Long Limited Poems
Long Limited Poems. Below are the most popular long Limited by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Limited poems by poem length and keyword.
In our own time we find ourselves
Sure we try to push it toward the sun
Or down a driveway, into the street,
But it is not ours to push.
Someone else is in charge of how much time we have
We sometimes have a weird illusion it is us.
Snicker. Snicker.
But come on now. Think about it.
We do have a teensy bit of control of what we do with it.
Especially when we are young and carefree.
Less when we are parents, and children need to be fed.
Choose wisely how you spend it.
It is limited, so seek adventures that uplift you.
Find your tribe, those who nurture you and revere you.
Choose enthusiasm, passion, laughter, and love.
You never know how little time you have left
Until it is gone.
Freedom is somewhat limited
In a so-called democratic society
At times, people cannot truly tell it like it is
People cannot vote freely
Without some restrictions or some stupidities
In order to weaken the disadvantaged
Even though the US first amendment guarantees
Freedom of speech, freedom of expression
To assemble peacefully, freedom of religion
Freedom is not what it is
It is not how it is articulated in the glossary
Freedom is relative, please
Do not say fire vociferously
Or yell gun in the theater
At church or in the street corner
You will be prosecuted
Freedom is not what it should be
It is not what the US Constitution intended
It to be
Freedom is somewhat controlled and limited.
Copyright © October 2016, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Once upon a time, basking in sublime gardens of Eden
blissful essence of presence did as was bidden
soul ingrained with delight from head to toe
imbibing divine elixir, joyful heart aglow
humming a happy melodious verse
in resonance with pulse of the universe
feeling complete, in heightened bliss replete
until head and heart cracked, love sank to our feet
Reworded, we may say we shifted away from oneness
to a deluded, imaginary stature of ego separateness
presence feeling limited, imperfect and flawed
earthbound till soul be healed and thawed
pursuing desire in maya borne illusion
until exhaustion gets us to the recognition
that joy eternal lies not in the transient ephemeral
we again rekindle love in heart, with cognition spherical
In this journey without movement, we take off ego mask
for which no doing need be done, so easy is this task
our heart which is broken, due to love forsaken
shakes off deluded facade, when shaken
shifting by cessation into stillness and silence
awakening inner polarity of mind-body sentience
fabric of ignorance torn, ego shorn, now twice born
suffused by love magnetism warm, we once again adorn
14-June-2021
Writing prompt ‘flawed’ poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
employing the following words once only:
flawed, mask, broken, cracked
facade, torn, illusion, imperfect
OCEANS AWAIT
Away from the dockside and into the bay
Heading out to sea in this steel hulled ship
Powered by team, yet with masts and sail
A fast and safe journey is as the Holy Grail
Carrying passengers, cargo and some mail
Into deep ocean waves we will rise and dip
The dark grey skies suggest a difficult day
Driving rain signals our Southern prospect
A morning of growing passenger disquiet
Noon watch sounded by a tolling of the bell
The North Atlantic has some secrets to tell
Building up its strength in its powerful swell
Several weeks of an increasingly limited diet
The ocean presenting its unforgiving aspect
Equatorial waters offer a welcoming respite
Finally, some warm and gentle winds at last
Yet still the storms can make an appearance
Even when predictions suggest it’s clearance
Never a firm favourite of sunshine adherents
A good time to ensure all cargo is made fast
And experience how the day turns into night
The South Atlantic is an unpredictable ocean
Way down past Africa’s challenging long coast
Rounding the Cape and another leg to the East
Perhaps taking one more week or two at least
But the deep churning swells have now ceased
Approaching Perth early, the Captain will boast
But arrival is met with much relief and emotion
Line Of Inquiry:
“Of the fact we are alive, we are sure
All else scriptures say, may or may not be
So presence vibrant, heart pure and demure
As formless awareness we become free.”
The feeling that God exists, for most, is deeply
ingrained in our human consciousness, and this
is true because humans have always expressed
their knowledge of Him in so many different ways~
and those mystical paths are limited to our mode
of expression. So we must go beyond our mental
or a visual interpretation of what God is and simply
feel deep emotion inside, that inborn warmth
which makes us feel and know, deep within, that we
are somehow very much connected to our Creator.
faith thrives deep within
the gift of soul we're born with~
connected with God
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human
being with an independent will.” - Charlotte Bronte
I live in a country where I am free
free to be me, to say what I want to
to think without any hinderance, restraint
I am not controlled or ever limited
freedom of religion, of speech, of thoughts
of education, the ability to vote and complain
this is freedom
I love being free, never confined
knowing nothing of bondage or slavery
the power of choice is mine to take
I have opportunities and liberty in life
my country has human and legal rights
I know nothing of war in my country
no bombs will wake my sleep at night
this is freedom
I wish every country in the world
knew the freedom that I exist in
_______________________
March 19, 2022
Poetry/Verse/This is Freedom
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1440-932-19
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Freedom
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 03/21/2022
Fifth Place
Oh’ heart you are such a fragile thing, from you dancers dance and singers sing.
The painter paints their next masterpiece, with you in every stroke of the paintbrush or step, sudden movement in the dance routine.
You spark inspiration to pursue every ridiculous go against the grain aspirations hopes and dreams. Although you are the strongest muscle in the living body you are sensitive to pain, once you are broke how can you heal again? You are the root of all things that represent love and compassion. You are the fuel to where one can find their passion. Your language is a complex one because words are limited to what only emotions can say. You are the one who helps determine the tone of every day. If you are not feeling something than I’m not feeling something and the passion begins to fade. However once a connection is made the spark rekindles the fire deep inside to burn away to blaze a trail and follow whatever you are drawn to. Sometime in the form of I love you other times there may be the desire to do evil and corrupt things depending on the exposure. Once you are restored to your former state only you know the right time for everything and you are never late.
No more dieting women!
Clothes for adipose only, made for wearing
and swimming.
Watch the shopping channels, do they hire
by the most pounds?
Thin models must retire, adipose only?
And must be totally round?
I remember being twenty-one. American Airlines
considered me a blimp?
Come now, at 125 pounds, I really was a shrimp!
I still am 125 to this very day
It was not Chic to be adipose, like it is today.
I watch them stretching jeans on TV, they support
hugeness by words like "fully expandable" or....
"so comfortable!"
They think not of women's health at all.
I find it horrifically sad, it's only money they support.
My Dad joked about women's clothes fifty years ago.
The days when there were limited sizes.
Not x, xx, xxxx ad infinitum.
We women, tremble at the sight of a gun....Yet....,
Do forgot, by being overweight, we pull the finger and
end our own life's rigor.
11-19-2020
11-19-2020
I entered the hotel dining room and sat at my table for an early breakfast, watching the rain pelting against the windows, overlooking the River Clyde. Conversation was limited; more audible the clinking of crockery and cutlery. The tour leader walked in and his booming voice cut through the gloomy atmosphere as he assured us that the trip was still on; the weather forecast was encouraging.
a senior lady
takes second helpings...
her bag bulges
When some time later we went out to board the coach, the rain had just about stopped. Outside the air was cold. Being people of little faith, we had donned jumpers or cardigans over our light clothes and carried raincoats over our arms. It was unwise to be caught unprepared. The tour leader was no exception!
crossing a bridge...
two honeymooners
sit on separate seats
The trip from Glasgow to Oban was calculated to take about two and a half hours, but with planned stops along the way it was going to take longer. We took our first break at Loch Lomond. The rain had stopped completely, but the clouds still hovered ominously overhead. More stops at Crianlarich and Kilchurn Castle followed. In the meantime the sun was making feeble attempts at making its presence felt, and sure enough the cold air became warmer.
the sky, reflected
in large puddles...
harebells and toadflax
When we finally arrived in Oban the clouds had dispersed, the heat increased, and thick clothing was discarded completely. A meal and a boat trip to Seal Island saw us all in high spirits.
On the return journey our luck ran out again. Clouds and rain accompanied us to the hotel, but it did not really matter. A nice warm shower and a decent meal was something to look forward to.
unpredictable
four seasons in one day
I juggle saijiki
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A Haibun Contest sponsored
by Debbie Guzzi
Placed 4th
© 17th August 2017
—vanity of vanity, vanity of vanities all is vanity—
Solomon
the mortal leads a life in limited idleness
though, in the antinomy of a noble contradiction,
yet, said, for life’s sake, can be devoted to his own life
as a drop in the ocean, and trying to pay off the debt
which the ancestry tried to pay off throughout hundreds of
thousands of years, yet, not paid off, writhing, with the admirable state
though, there is a cry and breath in the thickened veiled falseness,
yet, he could not deny the falseness to regard as falseness,
he has no courage to hang the affirmation to suffocate,
and for the weakened mortal’s sake, the wind
passes through and carries away a body heat
from the exhausted soul, that preciously holds a dream
that will never become true as is it were cracked harden air
—hold a shovel, dig a hole!
It’s your burial ground—
nevertheless, to the end, no way to clear the debt,
the body is crumbling for the lost breath’s sake, and the cry
that of man closes its eyes in the vanity with the vanities of vanity