Long Inwardness Poems

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


Gallery

in the public square
you are not to be questioned
just admired 
      for your dark demonstrations
of being

the hanging black spider waves its life at you
perhaps the arachnid lover is demoralized
by your hidden beauty
                                     hard to tell 
you cringe under its radiant otherness

in the public museum
        take the tour backwards
let the man with the megaphone mouth
spin his webs not from the center out
                 but outer to inner
inwardness opens windows in closed walls
be kind to the blank eyed watchers

here is a beautiful oil on canvas
there is a spider in the corner
that no one notices
                  for it has no frame
its eight legs tremble

The man in the bus-driver cap
extols her still not living attractions
the ugliness of the moment
is memorized by the whole gallery
only the Picasso remains free 
of the taint of paint

A fat woman sighs into my face
threads exude
multiple silky spinnerets
droop from sticky glands

I want out
the way I came in
but am now too endangered
to weave my way out of this
       carry out picture palace


The Chiseled Face of Petra

There are doors but you can’t knock upon them
And if they were opened
There is nothing to see if they did
Just a  hollowed out space 
Large enough for the width of a door
And no more
Some temples are like this
A dry sandstone and façade and fascia
Not the delving warrens of the tombs of Kings
There is nothing deep to them
The architecture is all outwards
A structure chiseled only far enough
Into the rock to suggest mighty halls within
All inwardness is written upon the outside
Depth only suggested
Rooms for these ancient vaults of time
Would be mere adornments

Their purpose is confusing
Perhaps they point to an interior
That is on the outside
An edifice that attempts to mirror 
soul

A Space Story

He often thought that life below the world,
below the surface of any surface, on the inside,
might be a better way to know these layers of reality
he often imagined.

Not for him the outer stars,
not for him the high reach of any physical existence.
Core and interiority, essence, and center – no
not just the center, the heart of it all, the very inmost.

It was hardly a surprise to him
when he began to see the within of the within,
as if it were the eye that, all that is
orbits and arises from.

However, eventually it came upon him
that there was always an expanse, an immeasurable 
sky within every substance that he would always be 
unable to fathom;
he called that vastness: the God-space.

that space slowly began to probe his consciousness,
made him aware of the inwardness of infinity
and that made him, strangely enough,
discontent, leaving him feeling exiled,
as if he were only a bug gazing through
a frosted windowpane, 

for the inner was too immense
(even in a single atom), for him to comprehend.
and now he must always be on the outer rims
of endless layers of reality looking in.

Sad Suppressed Anxiety and Depression

When a feeling is deep within your soul,

A sadness so prolific it begins to rot a hole,

Loneliness lingers like a dark cloud,

The words remain unspoken from you aloud,

The fear of judgement surrounds your being,

The voices of paranoia commanding and decreeing,

Unable to flee your muddled minds manipulation,

You have no choice but to bow to the voices damnation,

Dragged deeper into a mental vortex of darkness,

Shadows lurk awaiting to take advantage of your inwardness,

Procrastinating becomes your only capability,

Self worth, depression, anxiety ruin your minds stability,

Before you no it your trapped in a cycle off gloom,

It slowly closes in creating an all consuming tomb,

Now your trapped in your own minds labyrinth,

How do you escape an emotional counterfeit, 

With no exit.
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Cooking Up Stories

Why would I care enough
to open your recipe story?
Why don't I care enough
to pour you in to enrich mine?

I love your wild seasoned willingness,
can't say the same for our salty willfulness
to exchange our sweet belonging
for side-by-side sour longing.
for being karma's relentless instructions
when we could more peacefully
become simple incarnate
co-productions.

Prime cooking together
feeds my soul to yours,
organic compost
sublime breakfast
wild voiced beings
with choices
stir-flying nice.

Freedom from recipe's half-baked inwardness
evolves freedom toward half-fried out hypothesis.

Natural nutrients grow strong values
folding our stories with care.


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