Long Oscillates Poems
Long Oscillates Poems. Below are the most popular long Oscillates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oscillates poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Sankofa’ In 'Safranbolu'
This bird from Ghana’s legends flies forward looking backward
In the Twi language twinned with indigenous souls and wisdom
the feathered friend suggests to go back and get it and I suppose
some fly backwards while looking ahead but then life is not only
Chronos but 'Kairos' with the meter entwined and composed
At this precise moment not alone in this moving instant it waves
and oscillates conjoining what was and will be when the present
is the past in a flash and one cannot step into the same river again
yet the future is shaped by the past the here and now a 'Kairometer'
transcending artefacts and boundaries into ‘truths’ and reality
The bird flies and time flows back and beyond near and far
further on wings and pinions with roots at heart
In ‘Safranbolu’ the ancient Ottoman town on the Black Sea Coast
and thus close to Ghana in real time place and connection
the old man had been tending the clock in the tower both man and
the turret free standing and wise still present and one
‘Seventy years’ as he explained pendulum hands and the wheels
What memories pride mechanics precision preserved aspiration and
dignity flying into the face of the clock and the distortions of time
Mustafa had climbed those steps so often had rung the bell
oiled the time keeper had not forgotten a day of his duties
had become one with the time piece and stood still many times
in awe of monument and pacing the sleepy old town yet
he flew forward so peacefully looking back in retrospect and respect
He has watched birds history duration impermanence imprinting the
meaning of a life worthy of living in honour of what is the present
20th November in all past and future revisited
The wheel of time churns the entropy dust,
settles on the stable shelf of disorganized life.
In moments of dispersed perturbation
truth oscillates beyond grasp on ripples of chaos.
In the ordained flux of disorder
everything ruffles to change except change.
The alchemy of metamorphosis
unveils the real façade of transformation.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay
my mind is disheveled to dishabille state,
strips off the flimsy emotions,
confounded cascade of tear carries them all.
Yet, when my castle of sand on the shore of yearning
tumbles down in a clutter of scattered debris,
I discover the hidden flute of feelings, and play
the tune of ecstasy in the symphony of memory.
November 20, 2019
Contest : Disarray
Sponsor : Nina Parmenter
December 15, 2019
Contest : Strand Special 3, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
To where does my soul belong?
at times my meandering mind wonders…
Is it to the vast blue of the boundless sky
or the tangerine rays of the sun at the crack of dawn
or to those stars that glisten in it when light descends and night ascends?
Is it to the fluttering wings of the luminous iridescent blue butterflies
or the petals of gorgeous tulips that greet me to a dreamy paradise
or to the melodious tinkling of the temple bells in the morning?
It is to the mango tree that I see every day from my kitchen window
or its green leaves, twigs, trunk and roots
or the playful bushy-tailed squirrel
that scampers from one branch to another
or to the little brown sparrow
that chirps cheerfully in one of its branches?
Is it to the blank laptop screen that I was staring at a while ago
or these scribbles filling the white screen little by little
or to the flapping of multi-hued wings of my vivid imagination
that soars high and glides, as I write this poem,
smoothly transgressing the boundaries created by reality?
Is it to the tune of my favorite melody I hum often
or the swing that oscillates in my mind whenever I sing it
or to the breeze through which my humming gently wafts?
Is it to the rhythmic ebb and flow
of the silvery waves of the cerulean blue sea
or to the tiny boat far out there, bobbing up and down the waves?
Is it to the gleaming full moon spreading soft light at midnight
or the wick of the flickering candle diffusing hope in darkness
or to the buds finding way to bloom at the trench of rocky soil?
Is it to the relaxed, steady-paced ticking of the needles of time
or the lull of stillness of the pitch-dark night
or the evanescent dreams I get before sunrise
or to the sweet aroma of coffee waking up my senses in the morning?
Is it to the refreshing drizzle of the memories of childhood
or the pleasant petrichor after the first summer rain
or to the arc of vibrant spectrum of colors of the rainbow that emerges?
Unbound, yet bound….
In the all-pervading cosmic tapestry,
to where does my soul belong?
What goes on in the mind of the rain drop
that clings to the tip of a leaf
and is about to fall to the ground beneath?
“Do I belong to the leaf or to the soil underneath?”
THIRSTY
My thirst oozing with champagne in goblet
Melting into our mutual craving
Following indigo line on sunset
Misty dusty dusk, sky is engraving.
The tingling tremor, the lingering urge
Watching dormant desires being drowsy
Effervescence of love cascades to surge.
Amour oscillates somnolent dozy.
We float and sink in pearly passion
Dear , come closer! My most precious gem!
Memories of our love are in procession
Our ethereal unison to claim.
I am yours you are mine, fledged forever,
In Earth or Heaven, joint endeavour.
In the labyrinthine corridors of my mind, a dichotomous dialogue unfolds,
A perpetual pendulum of doubt, that oscillates between certitude and uncertainty's darkening folds.
A litany of lost opportunities, a catalog of unfulfilled desires,
Echoes through my consciousness, a haunting refrain that fuels my deepest fires.
The specter of indecision looms, a constant companion that besets my every stride,
A nagging voice that whispers "maybe" in my ear, a siren's call that beckons me to step aside.
Maybe I will, maybe I won't, the mantra of my mind's vacillation,
A maddening merry-go-round of doubt, that leaves me breathless, lost in hesitation.
At the threshold of success, I stand, a hesitant traveler, poised between two worlds,
Torn between the promise of fulfillment, and the fear of uncertainty's unfurled.
The door of opportunity ajar, a tantalizing glimpse of what could be,
Yet, the weight of doubt holds me back, a prisoner of my own indecisiveness, I am unable to break free.
In this liminal space, I dwell, a traveler in the twilight zone,
Torn between the push of ambition, and the pull of doubt's seductive moan.
Maybe, maybe not, the refrain continues, a maddening cycle of indecision,
A labyrinth of mirrors, where reflections stare, and the path ahead remains obscure, undefined, and without clear vision.
Disarrayed sands
dislodged from domain
timeless,
slipped by chaotic instants,
settle ceaselessly
bemused
on stratified shelf
of languid life
disorganized
in moments moving,
dismantled
with dispersed dust
of petrified perturbation,
truth of trust
suffused with sanguinity,
resting on ruffled ripples
of disordered discontent
oscillates…
In bewildered efflux
of delinquent dismay
exhilaration transmutes
tousled,
mystifying alchemy
of metamorphosis
reveals real pretense
of traumatic transmutation
tormenting…
Disorderly squall
swirls sweeping depression
through the void
of despondent whirlpool,
the mangled mind
drowns
in distraught nothingness
disheveled,
splinters the leitmotif
of ethereal emotions
embedded,
confounded cascade
of consternation
carries them away,
nonchalant…
Sandcastles
on shriveled shore
of yearning
tumbles down
in confused clutter
of disorientated debris,
in divesting mayhem
psyche rises
revived,
shape-shifted
in lattice of time,
discovers in an instant
enthralled,
the covert flute
of sensuous symphony
play the music
of ecstatic self
entranced,
convivial concerto
reverberates
the last refrain
of melodic memory,
euphoric epithet
of transcendent essence,
eternal…
The wheel of time churns up the entropy dust,
settles on the unstable shelf of disorganized life.
In maimed moments of dispersed perturbation
truth oscillates beyond grasp on ripples of chaos.
In the ordained flux of frenzied disorder
everything ruffles to change except for change.
The alchemy of elemental metamorphosis
unveils the real façade of basic transformation.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay surge,
my mind is disheveled to a dishabille state,
strips off the flimsy layers of antique emotions,
confounded cascade of tear carries away all.
Yet, when my castle of sand on the shore of yearning
tumbles down in a clutter of scattered debris of heart,
I discover the hidden flute of feelings, and play again
the melody of ecstasy in the symphony of memory.
August 10, 2020
Brian Strand's Contest : A Brian Strand You Choose
Across the globe, music ascends—a universal zephyr,
Bridging cultures in harmonious yearning;
Chords converge from Andes to the Zangezur, xenharmonic,
Dulcet tones of a duduk—in the air, they whisper.
Every note—an echo of humanity's vibration,
From flamenco's fire to the finesse of a cello's undulation;
Gamelan's gongs—a gamut of sounds' timbre,
Harmonium's hum—hearts and spirits, it serenades.
In India where the sitar intricately resonates
Juxtaposed with jazz as New Orleans quavers;
Kora's strings kiss the breeze as Africa pulses.
Lyrics leap across lands—in mosaic form, it oscillates.
Marimba's mallets are on wooden keys lightly narrate
Ney's notes always navigate in a trance-like murmur;
Oud's ornate voice offers a limericking lyric
Perhaps to partake in profound kinetic kinesis.
Qanun quietly queries—a quivering jumping jubilation
Rhythms resonate—a restorative impressive intonation;
Samba's syncopation—a spirited harking harmony
Tabla's tempo—a testament of gripping grandiloquence.
Uilleann pipes uplift with urgent a fever for fervor
Violins voice the vibrancy of the endless echo;
Whistles and winds—the world's diverse diapason
Xylophone's xylography—a cross-cultural cadence.
Yodeling yonder in the Alps' billowing bellow
Zither's zephyrs—a zenith we accentuate and attune.
Though in my territory this is now tears region
for 15th,17th and 21st of your surmounted time
yet I try to hunt for you differently
In the deep den of the life story
momentarily comes and goes with the best wishing
by the touching of raindrops and humidity
It's ended summer, going to be ended the rainy days
yet feel the dogs day, the angry face of the sun
oppressive dampness attacks the perennial dreams
In your wish-yielding tree, I intertwine the day
when sweet bitterness of reality greets me to enjoy
the gladiolus poppy on the colorful soul
Far occupant, I am of the Cape Floristic
alluring diversity of blossoming oscillates through zephyr
embraces compassionately like the neodymium
In your red, pink, white, yellow, orange….
I am spell-bounded, in the sword of lily I seek
strength, sincerity, imaginative multiplicity
19.08.2020 Chattogram
love is a lofty ideal
croon of tenderness
sounds right, feels good
but how may we share
what we do not have
a hollow emptiness
engulfs our body-mind
womb of space suffocates
we are uncomfortable
in our own skin
being empowered
we pause the cause
of our heart contractions
by befriending silence
refuge of our soul
we are extracted
from our ambedo trance
brutally by the tongs of ego
drawing attention back
to cravings of form
yes, we live here
negation will not help
escapism is not the cure
so we must discover
the absolute truth
discerning mind
is what we first employ
because that is what we have
so we rapidly comprehend
head-heart discord
the thinking mind
merely navigates life
but it is the radiant heart
that pulsates with love
the joy soul seeks
mind oscillates
but love is steady
thus we deem as logical
to meld mind in heart
to feel complete
we test the waters
and find love is the way
being the language of God
but we must first forgive
all those who deceive
yes, we suffer loss
by close ones betrayed
yet as a nonchalant witness
we surrender outcomes
to will divine sublime
God is easily pleased
He delights at our ascent
so awakens in us Holy Spirit
transmuting feeble form
into eternal living light
the false falls away
we now see who we are
the Self made in His image
resplendent with light
in the cave of heart
ego that never was
a mere bubble of delusion
bursts noiselessly in the void
now there is no one here
save the light of Self
love, light and bliss
pulsates day and night
the ignition renewal continual
hidden thus in plain sight
is our open secret