Long Mirage Poems
Long Mirage Poems. Below are the most popular long Mirage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mirage poems by poem length and keyword.
Khaki lapped mangroves, sun bouncing transferred
Journeys bright flashes along branches texture
Conveyerbelt spot lights glide, bright pattern superb
Bath tidal shallow travels water's gold reflection
High heat subdued by horse tail tassled foliage
Sea loving pine hung in bunches, long drapes swung
Salty silt bed rigid roots drink in river knowledge
Steady light slide show rhythms calm dance among
Hectic city spectacle, hulk forty storey bulk surly
Gaped naked windows glare against cement facade
Dominate diminished dunes, emit shadows early
Rough road map arms umbrella mangroves in mirage
A million miles distance gifted in fifty metre gap
Delicate crescent of white sand, best spot on globe
Display of unreal critters crawl warm yellow sap
Dappled place of sanctuary spurs disco bulb strobe
25th September
Gold Coast, Australia
Marooned on a tropical isle
I'm captive to an angry sea.
And it feels an eternity
imprisoned here without a key.
Loneliness saturates my heart,
but the rising tide ignores me.
For the waves cannot feel my pain
and have no wish to set me free.
I oft see a ghostly mirage,
like a vision that haunts my dreams.
For it appears to be so near,
and yet, no one answers my screams.
A tie-dyed sky's clouding over,
another storm is on its way.
And it's time that I sought shelter,
for tomorrow might be the day.
Sleep promises to rescue me
but fails to take me from this place.
And just as soon as my eyes close,
tears start to trickle down my face.
(Quatrain)
9/19/2015
After five days of irony,
life was looking bleak
That fourth night seemed long,
much more than a week
I seen geckos licking eyeballs,
shovel-faced lizards swapping feet
trying to cool off
in the searing desert heat
A nomad walked by,
talking to a mirage
He could’ve been praying
and the mirage was a façade.
From my point of view,
his journey was damned
walking in circles
around the promised land
I came here fracking
for my missing soul,
and then it came gushing
as liquid black gold
Looking up astonished,
a genie appeared
saying, “Thank you, master,
I’ve been down there for years”
“Be careful what you wish for,
I’d like to give you one”
She was a sexy genie
and very good with a pun
I asked for a Time Machine,
knowing well she’d fail
but I did get one off her,
time stood still on any scale
Back in the real world,
things are calming down
I joined a death metal band
from some unmarked town
They liked my catchy riffs,
deviant lyrics and poems
We’re called (many names),
mine’s out there on its own
* * * * * *
Now before falling asleep,
it’s impossible to be dead
Living brings the nightmare
that nothing lies ahead
Still, my fear of being shunned
beats off the ugly stares,
in a world full of friends
playing musical chairs.
The turning wheel of time stirs up the dust of disarray,
that settles in the crumbling cauldron of disordered life.
In the maiming moments of disdained dejection,
truth tumbles in the mélange of disorienting chaos.
Under the scorching blaze of the envy flame,
the desiccated soul suffers parched and forsaken,
searches for the niche of sanguinity in self-belief
to get the self-seeking shade of hope in frustration.
The sapling of irresistible longing rooted deep in desire,
nurtured in the receptive core of the longing heart,
blossoms the flower of passionate hedonism,
luring the being with the illusion of impulsive urge.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay,
the mangled mind is disheveled to a dishabille state,
tries to snap the chords of captivating greed,
the psychic cascade of unconcern carries them away.
Chasing the mirage across the dunes of desolation,
the hope of taking life to the oasis disappears deluded.
As the beleaguering storm of disenchantment blows,
consciousness takes the correction course to undo despair.
Her arms are open
Across the vast expanse
Heat patterns rise from flat rock
Simmering sensations to fool the mind
Blurring even the recognizable
Into a mirage of nothingness
“Dust coated winds that do not exist”
Blinding hypnotic colors play
Weaving patterns of self doubt
Alone in a misconception of belief
Solitude of unwanted fear
Emptiness worn on a sleeve
“Kaleidoscopic nightmares so very pretty”
Let down, shoved aside, forgotten
Discarded emotions piled in a heap
Broken sidewalks of those I thought I knew
French braided friends - or so I believed
Abandoned on my own crumbling foundation
“Why did I ever believe?”
When I see a tiny speck, (perhaps something in my eye)
Canceling the horizon’s verticality
Moving beyond invisible footprints
Solidifying a view - a smile, waving
As if a drunken crow has tipped over
“Thoughts turn to memories of words once spoken”
Reoccurring images race forward
Sentences of comfort find their way
Down the path to my heart
Realizing I now understand
What she meant - that day, this day
“I run to meet her halfway - her arms are open”
In the dark alley of time my mind-body duality wanders
With the life stumbling on the hazards of blunders
The frailty of the unknown far-off future destined
Casts shadows of despair on my innate disposition.
I wish a glittering highway appear for me to escape
And I am able to carve for my life an egoistic shape
Configure the earthly elements of desire in essence
Chase the migrating mirage of mundane opulence.
In the entangled landscape of confused existence
I pursue the endless trail of unbound craving
Rambling in the sense wasteland of possession false
I am trapped in the sordid mire of mortal being.
Trying to get released from the captivating clasp
Of karmic destiny, leading to loss of the sense of self
The perception of divine conscience pervades me
I transcend the space-time limits for inward journey.
Detached from the transient life’s enmeshing web
I lose mind-body identity in the sanctum of psyche
Where time is lost in the timeless deep silence
I am then suffused with sublime Sattvaic bliss.
As my soul wishes to serenely unfurl the divine lotus
I perceive His graceful endowment of nirvana
Beautify my sublimated life with heavenly adornment
The absolute then assimilates the aspiring atman.
_______________
December 18, 2022
Contest : Our Soul's Wish List
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
In the endless kingdom of time, where clocks are silent and years dissolve,
Existence weaves smiles with the mirage of immortality, faultless,
Man, a traveler towards the infinite, through melting icebergs of moments,
A dancer at the eternal ball, where age is just an echo, a simple meaning.
His gaze towards the horizon, pure, like the ray of sun through clear glass,
Dreams of boundlessness, where not a grain of sand is squandered,
But reality is a wall of shadows, with each dream, a part is unforgivingly torn away,
And life's tragic theater, ageless on its stage, is divided in acts unjustly shared.
Treading through the gardens of days, his soul traverses the ocean of thoughts,
This boundless inner cosmos, where youth and old age grapple,
The burden on shoulders unyielding, battling the maladies that cast him out,
And he perseveres on the path to stay, with a deluge of expectations, struggling unbroken.
In this voyage towards the lost eternity, he intertwines his chimera,
With a heart full of longing, he concludes contracts with the stars, trading empty illusions,
Hope, that specter, strides furtively like an early migrating bird,
And each day is a rose petal fallen, from the life's bouquet that burns in the distance.
But peace, a silent coffee at dusk, in the company of an open book,
Is the manifesto of the timeless soul, which, deep within, always dreams,
Though various perils are laid in his path, immobilizing steps towards the heavenly,
This man, age-old and resonant, remains alive in the heart of each moment, eternally.
As I walk down the beach
I see you at a far distance
As we get closer and closer
It seems as if time crawls
Almost stopping yet the minutes
Tick by slower and slower as I
Anticipate seeing you
As my heart beats faster and faster
Walking closer and closer
I see you in a mirage as someone
I use to know and love
It's like your in a fog
Trying to get out
To escape to leave
To make your way out back to me
I look up and your standing in front of me
I see your eyes glisten in the sun
Your face says it all
I kiss you
Holding you close
Never letting you go
You broke my heart when
You ask me what my name is?
Your accident wiped your memory of me
I'm nobody and then I leave.
Liberty and freedom...The American way
Crewcuts and scuttl-butt..Who knows the
Truth today.? Apple pies were stacked in
The freezers deep, the ship was crewed, by many
Beleivers.' A few mature officers, and fresh
College leavers.' The flag was up the wind was strong, how and why.? Could things go
Wrong.? So many deaths.' And to what avail.? For a full twenty five minutes they were assailed, fighter jets that just did not
See? the cut her jib.' Oe'r the rippling sea..
Isreal spoke of sighting errors..There
are
Reports of (mirage jets?) Did the French add some terror.? Last of all the torpedo boats, unleashing their fish..
To dire impacts i note.' Just a few survivors..Or humans second class.? There was compesation? and
consternation, then time moved fast'
But there's a shipload of radishes for all
to digest
If it docks.? With proofed documentation?
Not just eywitness accounting.' And
historys records, under current light,
and its
Type of cast.? I see Thomas Massie
is raking the ashes, i think of two towers falling dead straight down.?
Victims jumping in those horrible
crashes .' Its all almost distracting.? In
Its very scope..Yet I say God bless America the
Land of Liberty and hope.' A place that once threw its shackles away.' It started on
A ship.. In Boston i hear say.? Owned by some bankers..Of some type of fame? Or could it be infamy..Now whats in a name?
A frame never shows the entire world—
only the slice you choose to see.
It takes the sprawling wild chaos of things
and trims it to something bearable,
something simple, cloistered,
that fits inside the mind’s small room.
This cropping is mistaken for clarity.
Calling it truth.
Calling it perspective.
Robbed of context and background
the art lies in choosing
which edges matter and why they matter,
and what may be exiled outside the margins
outside the frame like a photographer
swinging the viewfinder over the scene.
A window pretends to offer everything—
the sun, sky, clouds, the sway of trees—
yet it offers only what fits within its frame,
its glass holding back wind, sound, doubt,
the real context for the world
is left excluded, ghosting just below the sill.
Doorways negotiate between what's inside and outside,
thresholds where inner and outer whorls meet,
Stand on the threshold long enough,
and the hinge of separation between worlds dissolves.
You are less divided and separated—
from what you let come in before
and what you are yet to let inside.
Every border blurs the truth.
Every threshold distorts.
Frames are where certainty falters,
like heat trembling over asphalt,
like a mirage on the horizon that forgets
where sea ends and sky begins.
The mind frames memories the way a camera frames light—
editing the whole truth into meaning,
cropping out the wounds,
propping up the joys,
with rosy filters helping you forget the bad times
We walk through our days
carrying invisible frames,
seeing only what fits within their boundaries:
the familiar shapes and causes,
the comforts and warmth,
in the explanations
that match our sense of order.
Everything else is clutter—
seen, held, felt and heard, but seldom claimed.
When we step outside the frame—
beyond the window’s cloistered view
past the doorway’s quivering threshold—
The world blossoms, booms, and unfurls to display in full color,
wild, unfiltered, untamed, brimming with chaos and disorder,
layered, dynamic, prismatic, multifaceted.
A realm with no borders, no cropping, and no frames—
far beyond the box our minds keep wanting to shove it in.