Long Operas Poems
Long Operas Poems. Below are the most popular long Operas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Operas poems by poem length and keyword.
An oversized vintage T-shirt is
My weekend attire or
More like my mainichi attire
My face bare
Exposing an unnamed galaxy of freckles
The bottle of
Cheap combini
Apple sparkling wine
Feelin like a millionaire
A neon highlighter between my lips
A novel in my hand
While the others wait its turn
Lounging around in piles
All over my room
The mismatched mugs
With the coffee or tea
I didn’t finish drinking
Sitting cold
Flipping through different playlists
Am I feelin like the present
Might be better to
Throw it back a little
To the better days
When the places I commuted to were
Not only
My desk chair in the morning
And
My bed at night
Gazing up at the
Skies of my ceilings and walls
To see the stars of impressions
I’ve found light years ago
Will I find other vibrant constellations
That are none like the rest?
I stare at the blank walls
As if I can magically materialize
Somethin
Just a little different somethin
To make the days
Pass a little faster
My scars on my hand are healin
The scars of last summer
Dangerous carelessness
A slip of the hand
A slip of the slicer
A bit of blood but no foul
It was all my mistake of the making
Silly silly mistake
At least I’ve been fortunately given
Given the gift of time
To heal
To grow
And face em front fearlessly
Some days breaking down
In nightmares
With unknown meanings
That cannot be depicted
Some days breaking down
Into grateful laughter
The colors of my nails changing like the
Changing of the seasons
The quiet but solemn translation
From spring to summer
Sakura pink to
Silver scales of mermaid lagoons
Dreamin of the day
To return to sea
The waterfalls of rain
Spraying my windows
The trees bellowing in the wind
Come golden beans of sun
With the cicadas
Announcing the first day of aelin
Opening the curtains to midsummer
The season of magic and fairies
Yet
I stay on my chair
Undisturbed by the chaos
Outside my window
Writing the verses
My heart tells me
To compose
The feelings
That cannot be fathomed
Into stars
The abendrot sun
Sees through my smile in the daylight
The nyctophilic moon
Solemnly watching my
Silent cries at night
They both keep my secrets
As I keep composing
My operas of comedies and tragedies
Scathing these miscoloured orbs of sight, with incised rocks carved beneath
Concretionaries jagged edges of contagiums....
Painted upon the predominating canvas of perceptions dank, pasteled times!
So what has changed, this mosaic of histories collective collage?
As one way or another many, infused, inebriate their thoughts to inertia
Binding and bound; within these thicker links of connotations chains....
While they bury their bleeding nails into walls; immersed within darker days
Wherein few lives withdraw completely these claws, of concourses contaminating
Which extends itself polymorphously, deeper....
This unknowing muted muse amongst, everbearings, everyway?!
Unto the very core within, bleaksomes mangled maze, of, adapted art....
This abstract and blurried shadow of vagues, prolific presentations
How to pound the hearts into tears, of burnings coffins, set ablaze
Amid the dawning of insanities decrying of decrepits, decores, so displayed....
Within these assylums waiting for their fills
Beyond, the ghostly bars of Baals, notes, now played
By this 'Phantom of The Operas' corpse; deceivings decay, exhumed....
These flaming embers of ashes; fortiums pins of pain!
The crows casting within corners; like shackles upon most; the guiles, of guildeds shame?
This sifting of flour to find the implosion of caverns
Crashing, upon themselves to the suffocating truths, of, their often buried alive....
Subsisting encased within the cages like creatures, placed on exhibit?
An example, of the modern day creations, lifted from the poisoned palettes, of Palladians ways
Swirling within these inversions; smoke upon the rise....
Black splashings, atop the pavement of profounds
Sculptors, with their crucifying knives!
More concise within their uncompromising; binding the bound, within these thicker links of
chains
While they bury their bleeding touch, into the walls of this darklings darkest haze
Wherein few souls escape such palindromic brushings
These, emdedded pigments, of the palinodes days of daze....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contemporary Art!?
Form:
What LeftBrain Yang learns about nature,
by standing apart from nature,
RightBrain Yin explores within Sacred Nature v Secularizing Pathology.
LeftBrain Yang
sells us Win-Lose choice
of therapy restoring peace, someday,
or retributive traumatic self-righteous justice,
sufficient for today.
RightBrain Yin
would offer ego/ecotherapy within,
with sacred natural-spiritual
nondual Yang-Yin primal relationship.
Yin darkly offers this deeper sacred ecological gift
of cognitive-affective dissonance,
anti-enthymematic noise,
resistance,
depressing witness,
Yin lightly invites divine co-presence,
basic attendance,
noticing Win-Lose of YangLeft
against YinRight crises
As also Win-Win LeftEgo
within RightEco
sacred Gaian opportunities
for restoring cooperative
bilateral balancing
health-therapy
Rather than Yang's dominating habit
of dismissing,
undervaluing Yin's matriarchal WisdomCircles
seeking com[passionate]
poly[culturing]
natural-spiritual outcomes.
Our political economies of choice
toward Win-Win cooperative light
or competitive Win-Lose,
not quite so bright, defaults,
preferences,
instincts,
choices,
proclivities
invite restorative therapies
of RightBrain's Sacred Tao-ecology
With ThreePoint Trinitarian thermodynamics
dipolar appositional vectors,
nomials,
variables,
dialectal structures,
morphology,
ethology,
cosmology,
revolutionary transubstantiation,
wu-wei dipolarity,
positive psychology,
biology,
sacred ecology
of Win-Win bilaterally humane-divine
ego-eco
Left-Right
DNA-RNA ecopolitical solidarity
Fractal holonic 4D RealTime relationships,
double-binding
within full-color and sound
scaled spectral octaves
Singing and dancing together
but not merely toward or for poor victim sinner Others,
and certainly no longer degenerating away from
restoring co-redemptive Others,
but Win-Win singing PermaCulturing NatureSpirit Operas,
already at bicameral hand
and foot
and mindbodies
within bilateral Earth-consciousness
Teaching and learning
speaking and hearing
giving and receiving
deep sacred healthy-wealth,
compassionate nurturing ecology.
All conversations,
like harmonic music,
practice rhetoric's resonant reconnection
with communicating hope,
spirited intent,
re-ligioning faith;
panentheistic love.
All revolutionary integral spirals
practice nurturing naturally healthy trends
with spirited hope,
mindful intent,
embodied creolizing faith;
and within Great EarthSystemic climaxing devolutions,
still small voiced sad-theistic love.
All divinely humane re-creators
nurture open-loop polyculturing re-ligions,
emerging local healthy
through global wealthy hope
reweaving positive empowering intent,
economic enlightened faith;
and, inter-religiously,
nurturing nature-spirited indigenous love
of organically sentient root systems
panentheistically savoring landscape re-development networks,
both on- and off-line,
with arts and craftsy non-ZeroEgo EcoCommunion Zones.
All verbal discernment practice
LeftBrain dominant language communion
with re-ligioning mind hope
for active body climaxing love,
faith in Gandhian nonviolent communion wealth
of nondually co-arising win/win healthy outcomes.
All reiterative information strings
within communication networks
organic and/or digital
practice co-arising/co-gravitating flow
Positive synergeticMind/synapticBody
AND DoubleNegative dipolar aptic,
with hope for less felt dissonance
and pathological absence
of primal LeftVerbal-thoughts/RightNonVerbal-feelings
bipartisan synergetic re-ligioning communication.
All love-sentience practices sacred communion
re-connecting healthy multiculturing ego-faith
within wealthy polyculturing eco-religion
EgoAnthro Left spoken
inside EcoEarth's unspoken Right
to live Tao balance proportions of symmetry,
Tipping MidWay Points
gleaming sunlight's reflection off Earth's transparent skin
toward Alpha OneSun Light through (0)Mega EarthPower
neuro/eco-woke bicameral bright
displaying Ego's mind/body stage
for song/dance
re-ligious health campaign wealth events,
each interdependent aria/aura
comprising EarthTribe's ReLigioning Opera.
It never was what you thought and my heart told me I could be playing a fool and her words I love you didn’t mean the same thing like many things she just said them to want to say it.
Perfect timing? Yeah that was it. It just sounded good. She doesn’t know lies told the truth in her eyes….wait she doesn’t care. LOVE just like UNDERSTANDING just words used from her lips that she tried to kiss me with. Venom juices in between, I must be immune to a snakes poisons kisses. When I slept she attacked me in my dreams with a smile that would kill if you paid attentions has she hides behind Her Mask. She’s beautiful only at times, though can be cold and mean. This couldn’t last, there is no way. What was I thinking she was dreaming of babies running around?
Say what? Not a solid mental state and it was fate that decided against her wishes, I thank God. I’m praying for the next guy coming along punching his time clock as I walk out the door asking what’s going on? Realize that we could be so foolish at times and blinded by things we can only have in dreams. I do my best trying not to listen to what other said but… Having seconds thoughts, taking its toll
I’m stuck wishing for better luck doesn’t cut it. I should have known when she disappeared like the morning fog like the sun hitting the due on the ground. Its dried excuses came. Yeah it’s the same thing. I’m ignored often. Phone calls go unanswered as I watch the story unfold. Soap operas, this won’t be the days of my life fighting to survive a relationship with the words I Love You are lose and plenty, 3 to 4 months later its told to others. One moment it’s all good then someone must have hit the switch on her back because she flipped. I’m this; I’m that, I’m wrong, she’s right. It’s an over the top argument in which I refuse to engage and then I noticed something was wrong reading in between the lines my eyes opened. Day dreaming as I lift my head she’s walking towards me, same smile, same lips. Deja vu caught me. I thought she was just a dream…
No voice is whispered in the void
Explosions inside the nest of stars
Ignite into the operas of the galaxies
Noiseless vacancies full of mysteries
Evolve, remain as vacuous as they are
Space, bridled by the fire balls of debris
To be explored once in the field of vision
That seem to come from nothing
Gone nova moving forward over eons
That follow in the open cosmic sea
Alternate universes yet to be observed
The ones with six dimensions or more
Vacuums pouring out pure particles
Emptying into something still to be determined
Into the unknown as wide as real as motion
To be defined, farther out in space
Farther than the mind can comprehend
Sounds that can't be embraced or heard
Out there, distances between the planets
Is enormous, before and after they are gone
So long measured in the calm before the storm
Reality is not mentioned here or there
Since there is no reference point to find
Too close for comfort as worlds collide
We resolve to change existence while in orbit
Bridged by alternate universes where planets rise
Stars go nova all the time
Elastic in an ocean of provocateurs
In the minus hours of creation
Jagged stones became much smoother
Edges compress in their rotations on
Filled in with shape and form
Earth was born in orbit
Weather forces wear down rocks
One size fits the planet well in gravity
Profound and rounded in ways too hard
To understand or simplify in cosmic terms
Conditions to strange to fathom circumstances
Or describe as fiction from long distances
More ovals on the horizon grow
Escape velocity stretched to the limits
On the elliptic mist where history lives
Rocks expand into the planets heavens
This all happens in split seconds over time
To fall all together from the sky to where we are
In every instant that can be conjectured on
Thought, as reality unfolds back on itself
Where it all began in silent matter conjured up
In the void, there is no noise
Space listens to questions postulated
Over distances filled in by vacancies
Written: March 2nd, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wingbeats on warm whisper wavelength
wasteland, waves of wasabi writhe
with wilting, whimpering, witless wring
whirls and willows whimsically wave.
Emerald pride waves over meadows,
Venetian Barcarole flails and whizz
viridian desires dance onto dales,
Eurydice weeps lost love in auric tears
Dawn draws dwindle, damp dimples.
Of flickering flowers and floating stars
Orpheus, the poet in paint-stained palms
portrays the paradoxes in love,
a roar of zeal and salty air in a blue sky
love stings, even endless moons
In ablaze that seldom strikes
Elysium ethereal elixir of souls.
With such spongy, slippery strokes
soothing serenade in early spring
Thunder rumbles, but cannot shatter
love of Orpheus and Eurydice
Destiny is etched in their stride
as wingless wisps prose sang and swam
Moon loops conflate with wispy vowels
pride is a cornerstone of identity
egos hold a shield of protection
love embraces all they cherish
paired potency, pelt a pound planet.
Akin to operas, rehearsed by singers
their spoof spirals higher in stride
a syzygy of stars in a mellifluous oasis
nurturing nemesis crystals
soar in silky, springy ischemic swings
fetching felicity, as flurry fades
Ignore impulses, let time slip away
still in grip of quintessential propinquity
over a pyre, rainbow Ink swirls
with ethereal wingless, sanguine sighs,
sumptuous zeal stirs the lifeless,
springtide serenades sibyllic sweeps.
As wisteria, spring sequoia, and love slay
weave an aura in vow threads
once serendipity embraces karma
Scarlet moons bleed in a plum sky
still, sustains its sonorous scintilla
at the zenith of wistfulness, uncover bliss
loving endures the rumblings of thunder
hope in its darkest night, never fades
smoothly drifting on brisk wing beats
love is a fruit of tangerine tenacity
love lullaby ignited by stark infatuation.
My world spins round
too fast most times
from Greek deep roots
on Black Sea ports
crossing Jordan's River
on Catherine's Great
trains meet sailboats
greeting sea planes
flying off to sports unknown
throughout Lake Odessa Highway.
Where Ottomans
blend Spanish matadors,
heroes for Earth's day
and night bleeds forth
a calvary of SunGod force
to please titillating whims
of Lake Odessa's middling class czarinas.
I can't go home again
to straight places never born.
My mind can wavey roam
and try to swim
and fly to where and what
and whom and why
we might have been
if we had built
a fine fair fortress
for peace that loves to rock
and sing sad songs
of what brilliant sights have been
in resilient Lake Odessa.
Instead of gangs
and clicky clacks
we learn monopolistic quacks
to flap and honk
like disturbed Canadian geese
Transubstand she ate
where great America
begins to end
through Lake Odessa's mean clean streets
Not too busy
self-righteous
sleep deprived
and deprogrammed lose to lose
to win our way
back home again
where Lake Odessa healthy meets
and wealthy greets
Love's polyamorous EarthMother role
as played by odysseys of We
writing comic operas
only eros kids can consensually see
was what Me loved
most secretly
in long lost Lake Odessa.
We need a better god for now
bringing peach tree jams
singing immortality
of love as healthy wise
Reframes lost unwealthy loves
to live in jesting jarring jokes
of honeyed sweet corn
thorn tested streets
tasting ancient salad Greeks
on shores of Lake Odessa.
We reunion back
to save each other
from what might have been
without sly rudders
Tipping posts from wu wei mothers
restoring crystal castle love
of unformed flows
that buzz with lifetime mystery
and retiring tours
that sag with straightline history
Spinning sprays
bewitching licking waves
lapping soft and sandy
on long gone sacred skies
of sanguine Lake Odessa.
Fragments of voices
like phrases of song
are accepted inside
as not too horribly wrong.
But whole operas,
learned dissertations,
and uncertain scientific recreations
are not accepted outside
without establishment's substantial reservations.
Indigenous wisdom hears
and reveres interdependent wholeness
while modern patriarchal strength
is willing to sacrifice independent fragments
to preserve overpowering social lengths.
If space is heard
in wholeness
versus inter-connecting fragments,
How different is this totalitarian
transcendent view?
When universal time
expects unchanging chronic wholeness,
constipating stuckness,
rather than interdependent holistic fragments
co-acclimating of and for this WholeEarth.
Fragmented voices
swallow sounds of hopelessly isolated individuals
inside and outside
when not listened to
with totalitarian absence of reassurance,
lack of personal appreciation,
or denied basic healthy identity tolerance.
These sounds
and song fragments
universally disintegrate Now,
against Past,
and Future
dispassioned
cycles of colonizing
violent revolutions.
Voices for fundamentally supremacist religion,
like choices for national monoculturing "patriotism"
sound terrifying when Wholeness
becomes transcendent universal Patriarchy,
kleptocratic,
rather than internally uniting Matriarchy,
messianic.
Voices sung in dissonance-stretching harmonies
[of oxymorons,
re-creative tensions,
dichotomies
anatomies
between competitive left minds, theoretical,
and cooperative right bodies, experiential,]
listen, instead,
for interdependent global Wholeness
co-arising universally personal multicultural fragments
of empowering integrity,
political symphony,
economic synergy,
artistic epiphany,
capital cooperativity,
universal fragmentary synthesis.
Fragments of voices
like phrases of song
are best accepted inside
like outside
if not too horribly long
wrong.
My Life is a song sung in a
series of repetitive inferior notes.
I’m unable to record mellow melodies,
as my violin strings continually play
with reckless violet villains.
As I sit and replay recitals of
bleeding love harmonies.
My soul is shattered and sunken
in silent sonnets.
I'm flickering through the tears of
tainted years of hexagon heartbreaks.
Unable to trust poetic phrases from a
cedar conductor whose musical agility
makes my saxophone eyes sing.
I conceal my sunrise hope in a
chaotic chorus of anguish;
which I play to my sympathetic
amber anxiety, to justify the
lonesome path I’ve chosen to hike.
I fail to embrace the serenity
of their light rap rhymes
in my erratic brain.
Instead, I reminisce
about my sorrowful pity puddle spells,
when countless deceptive trumpets
stole my musical directives
destined for classical charts.
I am forsaken in operas of
maroon misery serenaded by
these weeping, wailing windpipes.
I desire to awaken my
ancient pop culture life.
The sangria sunrise era
when only rainbow hits escaped my pen.
I recall I wrote reams of rhythmic sheets;
filled with halo heroes,
painting electrical euphoria
upon Harvard's crisp horizons.
A time when youthful bands sang of
everlasting devotion,
glowing glee upon my ebony core.
My fuschia feet are wounded and
depleted from my frequent falls in
my ballet of ruby romances.
I aspire to dance to all the Jazz
freedom beats and not break-dance
with soprano snakes.
As I’ve detected, they are thirsty for my
rhythmic rays for their
applause and accolades to reign.
Now is the time for my piano to
recreate my platinum diamond hits.
For my lyrical pieces to thrive,
I must retire my historical woes to the
rear of my Broadway sympathy show.
I accept this is the only way
to win my desired Tony prize.