Long Marvelling Poems
Long Marvelling Poems. Below are the most popular long Marvelling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marvelling poems by poem length and keyword.
Flammable I’m nor dry tinder,
Scare me nor threaten of lightning,
Past autumn and chilly winter,
I look forward to the next spring.
I’m already left with few leaves,
Let worst of autumn’s fall arrive,
Go not by my dry woody frame,
The tree in me is all alive.
What if covered I’m with this frost,
Just around the corner is sun,
I see life well past all this change,
Every season to me is fun.
A meditating sage, no arid stem,
You had better go not by my lean frame.
__________________________
Sonnet |01. 04.2025| tree, Nature, autumn, spring
Note: Many trees in India experience autumn and spring more than once a year. I watched two Peepal trees and one Neem in front of my house shedding leaves in just a few days and again acquiring them equally fast-- from a skeleton wooden frame to a tree with shimmering tender, light-coloured leaves in sun. A tree is always alive, full of life, no matter how it might appear. Looking at it and marvelling of its love of life, to an aging old man, in no mean envy, this sonnet happened.
Language breathes. Dictionaries opened their doors to thousands: petrichor finally named, gigil crossing oceans from Tagalog hearts, morto carrying Irish embarrassment across continents. Each word a technofossil in reverse and not debris but seed. Where analog crumbles into digital decay, new phonemes sprout from chat windows and kitchen tables, from Glasgow to Manila, Waterford to Johannesburg.
After warm rain falls
petrichor naming something
we always had known
The mouse jiggler hums on desks where we WFH, pretending presence while bed rotting through Sundays, doom-scrolling until brain fog sets in. A chatbot asks if I'm still there. Ghost kitchens feed nobody's neighbourhood. We've made words for our hollow industriousness, our productive stillness, our illuminated solitude, each term a hard pass at something we cannot quite refuse.
Screen glow at midnight
even the AI wonders
if we're still awake
But listen: teenagers shout skibidi at nothing and everything, absolutely delulu with joy, their rizz and aura untranslatable to us, perfect in their imperfection. A girl shows her butter skin lewk and someone says she ate and left no crumbs, bet. In Dublin, they're morto over spice bags; in Kuala Lumpur, tapau your nasi lemak with kaya on the side. The mouth remembers before the dictionary does. Alamak, how we've been speaking new languages all along.
Grandmother's recipe
lumpia rolls carrying words
the page can't hold yet
Perhaps this is the burnt toast theory of linguistics: what seems lost makes room for what must come. The broligarchy names itself. Gen Alpha coins snackable for their fractured attention, honest about their inheritance. Climavores choose with conscience; we practice eco-minimalism like prayer. Generative AI makes prose while we make slang, both of us biohacking meaning from the ruins of the old world, both of us marvelling that anything grows at all.
Sharp-sharp, we greet
this shoogly train of language
hold on, enjoy ride
Her face tilted up, so serene.
Marvelling at the vastness of the blue sky
As she walks arm in arm
With her fiancé,
Glowing inside,
Basking in the aura of love.
Their union, as strong
As the tall trees surrounding them.
The fragility of life—
Two souls walking as one
As they tiptoe through the dense maze of flowers,
The sea of yellow opens up at each step,
Radiant and beckoning,
Their scents wafting and tickling the nose.
His gait, so gallant
As he delights in the beauty beside him,
Holding on,
Together,
Forging
Ahead—
The stepping stones
Building a world for two,
In a field filled with light and hope.
What if reality is like tightly pulled skin and the nothing is like spherical balls trapped
within its lattice
Is there more something or nothing
What if you could only travel backwards in time
If I could travel backwards in time
I would travel back 1 second before I discovered how to travel back in time and give up
Crunching on butterflies with my pair of Doc’s
If Mars ruled with an iron claw
would that be Martian law
Marvelling at my funny bugs you
See if Marty never came back would the films just be called back
Interesting non fact Blade runner was original called Skater
Said with dreamlike sheepishness
J C M won’t help you in a different reality
Does that mean a radioactive Peter bit a spider
in another universe
This looks wierd
If every reality exist surely that means there is one that doesn’t
Star Wars lied from the very first word
They actually met there was nothing close about it
What hug is the worst
Bear hug with a real bear especially if I was bare
Face it I am alien to your rules
And in french
Can invisible see themselves
Impatient floodwaters at dams
Waiting for shutters to open,
A hodgepodge of puppets
Excited to perform: at deep slumber,
Waiting for my eyes to close,
The naughty byproducts of my brain!
I fly, glide: liberating!
I sing with a celebrity: enthralling!
I reach a different galaxy: wondering!
I flow with a river: murmering!
I see the illusory Utopia: interesting!
I meet a hero of a great epic: marvelling!
I chat with my childhood friend: giggling!
Also I get to see and feel
The serenity and purity of Heaven: glorifying!
I find myself lost in a maze: panicking!
I reach late to office: frustrating!
I see hideous monsters: quivering!
I get my opinions rejected: estranging!
I get chased by a stranger: panting!
I feel frozen and unable to move: benumbing!
Also I see vortex of smoke spiralling
At the centre of time and space: terrifying!
A mishmash of baffling events,
A drama with no sequence,
Trains take turns unexpected
At the criss-cross tracks; characters arrive:
Some much awaited; some not so,
To enact - breaking all logic.
Sometimes in the middle of sleep
I romance the vivid archipelagoes,
The stunning reefs, turquoise lagoons,
And the distant palm-fringed bays;
I wake up with a start and see darkness
Engulfing pitch black dark: despairing,
As opposed to splendid landscape: hitherto
Soothed my senses unbeknownst to me!
Striking contrast - seize my joy!
My eyelids droop and my eyes again
Succumb to slumber gracefully.
As sleep flows once more,
smoothly, gently and rapidly,
My fav sceneries reappear nimbly:
The archipelagoes, reefs, and lagoons,
Back from where they left me;
Broken threads fixed, my spirit revives!
A lost child finding his way
Reaching his mother's arms overjoyed!
Desires and wishes unconscious,
Experiences frightening and disturbing,
Pop up as dreams: the craftwork of brain.
Amidst mixed emotions I float, drown,
And as alarm bell rouses me
To meet the new dawn, I wake up:
Refreshed, peaceful, and content,
A sound sleep I did get.
Also reminding myself that
Its time to enact now:
The Drama of Life!
The drama with sequences, of course!
the fire of lust
consuming our soul
enslaved by carnal desire
testosterone driven lowly ghoul
desire birthing raging obsession
our mind dwelling in a brothel
addicted like an alcoholic
to sexual cravings feral
animal in human form
in this game of domination
finally discerning love from lust
in stillness of prayerful meditation
recognising senses have two aspects
we attempted polarity rotation
between outer and inner
in void of cessation
our primal instinct
a tsunami overpowering
burning us from deep within
yet recedes whilst we are praying
allowing ego urges to arise like bubbles
we view them with childlike curiosity
in wonder and astonishment
marvelling their tenacity
thus viewing mind body
as but an earth life interface
we shut down our lower ego mind
embracing love and light by Gods grace
15-February-2021
Through the seasons in your life
What matters changes
In first flush of youth
Scholarly accolades count
Belonging in your social circle
The right trainers and hoodie
Maturity shifts needs and priorities
A good job,
Nice home, new car
Two point four children
A holiday in the sun
With greying temples
New desires dawn,
Focus changes
A slower burn
Less immediate
Horizons pushed farther
Appreciating each day
Of life and love
And sound knees
Marvelling at nature
And the new generations
Living the dream
No longer about material pleasures
More simple ones magnified
By the lens of time
And the knowledge
That each today is unrepeatable
And each tomorrow is precious
Ah,words alone could not suffice,
could never match the stirrings of the soul,
as in some distant conurbation,
the sad heart, with sudden strange elation,
yearns to be in Arran.
For in those narrow confines dwell,
high in the hills and on the wave-washed shore,
redeeming spirits, undisguised and splendid.
Preening herself upon her glittering throne
and basking in a radiance all her own,
sits Beauty, marvelling at her loveliness,
which, mirrored in the water far below,
is as the very dawn of all creation.
Across the jagged northern sky
a million granite jewels are aflame
as Arran peaks throw back the dying day
upon a rainbowed ocean.
Then,as the backcloth heralding the night,
slips down across the remnants of the day,
the awe-inspiring silhouette is set afloat
in a sea of silver.
The jewels one by one are plucked from view,
and with them Beauty must vacate her throne,
for Peace now reigns amongst the hills and glens,
and in the dwellings clustered round each bay
the lights are dimmed and all is still.
Far up amongst the dark and brooding hills
only the waters stir, as they pursue
their secret courses downward through the night,
downward to their eternal destination,
their journey’s end, the boundless ocean.
What dwells in light is blind to darker shades,
Unfixed by boundaries, yet tethered close;
A circle turns without a start or edge,
Electrons hum, the cosmos stirs and wakes.
Though shifting tides govern the starry floor,
All nature rests content in what it is;
Why thence man strains from being to become,
And miss the quiet grace of what he holds?
The world calls forward in march of progress,
Man hungers for the new, yet dreads the shift,
Resisting every turn of time's design.
Instead of marvelling at the passing road,
He counts the miles carved onto the stone,
When true joy moves inward, quiet, uncaused—
A welling spring that needs no earthly rain,
A state of grace that flows without a source.
Instead, man barters peace for tinkered toys
In search of fleeting joys that never last.
The human mind is split by inner stir:
The ego wants to claim the mountain crest,
The heart aches for the valley and the stream
To dip tired feet or walk on cooling grass,
And in this conflict spoils man’s present peace,
Thus losing the pure joy of simply being.
When days are cool he chases summer sun,
When they turn warm, he dreams of winter snow.
A lifetime spent in chasing there from here,
Voyage trapped in dreams of destination.
In reaching there—a phantom on the hill—
He misses quiet joy of travelling on.
The endless war of being to become,
When here and now holds the truth of his life.
And yet, how sad, the road to reaching here—
The quiet place of simply being still—
Gets clear only when the traveller tires,
Weary and worn out from the endless road.
The fruits of labour ripen when they please;
Alas, man muddles blindly through the dark,
Trapped in the space becoming and to be,
A conflict born of heedless head and heart.
______________________________
Reflections |18.07.2026 | creation, god, journey, joy, perfection, Blank Verse
Whilst in space
Slow-moving pace
Musical trilling tinkers
Tantalising sensations
Personally provocatively
Gently guiding me further
Deeper to a blissful state
Enchanting euphoric energies
Swirling and whirling within, without
Where sparkling lights shimmer
Illuminating brighter
Gazing in awe the striking beauties reflecting light
These moments I truly treasure though now
Marvelling whilst my heart pounds faster
If only you could see
Only, what I see
Would you then breathe deeply with me
and exhale the pain
To freely float
In unity
to peace
For other worlds await
Us...
Abundance of divine dimensions
Entries to celestial arrangements
Spiralling with no navigation
Security within is the essence of our perception
To release and liberate our spirits
Mine is here, Mine is there, everywhere
Embracing openly the greatness of all
Within my core from before and more
Timeless atmospheric freedom
Born again to be only
Again Born.