Long Observational Poems
Long Observational Poems. Below are the most popular long Observational by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Observational poems by poem length and keyword.
An old brochure
Bunch of possibilities, most of these are improbable pearls of wisdom. Never to be, never to have. Yet the warmth of coziness will be obvious. Like the baby in a daycare, acknowledged in gratitude, where the working couple left for a daytime job.
Leaving the storytelling chime to be stored for another secured time.
And the rest of the day would vibrate with the windcatcher moments, planning and planning throughout the day, that often times, and most often than not, lead to nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.
Your life has a subtle way to trespass in putting forecast out there, that it is only you. Fallible you. Yet, at the same time, it is not the frequency that is the gem of the observational truth.
As if? The question is always halfhearted.
As if, I am the doctor when I am supposed to be the patient. I am the moral law maker when I need to be the succumbed one in the submissiveness. I am the troublemaker mayhem when I will be the decisive return entropy question too.
A narrow escape between a daytime paystub that earns throughout a scaffold.
Even for the Royals.
Even within the Royals!
And my story will start, right there! A seamstress sitting on the moon, with a bunch of sewing chores, never understood around the way to returning back, in a safe wish!
An old brochure!
That never understood that bobbling is a permanent natural change all on the own account, even without disturbing the main course of happening!
Even for the even loaves!
(1-31-2024)
Neither Agama nor Nigama
No mind games no enigma
All that it takes
Is to conditioning forsake
Layer by layer
Erasing delusion that hovers
Manifesting as contraction
Life negation
Smiling at the stranger
Embracing the wayside beggar
Agendaless
In blissfulness
We simply follow the scent
Of love as our native element
Bliss cognisance
Awareness of innocence
Unfettered by mind body association
Observational meditation orientation
Devoid of all seeking or anticipating
Being to become bliss by vaporising
There is no one here and hence no doing
Save presence in stillness slowly blossoming
For years, the King of Terrors
had been blamed for every fear.
At last, he agreed to be interviewed.
He arrived in a black cape
with a crown too large for the door,
and asked whether the room
contained any ducks.
“Your Majesty,” I said,
“people claim you are responsible
for irrational fears.”
“People,” he said,
“are responsible for irrational fears.
I merely receive the letters.”
I opened the first file.
“Elevatophobia.”
“Metal cupboards
that travel vertically,” he replied.
“I rest my case.”
“Climacophobia.”
“A staircase, a ladder,
or steep terrain
with its safety removed.”
“Nyctophobia.”
“Darkened halls
are corridors
practising secrecy.”
“Arachnophobia.”
The King adjusted his crown.
“Even spiders
should have privacy.”
“Anatidaephobia.”
“Ducks are watchful,” said the King.
“That is not irrational.
That is observational.”
“Xanthophobia.”
He glanced nervously
at the yellow pencil on my desk.
“The sun is yellow,” I said.
“Exactly,” he replied.
“Turophobia.”
“Cheese does not improve
with being left alone in caves,”
said His Majesty.
“It becomes confident.”
“Geniophobia.”
The King lowered his own chin
behind the royal collar.
“Linonophobia.”
He watched my untied shoelace
curl across the carpet.
“It is making connections,” he said.
The clock ticked.
“Your Majesty,” I asked,
“are you frightened of anything?”
“Certainly not,” he said.
“I am the King of Terrors.
Fear kneels before me.”
I turned to the final file.
hippo
poto
monstro
sesqui
ppedalio
phobia
The King’s crown slipped sideways.
“That,” he whispered,
“is not a word.
It is a corridor
with no visible exit.”
The clock ticked once.
His Majesty screamed,
diving through the window
into a hedge
full of cucumbers.
Your most recent interest in observational truth in laptop monitor
Gave you an ultimatum today.
He , as she, in he, as she again, grabbed you in all kinds of tree ,
remnant there before serenity
What is poetry, in the end?
Thinkable pedagogy, is , for the most bizarre reason, telling you
That this is comparable prepositions, with positionality
And the fruit of loom, or something relatable, there.
I felt a bang , and got a downsizing pounding sound,
Between, Jerusalem, Nazareth and prepaid Jesus to pay
More and more for a daycare say.
For a sip from the cup of the finest exported loose leaf tea
Are you a mere sip there, or you started to travel there, onsite
Creating all kinds of copyright issues, as the illegibility
Never declared you anywhere, in norms, in mother’s winter coat
Exactly how much was fatherly charm there, and how much there was a mere setting warmth
As people learn to happen in alibi as there is no straightforward way to find a definition or vision
Your cat was unthinkably your budget failure key, as they mew and sigh
But they were there, truly, with your most delicate caring try.
I think it is a joking endowment
As it will be a mere lump some .
Your rides and ride share with the knight rider storyteller
Only comparable to Little Red Riding hood
Changing the destined persona too, irreversible and altogether
I do not blame , judge , or juxtapose, there, I never pity too
But Bangla, and exactly 21 years long stay on this territory, with often heavy Bangla
I think I dreamt you last night, where you , as a soul and Clover, in a body
Did happen as the most charismatic duo! With a Zulkarnine monitor truth in!
Licking on the other side for hours and hours in longer duration
Will lead nowhere , exactly nowhere , other than, this, mortal life
Is a conscious choice between claim, proclaim and proclamation
I am a reluctant reader there, trying to look through, even beyond allegory and alighieri
You do not hold them accountable for your compositional hype for a dirge
That does not act linearly with your issue room, tissue room, and culture vulture too!
All you can say should stay there, for ever.
Do not send help reaching out there, never there
Simply a one liner truth for falling short from a papyrus poem, anyway
As this must be helping to internalize, more than anything than that.
Every word, sentence and paragraph has three main components. Each one has a beginning, a middle, and an ending. On All Poetry there are two groups specializing in brevity. Pure brevity and brevity. Pure brevity can have as a complete poem only one word. Brevity can have more than one. "There is nothing new under the sun." But just supposing the words won't come, and you do not know what to say? What words, or images or memories pop into your head and/or your heart or mind. Use your God given imaginations
You could say," My mind is a complete blank today. I really don't know what to say. I don't know how to think it. I had a thought lingering in my mind for a few brief moments. Than it slipped away like always. Christians can rely upon Jesus Christ and/or the Holy Spirit for inspirational words and topics. There is always the Bible. And there are free on-line books of the Bible on the internet.
Jews can rely upon the Bible as well for background knowledge and/or information. The Bible is really for everyone. When I was younger I used the Old Testament books of the Bible. Psalms and Proverbs. I still draw upon the bottomless well of knowledge, the Holy Bible!
For example I wasn't sure if the correct word was either earth or world. So I used the word earth. I searched the book of Revelations. Only to come up empty. The correct word I needed was world. I made the necessary changes to my Psalm of Victory! The psalm is to be found on my All Poetry website.
Observational poems are based upon experiences either yours or other people. The full white luminous moon lite up the starry nighttime's sky. Famous poets frequently relied upon nature for inspiration. "Poems were made by fools like me but only God can make a tree." I forget her name, but remember one line of her famous poem.
Avoid having things either too short or too long. Depending upon your composition and/or audience. But there are one word, sentence and line poems. Avoid being verbose and using fourteen letter words. Unless it is recommended. Jot down your thoughts, doddle do art work. Whatever works out best for you and your prospective readers. Pray really works!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
March 05. 2020
A bridge from colloquial to courtly
fare
A span where idealism and fantasy
pair
A railway to the existential realm;
celestial lair
A conduit through which rational
discourse can flare
Deep medium to: forage, inculcate,
and inform
Broad brush to paint rare beauty;
sculpt surrealistic form
Incisive scalpel to surgically alter
the societal norm
Delicate utensil to educate on
civility and decorum
A literary organ; a prosaic construct
A mechanism our syntax to
deconstruct
An analytical tool; an observational
viaduct
Introspective milieu to reduct;
extrovertive sphere to reconstruct
A semantical edifice that aspiring
wit, lofty orations implore
An experimental structure
gramatical anomalies to explore
A thematic repository in which
concrete ideas, abstract notions to
pour
A vernacular cathedral butressed by
an idiomatic core
I once had an office job sitting next to Miss Sunshine day in and day out. She and her 7th Day Adventist Jesus were always so positive and jolly about everything, it was hard not to smack her.
One day with syrupy sweet intonation she asked why I was so cynical and wasn't I an unhappy person.
I said, "Only a sociopath could be happy about the truth of things, but I'm just a realistic observer not hiding behind cheerful nonsense; there's no correlation to happy or unhappy. Look at you for instance. You are smiling and upbeat all the time. And I don't believe I've ever met an unhappier person."
She was stunned, momentarily silent, mouth hanging open. Then she burst into terrible wracking sobs of anguish.
Observational quietude centreless
yet immersed in attention quanta
each packet of trance upon release
stretches void of silence continuità
As internalising attention in stillness
is distilled as our default orientation
stagnative fears and desires recede
throb of bliss our flowing meditation
Innate affinity choosing prioritisation
the potential desire becoming kinetic
manifesting reality as ourself chosen
pull of void alone bliss pulse eclectic
Gradually thus recalibrating our core
resonating with divine omnipresence
mind body identity shifts in alignment
becoming one with the bliss essence
14-September-2020
Musings of The Bereft
Bravery that shocks one into affirmative action
Averies filled with exotic bird life and the next commercialised attraction
Slavery that is out of plain sight as it coverts and hides amidst distraction
Unsavoury seconds of insight that convert knowledge into abstraction
Consequential propositions from behind a political scene
Sequential premonitions that define what we all mean
Existential inhibitions that decentralise and demean
Quintessential inquisitions that refine what we dare to dream
Meandering manifestations of glory, grace, virtue and love
Mastering illuminations that tell the narrative from above
Manufacturing mechanisations as we look for peace signs from a dove
Unflattering weopanisations of war when push comes to shove
Conversational dialogue between two enemies of different tongues
Adaptational epilogues from scientists surveying the sun
Observational analogies from commentators only in it just for the fun
Revelational catalogues elevated from the philosophical run
Abstract terminology that both enlightens and confounds
Detract cosmologically as the wisdom morphs into the profound
Enact ideology as we grow each seedling from the ground
Protract high technology as we indoctrinate the sounds
Reminiscent nostalgia at the forming of a retrospective thought
Luminescent emotion filled with awe & wonder to the point of becoming distraught
Incandescent shades of melancholy ponder on what parts of the soul that can be bought
Convalescent tones of introspect that are hard won and fought
Rising interludes of consideration as we look toward the twighlight sky
Hiding magnitudes of commiseration as we take a moment to quietly cry
Shining latitudes of pure sensation as the tears well in my eyes
Miming platitudes of intonations that can only ask the question why?
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz 2025
Drawing-
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
Pencil, crayon, felt marker
I saw the pale cover of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the paper I paint.
Water dripping everywhere, how quaint
Does the paint make you shiver?
Does it?
Learning is observational process I’m drawing.
Observational process is learning designing.
Never forget the muzzy and muddled fuzzy learning.
A sparking, lines however hard it tries,
Will always be preliminary lines of my picture.
Now exploratory is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the sparking is explorative so sheik
Drawing.
6/7/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©