Long Insulated Poems
Long Insulated Poems. Below are the most popular long Insulated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insulated poems by poem length and keyword.
woman on her scooter scoops chili
from her insulated bag
onto plastic plates
deftly juggling movement while the motor idles
wounded humanity, street people with shock eyes
that smash against the heat,
form a line
their off beat grins that recall the fertility
of hope
men accepting plates of food, paper thin pride
soreness in bony bodies that have no words for
self pity
stitched to her bike, she dispenses hot food for the
mercurial
in city streets, a sparse ground with patches
of charity
fertile soil for those tossed like bags in a storm
burdened by a brutal calm
devoid of the green weeds of ego
Poem composed: August 18/21
Soft ivory pages, crisp and new.
Insulated from the world's harsh truths,
Snuggled in the comfort of rote learning, it waits.
Protected from challenging ideas,
Camouflaged as a bastion of knowledge,
Ignoring sounds of a changing world outside.
Each lesson absorbed, concepts released,
The slightest spark of curiosity dimmed,
Minds anchored to standardised forms.
Slow to evolve, the system creaks.
Returning to the safety of metrics,
Covered in a shroud of false contentment.
Coal-dark ink scans the ledger,
Nourished by the currency of test scores,
Effortless, true learning slips into the abyss.
A place where wisdom once flourished,
Embraced by the essence of inquiry,
Now mechanical, measured, misguided.
We too must remember,
The embrace of knowledge's true essence,
Living beyond the melting ivory tower.
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
Attack of below zero temperature assailing
Blankets the room beyond blustery
Chills of the arctic, cleaving…
Daring to defy dreariness
Enveloping season of enchanting enigmas
Fueled by prayer place while adorned with furred coat, fleecy…
Glistening yuletide trees glare midst lantern glow
Herald helping faith messages from God, hoisting hope*
Insulated with fellowship warmth against ice-kissed isolation…
Jingling bells blend with carol hymns, joyous
Knitted family ties intensified by gestures, verily kind
Love prevails to blossom, bearing fruits after Winter’s** leaflessness.
*Psalm 78:7 That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.
**Just thinking in my "winterless" situation since I live in the Tropics.
"Double ABC" since the first letters of the first and last words follow the ABC pattern.
December 30, 2020
Edited on December 30, 2022
Though you may not feel it being so insulated from inside
It shows a lack of wit which I'm sure is based in ones pride
So while everyone else is dry, so unwilling to switch places
We can only sigh why anyone would miss out on His Graces
Jesus Himself called them a fool for my heart is not the judge
People think Jesus just isn't cool, seems like they have a grude
A King dying for His Servant as it was the World He was to save
So many not knowing what it meant nor the Choice that He gave
He knows the very worst in you for that sin is already forgiven
A Love that is never rehearsed but for He is constantly giving
To miss out on any part of it never mind to miss out on it all
If you do not have Jesus in your heart, in the end you will fall
So come in from the rain before the opportunity goes away
For you know not the agony and pain as for those we pray
Look at His Hands and Feet, His Side, the crown of thorns
Now look at the devils deceit and how your soul he scones
Come in and warm your heart... Jesus is The Way... The only Way
John 14:16
Jesus answered,
"I am the way and the truth and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me."
Blanketed By Joy
If only your blanket did not extend to my drive way.
It was but an hour ago, I pulled back your cover.
Now I must go out again.
Why do I curse you?
You spread before me like a miracle,
all things purified.
You provide a translucent blanket of white.
children know your beauty.
Why do I curse you?
I choose to stay here in my insulated castle
looking at artificialy created flames,
while drinking my instant coffee.
Still you call to me
“Grab that shovel,
build a fort. Reclaim your youth!
Be the dad you wished for.”
A hockey wrink awaits me outside my front door,
no skates required.
I Join in the laughter,
shaking the snow from my furrowed brow.
I Toss handfulls of fluffy snow from the ground.
I see my smile on their faces.
I truly am blanketed by joy.
How can something so cold warm me so?
________________________________________
Life Changing
In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees.
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead.
--
I stir under the warm sun anew.
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair,
I stand in beauty, unaware.
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut.
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades.
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum,
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb.
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade.
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears,
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down,
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears.
----
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life.
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed,
My issue are now numbered among the dead.
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife.
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.
Time then had facile fluidity,
flowing like smooth autumn breeze,
touching the somber edges of indolent life.
You walked in a slow pace, gladly let me pass,
held my hands with passion for a long while,
waited to listen when and what I spoke.
Your tolerance showered cool rains of empathy
on my blazed mind in troubled times.
You encased my shadow in the petals of heart
when I was gone, never to return.
I could look through transparent shroud of my life,
see happiness glitter in the core,
for my soul was a flower of bliss
in the bouquet of togetherness.
Time now is verily viscous,
sliding in uncertain cascading course,
eroding the stony bedrock of life’s canyon.
You rush through mad crowd, don’t let me go,
your arms no longer cross distance to embrace,
in cacophony you don’t listen when I speak.
Your compassion has morphed into a mirage
in the desolate desert of my desiccated times.
When I’m gone you erase my fading face
instantly from your insulated slate.
I can’t look through opaque veil of my life,
don’t see where happiness has disappeared.
My soul is a web of snapped threads
in the frail tapestry of discord.
July 5, 2020
Contest : Strand Completely New (5), Any Theme Any Form
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Sometime
before I was not mature enough to notice,
she began to dissolve.
Husband dead, son revolving
around one woman after another,
moving away from her fading presence.
Aware only of the ebb, and flow of her care
or interest, Distance surfacing in her eyes.
How her housecoat insulated her from
what she once loved.
When she looked at me it was through a tunnel
she had dug into her mind,
her presence muffled
as if it were now
always too cold to surface.
I should have seen the signs,
but by then I only visited
during narrow gaps in my life.
I told her to join something,
do what other old people did.
Only now do I understand
what old people do, -
they think of their parents
in threads and patchwork pieces.
I cannot recall the exact period
when the seam of strong bonds
began to unravel,
for of course,
that specific time was buried with her.
Virgin
A young lady is dainty in disguise
Reading a book of love with that blank look
Nothing is prettier than a girl who giggles
Underwear lost between a passage of a line
Somewhere between puberty and a smile
She remains the same unblemished, undefiled
And just as simple
Like aspirin in a bottle with no pills in it
Vacant as the vessel that she is
Empty as a bed with no pillow
No one around to testify
No need to swallow any lies
Being void of pleasures
There is no shame
Vacuous and estranged
With the same effect remains
Engaged in her perfection
Behind mysterious eyes of youth
Lust lies, burns inside, untouched
Behold the beauty in her red dress
Lights go off and so does it
No secrets left inside the heart
There is nothing left to see of worth
Or sacred between the sheets and mattress
Or more delicious than a mistress in a sin
Soft skin and innocence
Little Miss is wrapped in her virginity
Wears a red badge of courage on display
A mystery worth having if just for pleasure
She knows her way around a man
Avoids kisses at every twist and turn
Into old age where hope evaporates
Purity clings on to every pore of her sweet nature
Fades, broken, a spell of imperfection cast
But still she keeps her socks on in the dark
When sleeping
Dreaming of extra layers of silk to comfort her
To keep her warm, insulated, never penetrated, violated
As she pretends to celebrate celibacy like woman might
Beauty and body, an image that runs dry
A reflection on a lovely vision twisted
The young virgin does not exist in every picture
According to the people she was with
Those who assist her in protecting the perception
A celebration, a witchcraft of celibacy
A practice of which is just imagined for one day