Long Method Poems
Long Method Poems. Below are the most popular long Method by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Method poems by poem length and keyword.
My fingers ache—
muscles weary, spent, and sore.
Sweat soaks through my singlet.
Eyes grow heavy, begging for sleep,
to repay seventy-two hours denied.
Yet each piece I write ends in his bin.
The sponsor never seems to tire
of casting them away with mean regards—
a cross my restless heart must bear.
Would it not be better to run the race
on a track,
not behind a screen?
I could have run twenty-seven miles
in under two hours—breaking the record—
instead of these seventy-two with no glory.
There’s a method, even, in this my madness:
twenty-seven contests in a row,
each confined to forty-two lines,
echoing kilometers run on marathon tracks.
Yet my ink has dried, my paper stays blank.
I restrain my heartache deep within,
lest it spill its ache across my face,
where anger and disillusionment dwell,
hidden beneath facial creams and wry smiles,
till after work removes their weary veils.
Each day, each burdened weekday,
and each weekend, each joyless weekend,
I do my laundry, eat my meals,
beside the stubborn silence of this paper—
still waiting for its first word.
So tonight, I beg you, Sleep:
take away this sleeplessness.
For poems are better written in dreams.
Leave me there till I craft a masterpiece—
one no sponsor could ever deny of glory.
The moment we realise
Divine aligned we are wise
It is the play in illusion
That binds us in delusion
What then the purpose
Of this circus
If consequences known
Of seeds sown
We would never err
No ego cravings would stir
With heaven on earth
Ever bubbling in mirth
We would be ever free
In our moment to moment entrée
Apparently method in this madness
Is to become one with oneness
Not by reason but by instinct
That love be the only precinct
Which we roam awake or asleep
For which realisation must sink in deep
By direct experience & assimilation
The throb of love our reflex orientation
Thus ingraining the truth by feeling all our doing
We become love enabled to the core of our being
19-August-2020
You hear it said a lot these days,
“Reparations! Someone must pay!
Our ancestors suffered, it’s true!
For that we’ve come to take from you!”
Now we could just point out the fact
none of us were alive that far back,
that sin can never be passed down,
we’re sovereign actors, here and now,
we did not commit these mistakes,
and by no right can you come take
what we have earned through our hard work,
that doing so makes you a jerk;
but I think it’s more fun, my friends,
to stretch this crap out to its end...
Since slaves were taken, long ago,
I think it’s important we know
that Europeans could not seize,
Africa killed them with disease.
It was done by the ruling blacks,
a method they used to attack
their local tribal opponents,
take people to their detriment,
so black Americans should try
to get cash from all of those tribes,
go to the west African states,
they should be targets of your hate,
they own you cash, they did the deed!
So listen closely, and take heed,
all of your woke recriminations
should target west African nations!
But why stop with colors of skin,
that’s not where slavery begins,
eighty million African victims
were seized by slavers quite Muslim,
and marched north to the Middle East,
castrated so they could not breed,
worked to death by Mohammedans,
Africa deserves cash from them!
And Europe too, one million souls
seized by corsairs, then bought and sold,
when will the Muslims pay for that?
They owe Europe and should give back!
An even greater debt is owed
to the Greeks who ruled eastern Rome,
their lands invaded by the Turks,
it’s stolen land, repay that hurt!
Anatolia, the Levant,
Northern Egypt, taken! Gone!
This truly has gone out of hand,
Muslims, return the stolen land!
And what about little old me?
I’m owed money by Britain, see,
for what they did to my Irish kin,
during the potato famine!
We were driven from our soil,
and before that, forced to toil
for those damn Saxon conquerors,
I am owed money for that hurt!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
They stand tall like a monument, the wayfarer’s journey guide
Rough stones shaped into human form, the meaning to unhide,
Inuits first carefully piled these stones, the meaning becomes clear,
Traditionally “you are on the right path” or “someone was here”.
These unworked stones were used for survival and a method to communicate,
Mountain passages or an open channel, the stone placement was your fate.
A cache of food was near an Inukshuk without arms or one with anthers attached,
For the lost hunter in the Arctic, their beckoning and comfort was unmatched.
These rocks are used for navigation, the right direction to select,
They can also signify a memorial, a quiet place of respect,
Or mark where the spirits abide or where the fish can be found,
Think- the amount of information provided, without uttering a sound.
Winter 2010, in Vancouver, it became the official Olympic mascot,
“In the likeness of a human” is the modern meaning, now it’s thought.
I am no expert on these stones but driving northward, I keep a watchful look,
And respect the stone monument there to welcome you, the Inuit Inukshuk
Written July 30, 2011
For “Stoned Contest”
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
Upon the words of a friend clearing mist,
my location,
lost in the wilderness on a lonely vacation,
a clue fished,
sanity drove me to act a clown,
intentionally insane 'til a "chance" get out.
I gave up working and found,
can't see in front nor the ground,
in shock, delirious,
everything's hilarious,
coping method when "scare" is in us,
as this now cleared mist shows me caught.
Delusion laughter makes me poorly,
intended for usage on a short stay,
now clearing to the seashore,
I'm sure I see more as I board the ship tall,
revelations as I look out at the ocean,
but which is more glorious,
I see where my feet fall.
Prisoner Of Language
Will time live eternal
or just its retelling
A prisoner of language
whose paradox mined
Dimension in contrast
ill-fated contrition
To look but not touch
—and hope they align
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)
Through A Vacuum
Biologically tethered
time is the demon
Your flesh and your blood
by nature defined
Each tic of the clock
your heart beats in cadence
Dogmatic in method
caught up in the brine
What if your consciousness
took a leap forward
Abandoning reference
erasing the lines
Polarity exits
its jail through a vacuum
Releasing reversing
—becoming sublime
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)
Starting Over
Dig up the foundation
requestion each premise
Wade through the bathwater
the baby must go
A leap when it’s quantum
still subject and object
Fly out of the portal
—rejecting what’s known
(Rosemont College: December, 2023)
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Julie got pregnant on a whim
She said they used the withdrawal method
He withdrew in London while she was still in Manchester
It would bring them closer together, she said
So he moved to America to prove this theory
She decided he would be back when the whim was three
Where there's a whim, there's a way
Broken biscuit people are philosophical
It’s in their DNA
He’s coming back
Ten years gone he’s still coming back
Julie sat down with a cup of tea and her favourite digestives
The biscuit always tasted better when she dunked it into her tea
But the biscuit broke, and her life unravelled before her
He was never coming back
The words finally hit home
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Broken biscuit people.
we're living in distressing times
the nation's in disrepair
War in Iran, social injustice
ICE everywhere
snd when we view the news
We're totally dismayed
Asking God why
Things are happening this way?
An urgency hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
And our faith in him the reason
The god of Hope
Our spiritual force
Our creator
our omnipotent power source
Let's not even discuss the political disarray
Election deniers, federal indictments
The mega cult acting cray cray
Prisons for profit
Where black lives now matter
The educational system
the right wing has now shattered
An urgency of Hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
Our faith in him the reason
The god of Hope
Our spiritual force
our creator
our omnipotent power source
Now it's time to seek
Hope most urgently
To no longer be overwhelmed
by the adversary
To look towards our blessed assurance
In this life
The almighty God who sent us a Savior
Jesus the Christ
As God is the only power strong enough
To prevail
with the ability to send all this evil corruption
Back to hell
An urgency of Hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
our faith in Him the reason
The god of Hope
Our spiritual force
Our creator
our omnipotent power source
Hope is not gone
It's our most precious commodity
That which is the underpinning
Of Christian humanity
And now through the curtain of God's intersection
We've arrived
Full of Hope, gladness
now eager to spiritually thrive
An urgency of Hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
Our faith in him the reason
The god of Hope
Our spiritual force
our creator
Our omnipotent power source
now deliberate in our method and manner
Optimism filled to the brim
With an urgency of Hope
we now rely solely on Him
An urgency of hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
Our faith in Him the reason
The God of Hope
Our spiritual Force
Our creator
our omnipotent power source
An urgency of Hope
Is much needed in this season
For Jesus is the answer
our faith in Him the reason
The God of hope
our spiritual force
Our creator
our omniscient power source
It came quiet as the night
Nothing you could fight
It drifted unnoticed in the air
More lethal than an angry bear
He didn't feel a breeze, he didn't feel a change
Nothing out of order, nothing struck him strange
It bound to his hemoglobin, 200 times as strong
His cells were suffocating, all systems going wrong.
They found him in my car, a snow drift behind
The got him out in time for the poison to unwind
I researched it, other compounds also creep in stealth
They may change the way you act, they may destroy your health.
A crime mob found this out, they can ambush, poison you
The motive might be foggy, the method leaves no clue
Just another thing to worry about these days
Bad things can happen, in so many new ways.
See, there are crimes you know were done
But with stealthy drugs in air, there is no smoking gun
We can rub the wrong guy the wrong way
then wonder why the joy fades out, and our life goes gray.
Subsequently
I pretend as though I write for you
Sing of changes in the days to come
Again
I pretend I write for you
Outside of clock work
You’re all I’m into
I hold you now
And I feel it’s dying slow
Dying to get you there
how did you get away
There are no fairy-tales
No short stories of ways to go
These are the worries
Every villain gets to know
Hurt for the ages
In the days of some
Apply this method
And reach for one
Until the years bring back their dead
Inside of tears remains
the essence to feel relief
One Thursday night we sang
of desires beyond belief
I hold you now
and I feel it’s dying
Dying to get you there
How did you get away
"wash me away"