Long Instinct Poems
Long Instinct Poems. Below are the most popular long Instinct by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Instinct poems by poem length and keyword.
Looking into a crystal clear river, itching to bathe my feet
Water’s look shallow, I’m buried in thought gone obsolete
The trickling liquid beckons me over, promising of a cure
My reality is a long time stolen, faltering into life obscure
Torn between instinct and choice, ambivalence devouring
I make a compromise to dip one toe, not too overpowering
Testing water proves difficult, distracted by gaps and voids
Cursing and blabbering alone, answering myself annoyed
Anticipation is conflagration, expectation being unknown
Dementia doesn’t have a reservation, comes with life alone
One thing leads to another, I’ve wandered out of their cage
This river’s measured now, my toe the approximate gauge
Looking again find I’m knee deep, as memory starts to fade
Pushing out further still, forgotten is the compromise made
Keep wading outward, I have no comprehension of bounds
River is unable to claim me, my mind was long ago drowned
Your Favorite Rhyme Poem in August 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
10/08/2021
In the change of the season, fears fills life in the bush
The weak parish ,the strong survive, summers hot hell sky
The dry spell ends and the cowboys check out the waterholes
A constant fight for seasonal torture in this unforgiving land
The stream runs through the woodland between the gum trees
O'er the rocks it trickles where width and depth rises and falls
A place where time and age has cut and scoured a path
A place where horse and riders have to be weary
From unseen dangers from nature's elements and wild animals
Riding in the outback with guns strapped upon the back
The cowboys search for the herd that grazes upon the land
knowing that the cattle will come to drink at the river's edge
Riding the range is no easy feat in Aussie land
A place where instinct is your survival.
We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.
No we may never have fought in a great war,
or saved a soul from the snapping jaws of death.
People wave to us, but few know who we are
and most on a good days run could care less.
Like the organ grinder's monkey from days of old,
we have been repeatedly trained to do a task.
We do a job few would even consider doing
and most would not even attempt to try.
A job burdened with ever growing responsibility
due to the minutia of a ever expanding bureaucracy.
A grossly undervalued, underappreciated profession
designated part-time by thoughtless administrations
that mouth how important we all are once a year
only to persecute us for every trifling thing later.
If you are lucky enough to survive a number of years
without resigning or becoming a sacrificial lamb
on the altar of a fearful self serving public face,
you will get a tiny pension for your devoted service.
We are the unsung heroes of the predawn light.
The tolerant souls that routinely put up with
a few rude demanding manipulative parents
and their insolent misbehaving little darlings
just to be able to serve the greater majority
of decent well meaning thoughtful parents
and the precious treasures of tomorrow
they have temporarily entrusted to us.
Like a hamster running on a little wheel,
we go around in circles every single day,
but unlike the hamster we must summon
every instinct and learned skill to insure
every turn we make is executed flawlessly.
We are kept aloft on our spinning wheel
by the deliberate hands of a caring heart
and the many small souls seated behind us
that come to trust us not to make a mistake.
We are the one person in their little lives
that are not allowed to ever let them down
for neither of us may be able to live with it.
We are their school bus drivers...
UNLIKELY BEDFELLOWS
(Any resemblance to the prologue to
Romeo and Juliet is purely intentional)
Two species, not alike in pedigree
In London Zoo wherein we set our play,
By nature long defined by enmity,
One feeding on the other day-by-day.
From forth the ranks of these unlikely breeds,
A pair of strange bedfellows do emerge;
Whose ill-advised liaison sadly leads
To their demise and to a mournful dirge.
For love between a lion and gazelle
Could never end in happiness of course.
Natural instinct means that, sad to tell,
Lion ate his love, then died too in remorse.
Their families agreed to disagree.
Two species, not alike in pedigree
2nd May 2022
Orphan Sonnet poetry contest
Sponsor - Emile Pinet
The moment we realise
Divine aligned we are wise
It is the play in illusion
That binds us in delusion
What then the purpose
Of this circus
If consequences known
Of seeds sown
We would never err
No ego cravings would stir
With heaven on earth
Ever bubbling in mirth
We would be ever free
In our moment to moment entrée
Apparently method in this madness
Is to become one with oneness
Not by reason but by instinct
That love be the only precinct
Which we roam awake or asleep
For which realisation must sink in deep
By direct experience & assimilation
The throb of love our reflex orientation
Thus ingraining the truth by feeling all our doing
We become love enabled to the core of our being
19-August-2020
The earth element
Gravity, structure, solidity
Gross materiality, animal instinct
Hunger, thirst, shelter, the fear of death
Hunting, hiding, seeking, habit driven
Squirrel storing nuts for winter
Yet stirred by a fragrance
Pleased with the moon
The water element
The urge to procreate
Emotions, maternal, paternal
Looking at forging family relationships
Lust ~ blame it on testosterone
Unstable, given to rage
Yet stirrings of love
Call from within
The fire element
Warrior, tactician, priest
The world is his playground
Where the end justifies the means
Domination, head over heart
Neither regret nor remorse
Yet senses there's more
Than mind-body
The air element
Emptiness begets envy
Plotting, scheming, politician
Yet it is here that we learn to forgive
Lightening load on our heart
Whispers of conscience
Seeking God-connect
The search begins
The ether element
Purity and innocence
Selective empathy, embrace
Head and heart aligned with truth
Central presence, detachment
Living in the here and now
Painting, poetry, music
The void beckons
Transcendence
In but not of the world
Attention poised in stillness
Glimmers of spiritual love and light
Opposites dissolve in Oneness
We are breathed by God
Compassion and bliss
Self-luminescent
28-October-2022
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice,
potent in your mouth prickling your skin;
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice;
Inhaled by a swallow would never suffice,
you neglect the luscious center within;
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice;
Risky to keep going with this heavy price,
wild prospect throws me into a tailspin;
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice;
Heat that flushes you once or twice
addictive bite you snatch again and again;
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice;
Exploring the unknown is good advice
wearing eyes that hold an adventurous grin;
Every sweet taste is a roll of the dice;
Unexpectedly leading you to paradise,
following gut instinct is never a sin;
A piece of fire candy I savor the spice,
every sweet taste is a roll of the dice.
O’mighty mother
of the triple divine
and mystical goddess orb,
Pure and holy in serenity ,
Silver shrouds your innocence and shines the promise of things to come.
untouched but much loved are thee,
unknown, unscathed,
but giving of hope to all and some,
Waxing awe unto those who seek council and solace at your great showing.
virgin , maid and mother,
in wholeness I give thanks at your wisdom,
and herald the zenith with which our magic’s stand strong.
We move with silence and collect our herbs with and by your grace,
adhering to the craft and paying respect to thee.
upon the world of man doth your healing ancient light illuminate that which is known
By instinct and heart alone.
And as the celestial moving travels on ‘wise crone presents us with our eternal ending
deserved peaceful night,
Taking all to her darkness and guiding those once living.
Burier of the king and midwife to our daughters,
shrouded Diana
it is to you we look towards as the end carries us to the beginning,
And that beginning, towards another day.
And so mote it be x
Looking out the window at the world, I wonder,
Is there a consciousness that permeates every living cell,
Something that stitches together all life into a vast symphony,
Singing a score written by a solitary omnipotent hand?
Or is it all just a random scattering, discrete forms released
Into a mindless algorithm, biased towards the instinct to survive?
A world where even charity and love are mere selected attributes
To bring social advantage, just clever tricks to win the game of evolution.
What then is art—a sublime melody sung by the human soul,
Or just a construct of the mind, fabricated in the brain's workshop,
An instrument to keep our species occupied, nothing more than an evolutionary remedy
To prevent madness, while we are bound to our biological imperatives?
Yet so much seems superficial in the simple act of survival.
We build libraries, galleries, and concert halls, spaces to house
Evidence that we might be something more.
Is there something inside us that refuses linguistic reduction,
Something of an unearthly essence, pointing toward something deeper?
The heart yearns for a meaning beyond charts and graphs,
In moments when the stars mirror our deepest questions,
And moonlight floods our rooms with ethereal whispers.
Are we merely puppets orchestrated by unseen hands on a cosmic stage,
Or creators of our own stories, weaving magic through our art?
In silence, as the tapestry of night envelops the world,
This quest for understanding leaves traces in the sands of my consciousness,
Where thoughts glimmer like fireflies, each a tiny beacon illuminating the unknown.
The soul swims in the deep, seeking answers among the inner galaxies,
While outside my window, life continues its silent and mysterious dance.
Within the heart of humankind
the quest for constancy we find.
Like instinct in an animal,
It’s wired in the mind of man.
We do not function very well,
when what is fixed, we cannot tell.
When our world is in constant flux,
we simply can’t align our ducks.
We think the mountains cannot shake,
but even they crumble and quake.
When in earth’s belly magma forms,
they shake and spew out sulfur storms.
Where can we find a footing firm?
to build a life that endures storms.
The ones who build on shifting sand
Would not be able to withstand.
The things we trusted in the past
have failed because they do not last.
Abundant wealth, perennial peace,
economy on the increase.
This world, embroiled in constant strife,
where humans behave like wildlife,
does not afford a safe abode
to live the lifestyle, we are owed.
The God who placed within our mind
the need security to find,
provides the answer to our quest
if we’ll just follow His behest.
Jesus, the Word, unshakeable,
is the firm Rock, that cannot break.
If built on Him, your life will stand
when things do not turn out as planned.
Please friend the wise decision make.
Build on the Rock for your own sake.
Since those who do will inherit,
God’s kingdom sure, through Christ’s merit.