades ..
Life only seems to repeat itself and the game still remains unchanged.
How can you claim that you need to see change,
when your entire mindset still remains the same.
How do you even begin to deconstruct systematic oppressive logic,
even though the entire system still remains so toxic.
When will we all be able to acknowledge that 'when the foundation of a log cabin rots,
it's only a matter of time before the entire structure crumbles' .
In order to to finally deal with a problem like Systematic Racism we need to begin from the root of the problem.
I wish to see the day that human beings actually stand together and unite under one race,
that day that my children's children happily embrace the fact that,
for the first time it didn't take a mutual sorrow to cause distant brothers and sisters to unite.
Then that day the cries of joy will sing, "The Game Has Finally Changed!"
earth bound, desires twirl us around
looking to heavens, feet on ground
cyclic joy and pain, cause of fear
afraid to lose, what we hold dear
joy in permanence, never found
illumined sages speak of soul
scriptures affirm we may be whole
feeling complete, with bliss replete
each fellow being, with love greet
we decide to make God our goal
we look within, at head and heart
throbs divergent, they stand apart
our ego spawned thoughts spiralling
obvious cause of suffering
thus our life anew, we restart
we follow not any doctrine
simply, our head and heart align
ceasing to size, we vaporise
delighting in each life surprise
choosing the path of love divine
heart is where each impulse begins
cry when we lose, laugh when we win
yet heart invites Gods miracles
bliss renewal ineffable
provided we be free of sin
no sooner we shift, clear light dawns
erst fears and desires, are both gone
within our heart, Gods love awaits
to throb of bliss, our soul gyrates
Gods loving touch, sees us reborn
moment to moment, we thus flow
magnetised with an inner glow
pulsating within, day and night
our open secret, in plain sight
loving equally, friend and foe
narrow mind cannot understand
our heart uplifted by Gods hand
we would, if we could, our joy share
each soul must themselves with love pair
soul transcending to pastures grand
15-July-2021
Touch My Heart Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Going back for just one more…
A drink, a pill, a thrill
Going back to discover the arousal
Flowing through arteries
Veins with a crimson flood
Of stirring compulsions
Complicating the silent thoughts
Of one who is hooked
On the drink, pill, thrill
The artificial joy that leads
A heart toward self-destruction
Going back for just one more…
Idea that fills the spirit
With a sort of feigned joy
Inspiring feelings of fake
Happiness that colors moments
In hues of ebony sorrow
Wicked pretenses brought to life
Amid lonely silence and fright
That lives within the one who
Listens to the synthetic ritual
Learned when the craving consumes
Going back for just one more..
Phony feeling of hope
Lingering on the haunted mind
Of one who heeds the impulse
Leading to using again and again
Taking all that the feeling gives
With a lingering ache for a chance
To loose the pain and sorrow
Within the false stimulation
Of a drink, a pill – a thrill
That leaves you yearning for
Just one more!
Blank note book page:
Wait on wild scribbles,
Wait for deep rage,
Wait for new squiggles.
Style words of poise:
Scribble fleeting stuff,
Stream sensuous voice,
Signal some odd bluff.
Each leaf a whole:
Waiting impulse finds,
Waiting nude soul,
Waiting pulse that binds.
Some sketchy notes:
Ink stains scrawl ideas,
Crisp and clear totes,
Brief moments sans fear.
Wonder why here:
Wait on pending spills,
Wait for fresh cheer,
Wait for random feel.
Symbols and signs:
Thought in wavy dots,
Plot squeaks align,
Slot happy brisk jot.
Blank spiral sheet:
Meta-form prompts more,
Nude naked beat;
Can odd touch slurp more?
Leon Enriquez
14 September 2017
Singapore
We watch in wonderment, light dawn in us,
even as we rest in peaceful repose,
distanced from thought forms, designed to nonplus
our caged consciousness, fragrant like a rose.
God dwells in our heart, ego in the head
and we have been given freedom to choose,
by which impulse we prefer to be led,
shaping our life upon which we then cruise.
If truth be the filter distilling thought,
God’s will is enacted by us on earth,
elixir of love untying heart’s knot,
whence we surf waves of fate bubbling in mirth.
Silence is the path we’ve embarked upon ~
With each breath intake, we’re again reborn
With each breath intake, we’re again reborn,
looking neither back nor ahead in time,
outcomes any, nonchalant is our yawn,
since there are no peaks which we wish to climb.
As the light of God ensouling this form,
body-mind is but like a car we drive,
thus with strobes of love and light we conform
and with pure intent, flame of truth revive.
Content as we are, there is no seeking,
for we are a dweller of the vast void,
heeding whispers of God, in us speaking,
obeying which, delusion is destroyed.
Rebel, a nerd, we follow not the herd ~
For us, Om is God’s gong, His holy word
us, Om is God’s gong, His holy word,
a throb that arises all on its own,
divine magnetism by which nodes are stirred,
benediction bestowed on us alone.
Suffused with cool heat from head till our feet,
we slowly begin to metamorphose,
aligning presence to the cosmic beat,
dance of delight, striking a joyful pose.
In timeless time when ego has capsized,
transcending space-time, we as living light,
meet God face to face and truth’s realised,
becoming the flame that banishes night.
God’s touch is love; we’ve boarded His bliss bus ~
We watch in wonderment, light dawn in us
Me : Where are you?
Muse : I’m in the niche you made for me new.
Me : I was missing you, what were you doing?
Muse : I was sleeping.
Me : It had been for a long while.
Muse : Yes, you let me hibernate while you walked
in the wasteland many a mile.
Me : I had awful time mired in mundane misgivings
quite a few.
Muse : But you used to be imaginative, marveling at the
beauty of nature, making you creative.
Me : I seemed to have lost the VIVGYOR vision, not active.
Muse : Don’t worry, I’m awake now, take you on the
poetic journey in the garden you walked before.
Me : Yes, I remember. It’s the spring time now,
my garden is blooming, enticing me to write
a poem on roses I adore.
(Thus, my poetic impulse returned)
_________________
December 8, 2022
Contest : Dialogue Proficiency
Sponsored by : Matt Caliri
COMMONPLACE VI
Off beam,along the circles rim then
a creative impulse on the spur of
the moment drops of poetic essence
spontaneous and prolific from the
workings of the heart to distil into
another’s mind.A painting with
words uttered one by one an
experience of the wind &rain
of ordinary life.This intimate
invitation to stroll within &
behind the veil,’neath inspiration’s
triumphal arch,there to share and
participate in the raw reality of the
creative drive of another.A vision
enhanced by mutual experience
of each.One thing leads to another,
translating awareness of new &
deeper meaning.Time germinates
the empathy orchestrates the
chords as together we explore
new world’s of the poetic.
From Retrospective a commonplace book 2009
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
The sun's a majestic and radiant power
And all it caresses is warmed by its kiss.
It revives each day with a new beginning,
But in evening, succumbs to twilight's dim bliss...
To be bright and radiant as the rising sun,
Yet glow soft as the sunset when day is done.
The moon, such a solemn and lonely sphere
Lays like a jewel on the velvet of night;
A defined silhouette on the darkness of sky,
Reflecting a tranquil, but mysterious light...
To be bold and cool as the moon's icy spark,
Yet meek as the shadows that hide in the dark.
A breeze playfully stirs in the fresh morning air
As it travels its way unhindered and free,
At impulse can turn into a gale of a wind—
A determined master of the land and the sea...
To be childlike and free as a soft summer breeze,
Yet impelling and strong as a wind felling trees.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: Premiere Summer
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 06/18/2017
~1st Place~
Contest: Whispers of Your Soul
Sponsor: Gail Angel Doyle
Judged 01/09/2015
I was influenced by Basil Fawlty
that sarcastic humour really caught me
inappropriate rude crude and naughty
humour against stress which haunts me
I'm the sort some assume a dim bulb
even the spoons make a sharper knife
impulsive projections cause eyes to roll
a daily custom always part of my life
and yet people fail to see the sea
over there between the land and the sky
for the Wildebeest sweeping majestically
as though impulse is a thoughts finish line
I know nothing about the horse
a witnit flying pig in the water tank
thoughts follow impulse of course
my brain is working you Fawlty blank
That wasn't the fire alarm
yet it causes you to get gobby
you're Major with a firearm
shooting starlings in the lobby
So who wins these bloody mind games anyway
wound up telling me stop talking about the war
which they started when Poland saw an invade
"is this a piece of your brain?" as i pick dust up off the floor
A false sense which makes them hopeful
becomes a trip to see India at the Oval
they don't see the rat in me called Basil
biscuits cheese and a Lord Mulberry puzzle
I'm a good lad
a Waldorf Salad
the chef's gone home
rooms without baggage
if you can't hear me turn it on
blind with glasses on your head
you put my door in a load baring wall
"Hello Major" the Moose once said
i sit there for years doing nothing
when i actually need it for flames you place
and i have to use my brain and think
the bloody think will explode in your face
I know how to address stupid
even if i often appear confused
my small back road is your M1
and with quick wit I've won.