Long Intuitions Poems

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


Premium Member The Now Continuum

“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker 

The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
  drifting into the eventide of agony…

So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
  to veil visions of vanity,
  to mask mirrors of melancholy,
  to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…

Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini 
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in 
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the 
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
   opalescent quiescence…

O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
              of soundless rhythm…


Premium Member Our Own Gethsemane

God painted this portrait of emerald and crimson
Soothing my soul with the brilliant and vivid
Colors of miracles caressing my heart and spirit
Breathing out whispers of sentiments that touch me
With a sense of faith in all that gives hope in this world

God graced the misty mountain morning with a touch
Of joy and inspiration that comes from discovering
Peace that knows no worry or anxiety, but fulfills dreams
With the tender embrace of rainfall that brings with it
Dancing lights of star and moon, insights into satisfaction

God welcomed these jubilant flowers that touch thoughts
With charming desires for tomorrow’s creativity and vision
Moments of encouragement colored in hues of acceptance
Prayers that come alive with amazing intuitions combining
To produce heavenly aromas of kindness felt in this place

God breathed the sparkles into the stars and light into sunshine
Flavored the gardens with delicate hands to harvest all the gifts
From this rich and raw soil which knows nothing of depression
But feels alive with all of nature’s senses and direction, the course
Toward sweet talents sent down from heaven to bless us

God’s garden was Eden, free from evil and even the least sin
Even now, on this earth, there is the feeling of purity and hope
Discovered in the tiny seeds that are planted and nourished
Bringing sprouts of loving plants which fill hearts with serenity
Tranquility that leads hearts to believe in God’s forever, eternity!

God blessed me with a garden and I feel sure He has, ever so gently,
Touched my heart with a piece of true fertility only found within
The one who believes in the Son who found Himself in the garden
Of Gethsemane, awaiting the moment when we would be spared
From the death that only He would need to experience to free us all

God gave us more than a garden when He spared us our own Gethsemane
He gave each one of us a gift of pure, phenomenal love without conditions
A love that would be the answer to every prayer, every mystery, 
Love that arises when we discover the answers can only be found 
In the spiritual intimacy attained with a relationship bought and paid for by Him,

Our personal Savior… The giver of all the flowers, gardens and vivid portraits
Of nature!





Petal, buds, blossoms, bees, birds, butterflies! Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
July 30, 2020

Premium Member My Pet Poems, Max

My Pet Poems, Max

I hopped onto Craig’s List, made a phone call.  

Next day, with a royal blue, nylon carrier, which had a small, zippered door, sitting on the back seat ready, we drove an hour southeast for this scrawny boy — white with beige/blonde markings on his back and,too, on his amazing,  static-charged, flying ears.  The first  short-nosed dog I’d ever gotten, with quite an underbite.

The couple taking our $100 for this shih tsu told us: well, he’d not done well on their farm; was bullied by the other dogs; and was fearful of horses.
In turn, I thought: well, who wouldn’t be?  This tiny, white fluff of a boy with that pronounced, huffing smile, all teeth from chin to nose.  I told Jim on the drive home, “The funniest thing I ever saw.”

The vet record the couple gave us was fraud —no such vet.  And, apparently, Max had a nerve disorder,  too,which sent him into a fit of physical contractions and screaming  at any point of any excitement.  “He is one for the medical books,” our own vet said, as we tried every approach to help him.  He suffered in those fits, as our ears and alarm for him did each and evoery time for over three years, with us finally stopping the meds, simply going to embrace him gently, saying softly, “Max!  Max, jt’s all right...”

Now, some several years later, the fits are no more...I try not to, but I wonder what horrors he knew on that farm: if the bullying dogs bit him when he screamed?  And if the couple tried kicking him out of his fits with their heavy farm boots?  My intuitions all but saw it.  Oh... 

This little boy, who became the shadow figure at my feet... like his ancient Chinese-bred ancestors, lying guard before the holy places, and taking off to bark away any possible predators at the door; and, too, lying half-wakeful aside their sleeping monks or the town’s children in case some monster rose out from a dream, or some other need indicated a command.

Then, when Gigi came, he became instantly a big brother, as a dog will do it, he always abdicated as she insisted on being so at my side, in her little princess way of wedging her way between.  Thus, Max has taken to Jim’s affections and shadows him.  The boys there.  The girls here.  Affection throughout the room!

********.       *********.       ********.       ********
(c)sally Young eslinger 12/23/20
Always Thanks be to God
Form: Prose

Premium Member The Seventh Seascape


O souls of the Island, 
I have silently 
heard through 
tropical torrents 
and surpassed 
a million miles 
of the milky seas, 
away from 
mint-marine 
silhouettes of my
utopian wonderland, 
as strawberry 
ripples and 
coconut-scented 
musings called 
upon my 
flamboyant spirit, 
to explore those
ebony-emeralds 
of universe and 
envelop my hope in 
creamy pink shells. 

I have soaked in 
sepia impressions, 
ebbing as 
crepe currents 
on splitting shores 
and windsurfed 
through the
hibiscus rays 
of life by forbidding 
heartache hymns 
of yesteryears, 
from lurking in 
jewelled hours 
of today 
and built a 
kryptonite kayak 
to sail in the 
turquoise times 
of tomorrow.
For, now I know 
that the 
opalescent ocean 
has chosen me, 
to return the
riveting spirit 
of sage-rufescent 
rivulets back to 
the 'Heart of 
Humanity's Cosmos', 
shaped in 
soft serenades 
of seraphim. 

When the 
whispers of a 
mauve french-rose, 
blooming within, 
will uncurl their 
farthest wish 
in silken twinkles, 
my eyes will always 
remember these 
watercolor heights 
splashing crayon dusks 
and revealing 
silver moon truths, 
for there's more 
beyond the 
neon networks 
of syzygy pearl skies 
and chestnut reefs, 
yearning to be 
cherished by the
blonde alchemy of love. 

So, I abandon 
those sooty 
regrets that snorkel 
with their fragile fins in 
kohl-lily gulfs
and observe these
constellations 
of intuitions, formed 
by the star-kissed 
manta rays and 
sketch sagacious 
saudades laced 
with hope, as a 
halo around the 
lilac Pole Star. 

In this mortal 
seascape of 
the seventh heaven, 
every orphan 
of darkness
shimmers as 
the beacon 
of lustrous 
sugar-scintilla that 
shapes this world, 
in ivory-smitten 
spheres of 
magically 
diaphanous helix, 
waltzing in whispers 
of wind and water. 
Every lava-skinned, 
feminine flame 
of doleful daffodils 
was once a glittered 
cherry-red gardenia, 
laced with 
cardinal buds, 
who nurtured 
velvet seeds 
in the womb of 
celeste compassion 
and edenic empathy. 

And like myself, 
every sea-maiden of
sequined lush ruminations, 
crowned with 
purple plumerias, 
is a whimsical wayfinder, 
wishing for ~
white bells of serenity 
and blue-star petals of peace.

Premium Member Fulcrum of a Rose

When the raspberry horizon 
  is curled up, 
shaping caramel-lilac lips 
  of the cashmere kismet, 
   singing in a choir of cherry chivalry
and honey-glazed fireflies ~
those snowy stars
  simmering in summer silence,
 f l i c k e r 
          a w a y
  leaving burgundy blurs of beliefs,
wrinkled in those blinking blemishes
   of clementine memories, 
 which once trailed hysterical footprints
  across my fairy-threaded horizons...



And I lay, breathing  l o v e
 on a pillow of pristine pearls ~
succulent with the silver songs
   of perfumed yesteryears ~
chiming through chocolate valleys
  and rippling in the ruffles
         of origami reveries,
             weaved in scarlet sonnets... 
where you and I, chakras of the divine ~
   w a l t z 
  like the sunset 
                and its shadow 
             through a halo of rose-rings ~
  our spiritual silks 
rinsed in rubies,
   as every aromatic alphabet
       caresses those syllables of storms,
   stained with the murkiness of maroons
      and the velvet rain of remnants
          leaves a champagne spark ~
  igniting indigo illusions
that whisper
whirling intuitions 
in my saffron-kissed kundalini... 



 " O' thistle-light
distancing me
from my dandelion i n k ~
      I'm no longer a paranoid petal
           swirling in a havoc of hate and rust,
  rather, I'm blossoming ~
         aesthetic in strawberry arcs, 
dreaming of a reality
       above imposters of nightmares,
  where my honeysuckle sepals 
   hold hope as a golden anchor ~
          fluttering in pink opal warmth,
   and I feel like the heat of life,
       for those decaying flowers,
  betrayed by 
              the 
                 torrents 
                            of 
                                   t i m e... "

dear lord of the scintillating swan light, 
in the fulcrum of fragrances ~
this sailor soulfully sails, 
as a telepathic trespasser 
   tangentially 
         steering
               to an orchard 
      without 
rose-tinted 
reveries... 
to be the last scent 
of forget-me-nots ~
manifesting a meraki of miracles
         in those mulberry mosaics, 
where the esoteric zephyrs of elysium
still remember me ~
as a sandalwood-scented soulmate 
of the forgiving sun...


Premium Member To Hell With Reason

a jolly darling right angle went straight out of the lateral box

fed up with grinding a living on the periphery of pure reason

he thought back to his square roots and longed for a change


his strict Dad Monty Pythagoras had been rather level headed

had equated logic premises and conclusions with happiness

a refined man steeped in knowledge in search for great virtue


his Mom Pi however never lived up the promise of her name

strayed from her calculated path of predetermined precision

abandoned caution and boredom and soaked in a bubbly bath 


Archimedes my **** I can’t throw the baby out of the water

had a fling with Plato in his cave and settled for the kitchen

made the best strawberry crumble from recipes of her aunt


Little Monty Pi enjoyed whipped cream and emotion much more

than obedience and hypothenuses and left mere equations behind

licked off the whisk and dreamed of the perfect circle for good


vanilla emotions danced with sweet sugar candy mountains as

his feelings submerged into a fantasy world coated in cinnamon

he was warned that he might have eggy intuitions on his face 


for shells would easily crack and ovations weren’t perfectly round 

but his world was not flat anymore and he wished for perspectives

of a different kind than sitting in the lost corner at ninety degrees


if you can stand the heat you should remain in the bakehouse 

savour cookies or condensed milk tarts for such exquisite cuisine

beats mere cognition and the dour fragrance of stale rationale


Mum chuckled while Dad despaired and took out his slide rule

proposed that life was no honey pot and cooking was effluvium

misleading and not up to the fine task of consequential virtues


but like most kids he would only listen to what he wanted to hear

put Nirvana on the headphones and closed his mind to objections

eventually he learnt that life was really a giant rigged rollercoaster


maybe the strawberries were laced with psychedelic truth serum

or the icing on the gateau was to abandon forethought and planning

most of all that he was neither circle nor angle and just needed to be


30th August 2020

Premium Member Love Powers

Jung observed
Where animus PowerOver dominates,
empirically reigns,
there lies anima’s yin-Love
soft recessive Shadow.

Positive to negative,
and double-binding negative 
to appositionally reverse
not not yet re-imaged positive
power both/and democratically with.

PowerOver patriarchy
dominating mutual empathic
EarthMatriarchal power flowing with 
and through
each healthy root relationship 
of AnimusSelf with AnimaOther.

For some, this PowerWith agape feels sacred,
yet also cooperatively natural, organic
like what we have always most appreciated
as nourishing hands and face,
light and voice and feet,
taste and sound and feel,
humane heart and embryo regenerate mindbody.

Open EcoSystemic PowerWith others,
with Earth,
with nurture co-arising Time's regenerate Presence,
but not with PowerOver dominance,
competing Win to not Lose monopolistic life and death emotions,
thoughts,
mistaken beliefs about this animus AND anima
eco-shadows co-arising
Basic Trusting Revolutions,
great and small transitions of ecoconsciousness.

Some speak of climatic and aggressive PowerOver
in contrast to reverence,
substituting Jung’s LoveShadow
with a sacred shadowing
poly-teleological re-ligioning
multicultural WinWin equivalent 
nondual nature/spirit evolving balance.

Yet, Yin emerges a binomial yinyin notnot
shadowing WinWin conscience
synergetic intuitions informed by DNA sacred scripture
love-with-health regenerating mutual true-beauty compliance,
resonance,
contenting resolutions,
cooperative relationships with mutually co-incarnate
economic balance of nutritional values,
expecting loving hand and face outcomes 
for all Earth’s Tribes,
grateful for evolving mindbodies
surfing through octave-wave co-arising functions
of ego/ecoconsciousness.

For me,
power and love together are reverence
most fully accessible to each and all
maintaining cooperative nutritionally-motivated Basic Trust Attendance,
free to ShowUp, Notice, explore ego’s curiosities,
yet free from overly-cynical ruminations
about how to control mysteries and stories
recovered and discovered
uncovered and unfolding,
reweaving yet again together.

Knowledge

Knowledge, the giant tree
The shapeless mighty
None can see,
None can cut
Only can learn, acquire
by following previous wise someone
or contemplation on every part of nature

I born to come
To this giant amorphous tree
Powerful its roots, trunks, crowns
(branches, twigs, leaves, flowers, fruits, flowers, winds, shadows)
(though I don't see but can imagine sure)

Sometimes I think
I understand the knowledge
But I find me standing under the shadow of the tree;
But chariot of time proves me
my under-standing is wrong,
Because, the shadow of the knowledge tree
becomes disappear
O' it's MIS-UNDER-STANDING!
(The projecting scorching sunlight and stormy rain
destroy my peaceful place!)

Sometimes I think
I understand the knowledge truly
I find me exact standing beside the trunk of the tree
But chariot of time proves me
my under-standing is selfish, allows only my intuitions;
Because Under Standing of the knowledge tree
becomes only for me and my follower literally
though there are many under-standers
The projecting stormy rain
destroys my peaceful place and unity

Sometimes I realize
I need to obtain this tree fully
When I go to get hold of this then cut it to build a palace
And I find easily through the all times
the palace by this mighty giant tree allows all
without any single division, thorny fence;
unites all without any fabrication, hindrance

True knowledge does not know divisions, shows the path of unity
Where each for others opens the door of sympathy 


***
NOTE:-
Sometimes we think we are near to knowledge but this nearing is like the standing under the shadow of the tree, it's Mis-Under-Standing ofknowledge but the time proves it wrong because the shadow becomes disappear by the course of time chariot;

Understanding of knowledge is like standing under the trunk of the tree but sometimes this under-standing becomes selfish for not allowing others positions (understanding)

Knowledge is knowledge; need full realizations, knowledge does not know divisions, if we built a home by the knowledge tree it really gives a great unity for all



-Friday, July 26, 2019 Chattogram

Premium Member Dear Anxiety, Collaboration With the Silent One

Dear anxiety
Nemesis to my reality,
mental manipulator of tentative trust,
massacring my once sagacious soul -
you cut me into a slice of loneliness.

The fault is in our thoughts,
so I am haunted by the things you never said.
You remain silent to society's subjective eyes,
but a glimpse of a poet's soul shivers,
to these vivid verses held by ghosts -
echoing a repetitive chorus in a cathedral of screams.

I'm an uninvited guest in an audience with you,
so I drink poison in every line I write about you.
These words burn my vocal chords,
but I swallow them anyway,
as my paper heart pumps onyx drops
crying through my veins to heartache's recital
of an infected celestial mind yearning for a remedy.
But life is a cupid cruelty in dulcet disguise,
when your heart is a sinister seashell,
oblivious to potions of omen brewed in pigments of pixie-dust.

You're an unwelcome melody to my mystic,
composing an internal deadly demeanour.
I am the ink stuck in your cage,
dissolving like acid in your controlled carnage,
confined to trembling bleeding intuitions,
lost in corridors of horrific obscure mirrors,
whilst paranoia palpitates in a whirling haze of
magnetic ice warmth, melting my sanity,
amidst crumbling stars that lure cavernous comets
of silver grief to pirouette above frozen seas draped with 
a fluorescent creme of skies.
As oceanic tides of topaz rise and fall, 
flatlined into pewter streams of emptiness.
The moon coruscates in coral blue lies,
passing through intractable phases of trepidation,
abandoning light in black tourmaline nights -
pivoting into a psychedelic trance.

Rainbows fade before we can embrace
their colorful showers drizzling jade jewels
that rhyme with kaleidoscopic kismet,
as life through rose coloured lenses turns
into a provisional poetic manifestation.

If only I could escape this self-inflicted dungeon,
but you pursue like a perpetual predator.
I'll forever expose your oppression through my poems,
confessing how I never asked for this enforced affair.
I know I'm my own storm, I'm my own calm -
I just hope this is the last time I write about you.

Premium Member Undifference

Indifference, if neutral,
is not hostile or inviting.

Indifference of nature,
like indifferent sages,
need not favor warriors detached from winning health
nor degenerative losing trends against healthy wealth,
cast in our 'hollow reed' self-neutral image
of empty potential godliness,
pure omnipresent transparency,
divine polypathic integrity
potential of reversed detachment.

This left-hemisphere indifference 
allied with right-integral feeling,
so prominent in Buddhist and Taoist experience,
is only half our YangLeft with YinRight hemispheric history
of self and other full-governing
Our Warrior for ReAttachment
right-hemisphere half slow-grown differently interdependent,

A polyphonic harmonic web
for mutual attraction
of ego/eco-therapeutic re-attraction 
to compassion's historic
muticultural
deep-learning Ways
and Means, universal-Left balancing unitarian-Right harmonic,

Yang remembering to respect WiseElder 
bilateral
feeling/memory revolutionary reversions
past intuitions through nurturing interdependent future thoughts
imaged wombs for webs of bicameral balancing
hollow messianic dipolar co-arising choice

To remain fully resilient,
vulnerably listening teachers,
win/win climate committed
conflict inversion resolution resolvers,
therapeutic polycultural mediators,
not so much monocultural molestors
indifferently tolerant of aggressive
degenerative
left-hemisphere dominant wide, but not deep-learning climates
for differentially fragmenting environments
as if intended for nihilistic lose/lose,
by learning to indifferently tolerate
universal silo subclimates of growing despair,
Fiddling while our only and last Bow burns.

To redefine wealth as health
and not indifferently tolerate fake small ego-centrism
as if our larger Earth-centric healthy inviting sanctuary space
were not also our first and last hollow bowing place,
yet uniting and passionately sacred
in this our Great UnRaveling/CoGravitating Time
of climaxing Yang-health
as Yin-wealth opportunity
for polyculturally optimizing systemic
resiliently co-passionate Nature,
Time's Sage Bilateral Way.

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