Long Musing Poems
Long Musing Poems. Below are the most popular long Musing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Musing poems by poem length and keyword.
Its still raining, my eyes still tired,
wet lawns with little puddles drowning our earth -
but despite the monochromatic skyline,
birds arrived with their morning song -
not afraid to get their wings wet.
Selfish sun has abandoned me,
so I ponder amongst the puddles and serenades,
is this an analogy for us to continue with our purpose,
despite the adversity life throws at us?
Are you even alive?
Is breathing confirmation of your conscience?
Do we even need a reason for existence...
Many probably do not care or do not realise,
but if life was a contest, where would you place?
Not everyone has been gifted or cursed with empathy.
Would compassion compete if it was a competition?
Are words enough to justify where we finish on the podium,
or is it understanding what lies behind the veil -
or failing to explain that it hinders how we choose our path.
So why do we hide behind words?
Why are you afraid?
We can wear a disguise behind metaphors,
but in reality our truth in never being revealed
eats at our heart, killing our desires -
a corrupt heart means a death to our purpose.
I guess the dilemma is:
Do we need a purpose
and what is the purpose of living without a purpose..
Guess I am lucky I found my purpose.
Not everyone can spread light, but I will continue to illuminate.
A selfless soul never worries about the pedestal.
In a selfish world where time is your nemesis,
you have a choice how you wish to place in your contest.
Simple Musing
9 December 2023
She has a pair of subtle eyes to brood in forlorn,
the vile tale of heart rending cacophonic dissolution.
Those eyes were meek, never crude
to yearn the ties of proximity longed!
Those meek adorable eyes have endured
the absolute phases of reckless decimation:
have witnessed the brutal armageddon
of its plunderers desolation,
who have thwarted her genial expectations!
She has those mystic musing eyes
to impulse in pensive disposition,
an amiable abode of assured assertion,
to recreate the invisible affable bonding of elation;
a placid reciprocating ambience of virtuous relation:
has flair for the protection, the care, the infallible affection,
despite, those hands' propensity for imprudent desolation!
Those pair of sober eyes longed to thrive in composure and attention; in delectation,never in aversion!
Oh! what a horrific sight, with the axes in the hands,
the slayers and usurpers of its tranquil serenity
are waiting like sordid savages for her dire extinction!
Her latent moistened eyes are witnessing the march of those executioners:
are sobbing in utter horror and dismay,
cursing and shrieking quietly her non kinetic endeavours,
to conserve the sacred entity in virgin forests; pristine,
from the unscrupulous callous ventures of the predators.
She has those whimpering eyes to foresight;
to remind the dire repercussions
of dereliction of reckless deviations;
Are wailing and mourning in utter seclusion,
the ceaseless thumps of the usurpers' annihilation.
Those Pair of Latent Eyes are Nature's Eyes, neither vague, nor obscured:
silently screeching and watching,
the relentless heedless ravagers' devastations,
Not yet any restoration, despite beseeching imploration,
needless to predict, will reveal in various manifestations!
I walked and walked tirelessly for thousands of miles
crossing vast dales and steep soaring mountains far,
in search of you, my beloved, found you at last..
How did I not know where my true love were!
O my angel, we met at untainted dawn of life
when we hardly recognized how passionate we felt
my world broke down as sandcastles on a sea-shore, I..
crushed, forlorn, like a broken-winged bird, the day you left
I will never forget the desperate feeling
of a dreary painful loss being without you,
you tip-toed softly in my dreams, your angelic face
shining like a shimmering star in azure blue.
endless journey of love…in summer, in winter,
eternal quest continued in incessant rain
stormy rough nights, the blustery wind whooshed and howled,
blinded my musing eyes, I was in ceaseless pain.
All my life I walked and walked tirelessly for you,
thousand miles of vast dales and steep mountains far
You finally with me, my life at harmony
How did I not know where my true love were!
July 17, 2022
Syllables (12 and 13, Refrain - 10) checked by HMS.com
As heavy banked clouds rolled across
the sky, she picked up the broom.
A magical partner as she
swept the cobwebs and room.
The Blue Danube ran through her head
Awe inspiring music
An orchestra only heard by
her, deep thoughts played musing
Onto the porch she danced the "Beer
Barrel Polka's" lively beat
The broom stirring dust and cobwebs
As she kicked up her feet
From a distance upon the hill
He watched in excited dreams
How could he know love would capture
his heart, eyes fill with gleams
As intently he watched everyday
The dancer stole his heart
But now he knows how sad it is
When the dancer falls apart
October 03, 2015
Inspired by Francine Robert's contest so I thought of this line
On many a workday morning,
I sit at my kitchen table and
watch the BIRDS lite on electric
lines, or listen to their sweet
chirps from the treetops.
I watch the SUN rising over the
horizon, and in early Fall, I observe
the green FIELDS of harvest slowly
yielding their bounty. Left behind after
a few weeks of sweat and toil is a sea
of brown SOIL prepping for the Spring.
I will often feel the earth rumbling
beneath my feet from a passing TRAIN
rushing her huge and heavy cargo
to markets both North and South.
It won't be long before I'll witness
with joy the MIGRATING BIRDS flying
South to survive the cold of Old Man Winter.
In my own mind, I am overwhelmed by the sheer
commonality of all the above. Indeed, they are all
so very faithful in executing their God-given task.
Moreover, presently, I am most impressed and find
myself musing over the faithfulness of a person behind
the wheels of a big yellow bus with bright and flashing
lights. She's a SCHOOL BUS DRIVER who with great
dedication, passes my home every school-day morning
at 7 AM. I tell you; her punctuality inspires me.
And her employer should be proud of her.
Written 23 November 2023
Divorce Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Matt Caliri
Divorce
Day in day out I reel with deep despair
Imagining how my children will fare
Visibly without motherly fondness
Other than just fatherly tenderness;
Rather than musing on the deadly mess
Cautious I am to scan my stoic side
Envisaging how pains to cast aside.
We used to ride our bikes,
the ones without brakes,
along rusty tracks,
trying to keep up with trains
but like life,
they moved too fast,
we always got left behind.
Even in pouring rain
we would ride all day,
never feel the cold,
never tire of the freedom.
Following those endless tracks,
like run away trains -
escaping our demons,
chasing our dreams.
But you changed the day,
they stole your bike.
Saw life as an internal battle,
always spoke about the struggle.
When I expressed through ink,
you expressed through external
egotistical fist fights,
from nights of intoxication and women,
who you claimed were your sanctum
and you always played the victim,
so I travelled those tracks alone -
with a ticket for a new destination.
Now penniless you lie there,
feeling tired, shivering with cold,
hoping the illusions will end soon.
You struggle to utter a word,
yet manage to smile -
a sign for goodbye
and I wonder what if
it was my bike that had been stolen.
Silent One
Simple Musing
27 October 2019
You shall not chase my gloom away!
There's such a charm in melancholy.
(Samuel Rogers, 1814)
I think, I was born under the shadow of melancholy. I was a woebegone girl
since birth. My mother said she never saw anyone with such an aching heart.
To me there was anguish and agony everywhere in my world. At the side of
the road, a dead bird would bring me to tears and with a heavy heart I would
hold a funeral. My parents refused to let me bury squirrels but I prayed quite
mournfully for their souls. When my sister died in childhood, I was overcome
with grief and down-hearted. I became desolate and miserable. In my eyes
there is a sadness still that could shatter glass, it is so sorrowful. As I grew up,
I was a moody girl, taken to reflection and reverie, deep in my innermost
thoughts and morose.
broken bleeding heart
there is such heartache to see-
beautiful sadness
Then, I found poetry writing and my sulkiness found an outlet. Now I have
learned to use my melancholy and weariness and tiredness and even my
forever bitterness to create deep and dark poems. And with each beloved
death I have been crushed yet have used the wretched pain to write my tears
away. I will tell you the truth, I write my very best poems when I am down
and blue. I was once told that a poet must suffer to be good and I believe
that to be true. Sometimes, and don't laugh I force myself to be sad in order
to compose a pensive, broken poem.
deep in thought musing
that is where I find my pen-
sweet melancholy
_______________________________________
September 25, 2016 -Reposted November 2, 2020
Poetry/Haibun/'Melancholy'
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1299-838-25
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, hello darkness my old friend
sponsor, Anthony Biaanco, Judged 11/21/20
We must find our truce our words
When clouds thunder out our hearts to rain
Down to pummel our peace
Where our sanctuary finds so little shelter
To birth contentment in our fate
Rather our solace like oceans of serenity redeem promise
Our spirits reservoir runs deep
With rivers of grace pouring from them
Overflowing with our surrender to beauty
Joy is found
In the absence of complication
Trials and tribulations become distant memories
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
Inspiring forthcoming musing of the mind
To conjure our poetic justice
November 16, 2019
Complete the poem - In the absence of complication Poetry Contest
sponsored by Silent One
Just a girl child, just a woman.
After all's said or done - a human
running through open mind fields
patched with white wheat yield.
Seeds sown groan-grown
piecemeal pockets among throngs
of lilies leaping up in colour song
acapella red, blue, orange, pink
white, yellow - genes garbled ink
across a fertile landscape thrown.
Solomon's glory dethroned.
Symmetry of beauty and form
reflection repeats patterns torn
straight out of tangled bloodlines -
ancestral kaleidoscope redefines
her story as she turns stones
over in a search for the unknown
undistilled divine. Pretty pigments
pile on palette, ready for the brush
with life and death's indifferent
strokes. Will her touchstone crush
Springtime fractals fresh new green?
Old patterns mirror reversion - silkscreen
repeats on new fabric, and paper sheets
are tailor made paper boat fleets
for furious fight and fragile flight.
Sins of the father float her form downstream,
Times gorge rips apart her heart upstream.
Rock hard walls bounce back sing-song
lament and lullaby echoes out of sight...
Today's throes can't dent the past long gone.
Polyphonic sounds stream her away
in rhythmic rituals from day to day...
Hope will not fade to whispers feather light,
further on in future's distant sight.
In sunrise sky life flies up proud-
Her heart echo beats in time, are loud.
Doves and Eagles, lowly or great in their own just right,
know no fear of unknown depths or unknown heights.
Airfields are heaven high above, or on earth below...
Wingtips merely move over heads of wheat,
While lily leaves are sunshields in the heat.
Aqua Marine. Just Musing.
Posted 3rd November 2024.