Long Nutrients Poems
Long Nutrients Poems. Below are the most popular long Nutrients by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nutrients poems by poem length and keyword.
I belong to metallic soiled Earth,
solar-fired water's atmosphere;
these oil and blood-fluent elements
would feel freer
not belonging to you,
to us.
They
we
are our belongings
but not our property,
commodity.
Our multicultural values
measure and calculate
design and develop
investing primal qualities of time
predicting secondary quantitative spatial outcomes.
Less time constrains freedom and value and love.
More freedom responds to surrounding needs and wants and relationships
with less dissonant restraint,
competitive response;
with more cooperative invitations
for mutual mentoring regenerate options,
our pacific path revealing positive intentions.
Missing freedom suffers,
as missing incarnation dissonates,
as absent polynomials disformate.
Incarnation's value grows enculturing time
measured with Earth's elements,
temporal functions,
systems design and development.
Each element
identity
system and set
contains regenerative potentiating value,
functionally forming network constellations
of prime-frequency, flow,
rhythmic relationships,
sustaining balanced harmonies,
an ecological economy
static until its season to unfold again.
Limited value decomposes from ego-systemic mortality.
Regenerate value emerges from eco-logical coincident, co-arising comprehension.
Space enacts time's liturgical rite of passage,
as time incarnates space's ambidextrous function
with fractal equivalent information.
Ambivalent eco-normic tipping points
out equi-valent ecological potential,
permacultural regenerate systemic nutrients
for sustaining polycultural maintenance.
We grow adeptly incarnating cooperative economies
as we become allergic to commodifying competition,
win-lose systemic incorporations.
Well-apprenticed permaculturalists,
Taoists,
Buddhists,
Fullerian Synergists,
enthymematic communicators
re-ligious self-with-other integrators,
economic ecological care of Other,
Earth Justice,
perhaps even Universal Intelligent therapeutic care,
evolves yeastfully prime rooted in multisystemic integrity.
We reach deeply and widely within remembering
our justice womb of poly-solidarity,
regenerate subsidiarity swimming
remerging toward light's bright flashing flight.
We belong to Earth
and feel freer longing with all of us together
in one Earth-bound network cycle.
The bluebird's nest
A mother bluebird sits on her eggs,
fretful and worried, looking for the dregs
Of the life that belonged to her.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
But the alien, the stranger, the outsider,
armed with the knowledge of her own survival
gently places a small token of success,
an egg that will hatch to be a blight upon the nest
that will suck everything away and leave only bones behind.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
A set of blue gems
with a spark of life inside
yet among the sapphires was a pearl
the alien, the stranger, the outsider
emerged from inside.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And the alien, the stranger, the outsider
having clawed its way to life
Like a vacuum, began to fill itself up
With whatever may come before it.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
Growing in strength, stealing the nutrients, the life from those less fortunate,
It began its takeover.
The little bluebirds quivered beneath it.
It will truly be the death of them.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
Draining the soul from the nest
Turning the mother bird into a slave of her own child
The bluebirds had no future ahead,
Muddied waters,
An empty horizon.
Emaciated, they began to lose hope.
And nothing was peaceful and nothing was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And nothing was good and nothing was bright, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And the little bluebirds died in the night,
and the alien, the stranger, the outsider had taken everything it had wanted and thrown it all away.
It lost the one thing he didn't feel it needed.
Its "mother's" love.
And all was peaceful and all was right, in the bluebird's nest that night.
And all was good and all was bright , in the bluebird's nest that night.
Yours is my sacred non-zero soul
core center shared
within
Surrounded by your robust
fertile
masculine energy
Not to exploit
and yet not too shy
Not too retractive
nor extractive,
equipoised
Anticipating
our cooperative re-investing,
powerfully ebbing
and succulently flowing
further enculturating future.
So, I do not cheat without you
in my most polypathic
panentheistic imaged way,
Always knowing we must each
separately
and full-clothed return
to yet another Patriarchal
White Capitalist dominant
LeftBrain academically
monoculturally anthro-supremacist
Straight Day
Our monotheistic Way
on Earth
waiting for full
and edifying thrusts
of and from
multicultural indigenous EarthTribe trust
in octaved sensory
resolving light
and musical resounding sound
Imagining
engaging
co-empathic RightHemisphere senses heard
and felt
in nonzero whole-sum
resplendently glad non-choices
CoEmpowered both/and opportunities
CoInfested
hot and hasty
awaiting win/win economic
and political play.
Doing my wholesome
whole sums
holy nonzero full of life
so not so win/lose unwholesome
empty entropy
unbecoming
Is not here where Eden
promised my wounded child
GreenPeace
restorying panentheistic
omniscient
WholeSum Systemic
yang-yintegral
resilient health pay ways
Way to say
You are the egocenter
within my ecosystemic
copassions gay
Taurus full-octaved
yang yintegral octane
regenerative DNA
poetic display
noetic fray
In a land-linear
and a deep sea-full
of repercussive 1/0
co-binary fruitful
erotic
sacred organic
double-binding fun
In between EarthPowered yintegrity
and HeavenLighting yang sun
Solar systemic enlightened
by indigenously sun-powered EarthTribe
Healthy selfcare flowing fun...
Inside/Outside pun...
Ego/Eco systemic run...
PolyCultural languaged plum...
Yang/Yintegral polymathic
polynomially polypathic
polyvagal neurosystemic
nutrients of super-positive health
Balancing ecological green wealth
living
organic Whole Systemic
language voices
nonviolent win/win
optimizing trans-connecting choices
So, in a way
I could not win cheating on your loss
in our most polypathic
panentheistic win/win privileged way
polyculturally healthy
within this singularly wealthy
gay day.
As a teenager, I was so lean and lanky.
My mother worried over my physical stature.
She believed that all the nutrients in my diet,
were rapaciously devoured by my hair.
From childhood onwards, I had long, thick hair
that cascaded down my back like a jumping cataract.
Each time I got ready for school in my uniform,
my mom had trouble plaiting it into two pigtails.
After school, it took much of my time to tease apart the strands,
release and unbind, what my mom had so neatly done.
She wanted to cut my hair short, I too agreed
as it took so long for me to have my hair dried after every bath.
(It was a time when we had not even heard of hair dryers!)
When I conveyed my mom’s decision to my friends,
they said in unison- “Your long hair is your sole attraction,
we are all jealous of you for it. If you cut it
you’ll be like a sheep after its fleece is sheared,
Oh, so ugly”
My hair was straight like stick, black and glossy without even a curve.
I was so upset about it as curly hair was what everyone preferred,
in a village without the ‘refinement’ and sophistications of urban life.
After every long journey, I had to spend hours clearing the tangles of my hair.
When I entered college, my hair became my distinguishing mark.
All referred to me as ‘the girl with long hair’ and it became my identity.
Girls from cities had begun frequenting parlours for straightening their hair
I was happy I had natural straight hair without recourse to artificial means
Thus, for the first time, I began feeling proud of my hair.
I spent hours before the mirror, admiring my hair and tying it in styles, varied.
Also started wearing it with my chin up and flaunting it unabashedly.
When I joined college as a lecturer, I could hear exclamations of ‘wow’
from my students, whenever I turned to the black board to write something,
and my silly feminine heart fluttered in vanity like a peacock.
Before long, silver threads began to peek here and there.
When they came in one and two, I plucked them away.
But Time, like a mischievous imp began to play nasty games.
In a couple of years, I was all grey and now I thrive on hair dye.
Indeed, a messy job! To make things easy I have cut my hair short.
Sad, my mother is not there to see me in short hair!
Apple Tree
I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve been seen in gardens, orchards, and the yards of many people, but there is no proof that I was ever in Eden. But let’s just assume that I was indeed the tree realistically known as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
For heaven’s sake, let’s just assume that I was an innocent bystander, absorbing nutrients from the garden and producing juicy apples. Yes, I was climbed upon by the devil, picked from by the woman, and eaten from by both Adam and Eve. And can anyone imagine how disrespected I felt and taken for granted? Remember, neither the devil nor Eve consulted me about apples from me.
I grew and produced the apple that caused God to be displeased, and forced him to drive them from the garden. Moreover, at least two bites of an apple from my limbs changed the course of history for both nature and all of mankind. I must say that I am not proud of any of this. But you must remember, there was plenty of blame to go around, but when the punishment was handed down, I was not included.
And remember, I have the knowledge and remember very well, because I was there and witnessed literally everything. I even heard the devil lying to Eve, and if I could talk, I would have rebuked the devil, and advised Eve to slowly walk away. I didn’t know where Adam was, but the least I could have done was to call out to him saying, “Beware the devil on my limb!”.
I tell you, I was so sad when I heard God’s voice telling Adam and Eve about their future lives, their limitations and restrictions. Adam was to work hard enough to sweat; and Eve would always have pain when she would give birth to their children.
It was painful for me to listen to, and enough to make even a tough apple tree like myself break down and weep. But the best part was when I heard God tell the devil about his punishment. That’s when I began to rejoice. Wow! I could not shake a leg, but I shook every limb and all the bark on my body.
08262015 Curtis Johnson; Contest, Trashed #4, Sponsor, Broken Wings
It is the awakening.
After long dreamless sleep,
my mother has lot to explain,
in labor pains, aunt and her,
passing by the dark thick shinny woods,
my time has come to born! ! !
Through endless cycles of night and day,
of heat and cold, my mother thought
to take a walk to wee wee,
and here i have born, ,
under evergreen blackberry,
eventually my mother is out of labor,
auntie welcomed, teeny little niece.
horseman passes by and threw a cloth,
from wooden frame hanging,
behind the young horse.
My birth is surrounding with deep,
dark and lovely woods.
unremembered covet as is my youth.
I have lived for a thousand jiffy,
as welcomes by woods and wild critters,
many years after would remind the tale of agony,
mother had while birthing me.
have passed for concern over,
such trivial matters.
I remember the long have been,
teased as Mowgli in federation
without rig outs and fine fabric,
I was in my middle girlhood years,
then have kins one after another,
A time when almost everything was lost.
This was the time of the great fire of anxiety and loneliness.
The fire of agony and vulnerability that almost consumed me at 27.
Bright white flames burned down,
from the heavens and in an instant,
scarred my rugged flesh,
my beautiful heart burned down in isolation
Many of those around me perished in anger and hatred,
I can no longer snivel,
those who have content before me.
It has been too long and in,
that time I have recovered,
from my injuries and the disease that followed.
I am again strong and tower,
over the youth that surrounds me,
two young ones of in alliance and espousal,
two young ones of busy in federation years.
Now I must, concentrate on drinking
in the nutrients that the mother and father,
provides me in benedictions,
as I watch over the shrinking forest.
The past is the past
and the recoil winter
is slowly fading away,
now I have felt the long
rays of the sun warming
like paternal and maternal,
my limbs once again and I have
awakened to a new world,
a world of resumption,
a world of hope and joy,
My trunk is enduring and,
my pollen will soon fill the air
covering the woods,
in a yellow green buff.
New life will come as coconut Brussels
now i shall, stand silent watch the bliss........
Who were you today,
at your best moments?
Grouchy hermit
already missing quality dream times
and rhythms
when chimes greet pre-light's crust frosty dawn,
to get Yang, then Yin, up and out of our sangha,
ready to enter their own daytime sanghas,
tired drama of such anciently perennial retired,
repeat,
reiterate,
Monday through Friday.
Notice
red coal scale patterns
in blackened ash logs,
burning to fluffy carbon chalk,
nutrient potential for some soils,
although not mine,
perhaps my neighbor's?
Joy
for a bright, although admittedly too intermittent, sun,
sliding in and out of hiding.
A smile,
where one would otherwise have been sadly absent.
Cold
feeling Arctic on my ears and neck
and nose
and onward through
toward my aching bone marrow,
near my well-heated
and brightly lit
domestic non-destination.
Ellen Fisher on NPR saying
"No one gets out of love alive."
with so much enthusiasm and passion
for regenerative feelings and empathic maturing capacity
to manage anger's ego-offense
with a strong remembering love's co-opportunity defense
against high risk anthro-entitled,
narcissistic ego-bratty behavior.
Gratitude
for Yin political and economic cooperative investments
seeking Earth harmonic balance.
Terror
of untimely taxing rest as grace,
of older-wiser intent
without time to hear Earth's glamorous response,
to new found mutually speaking freely parts
and songs of dancing glances
Eagerly lifting
blue tarp skirt
of my elegantly stacked woodpile,
seducing me with more hard fuel
for erotic clandestine fires.
Feeling PoisonYang feeding on my trinitarian blind
and bald spot,
sucking in any embodied nutrients she might hope to find
within such great grand fatherly care,
laughing together
at just how silly we appear
even to our wu-wei selves,
together better
than apart
Still mind embodied fullness
content contention in this narrow midway
modestly chasing Gods of True Love reborn
Resisting insisting
long-married Gods and Goddesses of Angry Past Deductions
fueling Fear of Future's Inductive Reduction
dualdark disfunction
Confluent inhumane demise
sinking unease
singing ease
to full mooned
yin-hibernating
yang-hypernation
waning waxing sways.
(Please read part 1 first or this will make no sense)
To the scientist’s dismay, pressing the cancel button was ineffective. The plunge into his past continued inexorably. It, however, was not without its benefits. Henry’s skin became supple and his muscles bulged as in his youth. His hair returned to the light brown that he hadn’t seen in decades. For the first time in decades, Henry felt, not just okay, but good and joyous in his renewed youth. He decided to stop his slide into the past at about age twenty when he would have his degrees and could live his career over again. If his “other self” was there, Henry would assume a new identity and make a whole different life for himself. It was an unprecedented opportunity and he meant to make the most of it.
Near his birthday in the year 1970, Henry hopefully pressed the cancel button and was rewarded with a loud click. But instead of gliding to a stop, the time machine accelerated in its journey into the past. Henry experienced the hormonal rush of puberty and felt adolescent acne break out on his face. Within minutes, a reverse growth spurt cut his height by several inches. Soon, he was a young child at play, oblivious to the danger of his situation. The year 1950 saw a tot and then a cooing baby. When August 8th passed, the infant suddenly had an umbilical cord attached to a nonfunctioning placenta. Its two umbilical arteries throbbed desperately, but the return blood through the umbilical vein was not oxygenated, nor did it contain essential nutrients.
Membranes enveloped the devolving Henry who now had the “old man” appearance of a fetus. Then he became a blastocyst, ready for implantation in a nonexistent uterine endometrium. Within seconds he regressed to gastrula, blastula and then the berry-like ball of cells called morula. Like some weird countdown, he became 64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2 cells and then a zygote.
The paternal half of Henry’s chromosomes disappeared next, leaving only an ovum ready for fertilization. Even that became an oocyte needing to complete meiosis before it vanished entirely in the immature ovary of Henry’s infant mother.
Henry Higgins, born August 8, 1950 and died November 8, 1949, physicist and time traveler is missing forever.
Reflections
Looking up above, at the blue sky, at the white doves, as the rain is coming from a distant cloud, at the mountains staring back so calmly displayed, like a post card, in my back yard. While the kids fly kites, and the trees dance in the breeze, humming birds reach the red succulent nester from porches with feeders waiting to just get one seconds glimpse. The little kids out on tricycles, on roller skates, laughing and rolling in grass chasing bubbles, call it love –what a sight to see.
When we finally are talking freely and honest to anyone, and they laugh and they smile at appropriate times, and then it goes from a possibility to true chemistry something that can last. A friendship that is founded on the real you. When we are naked with our thoughts, and wants, ourselves like a seed we sprout up and crave more and it creates more buds within us to grow, like a tree, the love, water, nutrients, care and beauty so powerfully stimulating and it only awakens the best within us, which naturally pulls all that sees in our direction to celebrate and become a part of such a beautifully organic, authentically, natural living being. Which we find at one time or another to call life. Real living. Now you can breathe…easily.
The past is not history but it’s a part of our history, helping to mold us up into who we are destined to be. Not the end but the beginning, not to knock us out but so we- get up more humble. Not to cage us, disarrange us or take the trust that we seek, but to make us trust in fully in the right things, the priority God first and everything else will follow. Filled hearts that once were hollow, dreams lost at one time now easy to follow and execute with passion that abides. With the right one on our side. Equipped with the right armor to obtain all things we seek according to His will.
On a blanket my body rest, looking into the sunset as the sand is gently laid upon my feet, and the kids are chasing those beautiful waves, as the dolphins do their tricks in the oceans obese, the sky is filled with birds all in sequence dancing in the sky, the breeze is subtle but present, soft but fierce, loving but firm. What a life to witness, a blessing to recite, a real appreciation life.
©StephanieGutierrez2015
Flames of brilliant white-blue fire
Flash through the dark of night
Giving my thoughts a place to graze
Like cattle on the land, in the hay
Feeding off the nutrients of grass
Clumps of precious sustenance
Nourishing my ideas and dreams
With inspiration, insight and belief
That lives within the hopes that live
Within me – in my heart and soul
Where I go when I long for something
To breath, like beauty and intimacy
Feelings that penetrate my spirit
With sensitivity, sensations of intimacy
The fires raise goosebumps on my naked
Skin where truth comes to enlighten me
With soft caresses that fill me with desire
Passion resting around my creativity and
Dream of happiness, joy that lives within me
Filling me up with a tenderness that whispers
Through my soul, enlightening and delighting
Comparing my thoughts to those that fill up
Books with poetic ideas, breaths of light
Covering spirits with warm sighs and visions
Releasing pieces of hunger through my heart
Reaching into me with purpose that colors
Me in hues of crimson hope and violet dreams
Mysterious breathes of kindness murmuring
Like a brook across smooth, wet stones
Blazing beauty, fire from the rhythmic beat
Of a heart that lives to pour out more oil
On the hearth of my ideas and visions, my
Feelings of hope and faith and love that prays
For more smoke to enchant and hypnotize
Create a sense of peace uttering contentment
Through my bones and into veins flowing
With imagination, inspiration and insight
Ideas for music that wakens the heart to
Hear heaven’s harps playing through eternity
Praising, glorifying and worshipping the One
Who sparks the fires inside me with a light
That lives to purify and penetrate the darkness
Leaving only hues of healing, hope and happiness
To laugh through the heart who knows Him
The One who makes a way through the storm
Guiding cold hearts to the flame that licks Love
Through the walls built by loss, grief and fear
Love that lives – is eternally alive – thrilling
Sending fires to fulfill and enlighten through it all
Flames that light up the heart and soul with
Joy that knows hope and faith – amazing Love
Love that conquers all – Love from the Spirit of God