Long Organ Poems
Long Organ Poems. Below are the most popular long Organ by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Organ poems by poem length and keyword.
The two boldly open passages
Below the frank eyesight
Smelling the dull and bright packages
Of things to bring delight
What a shame!
This human organ can't smell intent
To view heart's game
Which is buried and doesn't dissent
In the morning when eyes can read
The language of heart
To at least rent mind caution legs lead
Embracing not only the art
But also the themes
To understanding the subject matter perfectly
For mind in its creams
To get well rounded and nullify abruptly
Like the Barber that barb for apárí
Onígbàjámò that dress dàda
That no hairdresser dare loose its àsírí
As no barber dare cover kódáa
In the afternoon
When clarity is setting out
For the cool moon
To take care of blackout
Train my nose to loose mask
Of deceitful smell
Drawing my view to lost and bask
What passions compel
A military man to never be afraid
But at war be able
Even when it seems triumph lacks aid
How real later cum fable
In the night
When able eyes open blind
Useless is sight
When tightly closed is mind
Train my nozzle to purge ears
Of all word roasts
In the light of troubling staged cheers
Which coup toasts
No doubt, I will miss the joy
It brings so empty
Playing with off mind like toy
Used without acuity
I wouldn't mind to cry
For forgiveness is never deserved
Unless heart is wry
Then, revenge becomes conserved
No law; no war
No law; no need to double check
Law hardly restore
Forgiveness gets fights wreck
I wouldn't mind to cry
For forgiveness is never deserved
Unless heart is wry
Then, revenge becomes conserved
The word Abstinence is an abortion waiting to happen.
The word Prudence is a psychopath waiting to kill.
The word Temperance is an abusive husband waiting to strike.
The word Justice is a murderer waiting to be proven not guilty.
The word Courage is a rape victim waiting out of fear for saying anything.
The word Faith is an Atheist waiting to be born.
The word Hope is a cancer victim waiting for their nonexistent transplant.
The word Charity is a hungry child waiting for the food that will never come.
The word Smile is child waiting at the end of a noose.
The word Clarity is a crazed lunatic waiting for a nonexistent cure.
The word Sanity is the mind waiting to shatter.
There are many words in this world that have meanings that have been altered.
But they don’t always have to be that way.
The word Love is a root and a thorn by which a rose comes to blossom.
The word Give is an abandoned child receiving a new family.
The word Life is a sick child being given the medicine needed to survive.
The word Happiness is a mother giving birth to their first child.
The word Kindness is a stranger giving a homeless man some bread.
The word Goodness is a person giving their body to be an organ donor.
The word Strength is a person with one leg becoming a martial arts champion.
The word Determination is a paraplegic getting a gold metal in the Olympics.
The word Perseverance is a person with one arm winning a gymnastics competition.
There are many words in the world and so many of them are black
But if we remain strong and live life we can find all of the ones that are white.
I suppose no speech or pen can reveal.
Hidden mysteries of the cell buzzer.
Whose sleek screes fit conjointly like a deal.
To boast about such a complex shudder.
A thin membrane that provides protection.
In order to shelter its swags inside.
The city is ruled by its switch section.
Yielding hurdles over today's worldwide.
While books about fable intend to sell.
Such a DNA change occurred by chance.
Each organ and nucleus in the cell.
A mind is warned to be behind the stance.
I shake my mind; dawdling was a mistake.
I note the book to read, needing a break.
Written: June 22, 2022
I had an epiphany today
The first one in a long time
Such an interesting organ the brain
So many studies
Yet no one knows how consciousness really works
And if it even abides in the brain at all
My brain has been broken
And I alone am the only one who can fix it
Broken people
Not having it all together people
Don't always realize this
Or they have traveled so far down the rabbit hole
They no longer want to
Which leads me to my epiphany
Not only is my reality not yours
It does not need to be
I cannot describe the pureness I felt in that moment
The freedom
I started to cry
It wasn't until the moment I felt those chains slip free
Did I realize they were encasing me
I had been a prisoner in my own mind
Trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be
Never realizing my own voice have been turned on mute
Suddenly the beauty that I had been blind to for weeks months years
Surrounded me
Colors bombarded my eyes even as tears flowed out of them
And the birds... ah yes the birds
They have come to represent an evil few have ever known
I think I might remember what a dove used to sound like
But the song that reaches my ears no longer bares any resemblance
To the song that reaches yours
But as of this moment I am OK with that
Because this is the life I live now
I did not choose it
It was forced upon me
My faceless enemies
These monsters had their fun
But they did not win
Because I live every moment of my life
I have never allowed it to just pass me by
And though I have not chosen the path I was forced to take
It has been my choice to rise above
With strength, integrity and empathy
Always empathy
And though I have not one bit of knowledge on how to conquer the unknown
My story will be written
So that the forgotten will know they are not alone
I will shout it from the mountains high
And though I know many will not believe
I just need enough to realize the truth
Because while I was in the vipers pit everywhere I turned
Complete darkness
I know that so much was a delusion
Yet I also know that enough of it was irrefutably true
To let me know that it was real
It only takes a spark
And although it goes against my very compassionate nature
I want to burn these Mother F***ers to the ground
09/31/2019 Rock Bottom Pick a Line any Line Poetry Contest Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
If It Bleeds After Scratching It
If it bleeds after scratching it, then you went too far.
I see a parade of dead people walking by me in this old dream.
They are eating bananas and I recognize their faces as friends,
I hear their familiar voices, and I wish I can talk to them again.
Then, as if a switch is flipped they can speak through the veil.
They tell me of fantastic sights to behold after dying from earth.
If it cries in pain after stabbing it, then you went too far.
I see dead girls from my past walking by me in another dream.
They are naked on the floor in the back room darkness.
I hear the familiar music of Copland and Gershwin on a record player.
I see young bodies squirming in a vague grunting candlelight.
They move by me like floating temple dancers in the moonlight.
If it says nothing after screaming at it, then you went too far.
I see dead friends huddled on a sofa inside my old childhood house.
They are sitting like wooden statues listening to my mother play the organ.
My mother is pressing the pedals barefooted as she fingers the Anniversary Waltz,
And my dead friends clap as she looks at everyone for approval as she plays;
The ghost in the basement loves to waltz, and I can hear him dancing down there.
Organ grinder
Meat grinder
Bump-and-grind
The workday grind
Get up, get out of bed
Drag a comb across my head
Yeah, Yeah, Paul: You knew that was coming --
Go to work
Pour the coffee
Water the plants
Sharpen some pencils
Head for the water cooler
Trade some stories...gossip a bit
Stall...stall...stall...and stall some more...
Get to the meeting on time
Look engaged
Back to my cubby
And then:
What's this? A poem?
A what? A poem!
A poem appears
comes flying from my fingers
onto the keyboard
up on the screen
read... saved... printed …
posted on social media... 'liked'
All over the internet
Gone viral
I'm a thing
a downright event!
Yeah, sure I got canned
Of course...
Know anyone looking for a new poet?
December 03, 2019
Predictable Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Fearless
I am not afraid of the future
The mystery it holds.
Lurking in the shadows, uncertain.
Bring with it, when it comes:
the crashing of a thousand cymbals
the roll of the drums,waves in my ears
roar of the seas, extravaganza.
The whine of the violin
the sadness,the loneliness
the despair,the tears.
The strumming of the guitar
your fingers moving
the fret of my love, humming.
Blow like the bugles
the horn in splendour!
Wake my soul ,my spirit
soar like the eagles ,nesting
the new morn, its delights.
Breathe like the flute,
my lips over you
the nights ,the fervor,
the longing ,the passion unfold.
Bring in the organ,the piano
the tempest of the waltzes
the hues, the strains
filling the spaces, unseen .
Chants like the prayers,
rending my being,
lead me, from this life to the next.
I am not afraid of the future,
the storms it creates,
neither should you .
Stay,be a rhapsody.
I
I sit here pondering the next move as I watch the hour slowly slips away, and chance standing in the horizon muse steadfast at me. It is that little nudge that you get when you are almost out of breath and you try to find something to hold on to but nothing is there and a tiny beetle comes along and start to sing a merry little song.
It is the little things that amuses me, like the mouse playing hide and seek in the art gallery, the spider building a web for its sadistic prey and the cock roach crawling on the wall has caused a great brawl. It only comes out when visitors are in town and starts a commotion all around.
The evening sun is just cooling down and everyone is running around; it drifts at the back of the hill and creates havoc in the street, the people are running around in a frenzy and something peculiar is disrupting my heart beat and I can hardly breath.
Sweat is dripping from my face and my head is getting hot, my clothes is soaked and my feet are burning. The water is running in the stream is warm and something below the surface of the earth is interfering with my dream, I have to go and check it out.
The beetle from the order of Coleoptera,is flying around in the tree with four hundred thousand bugs descending in the open space on thee. It’s hard exoskeleton is fashion to protect its internal organ and resist all external blow they too are getting ready for the big show.
I have traveled this path many times in the sun and rain and each time I travel it’s never the same, sometimes the journey gets longer and my heart gets heavier and chance waits patiently for you to come. It is that moment of waiting when nothing is left I begin to find myself
I have stumbled upon the “art” in me and the courage that is spread out in the ocean before me, and I begin to reason with myself. Just one more chance to go on that trip, Just one more chance to see if you really exist. Just one more chance to get it right, just one more chance to complete this sacrifice.
There is one thing standing between me and you, it is the path that you have to pass through when you close the door; meet me at the junction with a script camera and a bottle of water and you will write that story of how we cross over. Meet me at the junction and chance will take your hand.
She is a beauty with her vaulted ceilings and cloisters.
Has been parading about for over a thousand years
Showing off her English gothic architecture.
Cathedral Church of St. Peter and the Holy and Invisible Trinity.
We have seen her in films and movies – The Hollow Crown,
Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Harry Potter.
She houses at Gloucester, Gloucestershire, UK.
She was once a pilgrimage for Christian seekers.
King Henry the Eighth established her current choir in 1539.
Today her choir boasts thirty-eight choristers and twelve adult singers.
So when you walk through, you are a historian, so much has gone on.
She is magnificent with her beautiful stained glass windows.
Her organ was constructed in sixteen hundred and sixty-six.
She has been the site of graduations, coronations, and weddings.
In medieval times she held daily worship sung by monks of the abbey.
Gloucester Cathedral, a gorgeous example of what architects can do.
Crucible
Peer into an unpredictable universe
Of ambivalent depths
A calyx cul-de-sac tipped up
Into a crucible of the unexplainable
Where curiosity strides into pure moments of mystique
Fields of glory in bluebells
Rusted milestones
Hail ravaged wheat.
Echoes of the prophetic tongue
Swirl in chanted brews and prayers
Mists, parted by potions,
Bleed new horizons rising like cities lost
In hundred year mists
Brewed in a grail uncovered from eon’s smothering dusts
Tasting ego and humility
That knows its need for divinity.
Mercy metastasized in every grieving limb
And through the organ of the soul
Led through foreshadow’s chalice
Into unfathomable days yet to be born.
5-1-23
Contest: Up to 20 Lines
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Twenty lines.