Long Indicate Poems
Long Indicate Poems. Below are the most popular long Indicate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Indicate poems by poem length and keyword.
*Please note:
I'm not in the throes of sadness. Just a write for another poetry site.
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My eyes are half closed for I fear to see
what worry and anxiety have made of me.
All day I've been twisted out of shape,
wincing at my disheveled appearance.
Life has taken a toll with its interference.
My mirrored face is a prism, a color spectrum,
reflections that indicate the paths I've traveled.
It's no wonder I look completely unraveled
and seem to be moving in opposite directions.
I'm an abstract work of art, hastily brushed
with my own hand when I'm feeling rushed.
Blue when sadness tears my world in two,
Cadmium yellow on days when I feel mellow.
When heated anger tints my soul, my cheeks
flush with shades of red and buff. It's been weeks
since I've felt bold enough to paint with oils.
Misfortune leaves me feeling like used tin foil.
I must pull myself back together and gather
my thoughts. Untwist the ropes that tether me.
Too many worries have crisscrossed my face
and spying eyes I've come to intensely despise.
"Play the flute of felicity! You, yourself, are the melody."
~ Rumi
Play the flute of felicity
Convey the melody of joy
Sway with the rhythm of gaiety
Allay all fears, all doubts destroy
Vibrate the air with your tempo
Create the beat for your flute song
Relate your passion with gusto
Captivate them with cadence strong
Replay this magical moment
Display your finesse that lingers
Portray your symphony intent
Slay them with fast moving fingers
Generate a heart-tugging tune
Indicate your mirth through the flute
Fascinate the crowd with your boon
Radiate ecstasy acute
Form: Double Lento
15th February 2023
For Constance La France's "Writing Challenge - F words" contest
Are crack babies born to addiction
a result of love's contradiction?
And what reality rules your life
a happy home, a husband or wife?
Is it cottages, cars, and riches,
or alleyways, gutters, and ditches?
And politicians earning your votes
or spending taxes on trips and boats.
The rich preach about helping the poor
but hoard the keys that lock every door.
And preachers hear voices in their head
fleecing the crowd that's pushed to be led.
A destitute voice carries no weight,
effectively silenced by its fate.
For in this world of contempt and greed,
poor people starve while the wealthy feed.
We unashamedly embrace hate
in our hurry to exterminate.
But, when one dies as a human bomb,
doesn't that indicate something's wrong?
(Rhyme)
5/22/2013
When Solar Flares
Give The Sun Citations when it disrespects the laws of nature
For not following ways of man at all cost and cause and case
No matter what your rules might indicate
A certain fate awaits
Space between all atoms is enormous
The reason we don’t walk through walls
Or fall through floors is not magic
Atoms don’t hold themselves alone, suspended in empty space
It is magnetic fields that react to those two forces
That keeps the universe in place
When sun’s highways of solar flares, stream in channels
Travel in their respective places, all is well and fine
When they follow normal traffic rules and stay in lanes
Suns don’t have our mind
They seem to stray in more than one direction
Magnetic streams collide, send corona blasts to Earth
When solar storms collapse for months or years our infrastructures
Say good bye to power grids and life as you once knew it
Prepare to rub two sticks together for heat and warmth
Get out bongo drums
Tap text messages to your friends
Similar to the way a poet begins his creative process
I'm not writing this—I craft hastily as views progress
Doubt often sneaks in and affects how a choice feels
The words used in charming, deceitful deals
Limiting their ability to capture ephemeral moments
By finding that masterpiece, I'm seeking atonement
And craft those thoughts into eloquent language
The facial reactions indicate your inner anguish
However, despite all this doubt, rumors persist
As weights drop, soul rovers stay, and rivers desist
Inspiration comes in the form of a soft breeze
At dawn, there was a whisper among the trees
Bringing with them fantasies of beauty and grace
As you unlock your soul from jail, bear up space
Despite the total uncertainty they feel inside,
Simply don't defraud yourself, and I don't hide
The poet tends to wish for and aspire to write
How petals turned red and lilies grew white
Times of both divine beauty and searing ardor
I may have sealed my soul in a sheath of armor
Also, when you start to feel your doubts fade,
Craftsman mind, wonder over his own shade
As dew-kissed petals, an artist is left with a glow
Of ethereal inspiration, then creative insight flows.
Written: May 30th, 2023
No flower in the meadow is exactly alike
hundreds of them, each unique
plethora of colors, shades, fragrances and hues
each blossom complete onto herself
violet grins at clover, reading his bliss
clover feels bold under her appreciation
asks her why flora is so many colors
violet blushes and her purple hue deepens
flowers feel deeply, mushroom offers
their empathy and compassion abounds
each thought brings a new shade to their blossoms
clover is surprised
is this true for marigolds, lilies, tulips, and bleeding heart?
mushroom peers over tall grass to survey the meadow
all signs indicate it must be
clover takes a deep sigh, satisfied
Recent reports indicate that as many as 36%
of community college students are food deprived.*
In times like these, our country could easily transition
from food deprived to 'food denied'. May God forbid.
By now, history should have taught us that if not properly
handled, we are one panic away from disastrous pandemonium.
In Biblical time, there was a food bank, and distribution of food was
being made. It appears that this practice may have been a new form of
assisting people in need. By today's standards, this was a small Christian
endeavor endorsed and promoted by the local church in Jerusalem. This new
enterprise took place after Jesus' ascension and some time after the festival of Pentecost; perhaps that same year. Things were off to a good start as converts gave of their means to aid each other and the new converts which were growing daily.
And then it happened. The Jewish leaders of the food distribution ministry were accused of being partial and discriminating against the Greeks. This was surely a cause for panic, but this problem was immediately resolved at the highest level. There was panic, but not a riot. There was resolution without government interference or politics. Harmony and tranquility were reestablished with minimal disturbance.
Right and righteous leadership was appointed without distracting or causing the greater purpose to be compromised. Immediate and wise response, not reaction, allowed the panic but disallowed a pandemonium. The times and seasons may differ, but people are the same; and wise and proper principles work on any and every continent.
072921PSCtest, Panic At The Food Bank, Kai Michael Neumann *Abigail Johnson "AJ" Hess @AbigailJHess
One two three and then many
Clean crisp quack quack quack
You have to see them all not any
Quiet peace in quack no whacks
Making ripples in the cool water
Faint wavy sound from the swim
In the bushes small birds chatter
In the air blue and white hymn
As I offer a crumb on the water
Beaks bend down there and then
Eyes gleam to indicate you matter
Quack quack they call again
Water kisses my bare feet
Trigger to proffer more crumbs
To see how cute the ducklings eat
And in thrill are off their chump
The waves breaking at the ledge
In harmony the happy ducklings
Dark and glow in fleeting cleavage
Sort of heaven on watery nothing
The sky descends and blends in water
Splashes in the nimble feet
Love,-- the great bond creator
Making a poem charmingly neat
------------------------------------------------------------------
May 8, 2016
Submission for Feeding the Ducklings – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
I never get lost
I have never been lost.
Yet
Here I am
Lost, in a place unknown
Crunch! Crack!
Such sounds indicate
I'm here,not alone
squawk hiss, cheep
nature's sweet tone
not so sweet
Hearing a ping
Hearing the ring of somebody's phone
Drip from above
Drop down below
soil wet from the rain
footsteps squelch and approach
The voice of a stranger
They Croak out hello.
Although scared, my fears pop
I'm a chattering drone
The plop of a tear in my eyes clearly show
I say
Please can you help me?
Find my way home
My first time that ive prayed,
since being this grown
My first and last time,
in the woods and its zone
Time’s Veil
Three smiling young girls standing by a railing overlooking a pond, staring out at me from a sepia-tinted black and white photo of indeterminate age. Each of them is holding an ice cream cone. The photo, obviously taken for these three soul-mates, as a remembrance of a happy summer afternoon at some nameless park. Their attire suggests an air of mid-nineteen twenties, but their dress is only a suggestion of that era, the actual time frame remains unknown. There are no written comments on the back of the photo to indicate identities nor location of the individuals depicted. The photo has become merely a moment in time recorded for the ages and the individuals in the photo. All have been lost, save for the image itself, into Time’s Veil.
I discovered this aged photo, and dozens of others, within a rarely opened bureau drawer, while I was searching for something else. The entire ensemble of photos is a collection of my late mother’s, and, the images contained therein are the remnants of what was a small portion of her Life’s remembrances.
Those remembrances remain captured, but, sadly, unrecalled, for she, and the young girls in this particular photo have all passed away.
Perhaps, if ever it is discovered how to lift Time’s Veil, the memories captured within the minds of those in this photo, can again be shared within this eternity as well as the one in which these young girls now dwell.