Long Interpret Poems
Long Interpret Poems. Below are the most popular long Interpret by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interpret poems by poem length and keyword.
In Us We Trust
Jersey winds cool western beaches, hold the sun up high for more,
Sand and errant toes wildly breach as easterners go to and fro,
In there lies such great divides, for each and all of us,
With backs turned and arms folded, fall into each other's trust.
Create our fate, take our hate, and toss it into the wind,
Stand in the light, so nicely bright, it'll never ever be dimmed,
No one has more like before, all equals we shall be,
We'll learn the balance that nature bears, with owl eyes we'll see.
If we choose wrong--we'll belong, on suffering's behalf,
We should live lives that are innate to us and a decent life we will have,
Suffer not of what we value, and not of what we discard,
Set by our social order, 'tis ways and means that caused.
All of us can live a life that bears, one of modest means,
Ne'er wants like the Jones' have, 'tis our own everlasting dreams,
Unshackle the chains that bind, us all to that is of greed,
Move us closer to nature than we could ever try to be.
An hourglass sucks us down, it keeps us from our goals,
Until we turn things right-side up again, never lose our control,
We venture the thought, we'll make a start, of our liberty,
Maintain our rights, or make a fight, that favors the majority.
Nay to money, superiority/clout, appearance, and status,
Our ability to interpret what it means, then joy be a constant to us,
Treat the world equitably, then all will be much smoother,
In one accord, that will be it all, harmony is in our future.
2019 May 26
*3rd Place*
Musical Inspiration
~~Joseph May: Judged 2019 June 06
What's the me to you that's like me looking into you
What's you to me that's like you looking out for me
I got a right to feel special and that she agrees on
She got a right to feel loved and that much I can agree on
Only thing that matters is what you're fighting for
Every hope is someone's idea of holding on to life
Your identity is my existence for all its worth
Mines is nothing compared to me who's cursed
Who's gonna take care of you if not for me
How you interpret that is up to you
Being the villain in your love story is not bad
But being the cause to your demise is
You'll never get that feelings again not from the same person
Nor will you get that feelings again from another person
The only L in my life is the link between you and me
The other L I cherish is that name that holds more than memories
Finally who are you that's the who in me
And to tie the first and last line you're for me as I'm for you.
There is something that is almost love
The artist's call to capture an existence, symmetrical and pure.
It is magnetic and yearning
prying open my chest cavity and rearranging the vital organs to make a home for itself.
I almost love him.
I do not; it is but a trick of the light falling across his cheekbones
A muse that sculptors would've envied
Yet my heart quickens, seduced by the imperative to interpret such beauty
I am not a moth to a flame
I am a muralist to a whitewashed wall
A composer in a quiet room
A sonnetist to a blank page
but then the moment fractures, its fragile potentials
puddling back into reality once more.
Do you know what plan God has for you?
Can you wait and see? Have you not known?
Have you not heard, that the Everlasting God,
The LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth,
Does not faint, nor is He weary?
His understanding is impossible to comprehend or to interpret.
It is impossible to be seen through the physical eyes.
It is mysterious to the ain’t, He gives power to the faint,
And to those who have no might, He increases their strength.
Even the youth shall faint and be weary,
And the young and old shall utterly fall.
But those who wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength.
They shall mount up with wings as eagles,
They shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint.
Wait and see what the LORD has planned for you.
I will stand at my watch, and station myself on the tower, and I will keep watch to see what He will say to me,
And what I will answer when I am reproved.
And the LORD will answer me:
Write the vision, and make it plain on the wall,
That he who reads it may run.
For the vision is yet for an appointed time;
But it speaks of the plan He has for you, and it does not lie.
If it delays, wait for it; it will surely come,
It will not delay.
As Abraham believed, he received.
He was called a father of many nations,
God called those things that be not as though they were.
Wait and see what God has planned for you,
And it will surely come to pass.
If what I say I see is an image my brain forms
From stimulation by certain waves, then
When I say I see something “over there”, I do not see it
There, I see it here in my brain in three dimensions.
“There”, everywhere, is dark. Enlightenment plays only
On screens in brains where there are eyes to see.
But is what I say I see really the way something looks?
Yes, so far as I remind myself the image is but an artifact
Created within the limits of my eyes to capture and my brain interpret.
If so, how would the same something “look” in ultra violet or far-red waves,
(Is it all illusion?)
If we had such eyes to see?
Is it the same with other senses?
With hearing my dog thinks it is
Since I seem to miss so much. Ears deaf
To all but those of the waves we call audible,
Leaving so much music unheard.
I think how Mozart would have frolicked
Through notes extending to canine ranges,
If we had such ears to hear.
Surely all waves carry some possibility
For perception, some new way to find our way
But most are either denied or undetected.
I am impoverished by waves I cannot ride.
Copyright Paul Thomson 2021
In between the doubts and tears forms a founded thought…
scribbles on an old shipyard memo pad
tapping the inside of my skull, waking me…even though I don’t sleep,
offering a collection of dots and dashes to interpret
There are times in a man’s life when he knows he is sane…
Following the lines on an unpaved road
Crossing center without moving a muscle
Drinking from the fountain that bleeds rejoice
It is in these moments that he understands…
and removes the stupidity that has clothed him in rags
opens his eyes to what truly makes him happy,
breaks free of those past tense chains that bound him
What mattered does and what didn’t still doesn't…
When thumbing through crooked paragraphs
and finding that the phrases he thought he lost
were dangling from every crumbled page…waiting
Time does move in slug path wanderings…
Sidewalks glisten in zigzag designs
Drying in the mid day sun as
minutes appear as miniature renditions of the future
And as this time does slowly find me…
I extend my heart in fluttering palpitations of hope
strike the match on promises that I know I can keep
attempting to quell the flames of the past by swearing…never again.
Sons and daughters are rising
against their parents,
they use obscenity
and physical force;
honor is no longer
present in their unsound thoughts...
isn't the end coming soon?
Rivers and oceans flood towns and cities,
crops and lives are being lost,
mothers grieve for their children;
firefighters and soldiers
try to save them with their shivering pets...
isn't the end coming soon?
The climate is continuously changing,
it's getting warmer and ice is melting
in both North and South Poles;
grizzly bears, deers and wolves
search for food in garbage pails...
is the end coming soon?
Drug addicts and homeless people
are dying on dark, filthy streets
infested by rodents as big as cats;
punks carry guns and shoot in hallways,
and yet hookers continue their business...
isn't the end coming soon?
Grandpas and grandmas read the Bible daily,
their grandchildren worship the Devil who promises
them riches with schemes...even justice and punishment are failing;
who controls the Courtroom: the judge, the crook or the green?
Is the jury as fair and righteous as it appears?
Isn't the end coming soon?
Preachers praise God from the pulpit
when their souls are not pure as He is...
are they deceiving themselves and their flocks?
They interpret the Bible as they deem,
being inherent and contradicting...
isn't the end coming soon?
When The-Same-Sex-Marriage Law was passed,
crowds of gays and lesbians cheered on:
a return to Sodom and Gomorrah?
Soon perversion will be everywhere,
and more incurable diseases will start new plagues...
isn't the end coming soon?
hidden intentions
forseen from afar
set in the dark
tracks in the stone
to posterity through cloisters
with empty streams
a desert
of aged rivers
folds of nothingness
now run cold
treasures like rain
in abundance
lies
unnoticed
customs rites inscribed
without counsel
an eternal mandate
to interpret
given honour
crowned by command
by order
from on high
among us
the genteel
giving way
wise to please
acquainted with justice
models in reason
upon their own course:
practised analysis carried out
answers
to this current age:
precarious colleagues
in everything else
so doing
growing in reserve
wisdom mistaken at large
original
sincere
an analogy repeated
appears suspended
derived with censured
motives uncombed
wholly simulated
yet
capable of lasting enquiry
liberty prohibited without a whisper
rebellion in ignorance
opens the door of history
to the impossible
authentic conscience
a theory so many mark
but
do not listen
yet
at the end of it
can only
weep
year later
an obstacle remembered
now destroyed
in affections furrow
a doorway to the cross:
a suitable place
the winged cloud
talked of in conversation
thought to be cast down
yet
an indesructible word
now
still in flower
in the half-light of beauty
bringing light
vineyards of branches
gild the moment
highlights on a scale of importance
bringing equity
from heaven:
declaimed scripture
matter to contend
&advance the picture
with courage
an example for the next time
Written: September 07, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the depths of sorrow, as pokiness prevails.
A smile defenestrates, though my heart wails.
Zestfully decrypts the agony and loss I endure.
I flashed a false grin, yet none grasped it for sure.
Hypnotically, when we had previously danced.
Has drifted away, leaving me entranced.
The voice I adored is now only a faraway echo.
Strands my sultry heart, tears yet to flow.
But still, I smile through tears, breaking.
By the scraps of words, my mind is belittling.
A cherished knot is now a thing of the past.
But life must fare as its spell shifts and casts.
I hide every trace of my misery and grief.
Put on a plaid face and find comfort in belief.
Walking out into the world with a clear wound,
Bleeding soul, grimly sobbing, yet unattuned.
Nobody surely heeds my pain.
I rarely condone its reign.
I mask the sorrow with the loth handlooms.
And persist, as if my heart still blooms.
But did I interpret their generosity as love?
They stole shards of my heart from above.
I smile, despite the tears that threaten to spill.
None leads to the same effects as the creeper, still.
Orbiting a pole is it's sole function
I have yet to determine a purpose
The bedazzle causes the children to run
But the idea, I can't quite interpret
A merry go round would suit just fine
No need for heads or tails
No creepy eyes staring in to mine
No music, whistles or bells
It defies reason, if your thinking logically
With Lions, tigers and bears
This haunted contraption forever taunts me
My nightmares begin at the fair
Rusting gold and chipped paint
Up, down and around
You may take a spin, but I feel faint
With the tune of a devilish sound
Clowns are usually a package deal
When this sinister circle's in motion
Not bothered too much by their wicked appeal
Only this revolving locomotion