Long Nebulous Poems
Long Nebulous Poems. Below are the most popular long Nebulous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nebulous poems by poem length and keyword.
I told the truth
and still, someone bled.
Silence would have stitched us shut,
a delicate, rose-gold lie—
woven into the wallpaper
of a bedroom left sketched.
I thought I was choosing clarity,
but the mirror fogs each morning.
Future—blunted, gray—
looms like wet brick pavements.
No signs, only echoes of footsteps—
taunting like the choices I regret.
This morning,
I climbed the roof before the city stirred.
The sun split the clouds,
warmed my skin but skipped my heart—
Guilt prefers to feast on trembling cold.
Tomorrow arrives in haze.
The city dyed a flowing gold—
nowhere to place my next step.
A cosmic event, singular and grandiose,
the Big Bang blast of the prime particle, the condensed light,
created mass in an instant that accreted by the nascent gravity
in the nebulous galaxies and in the flaming stars
of the archaic universe, expanding.
They all contain the history of time
not yet burnt nor consumed by the black holes.
They wrap the primordial light of the cosmos,
not yet dimmed nor dead in the dwarf stars.
Within the sphere of gravity of the stars
they build with the planets their empire in space,
each evolving their planetary structure.
Their destiny controlled by the stars’ energy
decides their future in the cosmos,
if they’d be in orbit or drift away in deep space,
decides if in them life would ever be seeded
to germinate or destroyed by the hostile celestial events.
In the heliocentric planetary system
the sun, our star, still blazing in primeval pride
made for us the blue planet, the unique earth,
in the limitless space a tiny speck of stratified rocks
where life appeared and evolved in diverse forms,
not yet thwarted nor reached their terminal time,
where man emerged as the species of selection,
not yet sure of the future, secured or face annihilation,
but when the sun rises and the horizon gleams in color
the pristine nature on earth comes to life in the present.
The cosmic design of the stars near and far
defines the astronomic architecture of the zodiac.
The night sky displays the harmony of the primordial pattern,
transmitted to everything that exists on earth,
decides their fate in some astral way,
not yet understood nor discarded as unsound.
Life may or may not follow the unperceivable dictate of astrology,
the stars will appear in the sky at their will,
take us to their world of fantasy on space odyssey.
As our crimson star sets behind the grey of the dusk
the night falls opening the darkened sky.
The stars of constellations open their eyes one by one
twinkling in blue glow that travelled for many light years,
an adornment of the night’s flushing firmament,
not yet stolen nor abandoned in the outer space.
The sprinkle of stardust sparkles in lovers’ hearts,
not yet deserted nor broken in shards.
June 17, 2018
the personification hurts the reasoning of an untrained apophenic
cacography ensues as the computer throws a spell check wobbly
the poet scribes on because everything is not what it seems to be
clouds become animals spirits aspirations and nebulous signs
and I am the object and subject of mind altering misperceptions
sometimes ‘a cigar’ is just a cigar and ‘this is not a pipe’ dream
subconscious delusion offer a palatable way out of shackles
an unmade bed becomes an expensive desirable piece of crap art
the urinal in the museum flushes waste and reality down the drain
and yet one has to craft understanding and narrate viable stories
paraedolia is such an enchanting word as are paradox connections
apophenia rules when the truth is too painful to face in real time
the scribe employs license and unlicensed paradigms for his work
Exupery’s elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor rightly refuses
to become a hat which is such a bigoted symbol of bourgeoisie
emotions flow swiftly and guide mere rational thoughts into retreat
harmonize what will so often remain unbalanced and superfluous
when depression dances with mania around a moldy berry bush
a solution presents itself in acceptance surrender and growth
just as useful is to see the world through an innocent child’s lens
a kaleidoscope needs no interpretation and mirages are divine
witches zoom on broomsticks under guise of cleaning brigades
clairvoyants offer an unadulterated future becoming of mature age
if only the wars of all nations were fireworks only praising the night
yet in trial error and tribulations a skillful magician soothes my soul
26th July 2020
Written: January 01st, 2023
__________________________________
My diaphanous wallet held the moon,
a curious sensation rose in my chest
pale at night
I stole a
massive cosmic cluster
for a tinge of ethereal light.
Secretly wears Saturn's rings
Venus continues her romance
brought me her prized assets
kissed quickly
planet Mars snuck through
discrete carrier bag,
dedicated to city redecorating.
Widespread cognizance prevailed
drape of wings and sapphire plume,
designed bespoke by the Seraphim
nimbus swirls and nebulous sky,
within the cosmic shower ring,
a sempiternal empyreal cherubic niche,
I swiftly seized it as it whizzed by.
5th place contest winner
Mystified in the labyrinth of time,
dug in the desolate desert of deprivation,
one doesn’t discern in the psychic space
what in the nebulous abstract notion
the rationale of living the moments,
people of speculative perception
define as the articulate art of living,
sensed in the free-will sunshine
within the sanctuary of seraphic oasis.
The survival struggle thrusts
the languished life into abysmal warren,
breaking intrepidly the fading frame
of the fleeting future configured in fragile time,
the shards are thrown
in the debris of dismal denunciation,
unable to rise from the chasm,
even if arduously attempted ad infinitum.
Failing to invent the mirage of escape,
the flicker of hope remains unkindled
to light up the obscure forward end
of the dark tunnel of tormenting time,
but self-preserving retrospective instinct,
lingering in the contrived confine of the past,
flashes in the corridor of memory,
motivates to move desperately
to the fated fantasy of the future.
The sordid present time smothers senseless
in the nightmare ambiance of anguish,
metamorphosing the listless life of vacuity
into a consumed candle in the timeless dark night.
As the demeaned essence of extinguished existence
is denied the reviving rays of the rising sun,
convoluted conscience stimulates the soul
to get suffused with the radiant ethos of eternity,
travel in the tunnel of time.
Lying in the predawn light
underneath black empty sky
chill wind blowing across bare skin
feeling a desperate need to flee
empty heart echoes the night
desperate longing for what once was
only darkness found there in
heavy pounding into the night
looking down nebulous path
drifting mists of memories obscured
seeking joys of loves once known
somewhere lost on memories Lane
trying hard to remember when
of joys found with each of them
loves once known in bright sunlight
somehow now lost in the night
stumbling dragging hard footsteps
vision blurred by running tears
ears are filled with sobbing pain
heart is empty of what once was
cold bright stars overhead
cast little light upon the scene
memories now have faded away
only shadows now recalled
hard I try to remember each one
of joyful walks hand in hand
passions shared oh so strong
of the joys we shared that
recall the names of faces lost
trying to remember the scent of them
of the touch of their skin
as we wrestled in the nights
rocky lies uneven ground
pulling the eyes from the scene
to each step carefully made
seeking not to fall again
where is the warmth of the day
bright sunlight to warm the skin
joyful laughter to fill the ears
and of feeling so full filled
memories of places where we were
of flowing music and dancing steps
crowds of friends all around
when you once belonged to me
memories lie along the way
of the ones I once knew
of the loves that we shared
lost in shadows dark and grim
now long lost in endless night
seeking that once was then
only dark mists on the path
all is lost in dark of night
“Collecting life’s treasure from the moments of bliss I walk the last mile” - Quote by Poet
In the vibrant life’s changing dynamic landscape,
the pathway across the undulating topography
meandered to the nebulous future beyond escape.
I configured desire in the template of transient time,
and the designed footprints of the dormant destiny
I followed ardently in beguiled mental state sublime.
Many surging streams in spate I swam in the storm
with the unfurling buds of nascent dreams held close
to the adoring heart, lest they wither and deform.
Through the rainbow arch in the chromatic sky
as I chased in the floral valley the passion butterfly,
my ardent yearning on its wings soared high.
As the spent sun sinks in the horizon’s fading color pile,
on the faint trail of time covered by twilight dust,
with the cornucopia of fulfilled life I walk the last mile.
Traversing content the unpaced pathway out of abyss,
lighted by the benevolent glow of God’s grace,
I look back to see the snapshots of the moments of bliss.
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
Obscure eyelash, aimless your leaf
You ask for rhyme, well, to what end
One way poems, emptiness in ship
Arriving to nothing, blind direction
No door opens, except baffling pain
What a crimson commerce, of emotion
Nebulous streams, clouding my brain
Every glass is broken, milk is spilt
Every moment tense, where is rose
In dream we tremble, pain and guilt
In your venom valley, no grass grows
Can’t there be, an ocean for all
In every dreamy eye, a pink waterfall
A little cottage garden, for birds to call
A crystal clear stream, easy footfall
_________________________________
16/12/2016
“You can never cross the ocean until you
have the courage to lose sight of the shore” –
Christopher Columbus
“For the success of climbing the mountain peak
you need to forget the haven of the ground unique.”
- My quote.
The notion of nebulous ambition drifts quietly away free,
floats on the formless wings of the psychic clouds wispy.
The luring mind's horizon disappears in the hollow sky fawn,
the sense of loss morphs into failure to reach the destination dawn.
If you aspire to sail bravely across the high sea,
where the winds carry the scent of the new land free,
you watch in the distance the familiar shoreline fade,
you’re tense to leave the home terrain that safety has made.
“You can never cross the ocean until you
have the courage to lose sight of the shore” as the last view.
On your uphill climb of the formidable mountain face,
the summit of success lies beyond slithery track of failure trace,
you can’t reach at the end of the effort if you’re scared stiff,
if you don’t rely on detachment with the of strength of self-belief.
The highest summits of success always demand
a heavy toll from the forlorn mind and from the toiling hand.
Pursuing the formidable goal alone, you give a high price
for the success that surely depends on your sacrifice.
It’s a timeless truth that all great achievements hold
the treasure of what is given up to reach within their fold.
“For the success of climbing the mountain peak
you need to forget the haven of the ground unique.”
I thought about you today as I so often do.
I felt the sad familiar feelings
that will not go away.
You came to mind in a flash of memory
While I was doing something else.
I never seek these thoughts.
They seem a painful waste of time.
How can a memory of broken trust comfort a wounded mind?
Wise counsel claims that friends come and go
Like seasons of our lives.
And we must learn to ebb the flow.
Joyously we chased the tide
of communion in Spring.
Embracing the warming Summer sun
as we gathered the flowers of trust.
Life felt so safe together.
As we shared our allotted time.
A fleeting moment of hidden grace.
Then came the growing chill of Autumn
Catching us unprepared.
When sharing overwhelmed the trust we shared.
The turmoil came to wrest the very fabric of our commitment
From our weakening, vulnerable souls.
Worldly wisdom saves the day
How plein d'ostentation. -1
Telling us to grieve not companion’s loss.
If faithful friends come into our lives
for only a season,
It cannot be for a nebulous reason.
As each friend punctuates and seals the memories of our lives.
Every remembrance of moments shared
Must have had Godly intent.
The memory is deep inside me now,
Regretfully unfinished and abandoned.
God never wastes our training, our time, or our talent.
His wisdom is eternally purposefully present.
Teaching repentance and recompense.
Should we not reclaim this “auld-lang-syne?” - 2