Long Influx Poems
Long Influx Poems. Below are the most popular long Influx by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Influx poems by poem length and keyword.
January twelfth two thousand and ten
October seventh two thousand eighteen
and again August fourteenth,
two thousand and twenty one
witnessed near annihilation and destruction
of the Haitian nation,
(especially courtesy first and third aforementioned)
whereby countless/ nameless individuals
e’en the strongest Herculean type men
crushed by humungous slabs of building facades
practically demolishing every creation
since this island settled,
which indigenous tribes initially sought safety
in any geologic den
seeking solace and salvation
from wrath of nature
by paying obeisance via oblation,
perhaps giving credence
to clear water in tandem with rooster and hen
that laid a golden egg, especially
as encroaching savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans
foisted forfeiture of land
with primitive implement like pen
no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake such actions
rent asunder culture beseeched divine force
argh inhumane brutish, nasty and (shortish)
simians (compared to 21st century Homo sapiens)
refused to cease desecration,
yet the peoples of this dominion
rose from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
no matter genetic pool
underwent white washing from scouring influx
from western thumping proselytizers,
which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
and basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
and those coveted legal tender bucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative
(wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard,
yet within the very fiber of tropical mangrove
persons patiently lined up their ducks
as intimated by this aging hippy type nerd,
and declared as the first
African American peoples spurred
INDEPENDENCE to be the word
whence adulation, elation, inspiration
akin to the sound winged fowl clucks
until the onset of one after another major earthquake
rendered land of high mountains
(crafted from Taíno language)
into jumble of utter annihilated smithereens.
Season am I that nurtures Nature
Toward budding and blooming feature
With wondrous creativity force
Birth-filled showing God as blessings’ Source.
I’m a period for sprouting green leaves
Reverberating harvest of sheaves
Midst vegetation’s abundant reign
Bulbs and crops along fruitful terrain.
See me adorned with daffodils’ glow
Radiating tulips’ fresh show
As avian influx brings blessed hope
Spring birds serenade my entire scope.
Delight now in my revival quest
Restoring with flourishing zest
Thriving blossoms of colorful grace
Marked by thanksgiving and wondrous praise*.
*Psalm 150:6 Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD. Praise ye the LORD.
February 25, 2023
1st place, "In Bloom" Personification Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 3/6/2023.
Our heart sensed a potent pull magnetic,
borne by a sublime mist mind could not trace,
subtlety aesthetic, rhythm poetic,
grace influx holding us is close embrace.
With each pore a door we could keep no score,
although later mind tried to analyse,
who is the helmsman, who is at the oar,
breath by breath causing heart’s vibrance to rise.
Transformed from inside out, each node was stormed,
by the bliss current pulsating within;
of wisdom of sages we were informed,
silencing ego’s cacophonous din.
Such is as it was, such is as it is ~
We’re the effervescence of a bliss fizz
We’re the effervescence of a bliss fizz,
renewal continual, a heartbeat,
for lower mind, an unsolvable quiz,
there being no translation for cool heat.
Notice the blossoming of a flower,
opened petal by petal by God’s hand,
life in motion, all held by His power,
in the womb of space we don’t understand.
Contemplating thus we asked, ‘Who am I’,
in as unchanging presence in this form,
where memories are clouds and we’re the sky,
truth supreme to which we wish to conform.
To accomplish our goal, that we feel whole ~
We slid into silence to find our soul
We slid into silence to find our soul,
remaining motionless in the vast void,
to reclaim light innate, our ego stole,
that we regain our lustre unalloyed.
Focus animated in cessation,
our emptiness was then filled with bliss mists,
heart’s elation as our meditation,
force of magnetism unclenching our fists.
This narration is a flashback of course,
of how the pathless path may be traversed,
the code easy to read, penned not in morse,
as dance of polarities unrehearsed.
Epiphanies that dawned are prophetic ~
Our heart sensed a potent pull magnetic
the moment we choose to seek
we cause an energy leak
and so clear sight is denied
for we have to ourselves lied
waking, dreaming and deep sleep
in each exists a bliss beep
which dissolves both time and space
to allow influx of grace
endless are layers of mind
being veils that make us blind
so all dreams must be destroyed
to reclaim Self unalloyed
let’s take waking as dreaming
and in it silence beaming
we step behind silence too
wherefrom life pulse does renew
by softening attention
as love and light’s extension
we be, so become the flame
and thus fulfil our life’s aim
Devoid of personal exposure to Spring wonder’s iridescence
I thank God for vicarious experience-fluorescence
Enabling me to testify about Spring’s delightful essence
Through technology with varied media’s presence.
Among the four providentially-created seasons
Spring’s the best, anchored upon scientific reasons:
Moderate temperatures offer freedom from winter-prisons
While granting relaxation against scorching summer-garrisons.
More daylight in the Spring allows much work-fulfillment
Ushering toward opportunities for creativity-engagement
Opening to outdoor exercise routines’ involvement…
For natural Vitamin D enjoyment and health investment.
Watching avian influx eases mental distress
Birds’ melodious songs bring joy of serenity-buttress
Beholding baby animals can vanquish stress…
Like bunnies and ducklings frolicking outside their fortress.
As leaves come back, they mitigate urban heat
Flowers in bloom produce “true smile,” hard to beat.
Growing plants provide vital environmental feat
With fresh vegetables and fruits as nutrition-meat.
Indeed, I praise God for Spring delight
Though I live in the Tropics*, upheld by His might
With His blessings of love, light and faith triumph-height
Spiritual revivals** of new beginning’s plight beautify my Spring flight.
*We only have two seasons in our country: the Dry or Summer and Wet or Rainy days.
**Isaiah 57:15 For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.
March 23, 2019
Edited on March 23, 2023
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until Spring
Money was needed for refurbishing
Built in nineteen hundred and seventeen
It was advised they replace everything
A treasured part of local history
Host to all the town's social memories
The wheel itself was pieced in artistry
Workers heard tales of hidden treasury
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
The Mill required complete overhaul and more
The expenses were beginning to soar
They scoffed at hidden treasure folklore
A deep freeze stopped all construction for weeks
Influx of needed money appeared bleak
The refurbished wheel was installed - now leaks
Ice melts, revealing secrets - wheel creaks
A puzzled technician on wheel repair
Opens up a toolbox, gasps, stops to stare
The bricks of gold have answered their prayers
The Mill has been replicated with care!
28 Cracks In The Ceiling
I take my red-inked dagger in hand
And succinctly spew its secrets for all to see.
28 cracks in the ceiling, and I lost count.
There’s a storm moving out of the west.
I can smell the thunder and
The titillating turbulence of tintinnabulation.
An old lady sits cross-legged and knitting,
Waiting for the sweating sun to sink.
“I was just a girl in 1925… and now…”
The endless strained faces out there
Tell stories of death, disease and depravity.
They know the eternal worm is the other one
In this passion triangle.
28 cracks in the ceiling, and I lost count.
Snakes frothing in suburbia.
The megabytes of Zanzibar jettison out naked bone chips.
Later months and trivial dimes.
Smokestack realizations in a tent.
Church buttresses holding up my whining soul.
Green Edsels down in San Pedro.
Michelobs and round sassy broads fingering erect nipples.
With a Susie in each arm
He lights a cigarette in honor of grand appeasement.
Sensuous sinews entwine effervescently.
More loose chicks in short skirts,
Pouting and scamming.
Times are hot in the old town tonight.
Music and misery, wine and wickedness.
Stubborn clocks disarm with water-resistant influx.
I was a princox in petticoats.
We met at a Tastee Freez at twilight.
28 cracks in the ceiling, and I lost count.
Let me recount of the mirrored alcoves galleries of brands
Whiskeys deep gold many types of bottles into optic feeds
Highly polished bar timbertops rich shining deep.' Varied
Paper coasters to keep it pristene, bowls of cheese squares crackers at the side, the sent of a recent cleaning
Greetings warm when you stepped inside.' The old
Hearth with a brass rod demarking its boundry the crackle
Of the logs flaming, chasing smoke up the Old chimney'
The walled rear convinnial gardens, evolved over centuries
You could find in the country of England countless examples such as these.' Icons of much effort, yet so long
Now under attack by the heartless neuvo influencers with ideas not worth a jot! Much over regulation.' The desire for
More tat.? The absorbtion of online pastimes' yet it seems
There are few winners.? The almost holy 'human touch' i
See it was part of what was better.' The shared pot of morning tea, the opening of letters, taking time with the
Milkman leather satchel slung, white overcoat sentinel of
Three decades yore.' Its gone the same with churches the
Pews all ripped away organs sold for brass, and gold reliefs
Maybe painted gray? Some mafe into coffe shops.' Some
Just knocked to the floor.' Now stand there stark drear
Terraces more like gaols.' Than should be seen; on any countrys shores." Its all send a link.' And no one blinks as
The old and youth are sidelined.' Its d e i its falseness first
Yet i hear rationalitys cries.' I'm looking at the holes in socks i've only bought last week.' While on the t v politicans
Promise to fix it up by a labour influx, because they are bent.' On getting things cheap..
There's a magic in snowflakes,
yet their majesty is only momentary -
just like you,
just like me...
They fall
so elegantly,
like enchanting
ballet dancers,
shapeshifting
in the air,
floating in a
bitter breeze,
so soft,
so tender,
so fragile,
so
vulnerable.
Gently
d
e
s
c
e
n
d
i
n
g
side
by
side
like
unique
pearls settling
upon empty surfaces
spreading softly
on spotless
emerald
fields
Rain is the
enemy of beauty,
the sun a
jealous confidant.
Drops of mercy
may feed nature,
but their influx
results in a massacre.
Their cunning conduct
is hidden behind
an illusion known
as the rainbow.
Snowflakes do not bleed red,
they discolour into ashen slush,
their remains hardening in death,
frozen, until melting into nothingness.
There is a tragedy
in snowflakes,
which recurs
time
after
time,
yet we keep faith
in our seasons,
just like my life,
just like yours.
What is clear (riot)
I saw the working-class riot on TV
it was there when workers attacked the police
who are working class themselves, or was
angrily demonstrated against the influx of Moslems
changing the streets and of their culture
fanatic Islamists
performing street prayers to stop traffic
I have read that jobs for offer lately have gone
to incomers who work for less and that
is a recipe for disaster
the sitting government, which is called the Labor party
didn't try to calm the situation but brought in
heavy-handed sentences to the offender of
the public order stiff sentences, which indicate
that democracy, always a precarious child
the first to suffer.
The press, whether radio, papers was firmly
on the side of the middle class whose life was
not interrupted, their jobs were secure for now,
why show solidarity, that manager with fancy
job title who don't know if they are gay or not
and
respect women so much they will not them
in case of a backlash, she could complain the day
For now, they are secure, but with AI on the marsh
their precious little titles redundant, what will
will come next?
The only remedy I can suggest is that we pay our
workers, yet demand skill, rely less on technical
solution and understand if we replace humanity
we eradicate ourselves