Long Indented Poems

Long Indented Poems. Below are the most popular long Indented by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indented poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member The Now Continuum


Beneath the surface of the perceptive mortal senses
the mind nestles the buds of dreams it desires to see bloom.
Allured by avid aspirations into insipid ignorance,       
it suffers wandering in the wilderness of discontent. 

Under the convoluted layers of the mangled mind
languishes the servile soul at the impervious inner depth,
until enlightenment dawns with the light of the eternal truth,
building with dedicated spirit the holy linkage with the absolute.

Travelling on the enlightened pathway of devout life, 
an inward journey to the sacred sanctum of spirituality,
takes the soul to the ultimate destination of liberation,
where realization perceives the meaning of emotions.

The swirling currents of the vagrant mind
find the current course of intuitive introspection 
through the layers of consciousness,
dissipate in the shade beneath the divine lamp
that illumines the swathe of the dark acuity.

The soul then shines in the heavenly glow,
reflecting the patina of the perception lotus,
as the self-searching comprehensive odyssey ends
at the sanctified altar of supreme mindfulness.
Distanced from the thought-swamped past 
the merger configures awareness in the realm of now.

In the onyx night, the drizzle of argentine stardust,
symbolizing the sequins of sensual epithet  
of the vibrant existential melodic essence, 
adorns the pearl-laced waves of the rolling psychic sea,  
that spreads seamlessly to the baroque emotive shore 
though the bay of bliss of the musical mind, 
echoing the tune of the soulful symphony. 

The rain-washed sparkling sky of the new day,
enwrapped in the chromatic trellis of the rising sun, 
spreads the spectrum of corporeal perception,
fabricated by the fascinating sense of the vibrato of life, 
weaved as the tapestry of transient feelings
with the lattice of self-drawn imagery of kaleidoscopic now. 

The congenial current of contemporary time,     
defused in the miasma of the marooned mind,
turns the indented poignant impulses
into lyrical crescendo of consciousness concerto. 
On its sonorous serenading wings,  
the awakened awareness flies in the sky of sensual sonata
to the harmonic realm of euphoria, 
realizes the nicety of the unequivocal notion 
that life is a song to be sung in now continuum.


Lifted

my mind is screaming
merely mimicking my lost design 
my heart is bleeding 
memories of a dissolved time 
With the scorned child, I thought gone
the next stage of life has now begun

Feeling lost within my own doom
feeling as though I'm surrounded 
Crowded within this room 
screaming at the top of my shattered lungs 
Not a single soul wavers 
no one bothered to look up 

They walk right through my scattered limbs
Leaving behind their muddy scuffs 
Dancing upon them 
Like leaves blown onto the street
Late into an autumn dusk  
Trampled upon are the ones not seen 
And on top of my punctured ribs, they stand 
As if designated to their blind feet 
This decaying plot of land 
Porous and indented 
with rubber soles imprinted 
A pathway for others and nothing more
My torso became fused with the floor

my hand stretched to the sky 
Grasping for any signs of life 
My own existence I now struggle to find 
But no plea no cry no sorrowful why 
Passed through my lips are ever heard 
Never acknowledged, not a single word
No value in me 
Do others see
So I find myself in the dirt
Questioning my own existence
And it was in this very instance
Because the thought that I do not 
was so Persistent
I prove to myself I exist
Because where else 
but one's self 
Would an owned thought live 
So self I have no matter how distant

Self equals existence
But does it prove that I live
what is life but the execution of one's mind 
Thinking about it and then creating it into time
So just maybe my problem does not lie
in the acknowledgment that I can not find
But in the value I have placed within it
And through my childish eyes
I view myself with the value I was given

And through these eyes, I see not
The value in myself or my thoughts 
Thus with time into reality i create loss
Now the question has changed 
and the new question raised 
is how do I find value in something
where previously no value was placed
Who I am need to be reappraised

My childish eyes that once gave
A view of my worth
established at birth
Into this blackened dirt
They shall be laid
With newly found worth
Love for the child I gave
For value in her, I placed
And upon the replenished earth
A foundation was finally laid 
I walk, rising from the dirt
A path that I have made 
Forever Changed

Premium Member Bright Lies and Silent Cries

Written: January 12, 2025, For contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colored earth 
     lies in fragmented bits
          gold and silver
               just out of reach
                      acid obsessions,
                            our souls leach.
Transience of fame     
       ephemerality of 
             human existence
                 provoke a
                      poignant admission~ 
                             of forgetfulness. . .

Endless craving 
      leads to fits
           we desire what
                  lies beyond the glass
                        crystalline dreams 
                                  soon turn to brass.
This underscores
      transient nature 
          of personal memory 
               & impact beyond lifetime
                    intensifying emotional weight 
                           it declares universal truth 
                                  of inevitable fading 
                                        & human goals significance.

Out of reach 
   is cold glitz
       gems sparkle 
           with deceiving light
                  while riches 
                        bear to flight
Dreadful dinotherium—
    a world of awe,
         indented as a saw
            it could hardly fail     
                or poorly  flail
                     when we slid
                           and tumbled
                                 
Fossils emerge;
we were born to walk — 
 stay close; never stray~

Mining delusions 
   uncovers depths
      into gloom, 
          our hopes fall
               chains of rescue 
                    remain beyond recall
                       Lost in searching
                           our wits
                                 blind us to love 
                                      by our side,
                                          treasures 
                                               magnified
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Other

Premium Member Timeless

Over the hillsides, together we burned space and time
Galloping with the wind...
Clouds took me by the hand,
Wind took you by the mane
Nothing outside our world could rival this perfect blend
Of motion, devotion, the sunshine and scented rain
I would close my eyes, and trust in the rhythm's rise
O' beautiful creature, your movements touched the very sky
Every stride, would sweep me to another world
Unfurled so far from all my childhood fears
As runaway dreamers, 
we sprinted into the future of timeless memory
and heard the infinite past at the heels of your enchanted hoof
Where ancestors once felt this very connection
At one with nature, a blending of what is blessed

In the deep evening light of the first early, wintery chill,
as a comet that shoots through the eye of an in-coming storm 
We were crystals, encased in a layer of ice and love
Just a trace of a moon, that sailed between the soft, leaden clouds
In the thrill of the cold, with the glorious snowflakes falling,
and the sight of your warm breath streaming,
there was white drifting smoke, in caress of the moonlight beaming

Indented, undefined, is a trail left behind
Such a moment is proof.... in all legends divine
That when snow falls around the hills, at the end of the day,
Nothing can erase that we passed this way
We were the messengers...that rode with the wind
That the hearts of species as wide as the universe
With spirits connecting two souls as one
Hearts can beat as one....drawn together, like poetic and timeless music
I am part of you....and you are part of me
And that both hearts can feel the same remorse when day is done



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In memory of "Queenie".... an amazing Sorrel Quarterhorse, 


For the Contest: "PETS", sponsored by Shadow Hamilton 11/13/14
Form: Ode

Good Friday Stranded

Four months pregnant
show them the belly.
Real not plastic,

Ultrasound glares pierce
a lack of eye contact

stuck at the Papa John's
on Fountainbridge. Eleven PM.

Drunken men to be avoided.

A place to stay - no,
money for a place to stay.
It's my first.

I thought  I'd get paid
but Jesus was crucified

now I can't pay for an inn
- it's not like there's stables in the city.

Be friendly, hold eye contact, someone will help.

I'm autistic you see, so sorry
then they leave. It's all a scam.

The hostel are holding my bags
I'm here for my friend who

who cares anyway.
Find a friend to stay with
no but I don't trust - I don't trust you.

I'm four months pregnant.
I get paid in four days
take my passport.

I'm here for a memorial for
my friend that killed themselves
four years today.

What do you want?
Fifty quid.
Not a chance.

Alleyways are free.
At least I'm not being crucified.
At least I'm a ferry ride away.
At least, at least my baby's alive.

Did I tell you what happened in Spain?

I was spiked with acid,
assaulted maybe I can't remember.

That's why I need my own room to sleep.
Do you understand?

Lack of trust, place to stay,
I'll give you my passport.
I promise I'll pay

you back and the world too

For the things it's done to me.
Perform a miracle right now;

Let me run across water 
back to Dublin then I'll

come back here with money
to show them. The bump is real.

Nobody cares still, even if I could get back
who would want to see that.

I'll sleep here.
On the pavement with indented glass.
I'll lie arms stretched
and stare at the moon.
I'll keep my baby safe
while I fight drunkards and neds alike.
Stranded for now on the day of crucifixion
with Good Friday left gaping ready to listen.


The Stranger

Broken tears is where it all begins, the love has lifted for now a mist in the air. Tears fall upon and evaporate into love fog. Yours eyes became cold lacking compassion, unresponsive with those shallow stares.
     Stranger in your heart never knew the love we shared shall ever fall apart. Never would have I thought I would be an absence of your heart. To take a journey into your scorned mind, and really see how your feeling inside.
   Your eyes tells me a story of all your lost, even all of your lies. Your soul has begun to die.
Yours cry suffer to inflict pain and torture. Tears began to burn and endure to enflame your pillows at night, intense dislike.
No one is there to kiss, and hold tight behold your over night burial site.
      Leaveing you in a slumber your heart is slaughtered, savagely murdered.
Yearning to once again become a slave, owned by another.
Laughter is what you miss, going through withdraw from my kiss.
Watching me from doorways is harder to resists.
    Remember me? It's the stranger you set a side, but now miss.
          Broken bliss pitiful, pathetic promises. Petty pleasures emptiness whispers, words that leaves blisters. Cutting deeper than any scissors.
Tears over flowing deeper than any river. Symbolism repesentation of  broken mirrors.
Termination limits of love, I perish from existence.
French kisses of death, hollow sunken indented last breath.
       Losing your voice likely to result in defeat, as you couldn't began to speak.
Grief over becomes you difficulty, grasping for a glimpse of me.
Shattered love we mastered, you discover no longer your partner.
                  Forever thee foreigner you disclaimer...
                      So therefore you became...
                            The Stranger.

Premium Member This Poem Really S---S

As of 20-10-2014 this poem had 270 views and zero comments. I have poems with 30 views that have 3-5 comments. Everyone here is too kind to comment because this poem S***S!

alone, leaving the hospital in the early light 
he could feel his blood pulsing
as he dove deep into his conscious thought. 

it was like him to wallow in self pity. she was his paid companion. 
she would smother him as if he owned her and he did.

this sunup he would have her strip him of his last rag of dignity.
soaking wet in his own shame she neatly placed him in her mouth.
he would gaze into the abyss of his own ineptness
his shaking hands hanging on unsuccessfully.

still he forcefully tears
the clothes off of her non existence

alone and chaotic he ran her through a series of perverse acts
and cleansed his flesh and bone of all evidence of human sanity.

he could feel his intricate 
and complex network of exposed capillaries and veins melt.
his naked carcass enrobed in the stench of his own pathetic existence.

all along he fed on the salt that flowed down his
 cheeks and found their way to his tongue.

his head lowered. his shoulders bent.
his pelvis indented. his legs unsteadied.

what was once meant to be a man now plodded
to the cadence to the progression of a soundless beat.

reaching his car he turns his keys.
he hears the hum of his engine
as he heads for the safety of his home.

what?
he wonders as he hears a voice.
as he hears his name 
once. twice and again and again

he tries to ignore it but his eyes slowly open
a nurse. a bed.  he is trapped. he is still in hospital.

what a cruel joke. he was sure. 
he was sure he had heard the hum of his engine.
Form: Narrative

The Marked Stag

I remember us
Your voice husked with passion
Your eyes incredulously bright, wet, and near
My will like crumbling dust
It was so sudden and unexpected, your will
To yield from the unimplored edge of fear
And I quivering in the net of your affection
O we quivered in the darkness and was still.

You spoke of love with the tongue of an angel
Penning me with stories that unwrapped your hurt
To comfort you then I would have entered hell
And break the spell of heaven and of earth.

I remember us
Daylight skipping my heart like a stag through green
Of day. I swaddled me in love again
And swallowed me in trust
No blood scent tell I was just another game
The stag is marked by callous whim to die
Over the long years where we ran spilling joy
Not knowing how the hunter sighted it for pain
Nor that love was a skin you would shed, still serene
Like the night when quivering you came.

I heard you on the phone today, and did not cry
To your say, "did I tell you I am wed?"
My heart dessicated, for tears too dry
Said "congratulations," and went to bed.

So it was you left a trail 
Betraying me? You whose odor indented the grass
And you did not even shout, "the Philistines are upon you,"
You left me where the knife prevailed
Betrayal of what you said you stood for then
Betrayal of the dream I told no Potipher's wife before
The blood burn black upon the grass is upon you
And still I would redeem at all cost
A Samson blind and stumbling in the scorn of men.

When the moon comes up and he takes your hand
Will he look and see my shadow in your mind
Or feel you quivering like a wind swirled sand
Betrayal begins where the budding heart blooms blind.

Premium Member You tell me I am too much, as if your heart were a forbidden place, locked away

You tell me “I am too much,” as if your heart were a forbidden place, locked away,
As if feeling deeply were a wound that refuses to close beneath the vast sky.
But, darling, I crave the storm in you, the tempest hidden within your secret chest,
That wild, unbridled surge of emotions no one else dares to confront or embrace.
Let me drown in your chasms, wade through the deep shades of your silence,
Trace the flimsy map of your bruises, run my fingers over every indented rim,
Each splintered shard where the light has seeped out, yet beauty shines beyond despair.
If your love is a battlefield, then call me to arms, let me fight with desire and passion,
If it’s a fire, let me be consumed until only ash remains, a complete burning of my soul.
I have always yearned for a place fierce enough, raw enough,
A place that dares to measure the depth of what I feel,
A place that tests if my heart can stand unbroken,
Even in the heart of your storm, amidst your unrefined emotions.
And in this stream of consciousness, where thoughts flow like rivers of untamed desires,
I find myself floating among your waves, seeking to discover the true essence of love,
Where fear and courage entwine in a dance of shadows and eternal light,
Wondering if I will ever find a harbor in your storm, a refuge in your tumult.
But perhaps it is in this chaos of your emotions that I find beauty,
A beauty that cannot be tamed, that burns brighter than any setting star,
Drawing me in, like a dream that refuses to end, a dream that calls me back,
To lose myself and find myself again in your storm, to become a storm myself.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Letter From a Classic Archetypal Dope, January 4, 1960 - Part Two

Part Two

From that moment onwards
Not when the fingerless muscles unclasped
    the indented bones
But from that moment of knowing
   from that very moment of sustenance
That day of human unbelief died unsung
And the depth of human grief buried long
      bestirred a momentous song

It willed within me it were man
   Some kindly soul no less
But in surfeit laid aside
   The biscuits of distaste

It willed within me it were some organisation
   Hurrying to the bed of despair
With the spare crumbs of conversion
   The Holy Infant to succour

I willed then it were a friend
   From want of excuse to teach
His fooling heart to bleat
   Robbed his conscience of a treat

I willed and willed and never
   In my thankless memory
Sat the image of my enemy
   The fulcrum of my singular division

And when that day I delved into my depths
   To find the words of irreproachable thanks
I saw you turn and stamp the light
   Of my begging steps of penance

I turned, rebuffed
  Should I have turned and gone
Away from the stony snarl of thanklessness
Away from all that I saw in that
      One inseparable act
Away from my insurrection
From the illimitable doubt of humility
Far away from all the coquetry of cunning

No man was divided more
   Between himself and self
Between life and cherished death
   Astride on the unwelcome threshold of emptiness

Had I come out of dying
   And yet the chained stick of fate
Was certain to unravel for me
   No less, no more, the vicious sting of hate

And revived with urgency's gratitude
Twice over, reconditely, I was blessed

(Continued in Part Three)
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

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