Long Interlacing Poems
Long Interlacing Poems. Below are the most popular long Interlacing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interlacing poems by poem length and keyword.
Teotl is the shining gold light above everything
Wearing a mask of white and grey clouds
Teotl is the breath and wind of all seen and unseen
Greeting all who return to its arms
Split a piece of wood, hear a heart pulsating within
Lift a rock, smell fine incense burning
Open up a flower bud, see threads interlacing
Know the turquoise snake shedding its skin
Be reborn as a splendid tlamatini
Remaining on the straight narrow road
Be a passer-by on the slippery land of mud
Walking between maguey and thorns
Walking towards the golden light shining above clouds
Poem inspired by Saying 77 of the Gospel of Thomas combined with Aztec philosophy (especially the concept of "Teotl")
While waiting but not watching for the sun to set, perhaps the bullfrogs are creating the shadows with their croaks, my friend screams out because he has been bitten by a fly. He is not quiet enough so the flies obtain special pleasure from teasing him. Meanwhile bluebirds skirt the lake surface like the most perfectly designed fighter planes in twos or threes and argue rising up on their tails into the air. While insects prey upon and tease the bare flesh and blood of we humans, they fear the silent violence, the sudden huge presences of these family birds.
A larva with a leaf tip for a cocoon descends a white birch by a long thread. We free ourselves from our writings to observe phenomenon. Then thinking about dinner. The flight of J. Krishnamurti, the eagle guru says even artists (after physicists and mathematicians) may penetrate the unknown if not too absorbed in their own emotions and imaginations. We common people too who loving our wives can love everyone.
What eyesight the bluebirds have to swoop the lake from shore for a flying insect or descend from fifty feet on a thin straw grass and return to chew absent-mindedly! Just fun having song sung among men. As for the syntax, a daisy could swing it unthinking and coast. Along the beehive rocks ants crawl on connecting interlacing instructions. All around us and inside too as if stars were unseen but present it's true. So a man desires breakfast with his lady; could it be more amusing, material or smell?
As the eyesun descends below spun clouds, spirit or the eagle or the drum? Round. The dialectic obscure couldn't be more better said. So round and serious. To love everyone with clearer vision than a bluebird or a lake is to transcend the innocence of insect and take flight action and feed the babies of fate. Phew! Dinner outside the cocoon. I brought myself a student upon the hill or mountain and said to myself I said Obo rebop in summer sweater and what less overweight can carry test uphill so slow? Presently, reformed, informed by the bluebird's eagle spirit, clear cleanhead, I return coagulating mightily ideas the bites of insects ow! to breakfast home and everywhere unknown. Hearing bird with clear conscience echo make.
Darkness pervades mankind
I must cast my eyes away
Not to be blinded by the stench.......
Bound to chains of greed
Consumed thieves of power
Invasion of our young.......
A web of darkness
Pieces of vile arrogance
Interlacing a core of deceit......
Behold........
Thy Lord.......
Thy Light.......
The Brilliance of Truth........
The Glory of Love........
The Magnificence of Honor.......
~ The night is nearly over..The Day Is Almost Here..~
~So Then Let Us Cast off the works of darkness and Put On The Armor of Light~
Tapestry of textures, rough and smooth entwined,
Interlacing suffering and joy,
Satin strands of blessing lovingly designed
Tangled knots attempting to destroy.
Paths are set before us, history unfurled,
Warnings and instruction to be heard,
Faith and hope encouraged in a fickle world,
Treasure to unlock within the word.
25.04.20
Krish R poetry anthology contest.
Two stanzas only in rhyme to match the first stanza that is given below
Woven are these pages in poetic verse,
With bare threads of our deepest feelings,
You will find laughter, tears and remorse,
and words of wisdom, prayer and healings.
.................................................
Let me be, as God intended me to be:
Neither a wicked elf, nor a fairy godmother,
Never a demon, nor an angel,
But a true woman.
Never, I yearn to be the ‘Phenomenal Woman’
Of Maya Angelou,
Drawing a hive of honey bees round
‘With the span of my hips
Or the stride of my steps’
But,
One with a loving heart,
Calm and caring,
Though at times touchy and itchy
I yearn to be:
A gracious host and a helpful neighbor
An all time student and a teacher
Able to stand in my own light
And lessen the darkness of the night
I yearn to be:
An abiding spouse in whom my man can see
An ocean of love in my dewy eyes
And feel the steady warmth of my grip
When the seas of life grow stormy,
I yearn to be:
An adorable mother to my children
In whom they can confide,
Their doubt, despair or delight
A counselor, a friend and guide
With the balm to heal their wounds
Touch and move their spirits
And show them the miracle of love
Piecing together these different roles
Let me into a close knit texture weave
The fabric of my life,
Like the interlacing threads
Of a great tapestry!
In a way, is not living the art of quilting
Bringing out unique patterns
Of exquisite beauty and delight
From the scraps thrown in our way!
Submitted for Bian Strand Free verse
Poetry Contest
VAINGLORIOUS
arranged within
a sanctuary
sparkles
fragmentary
tactile
original
&bespoke
alongside a replica
of significance
perhaps
motifs
upend & reflect
the tensions
emblazoned
in swirling
decoration
interlacing
flowing
contemporary
imagery
evoking
a marble
commemoration
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Lone Wolves in The Fog
Memories like lone wolves in the fog interlope my conscious mind
Pedigrees that are hierarchical that seem too cruel and unkind
Energies that are patriarchal that permeate throughout mankind
Reveries that are anarchical rare contradictions that run through the mind
Graceful tones of purity that provide a calming of the soul
Spaceful clones of assurity that prevent you growing old
Careful drones of high security that don’t do what they are told
Caseful loans from in obscurity that bring them into the economic fold
Up lifted by the notion of compassion toward my brother
Shifted by the ocean of passion that we have for one another
Gifted by the light of fashion that makes you unlike any other
Convicted by the rations that they left when they lost their darling mother
Interlacing space and time with words that cannot be replaced
Interfacing place and rhyme that’s heard and spoken without disgrace
Constant pacing up and down so absurd when your about to be erased
Embracing face time with something unheard that you eventually retrace
Abominations of my mind can’t find the way forward this morning
Consolidations all combine to pay the way for conclusions forming
Infiltrations u don’t want to find when you say you are inside the warning
Commendation of the kind that way is close to a beach for storming
The End Cooyright Elizabeth Moroz
In the holy spot
with the sitting rock,
an oak. Out back
shagbark hickory
and maple.
Ants climb the rock.
August, birds
celebrate flowering
weeds, the seeds
of autumn to come.
I am here to name it
and know it and help it
to grow. These mountains
are my grave. A good grave
to go to.
The crows have been
in conference, again.
A jay, blue, pokes
a hole through reality.
I find sumacs fruiting
and the male sex organs
of the Queen Anne’s lace.
Juncos glean the lawn,
an occasional nuthatch
in the butternut.
I hear a pileated
woodpecker jackhammering
and my neighbor’s skill saw
chirring. Ants crawl
on connecting interlacing instructions.
Written: November 22, 2025, for contest sponsored by Julianne Williams
*******************
Part I — What I Like
I wander fields where musings grow,
odd blooms of words in gentle flow.
A peculiar delight rises quietly near.
While silently leaning toward my ear.
Hope hums, a gentle spark on earth.
Appears in a glow, a divine gift's birth.
A rustle in birth, a stillness of time.
Drifting over endless halls, sublime.
Is the melody adequate for our voice?
A rendition of sadness or of choice?
Part II — What I Dislike or Regret
Vestiges linger, bound with my deeds,
aged echoes break among the reeds.
I mourn the hours in fruitless trade,
where silence deepens, shadows fade.
I turn from mirrors that show my core,
not who I am, but what’s in store.
Myriad selves, yet incomplete and intime.
Ashes are dispersed across distant time.
Part III — What I Hope Awaits
I scan horizons, celestial, wide,
nirvana spreads to embrace my stride.
A future woven with threads of grit,
kindness, and fire interlacing it.
I wrest a path where woe decays,
and love rekindles its crucial blaze.
A candle ignites the endless night,
its gentle flame births dream and light.
Shadows dance in radiant streams,
illuminating eternal dreams.
The profound feeling-
giddy with the triumph of its reach,
that everything and nothing is wrong.
I dream I'm waking
in my American bed
from another time. But
the times keep interlacing
like lovers' restless fingers.
Like intercrossing networks
on a computer screen.
And she's always there.
And he's always there.
And waking reality has no backdrop
for this storyline.
But sometimes in the mornings'
thoughtless peace, I flip through pages
of a book until my fingers trace
the vibrations of myself. Rarely
does it take very long.
There's a man who found solace
in a glee that had no place.
And a woman who expected
only rubbish so she kept getting
more of something slightly better.
And another man told another woman
he ached for her, so she followed home.
And one more who in thoughtful respect,
laughed in the face of death just so
she could see what it was like. Why not?
She said to anyone who'd listen.
This all comes wrapped in various forms
of shadow interlaced by light.
That's what the books tell me.