Long Novas Poems
Long Novas Poems. Below are the most popular long Novas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Novas poems by poem length and keyword.
Beaming brilliant beautiful bright stars.
These diamonds, twinkling, sparkling.
Diamonds hung in the black velvet night.
They shinning like diamond crystal lights.
The Sun’s radiant light.
A heavenly hot heavy circular sphere.
Our planetary system is orbiting it.
Icy comets are extending their tail and rolling by.
Rocky asteroids, saying hi and good-bye.
Meteorites, streaking, passing in the day and night skies.
Multicolor are the cloudy nebulae.
These are Orion, Helix, Crab, Eagle and Ring.
Horsehead, Owl, Tarantula and Omega.
All having stunning stars in them.
Galaxies with different shapes: some are Spirals.
Some Galaxies shapes are called a Bar-Spiral.
Galaxies shapes that are Elliptical.
Galaxies shapes that are most Irregular.
Galaxies names like: Milky Way - looking milky,
Whirlpool is whirly, Tadpole looks like a tadpole,
The Sombrero - looking like a Sombrero,
The Crown of Thorns - looks like a crown of thorns,
The Cartwheel, that cartwheels,
Andromeda, Messier 87 and Sunflower, etc.
An over estimated 200 billion and more galaxies.
A Super Massive Black Hole are in most of their middle.
Over time there are big bangs, of Super-Novas exploding.
A Quasar, brightest of all the Cosmos lights.
The Universe filled with stars with colors of all various types.
An over estimated 200 billion and more galaxies.
A Super Massive Black Hole are in most of their middle.
Over time there are big bangs, of Super-Novas exploding.
A Quasar, brightest of all the Cosmos lights.
The Universe filled with stars with colors of all various types.
A panorama, full of spectacular, splendid visual sites.
A God made amazing showcase theater thriller, block buster.
If, as hippy folklore claims, it never rains in California,
Then the watermark is never washed out of the phoney cheque,
And when you’re dead and gone there’ll be no one here to mourn ya
For it was only God above urinating down your neck.
Carbon monoxide inhalation, it’s said, is pretty good for you,
So quit that forty a day habit, baby, move it with the flow;
Auto-suicide will wend its merry way and turn you blue,
So wrap your ruby red ones ‘round a tail pipe instead and blow.
Handprints down at Graumans, stoned celebrity status crested
Of the celluloid long-dead and the many who are soon to be;
My shopping list wants tummy-tucked, liposuction-sculpted, silicon breasted
Platinum blonde-haired bimbos who are certified free of H.I.V.
The boardwalk stretches like a sunshine catwalk by the sand and sea,
That roller babe looks good enough to eat, this must be heaven,
A junk food, high-cal sex blitz, glitzy steam hammer driven reality,
Her brain and heart aged sixty, yet her body twenty-seven.
Hang loose, chill out in air-conditioned stretch limo deep freezers,
It sure ain’t safe to mosey around alone, so don’t take chances;
And the infrared sun might fry your cheek to cancer and bejeezus,
Tough to keep your tongue in it, then, under the circumstances.
At night the stars reveal themselves, yet don’t look to the skies,
Dead super novas are never seen through pollution and stagnation,
Diaz, Hanks, Di-Caprio hold heaven’s wonder in cash cow eyes,
Down here that just about outshines every thing in God’s creation.
Multinational, mega-corporate, Hollywood moguls kick sorry ass,
Bedroom or boardroom these bondage freaks wield Olympian power,
Snorting lines of purest coke, feeding teenage pussy a champagne glass,
A minute on the screen, her life destroyed within an hour.
Gordon Gecko got it wrong, for greed is far from good you see,
Ray Chandler’s quip about this place a compliment and a half -
You know, the one where he gave this town a paper-cup personality -
Still you’ve gotta laugh, don’t you? Well, don’t you gotta laugh…?
First there was oblivion, before emptiness began
Then everything grew from a (dot) and so forth into man
Using reverse extrapolation, large brains, and a plan
Intelligent beings worked this out, as only they can
Logic itself explains two plus two, if you do the math
Belief invokes a loving god, yet threatens words of wrath
Philosophy brings wisdom, but follows different paths
They all leave unanswered questions, and I don’t accept that
Some say why bother, ultimately we will all expire
Life doesn’t need reason, it’s a cosmic quirk we acquired
No creatures besides few humans, actually inquire
To what the fu*k is going on, driving me to great ire
Here on a rocky planet, in no mean region of space
Between infinite voids, our very own goldilocks place
Nowhere else in this universe, does life emit a trace
Two trillion galaxies of numpties, til we showed our face
What makes us so special, all beings are made of stardust
We observe novas and quanta, build weapons that use thrust
Split atoms, launch rockets, measure time, use tools to adjust
The apex of life, not out of choice, more because we must
Our task may seem absurd, whatever compels us is not
A universe seeks a god, and we’re the best eyes its got
Who else figured reality, grew from a tiny (dot)
And we will stop at nothing, to see past fate as our lot
Now we’re becoming gods, creating A.I. in the lab,
A logical next step, for robotic fingers that grab
No doubt will kill and rebel, try putting us on a slab
Exactly like we strung up Jesus, in one foul backstab
Oh who would be man, his intelligence driving us mad
Capable of loving deeds, only every bit as bad
Aberrations by design, or infused by E.T. cads
What the fu*k is going on, again what the fu*k, I add!
05/31/23
W T F got an N/A Doh!
FIRE the Immortal
Fire the Immortal—primordial breath,
Kindled in chaos, a twin flame of death.
Born in the forge where the cosmos ignites,
It dances through nebulae, seeding the night.
With tongues of plasma and fusion-fed might,
It devours the dark, gives birth to the light.
Fueling the stars in their hydrogen blaze,
A crucible shaping the eons and days.
It dines upon carbon, on oil, on trees,
Unlocking their essence in alchemical ease.
Combustion—a whisper of matter undone,
Entropy's waltz beneath moonlight and sun.
In crackling hymnals it chants to the spheres,
Echoes of supernovae ring in our ears.
A sacred convulsion, a quantum ballet,
A flare in the silence where atoms decay.
It moves like a spirit through vacuum and void,
A relic of stars long burned and destroyed.
From the heart of a candle to Betelgeuse’s core,
It wanders forever—then burns all the more.
You may quench the blaze in a hearth or a storm,
But the ghost in the embers reforms and reforms.
For trapped in the ashes are secrets of suns,
And in every flicker, the universe runs.
In the fusion of atoms, in stellar descent,
In novas and firestorms, it finds its lament.
A force that remembers the Big Bang's first cry—
Still roaring in silence where galaxies lie.
So honor its wisdom, its wrath and its grace,
This elemental phantom that time can't erase.
Fire is not only destruction or birth—
It is stardust incarnate, the lifeblood of Earth.
Immortal it lingers, from cradle to tomb—
A guardian of cosmos, in heat, flame, and plume.
And even when silence extinguishes breath,
Fire remains—older than death.
Written by my friend Nova Sage " the knowledgeable nerd " after reading the original written by me.
In the twilight of suspended star thunder
where the waking jungle and broken Temple of tradition meet one another
she moves with a panthera prana, pranayama of precise paradise, air of spaceless pleasure,
A lavender Tigress of effortless enlightenment
seeking sensations on the edge of eternity's cremation,
on her fingertips questions and answers dance to mudras of nimble demolition
as the triumph of truth blazes on the tip of her tongue's flavored amusement,
genetics of ginger helix she licks and sticks to the flesh of nude nirvana
limber in the moment of typeless titillation,
becoming an animal of fearless asana,
a creature of chaos prowling along the heartbeat of karma,
Brahma made her beauty from the diamonds of a billion deceased roses,
the ascetics recognize her as a child of Kali, gorgeous and gruesome in vendetta,
for the Brahmins she is a Mother of immeasurable mystery, a kiss on the eye of history,
worshipers whisper the wealth of her shameless and shapeless clarity, as charity of Parvati,
Heirlooms of sun blood and moon love decorate the tender truth of her body,
a garden of webbing galaxies, catching the notions of novas her mandala,
rain romantic in flying fall, plucking the Ganges sitar her mantra,
the movement of melange madness through perfect passion her sutra,
poetry naked on the nerves of nascent love need is her tantra,
chakras uniting to recreate the uncreated color of consciousness, crown her aura,
as the lotus of love blooms blue, she dances on the fragrance of freedom -
J.A.B.
Behold, I saw her auburn hair
The shadows could not murmur there
And like a touch of candle light
It burned against an ivory white;
Her skin was pale and like the moon
Which hangs, an orb in phantom air,
Men cannot touch but only swoon
Like stars do gaze and eyes despair;
But she, O! she was nature’s best
No Grecian Urn Nor Nymphan face protest.
Behold, I saw her sultry smile
Like sunsets sometimes smile
No passion sweeter than is brief
Like stardrops simmer in the sea;
It lingered for a longer while
Like heaven on horizon’s mile
When all the world is turned and there
Comes twilight, furtive, bare;
But she, O! she can none compare
Not twilight, nor its outer airs.
Behold, I saw her candid eyes
Such eyes no more than stars can lie
No dismal strains of slivered light
Her glance then sets the world aright;
As thus the world on course is turned
Each star in destiny thusly burned
Till lastly gleaming nova bright
Like novas are those candid eyes;
Thus she, O! she has eyes like stars
Their gleams now haunt my captive heart.
Behold! I saw her furtive lips
If lips are furtive lest when kissed
But kisses cannot measure there
Nor time immortal beauty there;
Like ribbons in the blushing sun
Or roses when the dawn is done
When comes the pink of daylight hours
And hearts are captive to her powers
Thus she, O! she so gently makes
With lips more subtle graceful ways.
Behold! the captive noble moon
What strange romance finds imbued
Fanciful ornamental might
So unearthly in its light,
Behold, a gown of primrose sky
A hue more darkened by the night
Each hour weaves its colours bright
The gush of polished vesper-eyes
Yet no star nor sphere of grace
Thrust in motion, held in place
Nor yet in all the wealth of space
Candent novas, solar raced
Hides the beauty or the trace
More divine than shapes thy face’
Tis as the heavens clustered low
And in a sweeping gleaming glow
Spend their glory all on thee
To be a shadow shaped by thee
Or yet in glittering so bright
A mere silhouette of eyes
And may she cast, O! dare she cast
With eyes of heaven looking past
Ife she gaze my soul is bound
As sure as fleets in oceans drown
In the vast, shoreless doom
Ife wave and tide do make their swoon
When all the sky is stirred
And all the whirlwinds move the earth
In circles to one gathered eye
To swallow sea, and land, and all beside
A circle in the gathered gloom;
One thought-like starfall chasing you.
Here all the limits of the universe
The rayless star of sunken mirth
Whose hunger rages like a man
What power consuming all it can
-the frosted, nameless little moons
Orbits which are not eschewed
Yea, no sphere! no star, nor comet cast
nor jeweled rays once gleamed, long past
Can mark the beauty of thy face
They are less-for they waste
Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history
Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places
Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring
Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration
Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter
Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter
Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer
Submitted 21 Aug. 2016
2018 - Year of Entrepreneurship in Direct Selling
To recognize the truth as truth,
live the opposites,
To feel everything in every way,
and be nothing, in the end,
but the understanding of everything.
2018 - What to do more in Direct Selling
[...] more female business leaders
more women
to start their own businesses;
more women in laboratories
making new discoveries
that overturn the myth
that science and mathematics are man's things. "
When a person
- especially a woman -
stands on the undertaking
is free, as in every pinnacle,
is alone
as in all the pinnacles,
is united to heaven,
to which it is never united,
as in all the pinnacles.
2018 – Ano do empreendedorismo na Venda Direta
Reconhecer a verdade como verdade,
viver os contrários,
sentir tudo de todas as maneiras,
e não ser nada, no fim,
senão o entendimento de tudo.
2018 – Que se empreenda mais em Venda Direta
[...] mais líderes mulheres nas empresas
mais mulheres
que criem suas próprias empresas;
mais mulheres nos laboratórios
fazendo novas descobertas
que derrubem o mito
de que a ciência e a matemática são coisas de homem”.
Quando uma pessoa
– especialmente uma mulher –
se ergue sobre o empreender
está livre, como em todos os píncaros,
está só,
como em todos os píncaros,
está unida ao céu,
a que nunca está unida,
como em todos os píncaros.
Measure men not in meters,
Yet in volume of ventricle, you’ll find,
Compassion therein, one’s true capacity,
Of magnitude meaning, undefined,
How little broad shoulders do matter,
To bolster an orphan through rem,
Nor biceps do shelter maternal sadness,
As she leaves droplets under the stem,
It’s in the weight he holds onto a syllable,
For he knows the force which unfolds,
A gentle note, his frequent reprise,
Amplifies resonance in young and old,
At length he smiles, beams of luminous youth,
To displace an aging darkness found in you,
Counts not the flames all ready blue, rather the
Lines of laughter, which alight your face in lieu,
Currency he finds a fictitious banquet,
Only for whom Dyne in dwindling power,
Sufficiency bestows the imperial value,
Only to whom embrace solely this hour,
Degrees of perception not bound by paper,
He sees no end, to his quest for knowledge,
As wisdom becomes his definitive asset,
Salmon so rare, caught far beyond college,
Like Pascal, men endure all bars atmospheric,
While so few bow only in gesture to humility,
Wounds fail to callous his resilient demeanor,
In respect to his embodiment of human fragility,
All stellar souls dwarf, as death begins its call,
While novas shine brighter, learnt in its latter’s fall,
So measure not, the meters of men,
But the loving moments, left behind them.