Long Invite Poems
Long Invite Poems. Below are the most popular long Invite by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Invite poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes I think sleeping
is entirely overrated,
especially when thoughts come creeping
into me unabated.
From whence they arrive
I'm often surprised and void of explanation,
other than the atmosphere
and strange affiliation.
With whom these letters think I am
some sympathetic host,
as if I'm nothing but their bloody ride
to take them coast to coast.
How dare they arrive inside of me
with no invite from my brain,
they just jump in from where and when
another dimension, place, or plane.
(And yes, I know it sounds insane)
I know it sounds ridiculous
as if I'm crazy as a loon,
but I swear sometimes I think these lines
comes straight down from the moon.
So go ahead, call me a “lunar-tic”
Or don’t hesitate to call me weird,
but letters and words fall free from the sky
landing right between my ears.
When Dawn resurrects Sol, a splendiferous Spring sun paints the horizon with light. And an earthy fragrance rides in on a warm morning breeze, refreshing Winter's stagnant breath. Color spreads as flowers burst into bloom, amidst the remnants of death. Ostentatious songbirds tweet as children play, casually engaging innocence with a smile and a song in their hearts. Nature imbues life with a delicious sweetness, renewing the essence of hope with endless tomorrows, to offset yesterday's bitter dregs. And I bare my heart, shed my armor of skepticism, and reevaluate the future with guarded optimism, upon hearing a child's spontaneous laugh. It is a good day to be alive!
mother of pearl clouds
puffy pillows invite sleep...
hope has awakened
Who shows up
for cooperative health opportunities,
reducing pathologically competing risks?
Who shows up
for extended family potluck meals?
Who shows up
to give and take
during local pot-latch
cooperative council meetings?
Who shows up
to embrace and invite healthy WinWin climates,
wealth arrayed lilies
in health-invested fields?
Who shows up
for PositivEnergy Democracy
rather than NegativEntropic Anarchy?
Who shows up
to listen and then speak
all our polycultural
WinWin
Common ZeroZone Ground,
MotherLands,
Local AnimaMundi?
Who shows up
for 2020 restoring therapeutic justice revolutions?
Already spiraling cooperatively forward
to 4040 MultiLateral Peace,
sacred/secular EarthTribe
Network Resolutions--
Peaceful EarthTribe Resilience
Who shows up
to grow green eco-resonance
by starving red ego-ignorance?
Who shows up
ready for WinWin FutureSearch
multicultural opportunities?
Who shows up
already cooperatively engaged
and not competing to co-mentor Trust?
Who shows up
LeftWork and RightPlay
reconnecting co-arising Faith?
Who speeds up
spiritual DNA
with natural RNA
co-empowering healthy
Left/Right
West/East
North/South
bodymind-map Futures?
Who shows up
by graceful eternity's creolizing invitation
rather than adrenaline's
anger-fear colonizing demands?
Who and what has shown up
within cooperatively integrating
multiculturally co-investing
sacred historical ground ego-organicizing
secular eco-engaged fantasizing
You?
Unfulfilled little promises that my people made to me..
My mother vowed me to buy a heart shaped dollar..
But she didn't
My father vowed that he would buy own house..
But he didn't
My girl friend told she would teach me to ride bike ..
But she didn't
My best friend told he would offer me treat..
But he didn't
My partner told he would invite me abroad ..
But he didn't
I too made a promise but it's on tussle..
I promised to be a lifelong friend
To one of the girl who's posh trend
As our friendship grew high
I began to sadly sigh
I analysed her personality thorough
As I slightly disliked it though
Managed to stick and adjust
Not letting her aware that am unable to ingest.
But still somehow I promised to be her affable friend
despite knowing one day she is gonna force me bend.
I need to maintain distance mode
to prevent from fight explode
We all do promises for one or the other reason
Once given away your promises
Lock it in heart's folder premises
It has to be consciously kept
Later not distressfully wept
Before you make
For someone's sake
Not knowing if they're fake
You need to ponder
Then later don't wonder
Finally when it is made
It should be saved
Don't allow it to fade...
30-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Second place in the Contest.
Note1: *The promise poetry Contest*
Sponsored by Silent One
a sonnet/acrostic
C Commemorations of a Savior’s birth
H have always been a focus and a blur.
R Recalling cost which does not count for worth,
I I mention gold and frankincense and myrrh.
S Sophisticates who give, have other views
T than Bible talk of God who gave His Son.
M Most presents represent affection’s muse,
A appreciation for what someone’s done.
S Some suave suggestions for a diff’rent gift:
G Give one anonymous surprise – a toy,
I Invite outsiders over, snub your thrift,
F Forget the clock and focus on the joy.
T This Christmas, aim to give yourself away
S Spend time on those who need you every day.
written 16 December 2015
Poverty and rage is all he sees
in a furtive,doleful glance,
and the brightly-colored lights
cannot console the wretched soul
of his malnourished,shivering body:
bundled up in rags and visible to all
the hurriendly and careless passerbys,
who seem blind in their own pretense...
He rejects the mournful sounds
interfering with his needed sleep;
and yet,he lifts his drooping head
to peak around the wratful trees
to assure himself that
the wooden and metal shack
is well-secured and safe;
his numberless doubts delve deep...
In the middle of a furious February,
winter has failed to invite the generous sun
to warm up his frosty home so run-down;
an impoverished home in which he repulsed luck
that could have turned his life around;
his regret is an unremissible remedy:
consumed by a wishful valor
that ended in bitter squalor....
I invite you to go wild,
laugh till your sides nearly burst.
And act as you did a child,
letting raindrops quench your thirst.
Start a fire with scraps of wood,
or sculpt castles made of sand.
And pick berries that taste good,
or stroll through a meadowland.
Go splash in the creek barefoot
or chase frogs that swim away.
And track monsters like Bigfoot,
while you enjoy this play day.
Giggle at the dog's kisses,
or run, like, you'll never stop.
Poke a snake till it hisses,
or climb a tree to its top.
Gaze at the clouds sailing by,
as they slowly drift away.
And treat yourself to a pie,
while having a fun-filled day.
We are born damned, filled with sins
Indulgently growing, detached
from virtue.
The end is not merely coming,
we invite it in.
Accelerating, stretching,
towards final reckoning.
Behind us lies the guidance,
the voice of return.
Yet, it does not force us, nor chase,
It simply waits -
Open, available, eternal.
Some choose to ignore,
but it remains.
Humanity unfolds towards
damnation or salvation.
Our lives are the ink, our choices the brush.
Most stroke it without concern.
We stretch ourselves into sin,
as we expand towards the grace.
We are a mirror of that,
purity and cruelty,
constantly being torn between two forces.
We are the living being of that tension.
The prayer, being written in both directions.
In Florida's land, where horror's dance,
A tale of darkness, a macabre trance,
Whispers echo through death's domain,
Of botched executions, haunting pain.
Within those chambers of somber despair,
Where lives are tethered by the politician's snare,
Justice, is sought, with trembling hands,
But fate plays out a wicked, evil stand.
The first scene unfolds, a chilling sight,
As veils of lethal fog blanket the night,
The chemical concoction, a deadly brew,
To end a life, as the law construes.
But nature, in her cruel jest, did jest,
And tremors shook the chamber's breast,
The veins refused to yield their prize,
As life endured, against all demise.
Witnesses watched in awe and fear,
The agony, the failure, all too clear,
The reaper's grip, a fleeting grasp,
A botched finale, a grievous lapse.
And yet again, the gallows called,
A stage for justice, where souls were enthralled,
But darkness loomed, a looming cloud,
As time stood still, in silence, proud.
The hangman's noose, a deadly shroud,
Was cast upon a soul, as whispers vowed,
But fate, with twisted hands, did play,
And life endured, despite the fray.
Florida's soil, now stained in red,
With echoes of horrors, the tears unshed,
In the quest for justice, so grave and dire,
The heartache lingers, a ghostly choir.
For who can claim the righteous path,
When faltering steps invite the wrath?
The specters of the botched remain,
Their haunting cries, an everlasting stain.
In Florida's land, where shadows creep,
And troubled souls find no solace, no sleep,
Let us remember the lessons taught,
Of flawed endeavors, human thoughts.
For in the depths of these chilling tales,
Resides a truth that never pales,
That justice sought with blemished might,
Is but a phantom, lost in night.
Twisted we are, staring at ourselves
Dusty on our sky scraping shelves
Reviling the imp that stares back at us
trading in love for the plunders of lust,
For idiots we must be
To cleave to a society
That dictates our pockets' depth and our heart's reach
To invite the water into our mouths when the hull is breached
As we shut out reason
For a lie that's more seasoned
And drown our grey matter
With the concoctions of another medical mad hatter
Here we are, doomed to wonder for the entirety of our lives
Why is there silence in our bee hives,
When we accept opinions as infallible truths
Choosing to conform rather than reform: an existence without roots,
Becoming faceless men and women strutting upon life's stage,
Strings pulled, lines delivered, audience engaged,
We dance to another's tune, no song of our own,
Moulded to conformity, yet we remain alone,
For we belong to those who influence us and this we cannot see,
Because thoughts are now taught and I have become We.