Long Originality Poems
Long Originality Poems. Below are the most popular long Originality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Originality poems by poem length and keyword.
Don't speak
Just listen...
Let's seek
His face again...
God knows we've tried
To do better in the long run
Deep inside, I bite the bullet and cried
Let's escape like a bullet shot by a gun
You're original
Just the way you are
You're beautiful
Let me heal your scar
You're original
Don't listen to negativity
I'm grateful
That you are precious as a daisy
Don't look back
Go forward with your backpack
Run the extra mile
Our love got out of style
Heaven knows we've tried for years
To wipe away the constant, wretched tears
Deep down, I want to change for the better
I wrote a letter to you, my awesome go-getter
You're original
Don't ever forget that
You're original
You're the mighty cat, chasing down a pathetic rat
You're an amazing soul
You're always so beautiful
You're original just the way you are
Here you go - wander off, but not too far
Our land of stars and stripes, now glows,
with screens that flicker in hallowed halls.
Entranced humans shuffle, with eyes fixed below,
on small gadgets that have us enthralled.
Should the Statue of Liberty, our symbolic girl,
be holding a smartphone up to the world?
While tweets fly like eagles and hashtags swirl,
foreign disinformation trends as fast as it’s purled.
In lunch halls, real conversations take rest,
as influence is sought—in hoity-toity, binary quest.
Friends are backdrops—originality in short supply
as likes and shares make our dopamine fly.
America’s zombies, though *********** drained,
shuffle endlessly on, with Wi-Fi stimulated brains.
Once the land of the free, we’re now the land of tech
with minds wrecked by truths unchecked.
As we rock and sway—the new robot way—
will our old, analog-republic simply fade away?
.
.
Songs for this:
Airhead by Thomas Dolby
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December:
daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_01.mp3
We were born identical
When we were created apart;
In very different wombs.
Now my mind runs to where you hide
Unobscured by camouflage
In the bright dim light of
Morally decade manmade nature.
I was created as spares for you,
But I think, and therefore I cannot
Spare you.
Spent by this affliction I no longer
See with blind crystal clarity,
But instead I begin at this end.
The invalidity of science
Has caused its own creation to
Abandon the method
For the metaphysical instead.
Twin, fear not death,
For when you are found,
You will only die to live.
Used up, you will be spared
From that exhilarating mundane
Life of genetic originality.
“The rot has sunk in deep
Yet we continue to sleep”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grooves of habit
Becoming reflex instinct
No longer wait
Our originality extinct
Waking from sleep
We expect our body to be there
Is it not a hypnosis deep
Of or true origin now unaware
At a secondary level
In each and every thing we do
Oblivious to Gods miracles
So patterned has become our view
Even in thought rested awareness
In the vibrant void of cessation
Memory imagery stuporousness
Obscures depth of our elation
Energy pulsations toroidal
Beauteous full complete loop
Would it not be tragicomical
If to lower orbits it stoops
So to feel the throb in fullness
To become the bliss fizz
Mindfulness renews emptiness
Then that that is is as it is
28-December-2020
Catch me if you can
You can do better
Since am now your issue
You can improve in your Talent
Since am now your case
There is no limitations in growth
Hope you will learn that
When you look at my ways
Am happy to inspire you
Am glad I motivate you
To move so
Catch me if you can
Catch me if you can
I see you couldn't go this far
If I was not your challenge
You chose me as a competition
And now your show how far
You can run
Cos your energy is obvious
Your creativity is a resemblance
Cos my originality can be doubled
So keep running
The road is still far
There are more to come
And if you won't give up
Catch me if you can
Catch me if you can
Be sure I failed
I stand I worry
I move I focus
I learn I think
I soul I write
I feel I give
I speak I act
I live and one day I will
Be remembered
So when you are down
Look up to my life victories
And keep moving
Keep coming
Remember the destination
Is unpredictable
Life is a race
And if you ever get to me
Please Overtake me but first
Catch me if you can
Dedicated to those
I inspire.
The empty page waits,
unblinking, unshaken,
a void that does not care
whether I fill it
or let it swallow me whole.
Hesitation lingers,
a whisper curling at the edges,
soft at first, then sharper—
What if it’s already been said?
What if it’s not enough?
What if my voice dissolves
before it even reaches the air?
Originality is a tightrope,
a step into nothing,
where the only certainty
is the trembling of my own weight.
The ground below is blank—
or maybe it never existed at all.
But in that emptiness,
something shifts—
a flicker, a pulse,
not of light,
but of something older, deeper,
something waiting beneath the silence,
pressing against the skin of the page.
Ink stirs in my veins.
The silence is not empty.
It is breath before music,
a pause before the storm,
a moment when the world is holding itself still,
waiting to see if I will dare to speak.
So, I breathe.
I let the ink spill,
not as proof, not as a conquest,
but as an offering.
Knowing that every voice
is a note in the song
we were always meant to sing.
And if my voice vanishes,
if it is swallowed by the echoes—
At least I let it exist.
The best poem
equally to the best song,
is poem of poems and of all
the mantras ... anyway
and renewed others ...
The best poem ever
there will be ... there will always be another
that exceeds it, that
modify ...
That's because originality
of any poem, it is not
totally genuine ... the source
origin was subtracted, but
never before revealed ...
My best poem, don't come
right place, and it's not number one ...
But I offer it to you if you don't have
none... !
No Names mentioned-
recognizing your
self in a
poem--
highly unlikely that
we
poets
know what you've
done.
Just a posturing
poem
posted
Saying wonderful
things -
If
this poem describes
you...
and you can tell...
If
a poem speaks highly
of
integrity,
has
ability to inspire,
sincerity
originality
If
it provokes
invokes-
makes you think
take stock
don't be shocked
Put on the poem
it's yours
It's probably
written
with
"the cloth you --
were cut from"
own....
it ..
Where it Well.
If
you are remembered
for your kind
deeds an actions
Do not be shy -
Get satisfaction.
If
the poem fits...
Taylor-Made
pray-tell!
Shine your eyes
own it..
and
wear it well.
Note; This is an Italian Sonnet rhyme scheme but written in hymn meter which is an iambic tetrameter and trimeter mix and echoes a style that Emily Dickinson often used. Although she admired Shakespeare, she didn't write traditional sonnets (which is okay, we like variety and originality).
So ... in honor of Emily and - age and wishes; I wrote 4 years ago I think.
Oh pity my decrepit frame,
with every step I cry;
to see myself through clouded eyes
and barely know my name.
Oh God! To be that youth again
when skyward I could fly,
bereft lament that now abides
with not a soul to blame.
So ... should I ride that plaintive wind,
or wait the gentle breeze -
to climb with wings on upward drafts
...or stay where I have been?
I think I shall await the breeze
and ride it 'til my last.
“It Came in Our Dreams”
The Others
watch on,
somewhere above us.
we, ant like
form our battalions
soldier ants
with no substantial sting
repelling reptilian
brains in flight
striking our oily deals
sliding into our nightmares,
acrid smoke, bee-keeping our hives
we strike, in routine formations
they count
our worth.
our number
measured
in what always
walks alone
in our dreams.
they send
their messengers
to us, in our dreams,
while we
war
in our sleep,
in the depth
of our despair
in the flow,
of our dreams.
when we wake
we think,
that was so real -
what was that all about,
that was so real,
where are we -
are we really here?
they count
our worth
our number
measured
in what always
walks alone
in our dreams.
we
are more
vulnerable
than we believe.
we are seen
for what we truly are
human -
the fabric of us, flimsy -
easy
and dispensable.
for a while
we
think,
we are
all
there is -
unique,
in truth,
we ...
lack originality.
wars
of the unreal,
Nuremberg 1541
there have always been battles,
could this
have been real,
or just a dream
Tic-tac-toe
we think we
know
it all
battles come and go
what is drawing us
forward and up
out of our bodies,
from the too deep dream
we toss and turn
in our sleep, nightmares
easy regiments -
dispensable, flimsy
souls
without feet.
one war down
another
to go.
It came in our dreams
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Pallas Athena”/Bowie
https://youtu.be/yNV5_6vz208
Nuremberg, 1541
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1561_celestial_phenomenon_over_Nuremberg
Celestial Phenomenon Over Nuremberg, April 14th, 1561
https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/celestial-phenomenon-over-nuremberg-april-14th-1561
Witness
https://movies2watch.is/watch-tv/watch-ufo-witness-hd-67147.4829014
President Reagan: Address to the United Nations, September 26, 1988 https://youtu.be/nYi5h5Gvdz8
Ronald Reagan, UN, September 21, 1987 / Threat
https://youtu.be/bfS7FrN5aNQ
LYRICS/”Pallas Athena”, Bowie
https://genius.com/David-bowie-pallas-athena-lyrics