Long Microscopes Poems
Long Microscopes Poems. Below are the most popular long Microscopes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Microscopes poems by poem length and keyword.
I'd met you, like a lad meeting his neighbor little lass,
Charmed to you at very first sight, I stood like a dumb ass;
As tabooed lover admiring his darling, I stood far,
Thirst of bathing in your love, yet, blazed in me like tar jar...
I looked like a hippy cowboy in my rustic boyhood,
You're a celibate Tamil lady in blue maidenhood;
Your charmed me; I was like iron-dust attracted by magnet,
I'd fallen in your beauty as a fish in a dragnet...
I stood in bewilderment as you grew in great beauty,
I sensed being your devotee is my august duty;
Your treasures I ignored preferring your simplicity,
Pearl and ruby seemed nothing before your complexity...
This adoration got doubled, like seasons in full bloom,
The times I'd failed to visit you, had been my greatest gloom;
Your wonders, like star-dusts, in huge microscopes I did zoom,
Your water-beauty resembled Arabian perfume...
It's then, like volcano, the caste-creed concept erupted,
Folks near you from folks from far got mutually abducted;
Folks, once, stood bound in garlands of fragrant fraternity,
Found each one engulfed by enmity of eternity...
Religion, like daggers in tragic plays, reasons did raze,
Violence started writing on humans bloody red rays;
Massive stones and boulders, thundered, splitting shoulders and chest,
Dragging them in nets, like rough sharks, some drowned them with full zest...
You turned a meeting-place for transmitters of violence,
Great market wherein one could buy and sell ethnic vengeance;
Hallmark of your beauty, lily-like purest innocence,
Had hidden its head under dark hideous insolence...
Thenceforth, your sapphire blue got turned into coral blood red,
It's not menses-cycle of change; you seemed seeking blood-shed;
Like Scylla, and Charybdis, you stood swallowing the dead,
To the guiltless folks around, you proved to be a death-bed...
My love of meeting you often, then, like sunset got shred;
As a beast least bothered in love, I, thenceforth, went ahead;
You beat loudly all through day and night as though calling me,
Will first love, failed and faded, yet, easily gain its glee...?
(On a sea near my hometown, I fondly visited during my boyhood, changing into a center of cast-creed violence)
15 December 2021
"Aurora Spills"
Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields of stories
they wave her in
rippling time away
fingertips dance mesmerising
the stinging strangers
wrapped around her legs
treading water in deep
infested notions
the coolness of
irreverent nonchalance
romantic or not
pulls her under covers
like warm blankets
heavy comfort
calls the broken
floating towards
the shabby matrix
new gates of life open
mirrors crack like eggs
the vision reflects
both light and dark
demon and saint
their remnants
embers, still
in the coldness
of prickly gloaming
like glow worm glen
fireflies red and glowing
sparks ignite
a rapturous bushfire
from cinders
billy tea leaves overturned
empty cups read
the yolk of a heart
never lies
fried casually
by the over easy
in shallow pans
of poetry
under microscopes
of blithe mordant critique
minute shards of gold
are slowly sifted
from the flotsam dross
some wisdom found
in the muddy fertile mind
shooting up
from 6ft underground
like small green plants
growing under rocks
with centipedes and
the petulant poison of spiders
in pink reflection
insurgence blooms
war never waits
silently the Pandoras smile
understanding all and nothing
of a small life distended,
swelling love
for that which was stolen
where bursting broken blue weeds
undo frozen jewels
diamonds sharp for the cutting
shiny words spells of insanity
delicious moments
melting time swallowed
spoken without voice
listening to ghosts
scratching through walls
where life floods
from glass boxes
coffins of buried treasure
banished
kaleidoscope colours
overgrowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“The Lady in the Lake”/ Elysian Fields
https://youtu.be/IjX8xfZ7sg0
“Out of whose womb came the ice
And the hoary frost of heaven
Who hath gendered it
The waters are hid as with a stone
And the face of the deep is frozen”
LYRICS/ “The Lady in the Lake”, Elysian Fields
https://genius.com/Elysian-fields-lady-in-the-lake-lyrics
Living day by day is insufficient for human beings,
We need transcendence, journeys beyond,
Escape; we need meaning and understanding,
Explanation and interpretation of the patterns that guide our lives.
We need hope, the anticipation of a future
That illuminates our path and gives us the strength to move forward.
We need freedom (or at least,
The illusion of freedom) to escape from ourselves,
For with telescopes and microscopes and ever-growing technology,
We travel to other worlds,
Rising above our immediate surroundings.
We seek a relaxation of the inhibitions that bind us,
So that we can connect with each other,
Or transports that make our consciousness of
Time and mortality easier to bear.
We seek a holiday from internal and external restrictions,
A more intense sense of the present, the beauty
And value of the world we live in, in every breath.
In the boundless field of dreams, we journey to other spheres,
With birds of desire flying high, beyond the stars.
The need to see into the depths of the soul,
Like a mirror reflecting the sea.
Through microscopes, we decipher minute secrets,
Through telescopes, we explore the giants of dreams.
In states of mind that allow us to travel,
We rise from the ordinary towards infinite horizons.
We need the magic of love, stories
That rise above dark clouds,
We need the illusion of freedom, which frees us
From the chains of ordinary existence.
We seek the antidote for the inhibitions
That isolate us, bridges that unite us,
Transformed into moments of sincere intimacy,
A journey to places where hearts join hands.
We seek a break from inner traps,
To discover the intensity of the present moment,
The beauty and value of the lived world,
In the web of infinite possibilities.
We need light that pierces the gloom,
The flight of dreams released into the heavens.
New ways to navigate through the complexity of life,
To feel the fullness of each day received as a gift.
On wings of hope and freedom, we carry ourselves
Beyond the limits of days, in search of infinity.
The tale of the high kicking raspberries in two hundred lines of silt and steamed porridge oats.
Keynotes noted kissing keystones keep keystrokes kingly. But kingly is often not associated with kindness, kinship, or kept keepers keeping keys. It is the weeping of a solitary blade of grass that catches the attention of a wild anarchical lawnmower who's wild swooping on grass is a heavyweight chomp on many a bud spawned. One day as the blade grabbed a tissue carelessly discarded by a human hand it was considered to be a white flag. Waving. To say peace peace peace. To the bulldozers, mowers, and high stepping line dancing rakes. Pylons pulled piling pins profusely. How rather pious! And the building of a rat craft can really only be radically achieved under the main arch of a microspore whose antics with a slide causes great entertainment for microscopes who clap clap clap and roar approval in their bemused fashion. And so back to the upset blade of grass. It stood now shrouded by the tissue and frightened to leave the confines in case a heavy foot went by. Stomp. But no this was not the ending. Instead the beat of wings arrived with a squawk a Mohawk and a peck peck peck. Confused birdie thought he had found a piece of bread. Due to the tears the tissue had stuck to the blade of grass and so up it went with the border collie coloured birdie into the air and away. That was an ending found from under a stone. Perhaps a cone might signal the felling of the scraping scraps of sheet metal. Product placed peanuts. And the prowess of a Dutch infused marble cocktail is equivalent to a little vaporised milk carton. Moooooo then. A single scroll is a single scribe and a single scrolling scribe is setting sail on a magnificent lake with high towering mountainous vista scenes with ten scones. Z disambiguation. Z at three marshmallows singing to a tune of pan to twelve monkfish rotating in a septic water tank in a half pint cup. Quedos. *** z
Form:
As they leave,
They leave for us
Calabash full of sorrow and agony
They leave for men a plate of frustration
And desperation.
As they leave
They leave for women nothing
But cups of tears and fears
As they leave
They leave for old ones a basket
Full of fruits of ultimate death and shame
As they leave
They leave for workers a big bowl
Of empty promises, unpaid salaries
And incessant strike actions
As they leave
They leave for students a stabbed
And crippled students’ union,
Ramshackle and “Renopainted”
Halls of Residence
As they leave
They leave for our generation a loss compass
From which we can find and rediscover our
Moral values, valuable culture
Instincts of deliberative governance and
Leadership cum administrative acumen
As it is
We are living with fear of gbu-a-gbu-a
Of daylight gunshot of the emboldened to
Extort, encouraged to maim and induced to kill
Ultra-fascists campus cult groups commissioned
To crush all seeming oppositions
As is it
We are living with:-
Biochemists without reagents
Microbiologists without modern microscopes
Linguists without modern language laboratory
Computer students without
Being opportune to hold a mouse
Physiologists without bloodbank.
As it is
We are living with
Dike archaic books and non books materials
Students and staff basking in the euphoria
Of stone age and ancient facilities.
As it is
We are living in a garden that detest truth
Genuine intellectualism, dissent views and
Contrary opinions but rather nourishes in
Multi-colour ignorance, white lies,
Ever green concocted disortions,
Oceanic blu-i-sh sycophancy and reddish intolerance
Which is only reminiscences of the black jackboot
Days of the Abacha junta.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
Form:
I NEEDED
“Boldness – If I choose to loiter in this day I will lose it, and tomorrow will be the same, and I will end up lamenting the lost days” -By Wayne Wyder.
I needed a person who would cook my [spoiled] goose when my train was about to derail and he would fix the shocks.
I needed a fellow who bothered to know that before the Italians could cover my feet I had cracked heels. I needed a fellow who will know the origin of all the scars on my body, I needed one who knew why I engaged the services of a bespoke tailor – that the main reason was because my body was shapeless at some point.
I needed a fellow who knew that “my brother is a reflection of me. I can’t fly if he is falling”. I needed the one who understood that when I was with him we were neither strangers nor club attendees, nor colleagues. I am saying I needed the one who knew that he is not my leader but my vein.
I needed the one who was willing to walk alongside me all the time.
I needed a fellow who lived beyond his feelings but knew that as a brother we would always carry each other’s microscopes in order to zoom our blood. I needed a fellow that knew that his emotions/feelings could not build both of us but could provide either of us with a tent.
I needed a fellow who had his pad when the other fellow was jettisoned by his own plane because he had allowed today to pose as yesterday forgetting that today cannot be tomorrow.
Yes, I mean I needed the one who also had a pad when the misnomer was introduced into the other fellow’s plane and fermented the other fellow’s gum trees thinking they were impressed trees. I mean the one who knew that we are both together in this and he allowed me to have his ear when we walked, I mean the one who knew to listen to reason.
7/29/16
Daily losses and profits
Withdrawals and deposits
Suggest to do your best and use logic
Constantly not just periodic
Below many comets
Moving faster than rockets
In any area considered cosmic
People working away outside or inside a office
Professionals or a novice
Products
Being packed and shipped through a thorough process
Scientists using microscopes, slides and droplets
To gather data whether or not expirementing with a coccus
Don't frolic
To be perfectly honest
You might feel lost, and rather thoughtless
But have a sense of direction if your on land by using the mosses
Be cautious
Think with a clear conscience
And follow through on any promise
A lot of human beings looking at anything religious with a fondness
Conducting ceremonies with liquids in golden goblets
While praying homage to a god or godess
One thing for certain is that it all is in motion and constant
Events and opportunities occuring at the same or a different correspondence
Live it up because we all get a certain amount of time and allotment
It goes for any lifeform whether or not it is or isn't aquatic
Many colors and composites
In and out, near and far from any province
Not to mention all these strains that are local and exotic
Grown close, or far away in the tropics
The news speaking of seemingly fixed topics
Some of which are rather ironic
Don't be idiotic
Why worry about what's in another's pocket?
Stop it
Those actions just may be catastrophic
Near and far from environements considered toxic
Fossils found and remaining that are small or colossus
Meanwhile evidence is put away on shelves in boxes
By: Dalton Ogletree
The school bell's chorus wakes a drowsy room,
Sunlight spills, a golden, dusty plume.
Desks, once dormant, morph to galleons grand,
Ready to set sail to each uncharted land.
Chalk, a spectral hand, whispers wisdom's lore,
Unveiling mysteries on the darkened shore.
Sharpeners gnash their teeth, devouring leaden dreams,
Leaving silver whispers where logic's spotlight beams.
Globes, like captive Earths, continents in hold,
Beckon's curious minds, stories yet untold.
Maps unfurl, adventures waiting to ignite,
Mountains pierce the paper, bathed in imagined light.
Scissors, silver storks with beaks of silent snip,
Carve out thoughts like snowflakes, on a question's icy lip.
Crayons, waxy rainbows, melt on paper's plain,
Birthing vibrant jungles, where creatures rule their reign.
Pencils, graphite serpents, coil with inky grace,
Weaving tales fantastical, across time and space.
Rulers, stoic guardians, lines etched firm and true,
Marking boundaries where dreams and logic accrue.
Erasers, gentle guardians, with a patient touch,
Whisper soft forgiveness, a lesson learned so much.
Puppets dance on fingers, with stories in their eyes,
Of pirates, and princesses, beneath invented skies.
Chart paper, a canvas, vast and white and bare,
Awaits the brushstrokes of imagination's flair.
Microscopes, with a curious gaze, reveal unseen worlds,
Tiny hidden wonders, like poems yet unfurled.
Bells chime once more, a day complete and free,
But echoes linger still, where knowledge sets us free.
Rulers, maps, and globes, a symphony they weave,
Of knowledge, dreams, and wonder, lessons minds believe.
March 20, 2024
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,
Covid-19: A Silent Messenger of Lucifer!
Through the creek of the door there sneaked in a silent messenger of Lucifer,
A breathing man sneezed till the last breath, and was shrouded with chillness,
It was a soothing flame of fire choked the chamber in and out,
Rapidity was a trait of the silent messenger which breathed its force mysteriously,
And there was coughing, sneezing and spitting with rising temperature,
The stigma of Covid-19 had its recycle with its mutated psychology.
The victims succumbed to the predator’s double-bladed scalpel.
The illegitimate entry of Covid -19 into an Oriental province is an infamous history,
The silent messenger then turned to an untamable monster that devoured the ‘innocents’,
Clinical staff ran helter-skelter to fight with the devouring monster,
The malicious hunter with his hunting dog wolfed breath in minutes.
The mammoth giant in miniature form of virus wielded his weapon ‘cross the horizon,
And multiple lives were dragged thro’ the tunnel of darkness,
The malicious organisms with short span of life-expectancy breed countless generations,
And enjoy themselves with the crown of sinister leaves.
Who will chase the messenger of Lucifer and shall redeem the world?
Day in and day out chemicals and antibiotics run under microscopes,
Vaccines are tried in every corner,
But experiments and efforts seem to be a fiasco.
So Who shall chase the messenger of evil from the face of human lives?
There is One Who made man and creations,
So, let’s seek His Providence to walk in His Word,
And Life on earth shall be a way unto the Life of Eternity.
Shall we all….?
,