Long Opine Poems
Long Opine Poems. Below are the most popular long Opine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Opine poems by poem length and keyword.
Infinite pitch black void zooms,
I vacillate to pitch headlong (head over heels)
where freedom looms
large (think) cosmic size grand canyon grooms
espouses, and cloisters unbridled wedded bliss
structured sound of silence booms.
Dawdling against inevitable fate
temporarily holds in check (mate)
eternal salvation woebegone
grievance to ameliorate
repurposed conscious being (me)
sanguine reunion ridding travesty
once for all ascending soul asylum gilded gate
consanguinity amidst deceased brethren
impossible mission to discern,
thus I equivocate.
At long last doomed existence
finally fancy free and footloose
Earthly afflictions divine creator
severe trials and tribulations let loose
promise body, mind and spirit triage
damn physical, mental, and
spiritual afflictions permanent vamoose
yoked Sisyphean and mephistophelean woe
summoning herculean strength
(mine) to vanquish
courtesy (halloo) gibbet welcome noose
necks stop outer limits analogous cooked goose.
Neither family nor scant friends twill mourn
severance outlook linkedin inextricably forlorn
accursed psychological agony since I got born
incessantly pilloried courtesy bullies hood scorn
yours truly convenient scapegoat raked over hot coals
preferable versus insidious,
nefarious, and opprobrious
suffering post traumatic stress disorder wartorn
invisible battle scars branded me, yet well worn
shell shocked comfortably numbed skull
jimmied heavily inebriated distilled, cracked corn
trumpet silenced (think) muted horn.
Anger at self wells up
regarding passive stance (mine)
convenient akin to jellyfish,
and/or crustaceans without spine
essentially a dorky nerdy wimpy kid
i.e. faulty genetic design
unsure if attributable to Capricorn zodiac sign
essentially allowed, enabled and provided
easy excellent access akin to scavengers to dine
bitter draughts synonymous quaffing quinine
figuratively forced down gullet - nein
letup liberally heaped upon
bobble headed, I opine
courtesy 20/20 hindsight, a tangential pact
with Sue S. Side, promising starvation diet
package deal plus absent I,
(now a tan gent) unwittingly did cosign.
Mind Bound to form,
expressioning itself in expose,
Borne of fatal attraction and Hell,
candied fermentation fomented
from randeed runon senses, where
weakened defenses dwell.
Chorus : of whispers creviced in the air,
wormhole-ear2ear,
promising satisfaction dear.
Echoes soulful melody to bear.
Open channel buggery,
bugbear, hear
my haunting tune that is everywhere.
Tisstisstisstiss tiss tisstisstisstiss
tisstisstisstiss tiss snap boing pop,
ding ding ding
Hooking marionette strings, lacing up,
face up it's not stopping.
You're like a fish on dry land flopping.
Tisstisstiss tisstisstiss
None can escape my loop of lasso Wonder Wisp.
(Milk Muppet purring spell of whisperkiss?)
You are a Willful_hostage to Stockholm syndrome feedback.
Hooked Lines Opine Fishing in
Sonic Skullduggery of black contrived chords
of dragging you along it's tract of track.
Try to go forward and get your life back.
Chorus : of whispers creviced in the air,
wormhole-ear2ear,
promising satisfaction dear.
Echoes soulful melody to bear.
Open channel buggery,
bugbear, hear
my haunting tune that is everywhere.
Tisstisstisstiss tiss tisstisstisstiss
tisstisstisstiss tiss snap boing pop,
ding ding ding
Hooking marionette strings, lacing up,
face up it's not stopping...
You're like a fish on dry land flopping...
~used my best try at the cadence of Spongebob song "Musical Doodle" from episode "earworm" from which the idea of this poem came
"poor Squidward, is in the ninth circle of Hell. Putting up with Spongebob and Patrick."
~MrFernando
There are certain deleterious effects
consequential developments and
conditional signs and symptoms
of being called-out, named, accused, or branded
of being, ever so slightly, a poet.
People may assume you live s cloistered, retiring,
purely academic existence, sipping only the rarified air
of your meditative being. Or
they might label you and your ephemeral art
as the drunken babble of an incoherent street poet. And
sometimes this is indeed a fact in all the case scenario's
here-for-to mentioned above, however in actuality,
though you perhaps might wax philosophical
on rare occasions, for instance when you opine
upon the mysterious disappearance of one matching
sock of any given pair of once matching socks,
however, in the main you are just a guy or gal
sitting with a laptop perched precariously on your belly,
trying to sound a whole lot brighter, more whimsical
and interesting than you really are.
Magnetised emptiness
As pulse of stillness
Life itself throbbing
As Ohm reverberating
The very aliveness
Of consciousness
Present at any coordinate
In blissfulness sedate
Is-ness within the flow
Innocence all aglow
Constancy in all variables
Renewal of Gods miracle
In & within & as the current
We self-existent are cognisant
In resonation with the divine
As we resistancelessly align
Imbibing-embracing-releasing
All hues of love enlivening
The thus renewal
Continual
Recognition readying attention
Orientation determining action
Of vibrational equivalence
Unity with oneness in innocence
Acceptance notwithstanding
In actuality of being
We cannot yet truthfully state
That we do not gyrate
Between duality & singularity
Be it oneness voicing versatility
Moment to moment our fulcrum
Is not at the pivot of the pendulum
Any intermediate position
In the flow of bliss elation
Recognisable as interconnectedness
Save samadhi no true oneness
Light of samadhi beyond time & space
Bestowed by divine grace
Reason may be any but we do return
From the blissful sojourn
No doubt enriched but again contained
Within a reflection partially stained
Whilst mind body loosens their bind
Permanence in oneness we are yet to find
Recognising unboundedness yet in limitation
Content in aliveness of permanent bliss elation
We opine that unless samadhi be permanent
The flickering flame is not in its native element
Oscillatory wisdom not quite the becoming
Recognition not actual depth of blossoming
31-July-2020
A poem that comes at night without a thought in mind
Words appearing outside a plan yet finds a place to opine
They seem to lie in wait, for a chance to take a bow
completing the lines in need and leaving me to wonder how
Words, plucked out of the air while clamoring around for a rhyme
And battling the thief of words, an unknown in this space and time
Not seeming to be apart, yet, volunteering for the issue at hand
Slipping in under the radar searching for a master plan
A poem appears on my page built with suspicious means Words written without a thought at least, to me it seems
The poem master comes riding high and lifts a calloused hand
My horse, running with an empty saddle; I only hold the pen
The master knocking down the blocks that mute the good ideas
Unbolting the door that locks the mystery where useful words Appear
He rides to ensure success when the wreckers of the brain come in
I’m at a loss to his confusing ways, I only hold the pen
the random residue of sunken shadows
retrieves an image of the light gone by
an effigy ashen faced and smouldering
glows tenderly upon the silhouette of time
yet another curve ball of molten assertion
distorts impressions on the transient mold
pinnacles opine to differ from ground zero
tapestries’ memories fragment figments
of imagination attempt to reassemble
the waning half-moon of false composure
serrated edges compress to bursting point
the vigil at closed gates of no return
defended by cross bows skulls targets
missed opportunities and flightless arrows
in anticipation of another haunted day
when sleep refrains from comfort
night stallions call for spurs and whip
a rodeo of mental injuries displays
with comfortless numbed precipitation
the viscous sweat of solutions out of reign
yet she gathers remnants of an outline
a contour of sanity clothed in disguise
puts another log on her ice-cold fire
sheds a frozen tear on course to exposition
grasps a tinder olive branch of feeble hope
decides to die at last and wishes to forget
01st August 2021
Watching wild horses race is awe-inspiring.
This stimulates the heart's intense aspiring.
However, in the Lord, I have complete faith.
The toil of dread is as terrifying as a wraith.
My virtue is stability; I'm the same each day.
Steady heedless of what others opine or say.
I am grateful to have received God's grace.
This supports my firm trust in the fair face.
As I assess my stance, I am assured it is right.
God has given me a fresh objective and sight.
Mice and rats have their picks, and I have mine.
I embrace sticking to my beliefs. I stroll the line.
Even if you don't place much value on me.
Same as a river running, love never ends to be.
I will uphold my faith until the cease of time.
Praising love in a lyrical, sugar-coated rhyme
Do not regard me as foolish or absurd.
A sane claim wilts on the usage of a word.
Deliverance from God boosts my trust.
Sweep the ashes out; I'm staring at the dust.
Written: May 3rd, 2023
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Destitute is the productive, empty lives
who Garner the plain
with heavy chains and a directive, pain.
Stone on stone they lay, the bedrock,
of their own, unheralded graves.
Each day a March of the little death,
terra-families in bondage to circumstance
until last breath.
Until Lifes taskmaster calls them asunder.
Until each ghosts the valley as a piece of it's render.
Rending afar into the forgotten memory
and silent voice of the landscape.
It being soul witness; sole attorney with a grimace,
to opine upon the court of the stars.
Ironic to be in the construction
of their own destruction,
of death in craftsmanship.
Servile-letting,
of whip, a chorusing,
coralling
into the building,
of the Tomb of another.
A demon king, Son of Sun basking.
Plumblined into their lives
as a heavier burden than stone.
Fortune-masking. Jeweled in fasting.
From the Valley of the Kings.
When they shall be. Redeemed. Everlasting.
Our severe pain is unforgivable at eternal night.
I twist over, my brain hustling with mystic insight.
Cries made me exuberantly sad, letting my sting.
I felt bound that could never be fit of stirring.
Your gloomy yell penetrates the serene quietness.
Leastwise, I realized you'd befall a whiner pitiless.
You've arrived at my most prominent gateway.
Once again, it roused me up, as it had all sultry day.
I let forward a puncturing shout of agony.
Once again, I will not scorn the cease eagerly.
And reject the thoughts mugging my reasoning.
Grasp my once-living voguish is promptly dying.
The blade was in a distinct area to my brawny arms.
Reverberations of our ultimate hug hang my eyes.
Such much sorrow stuffed into a cramped space.
And all I lack is to regain a place in the audience.
I'd wisely prefer seeing genuine compassion.
Except for me, everyone is in repletion.
Afterward, why are you pounding on my door?
I was dodging, similar to the mild night before.
I'm going to have you removed right away.
It happened as soon as it was made defray
My supplications and asks for salvage were unmet.
I'm mindful of our dreadful period once onset.
How random do you admit your mentality?
But voicing regret isn't enough in this vicinity.
Remember me for a type of contact with you.
Sorry for the hassle, yet my choice is too true.
It was vital for me to do what I did.
I couldn't stay with you anymore; I want a slid.
I needed to awaken and concede my misstep.
That you'd follow me until the night with no pep.
We can scarcely improve anything right yet.
And I must say I'm right from the outset.
For the time term, "I'm apologetic" will not vow.
You've broken my soul and granted me a bow.
You can't undo the wrongs you've done.
You didn't opine over what you shun.
You had the only choice but to perform this.
But our relationship has cooled an abyss.
Can't you consider your acts have altered you?
Supporting for my freedom to cognition blew.
However, it needed lasting by till ends survival.
Rusty mind that deadly sins were unforgivable.
Written: November 11, 2021
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France