Long Obe Poems
Long Obe Poems. Below are the most popular long Obe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Obe poems by poem length and keyword.
An out of body experience?
I hadn’t thought it might be that.
I only knew that something happened
that was strange and a bit scary,
and it has happened twice.
Both of these times I was driving my car
in a very, very familiar territory.
The first time I was headed for my
favorite grocery store, as I had done
at least once a week for many years.
I never varied my route.
Perhaps I had let my mind wander a bit,
playing with words for a new poem or
trying to decide just which flowers
would look best in the design I
was entering for competition.
I rounded the corner for the last half-mile
and suddenly everything looked strange,
as if I had never been there before.
The road stretched ahead with nothing
looking familiar and the day
had turned very bright.
Everything became common place again, as
the stop light marking my left turn
into Safeway’s parking lot, turned green
without my having to stop.
My grocery shopping experience
was uneventful and I had almost
forgotten the weirdness of that
day, when it happened again.
This time I was even closer to my home.
I had lunched with friends in the little town
four miles down the road. I had raised my family
in that town and then had married again
and moved to a farm where we had built
a new home, forty years before.
Fifteen or a few more years ago, they had
made a change in the road that went into town.
Formerly it had circled around a high ridge,
but too many accidents on that turn
had caused the county to move a portion of it
They had put in a wide curve
in order to avoid the hill.
Coming home from my lunch I
suddenly disconnected from my
surroundings. I was coming around
the curve and absolutely
everything was new and exotic to me.
How could this be? I had just traveled
this road in the other direction
two hours ago
I came back to my self at the stoplight.
There on the opposite side of the road
was the house I had lived in while we
were building our home just a mile up the
road.
I put no name on my experiences…
but I cannot help but ponder their meaning.
Who am I, anyway?
I wear the mask of many faces.
I speak, read, and understand—
sometimes with words,
sometimes telepathy.
My voice changes with my face.
I just need a witness.
Attuned to me, I become every language you know,
but I do not know the geography of my own soul.
I dare not look at my face.
It is a drama mask—
sometimes surgical, sometimes not.
Nurse. Poet. Mother.
Sinner. Saint.
Underneath: no face.
I mirror what I see.
I am fluid.
Mist.
The breath you forgot to exhale.
I am the diagnosis you didn’t want.
The cure you don’t need.
Everything and nothing—
and still,
I bleed love.
I have walked through Egypt, China,
Italy, Russia—
snow made of glass.
I’ve been to hell and back.
Purgatory is where I live.
A mystery to myself.
So multilayered I must have alters.
I am not a delineating man.
Not a good person.
Just human.
I am lost in Saturn’s rings,
Jupiter’s vastness—
but Earth diminishes me.
I look to the moon for inspiration.
Spiralling players, man after man,
opening up my heart
like I’m on a butcher’s block.
Venom falls like rain—
but dries before it can stain.
Archangels turn away.
Demons cry.
I walk in places others won’t look.
My heart breaks daily
for the pain we scatter like a farmer’s oats—
and we don’t even water our crops.
Five sacred wounds:
wrists, feet, side.
Invisible nails. A spiritual lance.
Bloody scars bloom
where thorns or teeth
cut into my sanity.
I am Boudicca’s daughter—
Iceni rebel.
I am Eve,
before and after the apple.
I am Adam.
I am the snake.
I am Lilias Adie,
Agnes Finnie,
Bridget Cleary.
Witch. Wife. Changeling.
Burned not for crimes,
but for fear.
And yet,
I rise.
I join the uprising of women in philanthropy.
I stand on their shoulders and rise above:
Malala Yousafzai.
Greta Thunberg.
Judith Heumann.
Janet Mock.
Amanda Gorman.
Hannah Cockroft, OBE.
Dolly Parton.
We are many.
We rise in waves,
and they drown in the tide they made.
And still they wonder
why we howl at the moon.
“With Education you can change the world”
I was a fly on the wall and I saw... The “discriminating few” students take many steps back, In giving values, ethics and morals the sack, Whilst cultivating fear in the hearts of a divided nation And rejecting dignity in search of debt relaxation.
I was a fly on the wall and I saw... Potential school leavers view the status quo void of hope: From the “frying pan” of the challenges of OBE life Into the cauldron of the “#FMF” strife, they ponder, Or the ‘opportunity cost’ of joining the UIF queue: With bleak futures on the horizon, they search for a tunnel light to ensue...
I was a fly on the wall and I saw...
Two decades ago a proud nation take a forward stance, Shepherding an era that elevated every unified plea, Touching hearts and transforming minds at every fleeting chance; Heralding Madiba’s legacy of forgiveness, reconciliation and peace...
I was also a fly on the wall when Madiba said: “Education is the most powerful weapon one can use to change the world”.
So distorting the view, a discriminating few seemed to misconstrue: That by “Using strife to change the world, ‘Free Education’ falls into your lap”. And as the smoke clears, it doesn’t allay many fears, ‘Cause the precedence that caused many tears, Is doomed to widen the generation gap...
Ronald W. Springfield
These words are woven
With threads of tear
Laced in the needle of anguish.
In truth, I can tell of how it feels
To be pinched by piercing pain.
My soul is scissored
My heart, ripped apart
My mind refuse to mend.
And I am not the only one
Dressed in this pale grief gown.
I'm only a friend
Who became a brother.
And if asked to write about you,
Would wield metallic words
With no Ore of exaggerations.
Should it be of your seemingly sweet smile
Which springs from the fountain within?
Or your ever merry soul
And your charming Nightingale voice
Resounding melodiously
With a magnetic vibrato
That can pull a cripple to wiggle in dance?
Should it be tales of your tender love for younger Souls?
The curvy smile your lips form
When you openly chant
Secret words with Mom?
I can go on and on,
Down the slope of memories
Picking golden coins as I
Surf the subway
Of the time we shared.
The news of your demise
Was the uncorked grenade,
Thrown through the passage of my ears,
Leaving my heart in shreds.
I had thought you'd come back
And walk me down the street,
Smiling, as we compare heights.
I had thought that before
heading North again,
I'll sure see you at your best;
Only to be told that you lay in rest,
That your sun suddenly
Became shy; refusing to rise.
Today is your birthday
But you're not here to celebrate it.
We could blow out the candles: for you
With wishes that you'd stay.
But this birthday girl returned to dust..
P.S: Doris Jorju Ikhile...
#Sky-dahWeighWordSon loves you,
#Simisola does,
#Morolake too.
#Baju (Obe Leo) miss you.
#Oyindamola was broken.
#Olamide felt numb.
#Nikho hope you stayed.
#RCCG Everlasting Light Parish forever loves you.
#Mom??? No other woman deserves to MOTHER you. Birthing and nurturing you in a way others envy; with love exceptional.
We miss you and you'll forever remain Dear to our Hearts.!!!
OBE
I never really believed in the white light
At the end of a tunnel-try as I might
I was having a laugh with the anaesthetist
When the surgeon did ask him for a quick assist
“Why is she not asleep yet? I heard him ask
She is used to the pre-meds, don’t worry this is my task.
After many bouts of surgery over the years
I was hard to knock out but I still had my fears.
I loved the sleep anaesthetic does give
The dreams are so wonderful and so real and vivid.
This one was different I remember it well
I was sat very high up looking down I could tell
There was a lot of commotion below me that I could see
There were bells ringing and flashing lights and then I saw me
Wow this is weird how am I lying there but here I was looking around
I could not believe it a white light did surround
I was laughing and thinking this can’t be real
Nobody sees a white light never mind tries to feel
It surrounded me and I felt it, I now wasn’t to sure
I had never seen anything like it before
On top of the electric light that was below
I saw the dust sitting on it even with the bright glow
Then there was calm and things did quite down
There was a rushing in my ears but no other sound.
A voice came to me and said “Come on now wake up”
A tap on my cheek and I felt them pull the pipe up
I coughed and she smiled,” it’s all over now
We are glad to see you, you don’t know how.”
When I awoke they were standing round my bed
One nurse I knew said “We thought you were dead”
Charming said I, why what went wrong?
“Your heart did stop beating, but now it is strong.”
I wondered what had happened I was watching you all
No you cannot have been, don’t say that, that tale is to tall
I told them of the alarms the beeping and coloured lights
I was watching from above, seeing what I might
They smiled at me with an indulgent look
But I know what I saw so they can put that in their book.
Hovering over my body, my soul is liberated,
like the caged bird set free, spreading my wings
completely separated from the physical world
in a timeless state of mind.
I float weightless as if in a dream, though I am awake,
I do not hear but feel whispering prayers of love,
a pure sensation of ecstasy like drippings of warm honey.
Voices serenade like angels surrounding me in white, puffy clouds.
My soul continues to elevate,
a twinkle in the freebird's eye,
my soul shines as I soar until the earth is below.
Tears well in my eyes from the magnificent beauty of creation
and my mouth cries out praises without words.
Given true knowledge, I understand my life and purpose
beyond the confinement of the physical realm.
I am energy...distinct yet one with all.
Soaring higher into a radiant light, I am overtaken by brilliance,
transported into a greater, indescribable splendor.
Encircled by sparkling waterfalls of effervescence,
the color of the water, the most vibrant blue I have ever seen.
My soul flows, a feeling of pure fluidity like the waters.
My eyes are dazzled by the glorious images all around
as majestic birds adorned in elegant plumage
call my name from cool, gentle breezes.
Here, I continue to float in harmony with nature.
The shackles of pain and sickness are nonexistent.
My spirit dances with the birds on the breeze,
the caged bird set free, my soul sings.
Charmed by the bright aura engulfing me,
I fall into the warmth of the crystal waters beyond the falls.
As I sink back into my body, my strength is renewed.
I have found my center, at peace and
feeling alive for the first time.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, April 5, 2012
for OBE contest (Catie Lindsey)
David Wier OBE started out with a crowd of only five,
Watching him race in the fast track events very alive,
In the swift wheelchair races, as he is spinally injured,
From his birth, and could not use his legs anchored.
Disappointed with these Paralympics in Atlanta 1996,
Dignity did beckon him to ask people then to quickly fix,
This sheer ignorance about the worth of disabled folks,
So that the crowds then came, and disability was talks.
He’s a marathon racer and so won London six times,
He won two golds at the 2008 Beijing summertimes,
He won four golds at the 2012 Paralympics of flares,
Three for track, and one for the marathon that wares.
He succeeded in the Great North Runs with records,
And in the Great Manchester runs, like many Concords,
And has flown to Switzerland for the Oensingen run,
And to New York as well as to Portugal, Lisbon of sun.
Baroness Tanni-Gray Thompson inspired his long days,
The female wheelchair racer who won 16 medals, daze,
At the Paralympics, starting in Seoul in 1988 with speed,
She took the crowd to a very certain magic place indeed.
Twice he has won the British Wheelchair Sports Award,
He was disabled sports personality of the year, forward,
In 2006 as he was named, and in 2010 proud and tall,
He became part of the London Youth Games Fame Hall.
Wier has three kids, two with his present partner Emily,
A boy and two girls, and to Emily he’s not an anomaly,
Because he loves her very much, and who’s yet again,
Pregnant with baby, and so won’t being going to Rio ken.
Sophie gained a MSci degree from London University,
In 2011, when she was 23, and was born prematurely,
So her Cerebral Palsy meant that post operation rehab,
Came thru the Riding for the Disabled Association, fab.
She loved Charters School, Sunningdale, an education,
And broke onto the Paralymic scene aged 16, action,
When as the youngest GB athlete in Athens, Greece,
She won a bronze on Hotstuff in the dressage piece.
The 2005 Hungary European Championships, next year,
Saw her win three gold medals, and then next again year,
The 2007 World Championships saw her win a bronze,
And in the freestyle dressage there were gold lawns!
The Summer Paralympics came round again in 2008,
But instead of the equestrian events being held, gate,
In Beijing with everything else, they were held away,
In Hong Kong, in the Olympic Equestrian Centre, way?
So determined Sophie competed in her second games,
To win an individual gold medal in the freestyle, claims,
And won a silver medal in the championship dressage,
This time on her horse Lambrusco, groomed corsage.
At this point in time in 2009, she won the MBE proud,
For her services to disabled sports, ‘cos she’s a loud,
Patron of many charities, and 2012 saw her take gold,
Once again, in the individual freestyle, postbox gold.
Sophie was given an OBE in 2013 in the honours list,
And in 2015 won a Woman of the Future Award to assist,
She works for Goldman Sachs in the financial city, hub,
With her first class masters degree in mathematics, club.
A view from a teaspoon selection is very spellbinding indeed. Half a cup of multicolumns and a pint of milk singing and swaying together. It takes much effort to pick up a seed. Much kilograms queuing for weight is to wait and to wait is to wave five hundred times at a doorway. Putting pet fish in a cistern whilst flushing is stupid, and cruel, and rather unnecessary for cleaning the tank. But bringing a bull into the house will promote heating. Specialized agencies of horn fur and raged eyeball in a coat. OBE in a tree. Sittingbourne sitting down. A pile of curtain cloth should be ample material to wipe away smears and residue of acidic peelings, nine metre forts of brain, televised episodes of epics, and balls of glowing colourful spinning radishes. Enter then leave. Mesmerizing merrymaking men make monsters. Mainly in a red reflection. Hum the twenty song loudly. All together. Detract no horror but horror is often hidden in even the most sparkling paper tissue. But the calling from the bead of time, that bell in the breeze. Will ensure a cake gives news that is sufficiently correct. Justification then. Good. At last the commas play with the full stops peacefully. Fantastic isn't it? Ha ha ha ho ho ho and a flow from a cactus in a nice crown. Ha ha ha but no ho ho whistling waters with wanton soup. Xxxxx anthropologist z z z z z z z z z Z!.¥~¥~¥~_^>
Form:
I
of
warped words
& soundless mind
out of mindless sight
no(some)where
blurring into
the No-Go Realm
(chasing cunning
cryptic clouds
of thoughtcrimes)
I touch
no man's land
out never
where I'm supposed
to be or
not begin
I am there
not here
catastrophically
contemplating
caricatures
of contorted
mindscapes
I am here or there
out of control
cleverly out of sorts
sorting out
sordid
collusive clutter
evading
enemies
in the
Dog Days of Delusion
one
dissolving
poem
at a time
(time a at
emit a ta
eat
ate)
composing symphonies of
poignant
collapse
collaps
collap
colla
col
co
c
--
while
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
!NELLAF!
I am (t)here
heretofore
hermetically
hallucinating
(elucidating)
zephyrs of
hell
I am not
hereoutthere
but in the sorrid
whereness
of concocted
weaponized
words
I am here
seeking
terrifying stardoom
sailing through
the tragicomic
mimetic memes
(tumbling
turbulently
into the
anti-universe)
I send
heat-seeking
missives towards
Austeroid
where
alienated artisans
eat alien
space bats
My purpose
(dis)served
as
I seek my
missing muse
from the
musing Minotaur
and a
peaceful
OBE
upward
towards the
noosphere