Long Momentum Poems
Long Momentum Poems. Below are the most popular long Momentum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Momentum poems by poem length and keyword.
The Clown fish had brimming eyes, a montage flown back to
Jaflong , a memory lane
I wonder I felt overwhelmed, as if yesterday’s incomplete hard
and fast, rituals and alone
Over pouring overboard, ornate orange diva and monsoon rain and
Jaflong time and greeting say
Holistic a rueful an encapsulation, by the by a rare tracing cue
with a poetic erotica, radiant way
My lover boy had a momentum of her ever persevering prodigy,
stable, and eloquent, a remedy
Who called him a done deal? Or vulnerable? Majestic that artist
resides in me, in swargachira, and painful days of cotton clouds
We touched the star of the eternity, inevitable teardrops and a
bye , is it showmanship other than that?
Please pioneer, bless her soul, give a diligent due to her blessing,
mantra, mainland holy wedlock, lock the bits and pieces of state
news, in unwholesome
Ah……………! Where art Thou!
Excuse and executive, too much of a sensational mayhem to hum
along a reverie zeal !
And what about me! Oh! I was in my evangelical pain, the holistic
truth and only one to prevail!
I have ample recess time, with an album of not so friendly goon of
songs, an ode to an Indian nightingale!
Absent Motility Against Staid Inertia
impossible to describe listlessness
bedeviling this body electric aye attest
motivation to counter glumness
seizes motility temporarily
to stave off staid purposeless at best,
yet aware poetic obfuscation chest
barely delineates fierce hopelessness
assailing me,
when'r awake and/or at everest
feeding melancholy feedback loop
sparring against faintest
momentum - writhing psyche,
asper an unwelcome guest
emotional friction
bringing motionlessness,
where lunging futility
summoning ability
to muster joie de vivre
defeated willpower
no matter mental health
propped up
with pharmacological medications
prescribed by Doctor George Adams be hest,
yet tis NOT suicide, but general malaise
as if poison (or stung by a scorpion) jest
permeates thy being
sparking existential angst
hoop fully communicating figurative soffits
facilitating emotional bulwark lest
ye coon sitter
this lix spittled chap messed
up in the head, but also that empty nest
syndrome - a bird den, and nefarious pest
disallowing merrily rowing my boat
subjected to turbulence that doth wrinkle
space/time continuum quest
punctuating any attempt
to take fig yurt heave Newtonian rest
without being assailed
of drab quotidian predictability
re: envious papa
towards daughters adventurous lives
he rejoices (albeit vicariously)
respective lives where offspring lasso lassitude,
viz both their electric kool aid acid test
how fate didst in vest
waning wily woebegone zest!
Hurtling clumsily through dark layers of sky --
Unwelcome residue of engorged, menacing clouds --
Gathering momentum, bulking up as they descend
To stab the helpless ground with their frigid edges
Few brave this nasty turn of events -- by which
Peaceful cityscapes are transformed into cold infernos
Of fiery ice -- to greet them, to acknowledge their
Triumph over once-soft, once-pliant 'Mother Earth'...
Like bullets from b-b guns or darts from tasers
They burrow into the earth, into snowdrifts, into
Snowbanks, slashing their way -- howling through the
Clogged arteries of a grating metropolis, grinding her gears
The truth is that love is never true
It's illogical, it makes no sense
Why me? Why you?
Why us, who just happened to collide
It matters not whether we passed or failed
the tests of truthfulness or falseness
Whether we conformed to what
love is mean to be, or what others have as love or say it is.
Whether our love is accurate, reliable,
lasting, resilient or steadfast.
For the truth about love is
it's blind, incontestable, incomparable,
incorruptible, unerasable.
Love is delightfully uncertain.
For its impossible to measure or calculate
love's exact status and momentum at the same time.
Who cares anyway?
For love is just plain silly!
Like veering on the highway, once learnt material creates an erudite maker yet while this holds true, the cessation of the wayward knowledge must also be acknowledged. One cannot rouse a dog prone and toss meat only to regret that the dog feasts instead, the callowness must be abrogated wherein one can avoid the booby trap where momentum from learning creates both an initial wave and a shockwave from that event, with which one would incur deleterious effects that are beyond the scope of the acquisitions and the assignments, like a comet delivering an impact instead of a showy sign in the midnight skies.
She says
That her belly is too big
That her favourite jean cant seem to fit
That her skin is showing signs of spilling over ,she says she's afraid of going to the shop she looks like a freak
She's convinced that her momentum might slow her crush down thats why she barely goes shopping she's certain
None of her clothes are for keeps
None of her man kept an eye clean
From what she saw herself being
An inside job and a character beautiful enough to make it on his sheets
Sexy enough to stimulate an eraction but fail to maintain a conversation of when is the right time to give her a ring
And call it the way it is
That its Just only about the pussy and save this fat girl some tears
Save her some air time
Save her some self desructing moments like is my love really that heavy to never make one stay for dinner
And maybe see if the meal will bring up things she wanted to talk about the most .....
Without looking twice at the mirror and disliking what she sees
An elephant trapped in a reflection she would love to fall inlove with
One day, she will stop missing the most important memories in her life because she couldn'get out of her room without tapping this extra weight, without putting on a brave face and lowering her expectations
Without throwing tantrums at herself like a jew shooting snapshots of holocaust in the sky
She says shes tired of being fat
Shes tired of always looking extra to cover up this image that introduces her even when shes one her phone
Even when shes minding her size already
I am the salt of the dearth
tease your taste buds and
drape sweat for discomfort
You need not know how
I came to be in the ocean
not have to walk on water
but why wait for the Ark
instead start walking today
be a mariner in the desert
zest and spice lie in the path
Shed one more weeping tear
express anger fear and thirst
inhale perspire gather yourself
lick your wounds and salve them
for Aloe grows well in the desert
The passage of time and effort
corrects soil and bears flowers
once you accept dehydration
shape exhaustion into crystals
build memories and momentum
reach the source of your spring
float when rock bottom ceases
The river bed expects no less
than your impermanent stride
the shore line patiently points
to an anchor life buoy and chart
scratched into your inner compass
If life gives you plentiful salt
do not sugar coat your palate
savour the tasty flavour instead
take what is on offer just now
and fend off the gloomy despair
22nd February
I would like to make only one plea,
may I have a moment, to deliver the tea
All your admirers might as well flee
Because when you wear your hat, you wear it for me
As the Crown settles on your head
your haters can't afford the overhead
watching the momentum spread
this compliment is free, so ready to take one knee
Sexy as Sexy, as Sexy can be,
don't mind the sexy
Just wear it for me.
Can't put you under lock and key
your style is for the world to see
when you wear it, you wear it well
all haters can go to H---
but when you wear it, wear it for me
Love your hat to every degree
with your hat, you're so carefree
Don't need the world to agree,
baby!! sweet baby, please guarantee,
that when you wear it, you wear it for me.
Governments have no clue about real life.;
they do not want one.
Fear and greed, drive governments
and it is the fool who believes,
that he can hide from reality.
Reality comes in cycles,
rolling along like a boulder down a mountain;
at some point, every power is crushed out.
When the boulder gathers enough momentum,
it needs no specific place to land.
Those in the way of growth,
who do not allow freedom to grow,
must inevitably fail.
It’s a shame that prophets,
are never recognized, in their own time.
Recognizing prophecy; eradicates stagnation.
A simple idea; a seed in the fertile soil,
of human imagination,
gives birth to prophecy.
Some good; some bad; it will all come.
Just because the prophet dies,
doesn’t mean, that their prophecies won’t manifest.
During the bloom of youth, in the spring of vitality,
Everything is sparkling and has a fresh, real quality.
Summer is the season of growth and rebirth in life,
Every day brings fresh dreams of conquering strife.
In the fall of life, it is time to slow back,
peace of mind and confidence—nothing we lack.
Autonomy and wisdom in winter arise,
It also soothes and reflects tears wiped by the eyes.
However, life continues beyond these seasons,
Each spirit is revived for the most sturdy reasons.
This is a calm fifth season and a bright first spring,
renewed, purified, and wearing a hedge ring.
If only the fifth season could be possible,
I am perplexed as to what this may be.
In the fifth season, would it be invisible?
Allowing a smile that you can see.
I do not require the new year to be happy,
For every post you write, I celebrate.
I do not lack gifts, as when the night is sappy,
since every word, you say is equally satiate.
Each of the four seasons is crammed into one,
A quantum season is a rush of momentum.
Alternatively, a bright or black hole in the sun,
What about the soul of your heart ramentum?
It was lauded in the fifth season above,
Breathe your last free sigh, since this is love.
The sky swirls up, and things are drawn in cursory,
It no longer observes its bereavement anniversary.
Can the brain be used to conceal this perspective?
Can time-beat insight and distance be effective?
Can faith that rises far above reason triumph?
Can love be a fifth season or a sly wood humph?
Written October 30, 2022
The Fifth Season Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco