Long Natural selection Poems
Long Natural selection Poems. Below are the most popular long Natural selection by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Natural selection poems by poem length and keyword.
The summer winds caress my skin.
Teardrops like squeezed lemon drops spill.
A joy ride down my cheeks.
Joy emancipated from sadness speaks
Splash, it splatters on the ground.
A crown like structure in slow motion seen.
Life cannot tarry, to embrace.
A little care, a little concern.
Love needs constant care.
But life is too busy looking fair.
A day has no divide.
No night or day defined.
Just doing my best, looking good.
My life is a unread book.
Money power within my fist.
Dreams are within my reach.
If only I can purchase my vision.
Like when I was a kid.
As a kid my prince swept me off my feet.
Was Caressed and cuddled and spoilt.
My dreams retold before I sleep.
I slept peacefully cuddling my dreams.
Knowing, I was within the reach, of his powerful arms.
Always there to break my fall.
Growing up was so swell, so much fun.
All my passions like roller coaster ride, up and down.
Teenage trauma like actors on a stage.
Well scripted parts Played.
Dialogues written by likes of Shakespeare in his plays.
Memories kept in my notepad archived.
Password protected from curious minds.
Visiting the saloon as often as I could.
Changing fashion to suite the current style.
Movies, picnics, sleepovers and dates.
Boys will be boys, society said.
I was strong enough to defend myself of their carnal need.
And time passes by defining my fate.
Now I am a grown up woman in full bloom.
My career well defined.
Insecurities in this world of Patriarchy everyday face.
Lewd remarks of macho fashion brace.
Learnt to brave these obnoxious moments day after day.
My moral fiber strengthened beyond grace.
But somewhere, deep within myself there is this void.
Need for love of a different kind.
The warm embrace of arms to comfort me.
Strength of arms to catch my fall.
Nimble fingers to caress and cuddle me.
A kind voice to strengthen me when l am weak.
A gentle voice that can whisper words of love.
A heart that can love me for what I am.
In books and movies have known of this type.
But in real life, I doubt, I can really find, that kind?
If, I should wait..? I don’t mind the wait.
And suffer, ignominy of society.
Do I follow the doctrine of natural selection..?
I don't think so..! My heart and soul have a mind if their own.
And so it shall be.
1
I say I'm a designer of systems, plans
Man's
Parts that stand together, set in place to serve
Trees and planets, too, which are unplanned by us
The observant, wise man
Tries to understand
Name the parts, pistil and stamen
Rocks, eskars
Elements.
Winter is shuddering to an end, mud roads
Cardinal pairs
Robin flocks return that will soon pair off
Buds
Soils swell
Will I live to smell it again, learn the lobelias
Understand and name the parts
It ought to be a great comfort to be so insignificant
Go among weeds, a wind
Thinking to myself
One's never alone
A dichotomous key is needed, a book of twigs and fruits
Accumulated over time and generations
Without it mine would be a blank mind
To be blank but knowledgeable
Without any machinery
In a perfect silence
That is the definition of death for which we have only to wait
But in my panic last night I thought death's inert
Grace requires consciousness
Hold on long to the senses
At least a century, maybe more
A boy hanging upside down from a fence at sunset, counting clouds
2
Now we go to our daily practice
And chosen disciplines
Sustained by the satisfactions of being good men among our fellow men
Women
Choosing to do this and not that
With the finite days allotted us that at first seemed like a lot
They're now few
But the chickadee's life to the chick and the cankerworm moth's to the
worm
Seem as long to them as ours to us
What question am I asking today
By now, past half a century, I should have chosen a discipline
And been satisfied
To be a war president one must have war
May you live in interesting times?wish or curse?
Squirrels, high in oaks,
Fiber, fat and protein in acorns
Strong runners, leapers, climbers
Should stay off the roads which some cannot avoid being where they're
born
Natural selection is occurring
Those that look for machinery in motion
Hesitate or don't as needed before crossing
Live in larger numbers than those whose modus operandi's
Guessing
The ravens eat the fur and guts of bad guesses off the roads
I impose my own small order
Having chosen mountains over plains or shore
Go to my daily discipline
And estimate the motions of the seas and stars
Measuring my satisfactions by my children's satisfactions
1
At peace perhaps too much
a fine Spring rain
we seek news from the desert or capitol
of those who have dedicated their lives to losing their lives for us
adventurers, ancient honor, land runners
this campaign a must to advance one's career
a war president needs war
2
All you need to know is the names of things
chambers of commerce and large corporations
elements, products, decay fungi, egg masses
cultivars and their relation to wild grasses and the edge
uses of herbs, languages of mammals,
purposes of insects, placement of rocks
the names of everything by which we know our way
3
I've read about those remarkable souls who maintain self-control
among murderers and the unentertained multitude
who may have even spoken persuasively
at the right moment for speaking
and thus attracted a now unwanted immortality
there are only two ways you can tell
a bird of prey from a vision - humor and ritual
4
the Fedex gal
would be unlike taking off Emily Dickinson's clothes
over the counter perfume and spray paint hair
postman's shorts, black socks
a woman's legs are much like a man's
yet she too is beautiful, too beautiful, weekends
boating with her man
5
Suburbs, lawns, blankets
in a long, long nursery of babies
napping, old, blameworthy
and, I say this respectfully, blind
certain and uninterested
in motives more subtle than their immediate comfort
Who am I to complain?
6
Plants, poems: riches
our financial advisor doesn't count. Good and simple
a man as he is. Comes tousled
from early morning golf and puffy
from a late night fight or lovefest with his wife.
Inchworm
letting out its rope down an oak.
7
Late afternoon meeting
like the dry samara, achene or capsule surrounding a seed
how often have I tried to escape
my need, community, chamber of commerce
you cannot drive
the roads are theirs and the signs, perhaps
you can walk if you can name the plants and rocks and are willing to die
8
O happy family
there's some contentment in letting community and family decide
your place in it. Gatekeepers -
unconscious god, invisible hand, natural selection -
kind when refraining from violence
when not responding with force to the universe's effort
to extinguish us.
Its the last minute of the 11th hour
I have seen a demon wondering searching for a soul
A priest coveting the ass of another man's woman at church
Convince people you have a speed dial to God's Kingdom
And they will take any theological theories given to them
They worship sophisticated stone deities.
Emmanuel TV, electromagnetic Gods in static images
Composers of the reverse version of the Holy grail
Cursing God, misquoting scriptures and reversing verses
Misleading women like Hershey's Kisses and forbidden pleasures
The fabric of our species is a loose canon
The revelations post-predicted by the real Mayans
The apocalypse.
Its the last minute of the 11th hour
This poem is not against the church
It speaks for Rhodes, Selassie and Robert Moffat
New disciples that walked the deserts of Africa
The founders and architects of God's synagogues
Scribers that wrote covenants in caves at Timbuktu
Puthadikobo, Livingstone, and Thabanchu
Monasteries with no Automated Teller Machices on their walls
This poem is not against Anglicans, Catholics or Apostles
Its an allegory against those that spit on the chapel alters
The bishops and priests with their filthy urethrae
Their genitalia submerged in the oral cavities of alter boys
Seeking head in return for blessings, deliverance and confessions
Fake Joshuas who plant placebo demons and exorcise them for fame
The same devils that preach at the podium of cathedral portals
Dangerous men, listened and worshiped by millions
I m not against the church.
I believe in Muhammad and Jesus all the same
And the sacred message they bring supreme
From Judah through Jordan and the rivers of Ethiopia
I stand firm against Lucifer's devices.
In the face of damnation an entire nation has succumbed
The devil puts in more work than Jehovah's witnesses
Such a beautiful genus undone at the seams by its own beliefs
Victims of natural selection and ever-upgrading IQs
Each generation figures they can be better than their creator
Separationists led by confused evangelists
I m not against the church. I m against religion
I have seen a demon at church searching for lost ones
A priest coveting the ass of another man's woman at church
Its the last seconds of revelation's last moments.
“Universe is an endless verse “--Poet
ENDLESS UNIVERSE
Void cosmos, no matter, no energy,
neither time nor space.
Big Bang exploded.
Energy, matter appeared.
space to set, time was on: Simultaneous.
Mysterious debut.
Universe was created: An EVERLASTING existence.
Time running INFINITE.
BOUNDLESS expansion continuous.
LIMITLESS space procuring perplexity.
BOTTOMLESS to plumb depth.
Non-destructive Energy: Potential and Kinetic.
ETERNAL cosmic flow carrying conscience in dormant state.
Life and soul entwined going under evolution
on slow continuation always approaching betterment
seeking manifestation
in versatile formats with multi-faced pattern.
Blind progress on Natural selection,
non-judgmental but just Universal.
Unplanned! Nothing schedule,
yet continual rectification of flaws
to open new vista setting Universal Laws.
A never-ending complexity.
UNBROKEN whole sum entity,
having profile with ever changing style
adapting Environ: Main criterion.
Dynamic relentless effort
processing more and more perfection.
Quality tending to eternity.
Universe is an ENDLESS verse beyond perception.
06/08/21
Second Place
'Writing Prompt ...Endless' Contest by Constance La France
somewhere out there
a basset hound lives in the same house as a
macaw.
the gorgeous tropical bird,
bearing its staggeringly spectacular array of
intensely prepossessing &
polychromasiac
hues,
dominant in the household as an exotic
spectacle
whose mere presence in a non-tropical environment
pulls in the curious onlooker.
it stands upon its little
perch,
staring down at the hound---
the perpetually sad looking,
perfect model of evolution
(wherein the imperfections of natural selection can be seen in its
extremely long ears that touch the ground, its stubby legs that are far too
short for its body, etc.---one can make the argument that the poor basset hound
has not been fortunate to lose such ridiculous traits as of yet),
stands almost teary eyed
with its neck bent at an angle,
looking straight up in the direction of the macaw
its feeble attempt is noticed by the majestic bird.
cawing down at the hound,
the bird baffles---
the hound,
whose name is derived from the french adjective for
“rather low,”
ponders the bird’s exchange,
wondering if it is ridiculing &
taunting it for being such a sort of, um,
mistake---
it spends little time deciding &
barks back at the bird in its bellowing manner.
in the already unnatural cage the human owners of these two
creatures,
a new animal kingdom of two has arisen---
the hounds knows not what to make of this bright colored bird &
the bird,
rather unaffected by the odd character
way
down
there
below,
seems to enjoy the pandering back & forth,
as if in a conversation
where the both of them are understanding mutually the exchange that is
occurring.
and while the insanity of the macaw & the hound persists
(the hound bellowing & the macaw trying to mimic the bellow in an
effort to see how the hound’s day is going),
these two animals come to a consensus
that together in such a situation
they are both equally out of their element &
a new bond is formed,
an allegiance, if you will,
wherein psittacidae & canidae
have found common ground---
resist these humans at all costs.
Once there was a boy who loved to pick flowers.
He wished he could pick all the flowers in the world.
He knew he could not do this, but it did not make him sad.
There were flowers everywhere, more than he could ever pick.
And anyway, it would not be good to pick all the flowers in the world.
For there must always be flowers growing in the fields.
Flowers charm the earth, and they wish to be in the company of other flowers.
One day the boy came across a Daisy.
It was his first Daisy.
It was the most beautiful flower he had ever seen.
The boy decided not to pick the Daisy.
Instead, he would let the Daisy grow.
And grow.
And grow.
And live until a ripe old age.
And then lay down to die, giving birth to new Daisies.
The Daisies yet to come.
The boy thought there was something special about the Daisy.
That of the flowers in the world, it was the most extraordinary.
The most extraordinary flower that has ever been.
He knew that this might not be true.
Afterall, there were flowers he had never seen before.
And no matter how long he lived, he would never see them all.
But the boy was right.
This Daisy, like all Daisies, was extraordinary.
Because the Daisy is a perfect flower.
It has always been a perfect flower.
Daisies do not change.
They have never changed.
There is no reason for them to change.
They are immune to the laws of natural selection.
They are faultless, unblemished, and without sin.
They are the archetypal flower.
Do the Daisies know this?
That is hard to say. Who knows what Daisies think?
And why the Daisy?
Of all the flowers in the world, why should the Daisy alone be perfect?
Was it the will of God?
No.
Was it their destiny?
No.
Were they lucky?
Perhaps, if it pleases you to think of things this way.
But really it was happenstance.
Pure happenstance.
And that is the most beautiful thing of all.
Note: Following a rash of local breakins, thieves murdered two people who happened to be
at home when they entered. This event produced a lot of anxiety for me and James was
kind enough to help divert my attention by joining in this write. Many thanks to James, Tim
and Dane Ann for their support during this difficult time. -- Carolyn
A hungry gray feline sees a mouse; quickly does she pounce
Instincts come into play as jungle creatures eye their prey
Natural selection rules the vast animal kingdom
By striking fast they earn the right to live another day
We read in the papers and we watch on the news
As I look out my window, and ponder man's thoughts
What do we see, through our eyes as we view
Our ability to kill and leave one's life nought
Complicated survival games play out each strenuous day
From the frigid Arctic tundra to torrid dark jungles
Beasts on the prowl are trekking nature's intended path
Another victim falls as distant thunder rumbles
Opportunists linger as the perpetrators dare
Man stalking down dark alleys and dimly-lit streets
Confronted, accosted in criminal stare
Where the innocents in danger, generally meet
Other members of the animal kingdom have no choice
They slay only to keep themselves and their families alive
But it's man who plays the most dangerous of games
Killing for thrill, politics or greed; how can man survive?
It's the evil of man who takes what he wants
With the blade of a knife, with his terror taunts
His escalation from flint to gun
This most wonderful world in masculine haunt
If man continues to develop harsh weapons
The skies may explode in carnivorous fashion
Consuming not just one animal species, but all
Leaving angels to mourn the death of God's creations
Fellow poets, when you write, you put down words, of fact or fiction.
With conscious thought you select letters to make words in diction
Words strung together in rhyme, pearls of wisdom, marking the time
You create the thought, the flow,you're painting pictures as you go.
What would you say if I told you, it's all a lie, Shakespeare never existed
His works arrived by chance, perfectly phrased, not tongue tied, or twisted
Letters assembled themselves into words, then words in perfect succession
Formed themselves into rhyming sentences eloquently said in progression.
DaVinci too didn't exist, he's just a figment of some wild imagination
Mona Lisa was only a chance meeting of paint and canvas in congregation
There was no artist, with stylized strokes of brushes and pens in harmony
Ink and paint just flowing freely, creating their own masterpieces randomly.
You wouldn't believe it if I told you, because you know it's just not true
But when they tell you God doesn't exist, what do you think, or do?
Some say that life evolved by a chance meeting of cells and molecules
Natural selection, started chaotically forming an organic cosmic soup.
Does that make sense when you see the beauty and artistry all around
In the sunsets, oceans, lands and seas, where life teems and abounds
The universe with a complexity of it's own, a cosmic timepiece of majesty
Saying order comes from chaos, is a disgrace to the Artist, a real travesty.
When an artist paints a sunset he is just copying what he sees with his eyes
It's not an original work, but he signs it anyway, maybe he doesn't realize.
The complexity and order in life should tell you we were fashioned by design
Faith in the Designer comes not by chance, but by choice, read the signs.
John Derek Hamilton November 20, 2015
A self-assured progressive projectile
Locked on its target like a heat seeking missile
Confident, a smile all the while
Marvellous like a polished marble tile
Strong, but fragile
An ambiguous profile
To remain unresolved, a mystery file
Trendy, always in style
Smooth like a silky textile
A lioness on the prowl
Hear her roar, fear her growl
The feminization of a species
A natural selection of beauties
A temper so feline
A manner so divine
An awesome design
A perfect being born to reign
A mind map that he can neither navigate nor define
A mosaic that only He can refine
Provoked, her stride is heavy
It is a charge to envy
Her walk is easy
It can mislead as lazy
It is a march through boundaries and norms
A journey of a million no’s and no yes’s
An irrational continuation to an unknown destination
A premonition to know, to sacrifice for the unborn generation
A hope that peace will come no matter how dark the skies
The intuition to continue to love when hate fills the air with cries
An incessant knock on that closed door
The insatiable hunger to always wanting to know
A road laden with thorns and paved with broken glass
A never ending test in an unassailable class
At times, it is a burdened conquest
A seemingly impossible quest
At the end of which the rewards are already taken
A rigged race, the winner already chosen
The credit to someone less deserving
Her pain from a tradition undiscerning
But she’s unstoppable like a silver bullet
Hitting with penetrating impact
Her dreams riding on the tail of a comet
Untouchable like a rocket to a far away planet
Decorated, an achievement in perseverance
An acknowledgement of her undeniable presence
The order of a female monarchy
Female atop the hierarchy
A proven recipe
His failed conspiracy