Long Melds Poems
Long Melds Poems. Below are the most popular long Melds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Melds poems by poem length and keyword.
Why are we drawn to the sunset,
enchanted by impending death,
as the skyline slowly exhales,
heightening rapture, breath by breath?
When polarities interchange,
before sol’s light melds with the night,
prismatic hues light up the sky;
a slow motion dance of delight.
Horizon acquires a red tinge
and soon crimson shifts to orange,
followed by yellow, green and blue;
violet completing the range.
Rainbow colours thus on display,
is a beauteous magic show,
seen by our eyes but felt by soul,
in time stretched tranquil stillness slow.
Sunset cajoles us to unwind,
laying labours of day to rest,
God Himself leading us to sleep,
to heal mind-body in love’s nest.
If we be but still,
voids within will fill,
yet we choose to burn,
opting not to learn.
Why do we not see
that we are at sea,
heeding not conscience,
voice of innocence?
We are astonished,
seeing soul famished,
whilst in the river
of God, the giver.
The table is laid,
bliss served ready-made,
for those who follow,
love’s heartbeats mellow.
Taking snake as rope,
fear engulfed, we grope.
Save coming undone,
nothing need be done.
Silence and stillness,
melds us with oneness;
a path we must choose,
without an excuse.
When thoughts vaporise,
bliss beats within rise
but if we choose lust,
soul’s dreams turn to dust.
Thus, it’s up to us
to board God’s love bus.
Voids within will fill,
if we be but still.
19-May-2022
3.07
“Strange that knowing lust
as an enemy of knowledge,
one so weak and nearing death
should still crave sensual pleasure”
3.13
“Why should a person of steady mind,
who sees the nothingness of objects,
prefer one thing to another?”
3.14
“He who is unattached,
untouched by opposites,
free of desire,
experiences neither pleasure nor pain
as events pass through”
Ah! Reading verse three point seven
Words of wisdom flowing from heaven
The clue seen by very few
Is that we may engage in pleasure if we renew
Renew renew renew our free flowing attention
Avoiding at all times indulgence & stagnation
Moving on to verses thirteen & fourteen
We see that it are weeds of ferality we need to wean
Recognising that fear & desire imagery
Are ego contaminants of delusion & memory
Let events unfold and karma play its role
What matters images moving as long as we are whole
19-August-2019
~~~~~~~~~~
Verse revisited on 25-October-2021
Taking inspiration from the enlightened sage
Even whilst lower and higher minds battles wage
We have on the one hand animal cravings of a ghoul
Whilst on the other, divine impulse that makes us feel whole
Thus recognising our feeling of mind-body ferality
We rotate sense polarity to reclaim serenity
For to imbibe wisdom in definitiveness
We must merge in totality with That oneness
Whereupon though we know, there is oscillation
Between equanimous meditation and turbid agitation
In timeless time, boundaries between form and void blur
Head and heart aligned, melds with love, as nodes within stir
Responding to ego cravings as of body need, not greed
Priority shifts to love and light as bliss throbs breed
Whereupon though we renounce not any delight
Each act is surrendered to God day and night
By consciousness transmutation we become free
Breezing nonchalantly through life in our each entrée
In time stretched stillness moment by moment, love entwined
Following the scent of love and playing out earth role as assigned
With a snakelike hiss, the tangerine train doors close
and the engine rock-rumbles forward
clicking over each joined metal coupling.
Long gone are the pristine days of virginity
and the impassioned rush of slick new parts.
The small sounds of newspaper pages turning,
and whispered phrases penetrate the antiquarian din.
As an industrial landscaped melds with the
stark spring sunshine through the cars’ graffiti scared glass.
The rigid plasticine interior fills at first stop
with giggling, rose cheeked girl-children.
Herded in single file to the rear of the car,
by Moslem matrons wrapped in head scarves.
The girls’ blue-plaid, pleated, school skirts,
dusted the cobalt seats.
Foreign images, our images, reflect
Dali-like from British eyes of blue, brown, and green,
an American couple
on the way to Wimbledon station.
In the dream of others, I struggle like a leaf carried by unknown winds,
Caught in a web of desires and expectations not my own, my soul a voiceless prisoner,
I navigate illusions, a shadow lost in a maze of borrowed dreams,
And wonder, with each step, how much of me remains, how much is lost in the abyss.
Like a river carving its path through darkened valleys, so flow my thoughts, restless and murky,
Seeking the true essence of myself, buried beneath layers of conformity,
Three-fourths of me have dissolved into the ocean of others' expectations,
And I am left with but a fragment, a pale flicker of what I could have been, of what I am.
In the mirror of time, I see distorted reflections of my self,
Faces that are not my own, gestures that feel foreign, all dancing to the rhythm imposed by the world,
I am an actor on a stage without a curtain, playing roles written by unknown hands,
And I wonder if I shall ever claim my own script, my own destiny.
In nights that stretch long, when the moon casts its silver glow upon slumbering dreams,
I hear distant whispers, calling me to reclaim my lost self,
But the dawn brings with it the familiar masks, and once again I am lost in the dance of puppets,
Caught between the desire to be myself and the fear of disappointing.
I break myself into pieces, offering fragments of me to the world,
Three-fourths of my essence melds into the mold of conformity,
And I am left with but a fraction, a mere shadow of my unfulfilled potential,
An unfinished symphony, a dream shattered into a thousand pieces.
In the silence of the night, I dream of liberation,
Of the moment when I shall break the chains of others' dreams,
When I shall reclaim the three-fourths lost of my being,
And dance, finally, to the rhythm of my own heart.
But morning comes, and with it, the harsh reality,
That I am still ensnared in the web of foreign dreams,
A butterfly with wings glued to the spider's web of conformity,
Struggling to take flight, yet too weak to break free.
And yet, deep within me, a spark of hope still flickers,
That one day I shall find the courage to be myself,
To reclaim my lost essence and live my own dream,
Freed, at last, from the captivity of others' desires.
Listen to the wind sweeping autumn leaves,
pirouetting amongst a citrine sunset.
Whilst light rain collects at corners of windowsills,
illumination from a crackling fire
bounces upon unpigmented mourning walls.
Silent weeping occupies microcrevices,
confined within the splintering memories.
The creaking of an antique rocking chair
melds with the restless nocturnal atmosphere,
of time no longer waiting in the shadows.
Sheer onyx fabric draped over photographs—
death came much earlier, not from hate or spite,
but to erase the endless suffering,
of years wreathing in perpetual chronic pain,
locked within fragile bones and a trapped mind.
So do not curse the gods, my dearest love,
nor get lost in voids of sorrow oblivion.
Know peace has now been brought to my tired soul;
I wait patiently until we are one again.
THE RIVER OF TAR
The River Of Tar
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
The river of tar… an artery
A means to access the highways
Branching through capillaries of roads
Penetrating the Australian landscape
...
The river of tar weaves and wanders
Through cities, towns and villages
Along the coast, in the mountains
To the dessert land of the outback
…
The river of tar, provides the means
For a diverse population to live
A life blood for so many
Scattered through-out the land
…
The river of tar melds with the gravel
Reaching small towns away from the cities
Unites with the red dirt roads that access
Outback stations and dessert communities
…
The river of tar makes it possible, to
Grow and harvest the food we need
To mine and export the minerals
The fruit and vegetables that grow abundantly
…
The river of tar provides an access
To the ports to harvest the sea
For the tourists to experience
Our great Australian diversity
…
The river of tar a grey nomads dream
Living a life of adventure before dementure
Experiencing the pioneering spirit
Keeping so many small towns alive
…
The river of tar we owe our for-bares
The explorers, the pioneers, now long gone
Blazed the many roads we see today
Enabling everyone to see our great land
There is a piece I've longed to share,
which, up 'til now, I wouldn't dare,
where courage pushes fear aside
and shackles up my foolish pride...
To put to words, as much for me,
affection in simplicity,
and say those things I wished I could...
that chance may now be gone for good.
I near succumbed to COVID's wrath;
now, barricades deny clear path -
a bottleneck for oxygen.
So much to tell; where to begin?
A battle raged; a drawn-out war
that ended with a winning score:
I pulled ahead - a blessed reprieve;
the reaper's gone; yet, still, I grieve.
For scars remain; we coexist.
Not given up; I will persist,
but dreams? There was one 'mong the few:
to hold you close and sing for you...
A tune that melds our hearts together,
and keeps us warm through stormy weather,
a lullaby to ease all fear
and let you know how much I care.
But vocals won't cooperate;
on ev'ry nerve the raucous grates.
Those singing days are done, it seems;
some visions, sadly, dwell in dreams.
If fate insists that I must wait,
this voice will ring at Heaven's gate!
So, pardon, if I'm way off-tune;
at least, at last, Love will shine through!!
Jodie
5/23/25
Taught to believe God dwells somewhere above,
we distanced ourself from source
No longer with love, were we hand in glove,
pursuing desires using force,
till in our heart, felt deep remorse
Trapped in the open, we were yet free within,
during moments of silence
Our conscience beckoned, so we went therein;
embracing soul’s innocence,
rekindling inner sentience
Not rituals then but silence the way,
receptive to the bliss current,
wherein seeking nothing, we choose to pray,
becoming self-luminescent,
our innate native element
Once head melds with heart, as it’s boot camp,
we instantly become free
God, who indwells within, lights the love lamp,
so with light of truth we agree,
each breath entrée, in joyous spree
13-December-2021
O ever changing sky, blue-gray and maudlin
your mood and unsettled ways, meld with mine.
Clouds seem but blemishes upon horizons
as weary as the soot smudged cheeks of urchins.
Bruised in hues at once fresh with pain and longing,
not yet healed by the riper rise of next day’s bloom.
O ever changing sky, the nascent forest’s buds.
Its lashes linger in the purple poignancy of dusk
and whip thy brow with thrashing maple limbs.
Eyeless vault of heaven cry for me, release my plight
erase with thy wonders this tattered visage so forlorn.
The sky of night holds many jewels of delight.
O ever changing sky, clear to crisper shades of sapphire,
ping with shooting stars and glowing diadems of light.
Let lavender blue soften my sorrows for I like Merope*
need Orion’s might to lift my heartache, to point the way.
May thy constant rebirth give hope which melds with mine
and brings a beauty brighter than your Venus** to the day.
*Merope was Orion’s star crossed lover.
**Venus is the Goddess of Love and the Morning Star