Long Lucid Poems
Long Lucid Poems. Below are the most popular long Lucid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lucid poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: July 23, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Quote: "There are gentle touches that remind the soul how fragile it has always been." By Poet
**********
Tremulous dawn drips through the lattice,
a lapidary light that swathes the room
in citrine silence—
yet even here, amid sedate scriptorium calm,
the walls start their quiet sunder.
Not the wanton wrecking-ball,
not the truculent ordinance of overt ruin—
but the sapient, serendipitous wooing
that treads orchid-light across an inviolate floor.
A patina of gentling,
a furtive augury that the impregnable
is never as adamantine as it claims.
A beam buckles—
and something in me buckles with it.
The katabatic abyss widens
in the marble edifice
and in the psyche,
a shared gossamer grid spreading
through plaster and pulse alike.
The collapse is circumspect,
a mellifluous malignancy of tenderness
that pinions both edifice and toughness
with the same tremulous touch.
Even the sacrosanct rafters
—Tuscan arches, hortensia frescoes,
ochre patina of archaic iron tether—
start to sway,
and my thoughts sway with them,
their once-ruby-lotus resolve
now cerulean edge cleaved,
squelched by soft insistence.
A whimper in the joists
echoes a whimper in the chest.
A sedate sashay of dust;
mirrors the silken saunter of doubt.
The synergy is unmistakable:
each gentle stroke against the wall
evinces a stroke against the mind,
each frolicking fissure in the façade
summons a fissure in the heart.
Demolition by soft touches—
the lucid quietus,
the quiet debacle,
the wanton velleity of tenderness
that dismantles the impregnable
brick by breath,
beam by sigh,
until the whole edifice
—outer and inner—
sneaks inward as an ouroboros
consuming its serene façade
and the psyche that believed
it was inviolate.
In the finale,
the rubble is not only stone.
It is kenopsia,
hiraeth,
the sacrosanct self
rendered scree by gentleness.
A serendipitous synergy of ruin,
where the physical demolition
and the emotional collapse
are one ordinance,
one augury,
one soft, sapient sunder.
she had attempted to colour in outside of the box
now the silver lining dangled from a broken necklace
suffocated her aspirations oozed discontent and sorrow
the shine had come off and no amount of polish would
erase smudges and impurity nor restore a once lucid soul
reflections tore at her heart and strangled in darkness
precious metal now a neck tie of craving for balance
reprieve from discomfort aberrations and delusions
pendant to be relieved from reversed penchant of life
at first she assigned emotions to one crazy error of judgement
distortion of passion disillusionment or mere false appraisal
yet resentments turned on herself in anger insecurity and fear
her whole mindset had been poisoned inflamed to the core
only complete reconstruction of Self would yield any success
which is when she decided to stop running away to face the truth
Cliff hanger story -
Freshly shorn scrawny
Steady assembly ruptured
Atop rocky bluff rugged
Shivering survival questionable
Seceder’s dream quenchable
Reject herd abide proffer
Select solo sailor prosper
Convention no obstacle
Escape is ewe’s oracle
Exit existence normal
Explore expanse nautical
Divorce merged marriage
Discover ocean massive
Ewe Turn deviate, lucid
Longs for longitude lurid
Leave safety of kennel
Wayward walking karakul
Stripped of her heavy jacket
Staggers down slope jagged
Ceases to be clone imitated
Intrepid sheep not intimidated
Sea spray hasten
Shelly cove haven
Upgrading basic graze
Horizon holds her gaze
Distance from flock’s faith
Determined for further fate
Declines enclosure
Entertains exposure
Among cluster, deficient
Embankment descending delinquent
Evicts herself of contest
Evolves self fulfilled conquest
Disdain for the brethren
Useless Ewe blended in
Refuses group apprehend
Triumphant Turn ascends
Written for Contest:
Strayed Sheep
Sponsor: Di11y Da11y
17th December 2024
Picture inspiration required:
Our English Coasts
by William Holman Hunt
In the delicate twilight of a beautifully enchanting autumn beginning, by the shore of the lake that silently reflects the crown of trees, I caught sight of your silhouette, immersed in the melancholy of thoughts.
My mind stirs at the sight of you like the rivers on the brink of spring when the snow from the mountain peaks decides to flow downhill.
It seemed you did not belong to this world, but I, in a responsible manner, recognized you as being from Earth; the angels from the heavens can’t be so melancholic.
The mystical charm that emanated from every pore of your being reminded me of the time of Greek goddesses when the lucid man was a silent witness to the spectacle of celestial passions.
Like restless shadows, morality and immorality wrestled within me, seeking a solution to mask the guilty murmur of the heart that never ceased to amaze me with its beats.
The guilty whispers of the heart seemed to roll into an intense roar, deeply affected by your image, who lay bewildered in the light of my eyes.
Did I create your image from the regret-laden ripples of past loves or by the sentimental weakness of my wounded heart?
I fight with the virtual demons of a conscience that regrets the past, or could it be that nature, in its majesty, endowed someone with such beauty?
By saying something to you, I would have wanted to save myself from the whirlpool of the unreal, but I could not express myself.
The magic that surrounded your being offered me only one escape... awakening...
I feel the deep breath that waits for soft dawn
With eyes towards the twilight of morning's rise
They lay in comfort as a nurtured fawn
And welcome mists of light from night's demise
Purple skies of dawn come with a warning
Sailor's call changing red before a storm
Lucid raindrops fall from clouds adorning
For this day of beauty, I will not mourn
Chasm of sky and I will merge as one
To find joy in another day of breath
I'll fly with soulful wings beneath the sun
And live a peaceful life before my death
Each dawn the sunrise wears a colored veil
To my spirit, this is the Holy Grail
2/14/18 contest Sunrise and Sunset
note...sailor's warning
red at night sailor's delight
red in the morning, sailor take warning
purple turns red before the dawn
man applauds
being the chosen one
who is made in God’s image
why not first pause to reflect
who in truth we really are
to know who God is
God is omnipresent
both wise and omnipotent
whilst we decay in organic form
thus we are not this mind-body
but the spirit that enlivens it
let’s find out what it is
all we see around us
is that that comes and goes
thus we must be in a lucid dream
notice void of polarity interchange
the moment before we exhale
or gap between thoughts
in this cessation
where pure awareness is
perception is non-differentiated
within this identity rested silence
simply present doing nothing
our soul speaks to us
extending the gap
vibrant silence nameless
we meld with the vital life force
divine magnetism navigates form
we become the energy itself
there then is no one here
ego shorn we are reborn
identity that never existed dies
awareness sees living light of Self
thus from singularity to feel contrast
to grow in wisdom and in love
we descend in this realm
Self as light is the truth
what is made in image of God
our single eye sees without mirrors
now to embody singularity in duality
that too in the waking state
is the spiritual quest
as for knowing God
we are breathed by His breath
that embryo of Self within may awake
Tell me what does it mean to be free?
I find myself not free but locked up in a creation that desires... creation! Freedom is not just to move beyond the walls of confinement. The walls of confinement are not just of mortar, brick, iron or wood. These walls that confine this creation are more than just walls of flesh. These walls are walls of idealism and ignorance. These walls are reinforced not by bone and marrow. But, these walls are reinforced by the unknown. For if it was known then the freedom of this creation would pass beyond the strings of entanglement and would fly to the greatest height and to the lowest depth. This creation would endeavor to dream and create. This creation would move freely from realm to realm and would be a part of the greatness that created it...
The glass of images is just a mere reflection of creation. Images are reflected from the ice of hatred. Images are reflected from the heat of illusions. Images are created from pain, sorrow and defeat, and yet, images are created from victory.
How the heart is smothered in the sorrow of defeat... Yet, the mind soars as if freedom is the energy that propels the heaviest soul. Tell me again, what is freedom? Adventure is the glow that shines from lucid eyes not hindered by life taught.
Life taught? Walls are made from experience, from damage, from the hurt of another creation. A child. A new life. A beginning fresh and untouched by creation. Adventure seen through the eyes of a child... freedom from entanglement, freedom from illusion and images.
The prison begins it's walls of confinement as each day becomes weeks and months. The walls become stronger and impenetrable as the years go by and turn quietly into decades. Hardening of the mortar brings a numbness that reaches beyond the tenderness of kindness. This hardening grows colder as the eyes no longer are lucid. There is no fear in this state of prison... Nothing can tear down these walls of confinement. Nothing!
Yet a sparkle of remembrance goes unnoticed as a new life begins and thoughts of freedom start a crack in the walls of a hardened fortress. As a bubbling brook in spring cracks the ice of a cold winter, a heart begins once again to search for the freedom that will bring to life the adventure that no image of defeat or sorrow could ever again mire the soul...
Tell me... what is freedom?
Pernell Rodocker 8/19/13
Convoluted Possibilities
Constellations of configurations that capture my fading breathe
Elevations of consummations that reflect on all that’s left
Inclinations towards imitations that leave me feeling bereft
Commiserations for the consternations as a life lingers upon death
Collusions of covert planning that draw nefarious conclusions
Intrusions of introverted inclinations that produce clarity of thought amidst the confusion
Infusions of concert performances that are based on artistic delusions
The fusion of science and geometry that defy mathematical protrusions
Designations of grace and contemplation amidst a crystal stream
Resignations of place and contestations that induce the quiet man to scream
Conflagrations of misplaced elevations that produce a lucid dream
Amalgamations of disgraced technocratic awe captured in a meme
Beautification in the aftermath of philosophical inquiry and inquisition
Stupefaction at the polymath contriving his expertise without contrition
Communication flowing toward the empath as she absorbed the emotional vision
Calcification of the psychopath devoid of feeling amidst their precision
Morality and consequence above constellations of burning stars
Tonality and influence that drive around in expensive cars
The fallacy of innocence exposed to malevolence from afar
Polarity that is the inference of the political players counting cards
An essence of retrospect that stirs true emotion to begin to rise
Convalescence of intellect that brings a tear upon my eyes
Incandescence of a dialect burning like a candle in demise
Reminiscence of a moment in time that memory causes her to cry
Affluence and greed among the overpriviledged few
Common sense and need preside over the ageing and the new
Malcontents that feed on the morsels of the gossip in the stew
A mind that’s dense but beautiful leads the crowd and that is you!
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
"as an entity in the dream we conjured
we know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
how then may we wake up when we are in trance
in bondage to illusions we ourselves stream" ~ Unseeking Seeker
D r e a m s
when draped by the dreamed,
connected to the inner consciousness,
is a manifestation~
of etched m a g i c,
composing songs of the soul,
tied to the heartbeat of the Universe,
letting awareness be the curator,
no longer a victim of fate,
but rising as the artist that paints~
peace and harmony,
from pristine pigments,
through blissful brushstrokes,
to recreate a landscape of love,
oblivious to the illusions
that veil our visions with vanity,
confining us to caves
of perplexed perspectives,
with hazy hieroglyphics engraved
in superficial gold
from Cleopatra’s jewels.
And I trace lifelines amidst moon-rays,
grasping the luminous light,
laced with enlightened beams,
waking up from lucid lies.
My thoughts have long floated amongst
brushing off salt-soaked blues
that soaked my skin in oceanic mists~
surreal sea-urchins
that whisper manipulative mantras,
anchoring me to an abyss
that floats with nothing but darkness…
I see through the marine mirage,
the truth that no longer
is trapped in euphoric melodies,
luring me to dance and dwell in delusions,
as if I am a victim of my own thoughts.
So I close my eyes,
let my mind wander through electric fields,
designed to resurrect
the sleeping stars adrift
in my veins, lost in material longing,
blind to the seraphic glows
floating through the air~
Tonight, I taste flavors of freedom,
to attain eternal nirvana,
unchained from hypnotic reveries
that dared not unravel
colors of clarity,
and spices of zest and zeal,
engrossed in mindfulness
that emanates candle-lit flames of truth,
illuminating twilight skies
with dreams drawn
from fingertips of f a i t h,
seeking spiritual clues
to conquer cosmic castles,
detached from the deceptive dreams
we’ve spun with greed and apathy…
For we are;
the dreamer and the dreamed,
the lyricist and the lyrics,
the poet and the poem,
the painter and the palette
the musician and the melody.
We rise and soar
across celestial gardens,
absorbed by the light,
silencing conflicting cadence~
within inner chaos,
forever adorned in sanguine stillness.
Distressing Calls of Discontent
Distressing calls of discontent frowning upon my brow
Convalescing with the fall of a malcontent who was too haughty and proud
Coalescing in forms of consequence that are meant to be spoken out loud
Blessing the tall deliverance of being alone among the crowd
Interjections of circumspections for those crossing the civil lines
Mass contentions of introspection as we search for the divine
Condescensions from such pretension that it stupefies the mind
Predilections of inventions that are formed from those who actively look for what they find
Revolution from inside the homes of those who cant afford to pay their rent
Evolution of a Darwinian theory that Creationism circumvents
Convolution of a weary postulation that’s going around inside my head
Pollution of a planet that refuses to create a carbon dent
Microscopic elements under review for replication
Biopic relevance of a relative who is patiently genetically awaiting
Some myopic recognition of the claims that they are steaking
While I’m off the topic I’m still reeling from the borders that I’m breaking
Incandescent reflections that imbibe a lucid dream
Convalescent infections that permeate a populace to scream
Illuminesent interjections of light from the purity of a single sunbeam
Reminiscent of collections that are above the creation of a common theme
Musing always soothing my mind while ceasing the debate
Grooving all the time while I try to syncopate
Perusing all these ethical crimes that make one want to incubate
While using the refine to give and remain hesitant to take
Ammunition for another war that transcends national borderlines
Intuition used only for the expansion of mankind
Premonitions that abhor everything but the expansion of the mind
Nightly visions that store it all across the passages of time
The End