Long Oasis Poems
Long Oasis Poems. Below are the most popular long Oasis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oasis poems by poem length and keyword.
You’ve met me,
but you just don’t know it yet
The dream house that you want,
I once polar bear hibernated there ...
two winter moons ago
The summer fruit of relaxation
that you’re tasting now,
I planted it
two prior vineyard cycles
I’ve always been double moves ahead,
my checkered past
taught me keen ways
to escape poverty dread
The slum lord pitchfork
tossing that Ebenezer heavy eviction bale,
tried to do the Scrooge pinch
But me knew da Judas outcome of da sell
You’re a patsy-come-lately,
a puppet bought for sure foreswore
Tho’ a couple chiggers too twenty-something slow,
worms like you
got oasis left in the wilderness dust forty years ago
What you wanna see,
I already seen
I’m always two pillow turns ahead
in your dream
What you wanna do,
I’ve already done
Me always be two rabbit hops ahead
of your turtle run
Here’s the six-digit green lumber
you need to cellblock 8 learn
The lockup combination number
to make those tumblers turn
My moves are two steps ahead
Me be a r-Evolving, double smoking barrel —
twice-pulled trigger click hot lead
You’re a patient zero, broken wing sparrow:
double goose egg, game over dead
I’m always two giant steps ahead
Where I’m ultra solar at
is where you really orbital wanna be
Meesa is a quantum grasshopper high five,
and you’re a gravity locust low three
I live in your twin borrowed tomorrow,
two steps above your ire paygrade
Truth trimming lie bacon is how I get paid
Two floors down at prime usury sorrow,
open pawn shop roasting in shade ...
You’re a pet loan shark getting chum made
I’m always thinking two steps ahead,
delivering ancient sayings that was future said
Meesa gon make your puffy jaws red,
two steps backwards is where your hubris bled
Where me be perched,
is where you’re trying to DNA air flow
I’m four wind birthed,
you’re a deuce snake eye on a belly roll
Me two steps ahead,
just so you know
You’re frozen in place,
minus-two below
I’m living at the kiss end of the Snow White story,
and you ain’t even got a singularity event Black Hole clue
Me 9 generation Lives looking thru a supernova rearview,
your Seven Dwarves tardy situation is inert glory
Two slave wage fettered steps ahead,
is how it’s always gonna be
Eating my Thanksgiving meal on your Labor Day,
is so Easter morning worthy
This Tranquility
by Amy Swanson
shimmers of light
heaven soft ...
sparkling stardances
moonlit mist ...
*do you remember*
echoes ...
(oh so faint)
of far away
yesterdays
in my soul's memory
*Glittering*
*dream-dust*
violet *iridescence*
falling new
re-awakening
my spirit
to dream again...
within this ageless garden
simplicity's oasis
Silver-soft
cascade ...
mystic waterfall
hues of rainbowed light
sun-drenched prisms
crystalline pure
flow down
from heaven's realms
~ melting ~
into this rushing river
of my soul...
my
self...
with waves of blissful peace
Listen close-!
serenity's song --
only the heart
can hear
these gentle strains ...
melodious enchantment
harmonious
joyous
Lush forest green -
life, alive
Warm marigold glow -
sunshine, envelopes
... all becoming
this tranquility.
Like riding on waves wavering
not sure where it takes me
searching for a log just to hold on,
but helpless, and alone in an abyss.
Slumber, how I wish a day's sleep
to keep everything aside, and rest,
in my beloved’s lap, that warm lap.
Hours of cuddling , sweet lovemaking
the joy of belonging, drugged in love
kissing her wet lips, warmth so alluring
And a rest in the arms of the beloved.
But now left in life's wilderness
Searching For the lost oasis.
will I reach it before die of thirst?
or be buried in unfulfilled dreams.
Night again, pitch dark, dead silent
A chill passes through my spine
Spreads and chokes me like a python.
Unable to move, pushing to oblivion.
Me not alone ,have memories so fond
enough to rekindle, like resurrection,
The memory of love and her warmth
the lingering fragrance of the past
Enough to live on but why tears still?
This silence has thousand tongues
Audible silence of a forgotten living
told in a lovers song, life of the lonely.
long ride of a dreamer, moving yet still,
pangs of fatigue, a thirst so hurting.
The morning sun, on a spring
winter not far away, naked trees shy
Rushing to cover with new foliage.
song of the cuckoos, resting on twigs
Echoes of distant church bell chimes ,
the creepers waving to the farmers
dews, shining diamonds in dawn rays
the gurgle of the sparkling stream
In thickets the chirpings of love birds
smell of raw earth, ants lined in order,
the cattle linedup, heading pastures
A silhouette afar dressed in snow
A hoof sound of a horse in its course
It's all fine dear to exalt my heart
but on a lonely day it's all wasted gift.
Wandering in search, to love reclaim
Where should I search that I lost
than in your own heart love preserved
my life, a loser's lament, a dirge-
of a priest burying the dead in cold
a whisper of the devil to the cursed
a mistake of the master of creation
Blemish on the moon reflecting sun
yet a crave to live, if she were here.
Even the mirage formed by memories
Make me wander in arid deserts
where the sun burns all it's fuel .
I sustain on dreams wandering
living! a faint feeling now hurting.
the heart is dried unable to beat
but somewhere, just a feeble throb
a throb that lost rhythmic speed.
just waiting for her sweet breath
To inclaim my life with her love.
("" In order for the light to shine so brightly,
the darkness must be present"" -Francis Bacon)
Crossing That Siberian Desert Of Lost Souls
No joy, no peace, on that darken horrendous stroll
crossing that Siberian desert of lost souls
blazing sun hit by invisible arrows shot
wherein the weak die, left as carrion to rot
so many blinded by illusions that world sends
eyes shut, never seeing what world's ill wind portends!
Mankind swims in a world that its hopes slowly burns.
Rolling the dice as Fate and Death take wicked turns.
Once as a youth such an innocent soul was I
racing forward deluded thinking I could fly
until in too deep, heart cried out from burning heat
and the ill wind's angry flames licking my bare feet
Please a refuge, I pray Lord a refuge please send
Oasis, that this wilting body I may mend!
Mankind swims in a world that its hopes slowly burns.
Rolling the dice as Fate and Death take wicked turns.
As sky then chased away that fiery red-hot sun
ahead an oasis, quickly onward I run
away from lost and blinded journey through this hell
away from lingering doubts I could never quell
away from this world and its insidious pains
away from deep darkness and its decaying stains!
This soul left that black-world wherein hope slowly burns.
No dice, Fate and Death taking no more wicked turns.
Robert J. Lindley, 12 -21- 21
Rhyme, ( Truth That Darkness May Not Prevail )
Notes:
(1.) Inspiration and thanks given, for this poem was received from a comment made to my poem , titled, "I Looked To Heaven That Christmas Night"
Commented on 12/20/2021 5:43:00 PM by Jeannie Amos
("Not everyone makes it out of the Siberian desert of lost souls. Make the best of your blessing."
Thusly - I got this to stir my composing. - ** "" Siberian desert of lost souls. ""**
*******
(2.) Inspiring quotes from famous,
artists/thinkers/ philosophers/poets
(A.)
“Hope is being able to see there is light despite all of the darkness.”
-- Desmond Tutu
(B.)
“Differences are not intended to separate, to alienate. We are different precisely in order to realize our need of one another.”
-- Desmond Tutu
(C.)
"Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness."
-- Carl Jung.
Across the valley
Stood the mountain I believed to be id
Two levels and a summit
Made it appear layered
Like first-dynasty pyramids
It would be a long climb
Step, stumble, slip,
Clutch and elevate my entire being
The valley’s simple green plants
Lived in symbiotic coexistence
With bees and ants
Nature nurturing nature
An embryonic journey
Between the Tigres and Euphrates
Such splendor might have caused me to remain
Many do
But I walked on
At the base of the mountain I paused
The summit hidden by a cloud ring
I looked back upon my Mesopotamia
Hailing its verdant simplicity
Questioning the summit’s worth
But uncontrollable curiosity
And unquenchable desire
Edged me forward
I climbed onto rocky soil
I stumbled as stones slipped ‘neath my feet
Reaching out to clutch a bush
I pulled upward
The first plateau ran before me as a brook
I peered into the pool of life
Finding amphibians, reptiles, fish
I waded
Ankles rubbing green algae
Creating eerie sensitivity
Slippery touch
The water cooled me
Thinning air brought calm
A sandy bottom soothed me
Such harmony might have
Caused me to remain
Many do
But above me
Within a mystical Saturnic cloud
Secrets of the summit beckoned
Edging me to elevate
Sweaty palms grasped a wild rose’s stem
Sharp thorns drew blood
My body fatigued, I cursed the climb
What marvels lay above the ring
The second plateau’s diversity thrilled me
Simple moss, brown rabbits
Deer with long, willowy legs
Hundreds of life forms
Gave me entrance
To Thoreau’s untouched paradise
The alluring cloud hung low above me
I questioned my destination
The second plateau’s oasis might have
Caused me to remain
Many do
But irresistible desire
Again edged me to step, stumble
Slip, clutch and elevate
I entered the cloud layer
Feeling hot and cold dancing vapor
The mountain I believed to be id
Swam under my feet
Perplexed, I muddled upward
Above the timber line
No trees, no grass
No plants, no animals
No life
Still I was curious for id
And took the final step
A cold granite peak
Amidst the grey moisture
Self-realization was achieved
I had seen all that was beautiful
But passed it by
The key to paradise was offered
Three times
Yet I had been a martyr to my own desire
I could not see
The valley, brook,
Or paradise of total life
I could see
Only myself
And I cried
For want of something beautiful
What is this?
Abstract, uncertain and elusive
Myriad colors drowned
In inevitability, fallibility and vulnerability
Soaked in joy's' unavailability
To many parched and thirsty souls
Playful creatures come and go
They laugh and weep
Over the rule of resolve unseen
Who is the master,
Where is he or she, and why?
Many tried to search but failed
Ages have passed
But the mystery continues
Beyond thought and imagination
The world bows before the unknown
And pays the spineless obeisance
Like the time and space do
Destiny rules disguised
Many tried to lift the veil
To see its face, but to no avail
Eternity is impervious
The mystery continues
Knowledge and wisdom fail
Oasis in the desert
Like faint smile in the ocean of sorrow
The moments often bring solace
But the life is much beyond
Cruel time returns unabated
Rejuvenating the grief
If at all the nature's fiat was different
Life could be joy and joy alone
One understands, but that is not all
Reason does not prevail
Craving continues
And the inability takes over.
Autumn leaves and melancholy
The city park an Oasis for a lovers stroll
As the cold nights invade the city lights
Park benches, the hotels for the homeless
A vagrant inebriated man, withered
Drunk and destitute, no home to go
He lies listless, snoring on the park bench
Ragged clothes and a tattered life
Wake UP Wake UP
Shoved by the Police in the dead of night
You must move on old man
Or we shall issue you a court summons
Ah but where shall I go? he boldly demands
This is of no concern of ours old drunk
You must vacate this park now
We have no time for old drunk fools
The old man asks, and who pray tell are you?
I am the police, and your nightmare, if you don’t vacate now
Oh Police? Not officers of the peace? Here to serve and protect?
And who pray tell are you serving and protecting tonight?
Do not talk back old man
Worse things than a summons may befall upon you
Now move on you stinky drunk
As the story goes, the old man moved on, drunk and broken
The next day, no better for the wear
The old man rose, to begin another beggar’s day
Voices inside tormented him
Wounds from long ago
Today, he proclaimed time to collect his just rewards
His teeth ached, his belly hurt
He bought a gun, from the toy store
All he could afford
Off he went to the City Bank
Time for a withdrawal
Hand me all your cash he demanded
The teller whispered
Old man we all know you
You can not think to get away?
Why you barely stumbled your way in here
I doubt you can make it to your getaway bus?
- concern and compassion in her voice
He replied all proud
None the less hand me your cash
My plan is sound, you pretty lass
Fear not I mean no harm to you sweetie
At the door, those very same Police
Yelled drop your weapon
And so he did
As they pushed him violently to the ground
Sitting in the back seat, he smiled
Finally justice will be served
The Officer scolded him
You drunk, you will be locked away now you scum
40 years before, the irony of life was to be painted
The old drunk saved the life of a fellow soldier
Who had a son, whom became a police officer
Irony is the sadness that shall sink many a heavy heart
Now the old man, with 10 years in prison
Finally his country paid his dues
This old war vet, got his 3 square meals
His teeth all fixed and healthcare for an ailing heart
God bless those who truly serve and protect
I left California a week ago Sunday.
Alone with my map, I found the way.
Initial trepidation gave way to wonder.
Beauty of the land enhances the spell I'm under.
From Novato to Tahoe, the drive was slow.
Allowing the remembrance of freeway driving to grow.
Expecting Nevada to be a long, boring drive.
The high desert vistas permitted my juices to thrive.
The interplay of clear blue sky and the light
Creating wondrous hues and vistas of pure delight.
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds,
A wide-mouth frog carved in the mountainside winked at me.
A ribbon of highway stretched across the Salt Flats.
Looking more like the desert I expected awhile back.
The Great Salt Lake out of nowhere appears
Glistening in the sun like a clear, shiny mirror.
Turning south in Salt Lake City, a planned detour
The Utah rock stars I wanted to explore.
The landscape changed as ever higher I climbed.
Mesas in the distance of color sublime.
Zion and Bryce Canyons... magnificent to behold
Paled in significance as Route 12's glories unfold.
Each bend and curve created a new scene.
From pure, sheer red rock to pine mountains of green.
Land of the Anasazi, the Ancient Ones.
Lived in Boulder, Utah; an oasis in the sun.
The Escalante Grand Staircase is dedicated to them.
Feeling their energy as I traveled the rim.
Torrey to Moab and Arches Monument Park
The formations of red rocks truly touched my heart.
Guardians, gatekeepers, animals, angels and more
Chiseled in stone that was once the ocean floor.
Petrified sand dunes spread before my eyes.
A white rolling desert of rock under clear blue skies.
Opening again to wondrous chiseled formations.
Natural arches and windows of the mountain nations.
Treated myself to lunch in the “Eklektica Cafe”
Met a young man there who made my day.
He gave me the perfect response to "Why Boulder?”
Tell them, he said, “I'll let you know when it's over.”
Touring now behind me. I'm ready to roll
Heading full-steam to Colorado; pine and aspen to behold.
As I cross the border, I am greeted by a sign.
“Welcome to Colorful Colorado. The Trail Through Time.”
I have come full circle somehow I knew
Driving along, I remembered each view.
While there is no ocean; rivers and lakes abound.
It feels very much like I'm homeward bound.
Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
On comes a traveler from lands that I have not wandered only visited
Bringing with him memories of the pains I have borne through my life
Like the desert whose dunes I dared only once to climb when youth held me fast
A fleeting grasp, a tentative hold that was as it must be for us all I have come to see
In those valleys of sand where the sun drank from my body ravenously to crack my skin
I saw only once the whispering vision of life in the distance
Shimmering in the heat of the burning sands stood an oasis many miles deeper
So I set out with that vision hardly in my mind across the desert
Over mountainous dunes and into abyssal valleys with the sun raking my back
I walked and then I crawled when my feet became blistered stumps rubbed raw
I crawled until my hands and knees bled
I crawled until I held my head high no longer
Still I wandered, still I moved despite the sand choking my eyes closed
I crawled my body burned and my eyes blinded by sun and sand
Only to find my way back to this shack on the Desert’s edge
My journey had betrayed me I believed
My journey had twisted me all around I thought
Until today when came a wanderer through the desert forge
To sit down and rest with heavy sigh and cloud of slowly settling sands
On his shoulder sat a grey old owl watching me silently with eyes of tired wisdom
In his arms the man carried his second friend a satyr with ivory pipes to match his horns
I nodded in quiet solitude rocking back and forth in my old wooden chair
So it was that we listened to the gentle creaking of the wood
Listened to thunder rolling in off the great Blue Divide
Listened to wind shushing through the leaves of Heaven’s Gate
Felt the heat wafting over us from the Desert’s edge
Neither of we two speaking, only listening until at long last with the sun beginning to set
The satyr stirred just enough to lift the pipes to his lips and then to play
A hauntingly sweet song of blissful sorrow like age-old memories of lost youth
And we listened to him play his song long into the night
Until the stars failed to shine and the curtain of day touched the veil of dreams
“Time to leave, time to go, time to say farewell
For there are roads still to travel and I have yet much to see
And so long a way to go,” he said with a quiet voice of strength