Long Instantaneous Poems

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


Premium Member The Thrill Is Gone

Expeditious plus instantaneous fox,
apt o'er daredevil weathering, parts his lair,
ingeniously resourceful, and nevermore...
     ~~to be outwitted,

A lackluster canine, faults, near some stillness
of his stoop, peering somewhat from droopy sights
that influence his realm ... dropped at points from his
     ~~elongated snout,

Heydays concerning happenings, abandoned 
diverse anecdotes from a dog sovereignty
when challenged through a fox determination
               ~~engaged fraught dispute,

Lacks nurtures endurance, sequence marks a fox,
the dog's yoke weighs domestically heavy--
*"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog"
     ~~end fox versus dog.


Premium Member In the flow of time where memories float like leaves over the silent river

In the flow of time where memories float like leaves over the silent river,
I will keep in my soul our kisses, lips burned by the fire of love,
And how you gave me everything you had, every corner of your soul and every dream,
And I offered you what was left of me, pieces of sky and shadows of longing.
I will keep in mind your small room, a sanctuary of our unwritten stories,
Your touch like a caress of light, windows open towards infinity,
The records that played old stories, the books that whispered ancient secrets,
The coffee of our mornings, the ritual of silence in the embracing dawn,
The noons and nights, our bodies entwined in eternal sleep,
The small currents that flowed between us, instantaneous and forever,
Your foot next to mine, your arm like a promise of warmth,
Your smile, the light of the soul that made me laugh again.
And thus, in the silence that surrounds us, we keep the echo of every moment,
For in this silent symphony of memories, we find an eternity,
A dance of hearts that always find their way back to each other.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Muscular Emotion

Pumping in my chest is the sustainable energy that flows and determines the senses.
It is the enigma of the soul, 
the conflict of the mind,
and the ocean of passion.
It is often interrupted by the turmoil of others and the delicate attachments you hold dear.
It can break you and make you shine,
it is instantaneous and uncontrollable,
it is the cause of rage and fear that nothing nuclear can compare.
Yet it is the most gentle and forgiving instrument when pressed upon by love and generosity.
Tenderness is the key to its blinding intensity,
it is the most powerful weapon,
in both known and unknown realms.
Used for annihilation and protection.
Too often misused and abused.
Rarely allowed to smile.

Circadian Rhythm Flux Shoe Waits

(alter knit lee titled: vita in oculis nudato)

goo goo gaga I wanna yell
cuz, synonymous 
     with other wordsmiths, 
     or...well
whatever will eire'n burr, 

     a sought after creative 
     passionate pursuit aye tell 
ye a boot me own aha...eureka insightful 
     revelation explaining 
     ma quotidian writing spell,

and phalanges skitter 
     across qwerty keyboard 
     at light in an attempt to quell
onslaught tidal wave crashing 

     upon me conscious state pell mell 
which tsunami flood spongy 
     heady gray matter with hell
over high tide heals assailing, 

     bruiting, clobbering this fell
low inducing (me) to play 
     Handel's Semantic Water Music 
     on the smallish piccolo cello

which Sirens of Tighten, 
     (who just appeared out of thin aire - 
     cuz scriveners can resort 
     to prestidigitation to make appear

any necessary entity 
     without rhyme or reason), 
     anyway, this sylph sea Oceanids nymph 
     i.e. mermaids didst dee clear
 
particularly via 
     barely audible verbal communication 
     sotto voce en dear
ring gently beckoning 
     affinity this modest heir

to secret himself within secluded lair
whence, an automatic 
     erectile flickr, kickstarted, 
     levitated, and manifested

an instantaneous jubilant kik 
     lobbed me near
this seductive, sedulous, and sedum 
     scented sir experienced hypnotic stare

charming froto into trance scandent state
as if by magic the tubular 
     testicular proboscis didst inflate 
aptly serving as modus operandi flagellate
thus proving a "happy ending" against being celibate.

Cut To the Chase After Tan Hat Man

Cut to the chase after tan hat man!

Though reading horror stories 
gearing up as strawberry spring fest
full throttle danse (macabre),
an only every now and again predilection
genre crazy wave
washing over me like
a killer tsunami,
harboring pier rill less night surf
(subsequently fueling figurative
hair razing close shave 

critical desperation) to save
thine scrawny ****,
(a derriere laughing stock,
and hence cheeky of me to rave),
what you put
in a Margarita,
those rare occasions satiated, when
hung over insomnia heavily bulging,
rheumy myopic blood shot eyes
nonetheless lock into

vital opening sentence determining,
whether adroit kingly author
nimbly setting the stage and pave
ving what thenceforth, pro
misses tubby a cell out ace
in the hole captive audience
skeleton crew exhuming a grave
grim reaper they crave 
(me, this apt pupil), doth brace
himself by all counts once

a bad little kid deserving, well...now...
just a bag of bones,
who fiendishly cackles
analogous to screeching 
linkedin deafening banshee
when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like),
whereat after opening sentence, 
an instantaneous big bang
possessive gnarly hand
forcibly grabs my attention

presaging and frightening
yours truly (juiced in case
ye did not know),
where within the bazaar
of bad dreams epic,
which seems like forever,
when I finally erase
and exorcise the bogeyman who,
regally, masterfully, immediately,
dramatically got woven 

lady chattery teeth and all
withering wicked warp and woof
establishing (proof positive),
an excellently crafted
Chiral Mad heavily shades
of night are falling
gussying haunting place,
where the color of evil permeates
every cerebral space
with darkness, said

sub rosa prime evil punctuates
the mind of this dream catcher,
whence after four past midnight
the reaper's image appears
sending adrenaline rush,
surreal augmented moving pictures,
viz flight or fight 
courtesy third eye blind
did, when firestarter alarm didst grind
passage of time manifesting dark forces

blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined
up battleground formation
from the borderlands of my mind
this even before turning
the first page where the eyes
of drag'n my afterlife 
glowed with radiant shining
where suspense didst wind.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Tale of Death's Challenge

So when the webbed-tide snares the lunars nether recesses in its glow casting shadows that arise among the craggs wedged beside some cliffs of common confirmed debris of the unnamed fallen heaps of mucked mired forgottned decay of worthless grime not meriting the struggles of a just reclaim promptly caused to fester including the residue of the reprehensibles whose lacking morals that from some particular decedent, intrusive spirit of Ne'ermere that steer souls to the steppes of the moors, where thou commands those hounds that wish to sever your sensitive skins and drain your spirit waters down that moat where your convictions will spark a lifetime of despair, honors the ambling of the blood moon of its wayward course of trailed afflictions that you wished and begged for death's swift visit for the determined inklings inscribed on petals of the columbine and their guarded secrets, steeped in the devil's brew of stirred concoctions meant for the hags of Ne'ermere and the warlocks of destruction and mayhem who pounces playfully on their prey of the misguided who are filled with disillusioned words that are as hollow as you, e'er  stretching the imaginative liquified existence exposing a mirage of iniquities galvanizing its hold of treasured happenstance of certainties lost, fulfills a page of the intrepid who is but a shimmer presenting hope a hand of salvation gathered up in a smotherance and they'll all flicker away, anointing souls spared the vacuum of insignificance for doomsday is here bridging the channeled souls in their mortal state of decay of their tenous grasp of withered mass of fiberous veins where remnants of vigourous life succumbs to their true demise of the incredibly hideous and the indescribable now in the passage way between dying and death of their heinous acts of torturous screams bellowing throughout the chamberous pits of the unwanted dead where the lame, mute, and deaf search the living dead for their body parts, of severed limbs, eyes that hang out of the eyesockets, the unjointed tendons that flay about ever so freely, stenched air that festers while not only choking of whatever remians, seemingly an act of deceny, bestowing on the residue of assemblage from the former occupant, might be afforded an instantaneous journey into the sunrise of the...everlacking.



2019 September 18

Premium Member Kundalini Part 3 of 5

Having thus mapped out the pathless path untrodden before
We work with gusto & zeal at inner cleansing
In thought and word and deed, embracing all, keeping no score 
We replace narrow thought with loving feeling

Then we wait
For as long as it does take
At an easy gait
For our lover within to awake

Yes ... the kundalini stirring and standing erect
Follows the Sushumna path of least resistance 
But if our purity of being be clouded or suspect
It tilts to Ida or Pingala as of pranic preference 

The Ida cool with left nostril open offers a fragrant rose
However the Pingala solar is akin to a dragon breathing fire
Now during the ascent the kundalini may retire back in repose ...
if facing a blockage on the lunar path; for solar, consequences are dire

We may liken the kundalini to love with love yearning for union
The Ida persuasive makes her calm whilst Pingala is fervour burning
It is the Sushumna centred that is the direct path for instantaneous fusion
Thus as we are, so we become and hence importance of inner cleansing

Taking the direct path, the chakras up to Vishuddha all celebrate 
Thereafter the energy enters the void of the Brahman head domain 
The Sahasrara said to have a thousand petals and each we must placate
Upon kundalini reaching the door of her lover, she volunteers to be slain!

02-August-2020
Form: Rhyme

Forgiveness

Painful memories..
A stinging pain
An open wound that cannot heal..
Remains opened
A portrait covered in glass..
The pieces of glass shattered into thousands of pieces..

Pieces of glass signify hurtful memories of being hurt by another..
A person you loved so dearly..
You held so deep in your heart..
Had done the unthinkable..
The unspeakable..
A sinking feeling of hopelessness..
The heart slowly sinking..
Sinking and sinking..
As if a ship that once sailed so effortessly, had stopped sailing..
The ship continued to sink..
The open seas were forever closed..
A sea of agony and pain..
Persistent pain ..
Time after time..

A complete state of resentment and utter disgust..
Anger with a mixture of hurt and pain..
All combined together to create a toxic state of mind..
Poisened daily..
Repetative toxins frequently..

Frantically cannot endure the open wounds..
The sinking heart..
The pain and agony
The poisonous toxins..

Saving myself from all the misery and pain..
Discernment of realization
By just a choice..
The choice shall once again ignite the flame within myself that had burned..
Burned and faded instantly..
A making of an instantaneous choice..
Shall set me free..

The way to my freedom is..
Forgiveness..

I forgave the other..
However I truly saved myself from the bondages of my own entrapment..

Wounds cleansed and healed..
Liberation..
I am free..

Premium Member What Is Your Turn Around Season-

What is your turnaround time?
A second a conscience decision to change mine mind
A turnaround time is instantaneous if the Father’s received
A turnaround time is granted all I have to do is just believe
Stop turn around and be
Change my life, live for Christ
Hallelujah
Turnaround time is here
Holy Spirit baptized me near
Amount of time it takes to complete a process. One of the most common phrases used for turnaround time is downtime. My request is made known
Now I wanna be reborn
Hallelujah

8/19/2023
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
From the “ ^turn around season” anthology

Inexplicable Quirky Memory Unhinged Clasp One

A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank

key teachers approximately
     42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),
     when the need to access
and retrieve
     immediate necessary information
     analogously interleaved

     among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
     as hopelessly lost
     into interstitial invisible cranial cracks
irretrievably buried
     during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
     often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember

     any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
     thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
     and/or prose tempted to quit

asper defeated by resignation,
     and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden  

     black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
     handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
     a test paper devoid of academic grit
analogously surrendering
     (while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,
2.

yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
     an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
     flowered gloriously invoking nest

head treasured mother lode
     of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
     formerly figuratively barricaded facts
     suddenly at my behest

ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
     now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure

     forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay.

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