Long Invention Poems
Long Invention Poems. Below are the most popular long Invention by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Invention poems by poem length and keyword.
Stilled.
A dream of Heaven on Earth is first,
And then a wish to fly with birds,
And then a want to make it so;
So we evolve and on it goes.
From worms we grow to become Kings,
And things are dreamed and eventually seen,
And in-between we become keen,
To find the source of everything.
Desire is the light that burns inside,
From babies cry, to not wanting to die.
We need to live, we beg forgive,
We give and we give,
So still we try.
Ambition is a manifestation,
Of human power, the strength of will.
Intuition, mother’s invention,
The endless search to not be stilled.
(C)2021 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Does a falling tree with no one near make a noise?
Does a poem without a reader have no voice?
What do my poems,once on the page,mean to me?
After they are written, they are fully set free
Passively do they sit in wait for attention
Only a reader can provide new invention
His experience,her culture,their tongue and age
Lend enchantment,emotion and elan to the page
Tied is the poem to the time and tide of the poet
Who is but the midwife and surely must know it
This orphan by the reader so closely embraced
Finds its meaning , when read ,newly minted and chased
Reincarnation becomes the order of the day
Where every new reading finds a fresher wordplay
There is such among creation
The goddess of divination
Result from the operation on man
His corporate rib as the plan
Given as a cooperative helper to him
And of her thoughtful advices to on lean.
Epitome of comeliness she is
With her eyes glittering Venus' lights
And her velvet body fit in stature
Lo, woman is a beautiful creature
For the majesty of her chumminess twists a man's heart
Wonderfully made, hard to fright.
The ancestral power of hers, an ancestress.
Her undiluted character brings forth home
The all-time cook till life's end to come
Tireless to nurturing the kids
And in womaning the daughters:
Always reliable for building-home duties.
Woman: marvel of the Maker's invention.
Soundscape Strata
Did Bach know to what end
his harvest of melodies-in-parallel would become?
Scholars agonize
Was creation of counterpoint
musical destiny
a hybrid fruit of beauty
knowing no boundary
bewildering those of first look
given musical staffs
voicings and manuscripts
always conformed to traditional confinement?
What spurred his palette of sound
to become one with the elusive rainbow
providing independence through marriage of numbers
allowing prolonged courtship
sanctioning destinies to verge
converge
separate
return to coalesce?
And so
From guitar
to clavichord
string quartets
to symphonies
counterpart airs were discovered
became melodious architecture
challenging new musical frontiers
voiding tundra's boundary rules
reducing history's brass survey monuments
to mere reflections of past memory
Popularization of Bach's invention
soared beyond the artistic elite
for in '55 "Picnic" graced movie screens
initiating the unsuspecting
elevating emotion with layered melodies
Moonglow playing under the love theme
Bach's kaleidascope of synchronous colors
reached the century's romantics
keyed into a music major
minored ala Brubeck
scat-a-tized via Ella and Mel
and
made unity of opposites a given
Thus
From Bach's synthesis of two dimensions
musical ironies evolved
influencing writers' language
line upon line
stanza to stanza
chapter to chapter
making magical
the double entendre
metaphor
subtext
contrapuntal imaginings
all translated into
infinite language-in-progress
With applause knowing nowhere to go
except to acknowledge the roots of prodigy
a high five to the man
who pioneered so much of our soundscape
taught us all the numbers of romance
ironically created attraction to opposites
arpeggios with many colors
intimacy amidst chaos
Encore Mr. Bach
Encore
On reflection what do I see?
In contrast to a younger me
do I spy cynicism in my little eye;
perhaps some regret for what could be?
On reflection what have I done?
The path I trod has led me here;
I am in this place, in this moment.
Experienced, yet each day new -
the space, the mood, each cloud formation
an innovation of fresh invention;
every dawn a rebirth; each familiar
familiarity has a contemporary hue.
The rejuvenation of night casting new light;
cleansing, healing each rueful thought.
Awakening in redemption, and grasping new
opportunity left - like a Christmas sack,
bursting with gifts, at the foot of the bed.
So as I tut and shake my head
for what could have been,
I only see what is, and all I have.
No time for reflection or regret,
I seize the day 'Carpe Diem' I say,
collect my sack of new beginnings,
and on my way. Yes, 'Carpe Diem' I say.
Written: June 23, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Bonds packed with zeros—harmony, grief, regrets,
In this endless cycle, memory no longer begets.
Your poetry is a symphony that stirs my soul.
But also a river of nausea in which I swim, whole.
Lonesome, dispossessed, my being in unrest,
A fetish for the departed, my electrons protest,
Darkened with heat and sound, aching for release,
Delicate slights, hunger, I cannot appease.
Bear me safe, classy, an echo of frustration
A decadent counter-revolution, my salvation.
Invention, force, and calculation may fade away.
But the lessons from failure forever stay.
The struggle mistake, the clarity we seek,
Caesar black vision is bold and unique.
Metaphors communicate wonders untold,
As a monkey and a cowrie shell, a story unfolds.
The absolute, shallow, and devoid of depth.
All surface, a worry that leaves us bereft.
To be zealous, and lewd as we bleed at sunrise,
That is the contract, the ultimate prize.
The journey of life, filled with harmony and strife,
Grief and regret are intertwined in this mortal life.
Memory fades as we seek a fresh start.
And your poetry is an art that ignites my heart.
Despite the beauty, a nauseating river flows.
A discomfort that lingers, a feeling that grows.
I swim in its depths, bare and exposed.
Deprived of control, my vulnerability imposed
Within me, a fetish for those who have passed.
Their presence lingers, casting shadows that last.
My electrons, once vibrant, are blackened by pain,
Absorbing the heat and sound of their refrain.
The changing face of things to come
is threatening to all,
security in what we know
is where we like to crawl.
To move us on to pastures new
needs pressing intervention,
indeed its true, necessity
is mother of invention.
Alas not all face challenges
with openness of mind,
there’s those who fear to take a step
afraid of what they’ll find.
There’s those who with a gentle push
will greet the brand new day
and fortunately there’s others too
who help to guide the way.
The only thing that’s sure in life
is everything must change
and individual comfort zones
must always rearrange.
Just learn to welcome all you meet
and weave and duck and dive,
sometimes it takes a path that’s new
in order to arrive.
Ivor G Davies
to this life i live
for every breath i am
forced to breeth
to this existance
where i have a voice
to the places
where i have no choice
to the reasons
that i toil
for the child
that was not spoiled
to intentions that
motivated my invention
what am i ?
who am i ?
and where am i going?
what's guiding my feet to
where they are going
what guides my thinking
to what i am knowing
what inspires my voice and hand
to speak and write what i am
what does my future and past say
about my today
and if i die will my mission
be compleat
did i say enough
did i write enough
did i do enough
to who and what do these things matter
to me? what do i have?
to God? oh God what have i done?
to the world? yes, i left my mark
maybe a bruse but not a scar
i reached for the stars
climbed the mightest mountian
and gave 110%
and you say my reward
is with in me
all i can say is
please don't ask me
to do it again
i couldn't put myself throught it
except to know that
next time will be harder than this time
that what didn't kill me last time
might kill me this time
has my spirit been broken
or my gold been refined
how strong do i look
brokendown crying
Will turn back the pages of my life to a day,
where I am walking slowly with father;
and a dog barks,
and a bird sings.
We traverse a nearby woods exploring nature,
looking at rocks and find a bird feather;
later, we walk up steep steps of a church,
with an interior beautiful still and quiet.
Why do things change ?
Why, do Dad's die ?
And then I walked,
and explored alone !
___________________
April 9, 2021
Poetry/Fragmented Verse/My Invention/A Page From My Childhood
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1360-014-09
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, All Yours (Apr 11)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 04/10/2021
First Place
Sophia's ABC Masquerade Ball
A masquerade ball of wisdom’s wisdom in a wink and a smile
Blessings in disguise –uncovered - not hidden in plain sight
Costume ball for aha moments comfortable in their own skin
Dancing discernments so light on their feet – dancing on air -
Elegant eloquence self-evident - no charades behind masks or eyes filled with stars
Festive fundamentals of sweet understanding trip the light fantastic -
Getting into the groove – give it a whirl - no two left feet for
Humble agreement unifying two dancer’s cotillion
Intuition’s insights of infinite wisdom unmasked in understanding
Jump and jive when discovered quite by surprise
Kissed by sheer delight and laughter or caressed in consolation
Lifetimes of proverbs accept the invitation to fill their dance cards, live and learn,
Maxims and mottos – mothers of invention – chaperone this carnival -
Nods of recognition in nuggets of wisdom cross finite dance floors -
Over the moon when asked to dance - little words speaking volumes -
Perspective and simplicity slow dance to shower pennies from Heaven,
Quick as a wink, on the masquerade queen for a day;
Ribbons of common threads rendezvous in a boogie-woogie
Silver linings revealed by the star struck song and a dance;
Transparent masks of second sight glimpse into common ground
Unveiling tigers of truth not pouncing but purring softly in waltzes -
Vanish the shadows of disagreement – not cutting in on virtuous patience
Whirling in a dance joined by the rhythm of deep agreement where
X marks the spot as inspired ideas rejoice in shared understanding
Yielding precious pearls – treasure of the tender memo received - read and acknowledged -
Zeroing in on Sophia’s masquerade ball.
N/A 6-12-20