Long Maya Poems
Long Maya Poems. Below are the most popular long Maya by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Maya poems by poem length and keyword.
No one is watching me. No one is in the car with the front black glass case or the parallel side vehicle. There is no one in the black car or the white car.
The mind is playing a game with me, with us, and with all the things in the universe. The mind, soul, or consciousness is playing a game with me. All the situations we are surrounded by, the fear of ghosts, fear of people, situations, and love, attraction, hate, and wants, are all a plotted situation in which someone is playing us as a player. We are players in a game called "Maya."
What is real? Is it what I see through open eyes, full of Maya? Or is it what I feel when I close my eyes, empty and black? Maya within maya itself.The universe wants us to decide: to live with fear, in love, or in war. From thousands of years, the same thing is happening with man again and again with no real escape.
You came from Jamaica
a lowly migrant climbing
into my window sending
me threats terrifying
terrorizing my children
shooting in my home
for my American poetry
devastating you held on
to my abusive ex husband
your gunman my hitman
killed at my feet just in
the nick of time I fled for
my very life domestic violence
survivor how dare you arrive
the anniversary of of the
murder of Rasta yago
Andrew seeking my new
poems my new husband
hissing at my window assault
rifle pointed at my window
severe traumatic events
hurricanes I sit still writing I
am Gwendolyn Brooks
I am Maya Angelo I am me
I matter take your knee off
my neck you cannot extort
my American poetry extort
my identity nor extort my life
and inherit my death I thank
God every single day for
Charlie Crist the attorney
general offices for helping
my family relocate after
your violent attempt on my
life your Jamaican gang Henry
I survived your saint James
massacre as I still write
God loves me no matter your
threats bullying home invasions
hacking cyber bullying ransomeware
stop threatening my life stop
bullying you are a my assassin
a twisted terrorist in a skirt
leaving blood everywhere
I Am American
Pray, I await for when you would hold my hand in yours
I await for when I would feel the warmth of it
And just know
That somehow, the skies, like me, are appeased!
Our souls shall be forgiven, for whatever it was that
We did, it does not matter anymore
What matters is that we shall be granted an entry
Back to that place where the Gods reside
Where birds talk and where flowers read
Where butterflies dance and where lovers, like you and I
Take in lungfuls of sparkling dust,
Meant to have us fly high on ecstatic clouds,
Immersed in the joy of our well being,
And in the aknowledgment of our celebrated love!
Pray, I await, with the rhythms of misery pulsating loud in me
For when you shall tie my hair to yours
So that when the God of Doom would come to Earth
To kill the Evil hovering around,
He would see us, recognise us, as the lovers so in love
With each other since times immemorial and having inhabited
All the realms of the universe, in all life forms
And he would help us, to climb the ladders of purity
To reach safety while abashing on the rest, his weapons of doom!
Pray, the rhythms of misery are played in me by the demons
Who gather their strength in the display of the illusory Maya world
They tell me that faith can be shaken, that it can be false and misleading
That my heart can end up broken, that I can get shattered into pieces
As you might not wish to save me, by holding my hands in yours!
Pray, have I claimed to adhered blinded faith to the skies
To obey have I pledged, even if that would require
Being a human bait, a human shield, a human sacrifice,
But, if you hold not my hands into yours,
I shall turn my back to the skies
And I shall flee to there where souls suffer constantly
Without ever having any scope to even hope to be saved!
Misery pulsates its beats in me still
My belief in my own faith keeps it in place for now
My endurance is not limitless,
I am frail, I am bloomed, I am awakened, I am your conscience,
While you shall be my Existence,
Together, we shall write, for this Earth,
Its next chapter!
Written for Misery Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Written on 28th Dec 2018
If this world were not such a sweet lure
Pulling me in like earth’s gravity,
And for long-- many a life’s allure,
To get trapped being man’s destiny,
And this life being a virtual dream
In a world ever so elusive,
If dreams dreamt were not real as we deem,
Who’d even dream in this world to live?
Yet, in this life’s ‘river of return’,
Though dreams dreamt turn to be all so vain,
Man returns-- I know not what to earn--
As if by the very return train.
And God casts His loaded dice again,
Sure, not a single dice falls in vain.
___________________________
Sonnet | 02.03.08, revised July 2024 | life, Maya
Port’s note: That these conflicts and contradictions of world called Maya continue to confuse an average seeker is not in doubt. What is not clear is how he reacts to them. Let the wise say, this world is vain. Vain maybe for man, not for Destiny. The sonnet is set in anapaest meter.
Number is funny, like I've mentioned before.
It appears one way, but shows us more.
To see it all, you have to look with a dare...
I'll make an example, of MC Square
Ol Albert was keen, a thinking machine...
he left us a rhyme for a future time!
His formula is one to behold...
It points the way to the sound of gold.
========================================
E=MC2(squared).......
E.M.C
5.13.3
Digit Sum...
(5+1+3+3) = 12 squared = 144
(5 + 13 + 3) = 21 squared = 441
441 + 144 = 585 = "sum of some of the 13s" and Venus
============================================
And Fibonacci knew the way,
He showed the Maya how to play.
He said... "This way..."
Four and Four are forty four,
Count the One and swing the O,
"There come a day..." he said,
We'll know....
0 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144 (as hours 144 = 6 days)
...1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 1440 (and Sunday)
Form:
(this pastiche pertaining to maya own inc ore pore rated poetic patois promulgated many moons ago from those screaming bloody thirsty headlines from the Italian court for justice sans the brutal homicide attributed to this then American college student and her ex-boyfriend).
with the assiduous vigor of a cadre of volunteers
brought sought after fruition of freedom
per the release of imprisoned young (twenty something) American lass
whose former life sentenced commuted to egress from an Italian jail
to her home within Seattle, Washington
whereby family, friends and strangers who fought for her liberation
breathed one palpable surprising sigh of euphoric relief
when the plane who boarded landed safely on the tarmac of SEATAC
aswarm with frenzied television camera crews
scrambled to get the initial scoop and what promises
to land this once anonymous cell bait
an undisclosed amount of lucre
which many on the other side of the pond
find mind boggling if not downright objectionable
moreso livid with rage
against the Machiavellian machine
on account of supposed culpability in tandem with her then boy friend
accused (under the guise of guilty fiat)
sans homicide of college roommate
now sought after garnering this fawning female
(salaciously tagged by Perugian court with the sobriquet “she wolf”
now faces a future replete with riches aplenty
allowing gravity of ugly epithet plus stigma from accusation of murder
to serve as basis for what will no doubt be a best seller
not to mention made for the silver screen blockbuster
with subsequent royal carpet treatment
to compensate for guilty judgment decreed
without tangible evidence nor fair trial to boot!
Form:
"She walks in beauty like the night"
Lord Byron gave us inspiration and delight
"One shade the more one ray the less"
His words always shone so bright
"I know why the caged bird sings"
Maya felt the caged bird's angst
"The free bird leaps on the back of the wind"
The caged bird hope is often dimmed
"A curious cloud surprised the sky"
Emily's words did satisfy
Dipped in honey and served with pie
Nature she oft did personify
"All the worlds a stage"
And William's plays were on many of them
His sonnets sparkled like gems
To all these poets, and many more
Who with their quills our minds engaged
And inspired us in so many ways
And gave us wings that we may soar
Because their words are beauty on the page
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She rocks like Tina
She rolls like Donna
She entertains like Diana
She cures like Maria
She paints like Edmonia
She kicks like Mia
She runs like Wilma
She throws like Lisa
She boxes like Laila
She dances like Anna
She skates like Surya
She invents like Patricia
She revolts like Angela
She influences like Condoleezza
She paints like Edmonia
She smiles like Mona Lisa
She loves like a mother
She protects like a tiger
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like momma.
Dear readers, you can add more
A natural woman is never poor
Please, beloved friends, be kind
To come up with more in your mind
She tumbles like Simone
She philosophizes like Simone
She quilts like Betsy
She laughs like Whoopi
She jokes like Leslie
She sings like Marie
She speed skates like Maame
She flies like Mae
She exercises like Gabby
She educates like Mary
She fights like Dorothy
She explores like Stephanie
She sounds like Winnie
She creates like Margaret
She dares like Harriet
She runs like Marion
She entertains like Josephine
She legislates like Maxine
She sows like Catherine
She teaches like Gwendolyn
She lifts like Ernestine
She acts like Diahann
She reports like Diane
She speaks like Michelle
She is serious like Michelle
She is strong like Althea
She is talented like Augusta
She is defiant like Cicely
She is brave like Shirley
She is normal like Marilyn
She is fearless like Maxine
She is relaxed like Rosa
She is inquisitive like Barbara
She challenges like Phyllis
She swings like Chris
She plays like Alice
She is talented like Venus
She is pretty like a flower
And she is like our mother.
A natural woman is not perfect
She deserves honor and respect
She needs love everyday
From trouble, she never runs away
Please add more to this poem
And do not curse or blaspheme
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like our mama.
Copyright © August 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
"The Flow"
I walked into the Ocean today
the Wind was wild whipping up the waves
like lemonade white horses riding into shore
I tread water, the Aquamarine was a washing machine
While someone else’s kids raced by me out to the break
the wind bit my face, I submerged myself then resurfaced
I became sad when I thought about the Fraz
I swam out to the deep I was very brave
forgot about monsters with sharp teeth
dreamt they were all fast asleep
bellies full of other dreamers
Sharp Teeth were nowhere near my feet,
They were lying supine snoring at the bottom of the deep
Balmoral was a breeze I was free
feeling guilty it was me in your sea
I floated on my back and just went with the flow
had a little cry, the Ocean took all that salt in
there was nowhere better for it to go
the Sun burnt me up 3rd degree inside real slow
The Seagulls circled above grinning
Yellow crested cockatoos in the big Moreton Bay Fig
like tiny pterodactyls screaming, water crystal clear
angel fish, puffers and blue bottles spinning always near
One can only love
One can never save
But there is the grace of forgiving
I walked into the ocean today
I thought about being brave
Thought about visiting
the Mermaid’s Cave
another day another night
Finding starfish hiding under treasure rocks
Find Silverfin and take his fin
Fairy Bower and swim in your Fair Light
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)"HOME"
"Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is HOME."
https://youtu.be/cbnS-1ZQPD0
https://youtu.be/lf_b_OCKL6I
https://youtu.be/b6d3ghgZuMI
"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." Maya Angelou
(gvlm-scm)
Silverfin
https://youtu.be/eai_6DXKXtA
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
? Maya Angelou
Some guys are bold; they’ll court you with great zeal,
while timid guys might not know what to do.
Some men will treat you to a fancy meal,
bring roses or boxed chocolates to you.
And some will let their darker side show through!
Although a man can say and do things right,
he isn’t necessarily the real deal!
But there is one you’ll want to kiss all night.
With ring in hand, upon one knee he’ll kneel -
the one who knew the way to make you feel!
Oct. 21, 2016 for the A Response To . . . Contest of Silent One