Long Module Poems
Long Module Poems. Below are the most popular long Module by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Module poems by poem length and keyword.
In the month of July during whirlpool
A Legacy was born to challenge a fool
Who in sphere of market did money drool.
As all feast and dance and sing in yule
Many people like Vipul, Maulik and Sanket rule
Over minds of customers who remain very cool
In our D-Mart which served as a perfect tool,
Come and join the ever-widening D-Mart Whirlpool.
All - cashier, attendants, owners, sweepers - pull
Praise, sympathy, good words and have globule.
There are many wicked, old, shrewd ghoul
Who conspire against you O! D-Mart, My soul!
ACs, clean floor, smiling faces and nature cool ;
Bhaiya, didi, managers, workers, watchmen Spool
Are the real source of income than other tool,
Come and join the ever-widening D-Mart whirlpool.
Future is bright of D-Mart with such module,
It also includes good products, service Gruel.
No judge can verdict anything like rice overrule
Or China food item never finds in its pool;
Clean and healthy food items, fine variety gul
And great discount on many items that ridicule
Those who conspire despise it for its fame and tool,
Come and join the ever-winding D-Mart whirlpool.
A Buffed Male Body walks along the beach
A Female watch
Her eyes like a fishnet catch
Summer heat warmth in the urges
Sweat pouring down the male buffed body
If he were to pose, the Female would faint
The sand and roaring ocean making the observation more distinct and intrigue
A push back would soon be Give in
The Female was thinking about a splash into the ocean
She would want that Buffed Guy to be her Lifeguard and give her mouth to mouth
Yet the hot sun is not making it easy
The Female is picturing in her mind of thought in censorship
Moment
Just imagine a Herculean Male Body and a Female curve with all the moves turning up the volume
Summer has already started ahead of schedule
The Female wants that Buffed guy in her own Beach module
Time to split
“As the self is filled by the Self, so is all filled continuously by you. There is no meditator or meditation.
Why does your mind meditate shamelessly?”
to behold its own reflection
living light takes on myriad forms
each module though one with the whole
hypnotised by the ego, is lost in life’s storms
if we be but still in the void of polarity interchange
occurring between exhalation and inhalation
when intent arises but before its action
these are moments of meditation
ego is but an identity our soul dons
to assist it to safely navigate earth life
as such in truth there is no one here within
our true Self is living light, in peace and bliss rife
the ego as doer or meditator simply does not exist
we are the light that lights all lights in this world
in time stretched silence ego disappears
heart centric, flag of love is unfurled
Earlier today, I had a small-group evaluation
that I’ve been quietly dreading
and frankly, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
See, I’ve neglected things of late
I had the flu and couldn’t concentrate.
But once that was over, I could focus,
and I did some uneducated guessing,
about what the physiology skill-drill might be.
My group peer-assessed me, and those guys can be savage,
and a fail on the quiz could block my module passage.
I showed what I’d prepared, 2-hours focussed on things like prioritizing diagnoses.
Their questions were pointed but they didn’t reveal their prognoses.
How’d I do? I haven’t a clue.
I was quivering with exhaustion when I was through.
The professeur seemed pleased, and I got a few nods and smiles,
in my clinical-presentation debut.
.
,
A song for this:
Diary by Lucy Tun
You Need Therapy (Ready) by Mila Smith
non-compensatory - A fail in ED/PBL can block module passage
the eye of the hurricane is still
humming silently with potent power
as is the animated stillness continuum
preceding the emission of heart’s pure intent
thought cessation of consciousness self-aware
holding erect all energies in perfect balance
enlivens the bardo with a magnetic pulse
ushering ineffable aesthetic delight
behold how polarities within mingle
benign bliss beats generating cool heat
causing soma nectar to drip through form
soundless thunder felt by holder of the flame
oriented as such in mood and mode of vibrancy
empty within and nonchalant to outcomes
fully present in the now continuum
soul delights in every offering
retracing our steps back to source
befriending silence, poised in stillness
slowing down thought and gentling touch
our single eye peeps through pores of space
as an individuated module of God consciousness
subtler than space and more potent than fire
we transcend limitations of linear time
both immanent and transcendent
watching the ebb and flow of tides
we dip in and out of shimmery illusions
from the stillness fulcrum beyond space time
we fully partake of and then release each embrace
~ leaving behind no residue
The mailman is certainly sketchy
way to tall and sort of gangly,
his arms are long and his skin is pale.
He arrives at 10:04 without fail,
never sooner; never later,
and my old dog never barks
like he does at the park,
be it leaf or be it squirrel,
be it a little girl that twirls,
or be it nothing there at all!
The Earth is flat
and landing on the moon was fake,
I simply don’t believe in that,
but I think the mailman is an alien.
I’m convinced his vehicle is a UFO
that transforms and flies at night,
or did I see that on a TV show
long ago when I was eight?
The doctor says to take my meds,
the aliens are in my head!
Sure Doc, because bees don’t sting,
and a hollow moon doesn’t ring.*
*On November 20, 1969, NASA deliberately crashed the Apollo 12 lunar module into the Moon, causing it to vibrate or "ring like a bell" for nearly an hour. This phenomenon sparked theories that the Moon is hollow (like a bell).
OH MAN:
The livelihood of man is vainglorious,
And his final home after death is unknown.
Well, who is man that knoweth not himself,
The man who is condemned by his fellows,
That lack answers to mystical questions?
Who actually is man,
Whose body becomes conscious of nothing,
When he's dead and gone?
And his corpse only returns into soil,
After been fed on by worms and termites?
Oh man, you whose intelligence and dignity,
Can never be identified by your skeleton,
After you've passed away,
And your shadow becomes an invisible module,
Both day and night.
Why are you selling your life for doom,
By being enticed to this fading place,
Instead of a good eternal place for your soul?
Indeed, the story of man is futile,
Especially, when his life is pinned to paganism.
Peace....I'm out!
Within the tight corsets
and high collars we remain faucets
that the portraits display
at the exhibition for today
though young men among us
cross home plate to the wild cheers and fuss
about their food between
sausage and in Louisiana cuisine
many folks are simply
not full partners in this industry
asking loose boundedness
before a genuine catcher audience
Among those who still read
who still cannot descend through one head
may not be slow to show
how newspaper reading has dropped low
beyond adroit and breast
beyond legal orders and the rest
as part ensuring art
I have disturbed that established heart
like nightclubs without beer
family without funeral or bier
but single band to grow
among different hues agreed with woe
In this developed place
reduced to a formula or face
the body of the pain
from the public to the private vain
I respond to my life
with ethos driving from kitchen knife
its two patterns are fussed
but each module is unfairly just
in the klein house I gwine
laid dry in salt rather than in brine klein
I overcome with grief
because going now I would as lief
as a module of God omnipresent
one with oneness, dwelling in the vast void
as of heart’s desire, we chose to ensoul
a fetus unborn, pure and unalloyed
the terrain mapped and territory marked
we as living light for our earth sojourn
slowed down vibrations, crystallised in form
willingly burning in mind-body urn
here we are then but not on a mere whim
aim of the game was to become the flame
to which end, making head and heart align
tempests of thoughts became easy to tame
light transformed organic form made of dust
we became free from bondage to space-time
ego whence felled, delusion was dispelled
in marked territory, soothed by love’s chime
"The Eagle has landed”
Apollo 11 lunar module named “Eagle”
prediction defied naysayers ain't no boon
dog gull announced successful landing
while voice of Ole Blue eyes did croon
in Sea of Tranquility on moon
sometime about high noon
halting advancing armies
from one after another platoon
set down pontoon
bridges across the river Kwai (dune
axe why, the spatial event
July 20, 1969 witnessed great withered
figureheads regaled American dignitaries
even many an centenarian old prune,
plus lovely bones as skeletal rune
none other than remains formerly
Robert Hutchings Goddard exhumed
subsequently astronaut Neil Armstrong
uttered "That's one small step for man,
one giant leap for mankind,"
though skeptics good n plenti
claimed hue moon phase
would never become crater!
Three astronauts gravitated,
celebrated accomplished fete
instrumental proffering accolades
glock o' spiel trumpeted didgeridoo
courtesy King of rock and Queen
arduous encapsulated endeavor
spurred ravenous appetite
they got the moon cheese
lunar than later nibbled moonpie
washed down with spot of tea.
Heroes welcome greeted
podcast linkedin crew
upon their successful
accomplished impossible mission
returned to umble Earth
bootlegged moonshine stowed
within light saddle
sore ring hearts skipped beat
felt over the moon,
nonetheless by George underwent
thoroughly good medical examination
afflicted with minor malady,
not deemed more serious
than cardiovascular lunar tick.
Fast forward Fifty Earth orbitz chock
full of journeys light years distant pock
marked little uninhabited rock
quite quaint outer limits mostly schlock
of twilight zone by Spock,
he of Starship Enterprise.
No hint what prospects doth lie ahead
for future generations, centuries after
present madding crowd long since dead
yes, the space travel science fiction
authors flesh out today
will arrive within blink, whereby
fantasy with reality will wed.