Long Nuanced Poems
Long Nuanced Poems. Below are the most popular long Nuanced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nuanced poems by poem length and keyword.
Earth's green/blue healthy healing climate
Some LeftBrain emergent verbal singers
and dancers
felt as resonant Gaian EarthMother health
for rebirth re-connection
reweaving
Reconceived
empowered and bilaterally enlightened
benign winds of ecofeminist
local EarthMatriotic
community domestic
democratic
typically extra-familial fertile polycultural
Regenerative health global-systemic
benignly viral GoldenRule revolutions
inseminating
TrueWealth Win/Win NonViolent EarthCommunications
InBetween Both/And nuanced thought/felt dialogue
for win/win co-emergent
dipolar co-arising choices
Preferably not quite so unawesomely
sacred/sensory Either/Or bipolar
affective anxiety preconceptions
overpowering eco/ego-logically indigenous
green polytheistic cooperative reconceiving
re-birthing
reverse time re-membering
re-connecting
re-ligioning Truth/Beauty Ancient Gaian HealingMercy
We're All On This Sacred Green/Blue Earth
Interdependent MultiCultural Wisdom
Yang+Yin = 1 Universal PolyNomial Intuitive-Indigenous
NonZero-CoEfficient CoPassionate LeftBrain EcoLogos
for Unitarian Yin/Yang = (-,-) PreConception not
not also Yang/Yin = Original 1/0 Inception-BiNomialThicket
AnthroCentric LeftHemisphere relearning win/win
compassionate Both/And Ego/EarthHealth
restorative justice polycultural reset
reversing retributive monoculturing win/lose dissociation
Reincarnating local inter-healthfaith community's
most long-term resilient green economic
and ecological
healthy democracy
healthy climate
healthy anthro-public
wealthy all YintegralBeauty/YangTrust
CoPassionate Communing Healthy EarthTribe
protecting
providing for
polyculturally co-investing in
eco-politically green/blue healing
matriotic co-empowering
ecohealth-enlightening
self/other-copassioned lives
Sacredly committed
to at least the next seven regenerations
of a California RedWood Fertile Forest
and a Chinese Bamboo Resiliently Integral
Complexly Cooperative WinWin
Deep MultiCulturally Rooted Thicket.
These matters of imposed sequestration,
home health quarantine,
residential segregation,
safety zone re-education
Can also become
contemplative solitude
growing sacred mindfulness,
healthy wealth revision,
2020 wealth of health
bicameral precision,
monoculturing capitalist rescission,
dipolar non-division;
Social,
political,
economic communication
significantly emerge from personal preference
but also west-hemisphere patriarchal enculturation
no different than propaganda
if delivered with both left and right-hemisphere
collusion intent,
unnaturally sinister,
calculating desecration,
the stuff of deep state
and dark conspiracy theories
Either True or False
or both/and complexly
ego/eco-bilaterally ambiguous,
subtle,
nuanced thought with unpolarized feelings
for interior nurtured spiritual intention
and exterior nutritional natural extension,
Discernment of which solitary seeds
and subterranean root systems are health watered
and wealth weeded,
And which are treated like worthless weeds,
not to be watered with contentment,
fed with commitment,
nourished for cooperative values,
cherished within eco-political futures,
compassioned.
This weediness of ego-neediness
prays for non-preying return
to ecosystemic communal fullness.
Her tender, delicate limbs
rivaled a young Magnolia
Her every move, a nuanced sway
Oh, the glory of youth
in its sympathetic day
As age and circumstance
have stayed her dance,
her elegance remains
There’s still the lilt of childlike song
gracing spoken word
And eyes of deep, expressive blue,
still tell you, you’ve been heard
And though, her humbled stature bears
the scar of broken stride
and wheels of fashioned metal
now her slippers have decried,
the beauty of her fragile spirit
still lives
3/16/18
Dedicated to my dear Godmother
I observe palls of leaves, drifting on the wind
Compelling me to write, but my page keeps going limp
Fraying along straight edges, curling into crimp,
Nuanced in nature, daintiest touch rebuffs my whims
Thoughts become hesitant, so readily demurred
I scribble tenuous nothings, reflecting absent words
Cant tell which is moving, the leaves or my world
Seemingly fluxed together, synchronicity bestirs
Impossible to measure, let alone describe this scene
Small eddies all around me, vortex on grasses green,
As I look upon the tumult, my imagination reconvenes
Ink begins flowing again, and words start to scream
Disenfranchisement over, now feeling overjoyed
Balance is restored, the moment remains unspoiled
I look down at my sheet of paper, if only to recoil
Not in horror! Amazement, this little poem self compiled.
YOUR PERSONAL FAVORITE, NO. 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
18/10/21
Julian and Joan were married, just as glitter is joined to crystal sun.
Julian was a famous violinist, like redbirds making music, in season.
Joan had a variety of elegant shoes. Of them, she was rightly proud.
Like seagulls of lakes and sky, whom liberty makes scream out loud!
The Halls were very busy people, like smoky shadows, ever moving;
And mornings were most hectic, like windblown petals, disapproving.
Flowering ferns graced their country house, when old friends came;
For a face-to-face is much finer, than wondering what love became.
Farmers went to frolicsome fairs, when firecracker family popped in;
Like fad future in a fascinator, carrying memories of way back when.
The Halls lived in the house of colors, like the kaleidoscope, spinning.
Days were entranced by hues and beauty, like a rainbow reminiscing.
Sabotaged shasta daisies bowed, while gilded, silver raindrops jingled,
On the street of jade, turning seasons, of red Mars and stars, mingled.
Neighbors noted navy blue skies, when a nuanced sun, sank in rubies;
While they'd enjoy a nightly snack, or watch the never-ending movie.
'Skeleton glass warriors' guarded the greenhouse, of a fragrant June;
As 'Biltmore's ballgown' plants were admired, beneath the new moon.
'Turquoise green cockscomb' plants strutted, in nature's pretty vanity;
And 'rainbow pampas grass' showed after storm, delighting humanity!
One particolored, exceptionally hectic sunrise, the Halls were in a tizzy.
Joan had lost a favorite shoe, and Julian's bow was missing. Such a pity!
They couldn't find the items! Julian left for rehearsals, very frustrated.
Joan left for her boutique. Yet, gold sun'd soon return, when motivated.
After they both had gone, the first butterscotch rays, indeed, appeared;
And their talking rooster had much to say, like hues, after mist cleared!
'Cock a doodle doo!
My dame has lost her shoe,
My master lost his fiddling stick;
And doesn't know what to do
And doesn't know what to do.'
Billie Holiday said
The artist of soul never sings a song the same way twice,
the artist never sings the same song twice.
This sounds good and right to me,
as soul artists and lovers,
great optimally effective researchers and scientists and communicators,
never live a day,
a felt relationship,
a poem,
a dance,
a sacred ritual or tradition
the same way twice.
As we learn to stay within our zones of synergy,
we can never go quite back to yesterday again
because we live through this fluid imagination
and experiential place
where life's co-relational time
flows a bubbling nuanced inside/outside integrating stream
never organically sung as mere mechanized repeat,
each moment learning now's renewing voice
from soul's most resonant
remembering
strong-hearted
full-minded
passion-embodied space.
Soul sings inside songs
of out-streaming full-hearted
improvising
synchronizing voice.
Pearlescent the corneal reflection, on a blind mans eyes
orbs of obscurity, belie a defunct projection of screens
for Eventide is ever present, nuanced beside a braille directory
his mind’s focused on Feral senses, gut instincts, acuity
knowledge of darkness, has built its own safe haven
Plumb lines are useless, if life’s following a ball of string
the Thrum of a moths wings, leads him to the window
fingertips sense the drapes, yet another Crimped reality
fly away little creature, go find your own darkness
you don’t want to be trapped in here with me
with a bittersweet Tang of sadness, the moth is released
Howling into the distance, on a gentle summers breeze
Eight word Bardenesque challenge Poetry Contest
PEARLESCENT 2. HOWLING 3. THRUM 4. TANG 5. EVENTIDE 6. PLUMB 7. CRIMPED 8. FERAL
Sponsored by John Hamilton 22/03/2021
To Lesley do I owe a big debt
No more over verse will I ever sweat
Reading her nuanced advice between the lines
My motivation to versify sharply declines
It has become clear to me that my rotten rhyme
Is so very close to being a humanitarian crime.
So,Ms Duncan,to you must I convey my thanks
That no longer will I invest in poetry banks.
Now must I banish my obsession with a final farewell
And consign all future thoughts of poetry to the fires of hell.
Without me,may all you genuine poets flourish
And your love of poetry always and ever nourish.
With a truly sad heart I do lay down my pen
And I will not demean Parnassus ever again
And yet who can ever be fully sure and rightly know
When the Pierian spring through one will once again flow?
When golden starlight abandons darkened skies
and halcyon silence greets the paling of dawn...
that's when I am able to solemnly contemplate
my awakened sentiments in tranquil solitude.
Before the world awakens as if in a rendezvous,
I linger amidst an interlude, a quiescent tryst.
When darkness fades to aurorean glints,
I witness the painting of a nuanced murk.
There, upon the birth of the sun's horizon
is brushed a blended mural in pastel tints
slowly rising from the gently rippled sea.
On a raft of serenity, I find myself afloat,
eyelids closed but able to see more clearly
than when they unfold to bustling scenes.
I am serene in the placid hush of daybreak,
listening to the truth of life's one true purpose.
Too often we scurry as ants in hurried moments.
In blurred visions my eyes behold the world's
noises pelting my ears like tympany drums
obscuring significant thoughts from my mind
until I could make no pertinent sense of it.
But silence explains everything in vivid detail.
It enlightens me, leading me into a quiet realm
where I am in harmony with peaceful silence
and filled with an overwhelming sense of stillness
that delves deeper than any sound could proffer.
“Does the universe really rehearse,
emotes of heart before penning love’s verse?”
~ quote by poet
It had all makings of a masterpiece,
nuanced right down to the smallest detail
but the flow of symbols brought forth no peace,
to afterglow trailing the comet’s tail,
so fake adornments needed to decrease,
else maze of metaphors would make taste stale.
Soft sounds of silence, sparking like stardust,
bypassed mind and spoke directly to heart,
etching thereon light strobes, love ousting lust,
seeing thereby patterns of old depart,
wooing the void, in time gaining its trust,
that divine consciousness, then inks its art.
How may laboured breathing weave words of love,
when all save man know, grace flows from above?