Long Incertitude Poems
Long Incertitude Poems. Below are the most popular long Incertitude by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Incertitude poems by poem length and keyword.
Incertitude
Who am I...?
Am I the first born son, emanating from a fire of passion?
Am I the long lost hope, rekindled, ravenous in the eyes of my forebears?
Am I the caressed cocoon, spun out of love and compassion?
Whose silken threads, entice and embellish the vain vanity of its wanton wearers?
Am I a prodding prodigy,
Aimed at excelling in every sphere ?
Am I, a porous sponge, meant to absorb every single human emotion, a mortal can bear?
Am I a doted upon enduring exemplar or a doomed ephemeral effigy?
Am I the mellow and musky mist, exuding from a bare bosom?
Am I the naive, reticent lover, imperfect, yet dearest to my beloved?
Am I the longing in her eyes, a hypnotic hum?
Am I mere an object of desire- usurped, used, seduced, shoved?
Would I be another mere mortal among the countless thriving throng?
Lashed by grief, aged by time, thwarted by fear and smitten by love?
Would I be a forgotten fable or a perennial song?
Would I be remembered as -
A peacock- proud of its plumage,
An Owl- sombre yet subtle , of a lettered lineage,
A nightingale-serenading a song touching the core ,
A mystic bird from an ancient lore,
or , a dove – cygnet soft , gentle sitting on an alcove?
Oh Time! Tarry! A little,
Before I transcend from this world to the other,
Hark ! I plead, solve this riddle.
Oh Wind! Carry away my doubts to the omniscient;
Rush against all odds, be it a mighty mountain or a rampant ridge.
Time is running, I dread to lose myself in this mystic maze,
Oh Almighty! Accept my venerations to you my liege,
Enlighten me , before my mortal remains is set ablaze.
-Saptarshi Mukherjee
Find places for meditation,
a strawberry path leading
to mysterious backwoods...
hear the woodpeckers
drilling through bark,
how frightening they are at dusk!
Meet the jolly woodscutter
gathering the fallen trunks
of cherry oak for a winter's fire...
or for furniture like coffetables and desks;
have you ever seen his fine workmanship?
Find places for meditation
on a breezy shore in early evening,
marvel at the spectable
so radiant and soothing, quenching
your spirit as woodwinds start a quadrille!
No witless clown is allowed
to spoil the fun of beachgoers, humor pravails
and draws crowds to the boardwalk;
catch the glow of wonder on every kid's face...
as those clowns amuse and deliriously laugh!
Find places for meditation,
in the quitest cathedral or chapel to revive your entity,
and prayers murmured by the sof-glowing candles
renew your belief and trust in the Almighty...
in such a holy place, angels are found by the thousands!
Extreme peace overhelms your thoughts of victorious love
exulting in the vespers' hymns played by the loud organ
above the incense-burning altar of glacial marble;
humbly pray and flee incertitude and damnation...
the incantation is being broken and incapacitated by your will!
Find places of meditation
by a calm river feeding its waters to the distant sea,
making your vessel of hope reach it's destination;
someone will wait to board it and start a stupendous dream;
and dream you must to end your string of defeats!
after the sky drops.
The walking corpses come out
the veil of night masks
the decay
the rot
of humanity
Plague of the earth.
Found from the ashes
My phoenix we bled
Has she ever
thought love between
us, inside
her, filled up an empty bed.
No longer bereft,
somnolence
and love drowns my head.
Convalescent
Bemire emotion
I wash and rinse
what is left,
asking what we are
if no longer
dead?
Gold from lead.
The lifting sky
Our connubial affair.
The truths, I face,
we share,
She Said.
"when will it die?"
closing empty space
A diffident devotion
Within her embrace
a softly recited
poem unread
berceuse
tantric lullaby
healing the blighted
fading destiny to refuse
to claim or to lose.
An onus I malinger..
to choose.
Execration
of an inner fatalist
hopeless abuse.
Quantum entanglement
schismatic resentment
prepossessed
inspiring muse
of the alchemists
A bibulous creation
intimate turpitude.
sovereignty
asunder this hell
her orbit with abaddon.
Dissolution
her need to dispel
incertitude.
Inordinate.
Gravity well
collapsing in on itself
eternal
infinite
end
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Find places for meditation,
a strawberry path leading
to mysterious backwoods;
hear the woodpeckers drill through bark...
how frightening they are at dusk!
Meet the jolly woodscutter
gathering the fallen trunks
of cherry oak for a winter's fire...
or for furniture like coffee tables and desks;
have you ever seen his fine workmanship?
Find places for meditation
on a breezy shore in early evening,
marvel at the spectable
so radiant and soothing, quenching
your spirit as woodwinds start a quadrille!
No witless clown is allowed
to spoil the fun of beachgoers, humor pravails
and draws crowds to the boardwalk;
catch the glow of wonder on every kid's face...
as those clowns amuse them and deliriously laugh!
Find places for meditation,
in the quitest cathedral or chapel to revive your entity,
and prayers murmured by the soft-glowing candles
renew your belief and trust in the Almighty...
in such a holy place, angels are found by the thousands!
Extreme peace overhelms your thoughts of victorious love
exulting in the vespers' hymns played by the loud organ
above the incense-burning altar of glacial marble;
humbly pray and flee incertitude and damnation...
the incantation is being broken and incapacitated by your will!
Find places for meditation
by a calm river feeding its waters to the distant sea,
making your vessel of hope reach it's destination;
someone will wait to board it and start a stupendous dream;
and dream you must to end your string of defeats!
A Realization
Once upon a time, a baby was born
In a small town near the green mountains.
He was living life off from thorn.
Blessed! But he’s always in pains?
He had all that he desiderates;
…All sorts of visual things he named.
His life was viewed by people as perfect
But his jaundiced views were not tamed.
His conviction of what’s good from bad,
To obey his parents or his heart?
All “withins” conflicted realities;
But stood still gaining victories.
When he craved for peace and happiness
The world insinuated, “Gain degrees!”
He obeyed the world and “he” ‘til fitness
Has drawn. A striving man almost ceased!
The tour of uncertainties fastened.
Then, he was asymptotic to death.
“The search for realities is through- end?
What’s really real? To view death as faith?”
When he was fighting for his lone life,
He search again what was unanswered.
He screamed, “God…God… are… are you alive?
Before this ends, be real! You’re unheard!”
He suddenly filled like stone from above.
The sound of ambulance was heard.
Its sound was like freedom of a dove?
Or it sounded like death- we always feared?
A sad month passed by just like a jerk.
There was no hope and nothing to hope!
One single night reality was torqued.
He shouted, “God is real!” and woke!
And from then on the doubtful boy was fixed.
All his incertitude was vanished.
A renewed life after a heavy rain?
Or rainbow after reality finding?
Dedicated for my true friend, Pokey the puppy
I have a friend tempered in anxiousness of speed indeed-
He runs, jumps, and adjusts to my manner uncannily-
A good friend is he who waits, in time and fate, for me in kind patience-
His intent, at times, as I see and unbeknownst to him, is non other than to be fed-
I watch him and he I through our anthropomorphic conscientious percipience-
I ask myself, as always I always do, if he has slight of sentience in self-
My friends form of expression queerly questions my countenance in sensibility-
Which may or may not have some truth, for his truth is held in stealth-
I have over the years attempted to lessen him in art of literature-
Although at times he seems to acknowledge this by peeing on our praised favorites-
By all means I consider him more an emotional compartan compared to my kind-
He never regrets or resents me for unfairly failing notice to my dear friend-
Maybe he ponders events by incertitude, though expressions neither deny or confirm-
Though his actions always denotes incentive aspects of verbs, he chooses not to read
I infer a conclusion that we only differ in level of magnitude of consciousness-
For I know that he knows that I know he has some level of meta-cognition
By Mark Miller, An inner examination into our art of artificial selection.
Like a ghost I flitter through the night
keeping to the shadows
abhorring the light
Tears... Unrelenting grief
The night camouflages and no one can see
the shadow of the person that once was me
The day lays me bare with nowhere to hide
Where the raw pain and your memory collide
Agony... Unrelenting grief
Gone is the treasure of our history
Evidenced in this lonely debris
Only silence now
reminisces with me
Anguish....Unrelenting grief
A penned art on vellum once tied in velvet ribbon
What lies beneath me now the conclusion is written
Droplets of amber have spilled upon this page
They pool in the dirt here upon your grave
Desolation...Unrelenting grief
Remembering the touch of our feet
Fingertips on my shoulder your breath on my cheek
Early mornings recounting your dreams
25 years How oh how am I supposed to breathe
Heartbreak...Unrelenting grief
You took with you the heart of me
My glory my purpose my identity
You disappeared without a trace
Hide and seek in an unfamiliar place
Incertitude...Unrelenting Grief
Can you hear them cry
Oh Daddy why
Gut wrenching wails
Swollen eyes fail
Empty...Unrelenting grief
Till death do us part
My husband your bride
You parted I perished
With your suicide
Irrecoverable... Unrelenting grief
~ Though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~
~~ heartalways become the ~~
~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing he conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ As its validity moves me in my ~
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8CzFVm1Yio
~ and though reeling ~
~ amid the hour ~
~ of my dolor, I ~
~ still could not ~
~ concur with ~
~ those who ~
~ say "Passion ~
~~ is all together ~~
~ fruitless", because ~
~ mindful of this I know ~
~~~~ the acrimonious of ~~~~
~~~ heart always become the ~~~
~~ marionette of their abhorrence, ~~
and incertitude, as do the passionate
in their yielding to this certain way of
blamelessness and overt position of
~~~~~~~~~~ promise. ~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I say if it were not for Grace
time would furthermore offend,
but for sheer delight the days
each one run on to the next
while illustrious visions of
the divine they fill each
moment, when I begin
to look for the lowly
reflection of loves
tender purveyance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Furthering my resolve ...
and shoring up moreover this
truth, advancing the conscious
desire of Gods encouragement
for me, existent in the way of
this ever wholesome movement
and time of my transcendence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As its validity moves me in my
weary soul deeper and deeper ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~ within. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have shown her the worst that I could be but i don't think it wavered her love for me
I can't completely know but on this note is only right that more I sow
Everyday passes, she gives me more reason to let go of my problematic facets
Truth; i think i've been scared of getting hurt, so I built up a wall that limited my trust
She's hasn't given me a reason of incertitude, she's proven to have a heart of verisimilitude
I guess I have been holding back but not anymore, the cat's finally out of the bag
What more proof do I need, she's obviously the best person I've been blessed to meet
She sees me for who I am, understands me, appreciates me and still accepts me
Who does that these days? I guess I'm lucky I've found someone like that and she's bae
Her patience has been overwhelming and now in my heart, she is no doubt helming
Her level of understanding, I have underestimated but no more withstanding
I guess me always writing proves how she's interesting and how much she interests me
Sometimes saying I love her is not depth enough, cos more than any other person, she's beloved