Long Other thoughts Poems
Long Other thoughts Poems. Below are the most popular long Other thoughts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Other thoughts poems by poem length and keyword.
My Third Eye
I think of myself apart from this world
A gift that is lost but easily can be found
My words of wisdom comes from my heart
The ideal spot that can wrench the soul
I feel patient and I do wait for everything
Time does not matter, to accept it, it is to be flawless
Flawless is not a gift it is a curse
Distribute your energy with your spirit
Spread it so happiness may grow, enlighten yourself
Objects are not needs it is not fulfillment
It is a contest with mortal beings, what they want
Think beyond share and become more
The third eye can see the pains and sorrows of the world
And your physical being can feel it, and it is afraid
It is afraid to get scratched, it bleeds and it can die
But your third eye is a way out of such things
Feel the world around you; embrace it with your soul
Your physical needs will be met by your mentality
What has not been given is hope that you could have shared
Third eye can also open to reach your spirit and soul
Think beyond the physical boundaries of life
Fulfillment shall be yours when your actions are true
Brace for sadness in the physical realm
Open up, and think if you can carry the objects that you worked dear for
Through the gates of spatial laws of energy
Enlighten comes so easy for some when they do not carry burdens
Or objects that are not needs
Success is just for the mortal realm, not the spiritual
The third eye opens only to those who do not gather so much
Needs are just met to its bare minimum
Essentially this path is well balance and faith is strong
My third eye opened, because I see so much I have
And waste is lying around, the bare minimum
I use a lot of things and it does not bring me to the present
Think wisely a bare wall can be so much more
But to change the bare wall gives no other thoughts
Third Eye shows me when I was little what was most important
Being held by my parents, eating by my brothers, smiles in the world
Looking up into the sky, friends
Nothing shows objects accept the food we eat and get clothes we wear
Third Eye also funny, ask what was the need of clothes
Then my physical self was laughing, almost scared silly
What truth my Third Eye can see, only the needs of good health and company
time fails to stop
off the planet i may
drop.
... from here 7~12~17 ...
...down added for poetrycontest...
tihs writer hasnt a clue about all the names or forms
of poetry...
we do no write poems ... we can write poetry ...
we are no poet ... our mind only defined by maker ...
all other thoughts are negotiated whims ...
with that wrote ... we gonna give this ...
voice thin a shot...
pretending through the valley . . of lost sheep
are we all but wolves. .crying as we eat
devouring. .flesh. .of our own feet
crowed are mountainous. .lioness peaks
audiances before. the slaughter. they give us.
your daughters.
we are. all other wolves crying
our voices .mererly being transformed.
drinking of streams. lapping dogs down.
run you little cowards...
show your delicate flowers.
morphinig me back through your apathetic wastes ....
thislife you greed ... is it suffered unto me ...
your demands... your demands... your demands...
you are a punctuation mark ... my reading voice ...
swallow me ... my sweet princess rest me in your lust ....
cling from me ... cling ... cling ... cling ... mine arms ...
your flesh it calls to me from the moons shine ...
suns have expressed thier rays ...
rest with me ... momentarily ... make your plea ...
my throat wrapped around your love ...
teach me to speak ... my love ...
my sweet ...
my ... my ... my ...
my
cherry queen
?
uhm ... heard this in several different voices
none of whic were herd out loud ... this writer
uderstands the contest owners opinion. ...
"poetry" is written from the heart ...
that being said ... to read "poetry" with a voice...
other than the one in you head ...
would have to read with a differnt type of emotion...
there for we are all in aggreement ...
anyone that say you can just read us words...
other than family being blown up ...
wouldnt have the same effect as ...
just your voice ... uhm ...
ok ... uhm. .... mention was made of
??? "poem"form ... we have never even read a "poetry" book...
so ... dont expect to win ... just tumble weed'n thought ....
good luck ... "poets"....
Form:
The corners of his pink lips bow into a grin that sent a spark to burst into colors in the dark hole of a heart I had. He lit me up like a lantern on the dark, gloomy path to forever. Blissly in love I had fallen for him, yet so dangerously in love I had fallen to him. His name indefinitely glued to the tip of my tongue no matter what.
A butterfly named Happiness used my heart as a trampoline when he was around. My life had been painted in the vibrancy of cerise. As rich as the scarlet that dripped through the veins of fresh roses.
My insides were clogged with the thought of him, him, him and him. Did I forget to mention him? I did? Him. There seemed to be no more room for other thoughts, why have I feel so love with him? He radiated all the colors of the rainbow, and I was addicted to tasting them. He loved to bring me a new bouquet of happiness everytime we met. I had been inprisoned with the thought of him.
Like the layers of a deep ocean, was my heart. So deep light couldn't penetrate. But how did he manage?
Like a moth to a flame I was captured by the joy he brung with his precense. His hair streaked with tones of light chestnut and strands of platinum. His eyes which would form angelic crecents with his illusorily magnificent smiles. I remembered him all the way down to the deliciously scrumptious aroma that kissed my nostrils everytime he embraced me.
"I love you." He told me everytime saw me.
I love him, "he's gone."
No; but I love him, "he's gone."
I will always love him, "he's gone."
Every since the death of him, My mind and I fought every night with a battle I liked to call Sanity. Sanity was mine, but my mind didn't think so. Sanity kept me alive, but my mind didnt think so.
This particular night, my mind has won the battle and celebrated the victory with an overdose on morphine. It celebrated the victory all the way through my veins to the cavernous ribcage that embraced my heart, all the way through my bloodstream until I kissed breath goodbye.
//Im just practicing my creativity, don't mind me.//
Form:
A WONDERFUL WORLD
One of my favorite songs whenever it's sung,
"What a Wonderful World" is right on my tongue.
The melody's fine and the lyrics are great
but other thoughts sometime get to me
and make my heart ache.
Louie Armstrong sings it best.
He's way ahead of all the rest.
But is the world really such a wonder?
It makes you stop and then
ponder.
They quickly say the world is warming
but we can't say it was without warning.
Climate change affects the weather
And that doesn't make things better.
For the trees of green and red roses too
may not bloom as Louie sings it to you.
We'll have droughts and floods
and skies not so blue.
The clouds of white are not so bright
as storms brew over the lands.
And the shaking of hands
seem to be more of fright
as the winds stir up the desert sands.
We have "Arab Springs" and children are shot
and babies will cry, "please forget me not."
As the world seems to ache
from these things we forsake
for the love that we seem to have forgot.
The world is quite full of 6.5 billion
and the people starving are
more than 6 million.
Can that make it a wonderful world?
The friends who shake hands and say,
"How do you do?"
are they really saying, "I love you?"
The song says so but we really don't know
if they truly mean it or it's just for show.
But when we consider all things
about how the world really sings
and always ends up with a smile,
we know somehow the world will get by
as long as we give it a real try.
The world has been here for such a long time
and somehow has survived no matter what sign
through storms, earthquakes and more.
People live on regardless of any war
or disease that is other than benign.
Because no matter what dread
it can really be said
it is still a wonderful world.
And Louie is right as he sings with delight
of rainbows and bright stars in the night.
The message of the song is very profound
and with a little patience the world will rebound.
So even if it seems so imperiled,
indeed, it is still a wonderful world.
I was talking to a girl that goes to high school the other day, and she told me all these stories of the girls that go to her school, she is the head of an anti bully club and asked me to write something for her group.
You sit in your room crying about your weight
And how you never think you'll be asked on a date
You dream about marriage, a white picket gate
But you sit there and stare at the bumps on your face
For all the young girls who find no hope or joy
Because you're made fun of by popular boys
Your problem I know, isn't only skin deep
So what other thoughts does your mind always think?
When I see these young girls acting out of their age
So egar to grow up and turn life's page
I can't help but feel that their hurting themselves
And putting there innocence up on a shelf
There are teens getting pregnant, getting in bars
There's young ones getting high, losing it in cars
There's girls starving their bodies and cutting their arms
Getting drugged and raped despite all the alarms
There's the ones in the lunchroom eating all alone
Who feels rejected by peers and rejected at home
There's the girl with the braces getting called names
And forced to sit alone at the homecoming game
We are all so afraid to apologize to who we have hurt
So we run their names farther down into the dirt
Until we turn on the 6 o' clock news
And hear that they hung themselves in their bedrooms
Then suddenly bullies care, but not soon enough
About those girls who coped with drinking, sex and drugs
If we spent all the time before- lifting them up
And showering them with sisterly love
Then maybe we could all walk arm and arm
Protecting them from all of this harm.
I was talking to a girl that goes to high school the other day, and she told me all these stories of the girls that go to her school, she is the head of an anti bully club and asked me to write something for her group.
You sit in your room crying about your weight
And how you never think you'll be asked on a date
You dream about marriage, a white picket gate
But you sit there and stare at the bumps on your face
For all the young girls who find no hope or joy
Because you're made fun of by popular boys
Your problem I know, isn't only skin deep
So what other thoughts does your mind always think?
When I see these young girls acting out of their age
So egar to grow up and turn life's page
I can't help but feel that their hurting themselves
And putting there innocence up on a shelf
There are teens getting pregnant, getting in bars
There's young ones getting high, losing it in cars
There's girls starving their bodies and cutting their arms
Getting drugged and raped despite all the alarms
There's the ones in the lunchroom eating all alone
Who feels rejected by peers and rejected at home
There's the girl with the braces getting called names
And forced to sit alone at the homecoming game
We are all so afraid to apologize to who we have hurt
So we run their names farther down into the dirt
Until we turn on the 6 o' clock news
And hear that they hung themselves in their bedrooms
Then suddenly bullies care, but not soon enough
About those girls who coped with drinking, sex and drugs
If we spent all the time before- lifting them up
And showering them with sisterly love
Then maybe we could all walk arm and arm
Protecting them from all of this harm.
I was talking to a girl that goes to high school the other day, and she told me all these stories of the girls that go to her school, she is the head of an anti bully club and asked me to write something for her group.
You sit in your room crying about your weight
And how you never think you'll be asked on a date
You dream about marriage, a white picket gate
But you sit there and stare at the bumps on your face
For all the young girls who find no hope or joy
Because you're made fun of by popular boys
Your problem I know, isn't only skin deep
So what other thoughts does your mind always think?
When I see these young girls acting out of their age
So egar to grow up and turn life's page
I can't help but feel that their hurting themselves
And putting there innocence up on a shelf
There are teens getting pregnant, getting in bars
There's young ones getting high, losing it in cars
There's girls starving their bodies and cutting their arms
Getting drugged and raped despite all the alarms
There's the ones in the lunchroom eating all alone
Who feels rejected by peers and rejected at home
There's the girl with the braces getting called names
And forced to sit alone at the homecoming game
We are all so afraid to apologize to who we have hurt
So we run their names farther down into the dirt
Until we turn on the 6 o' clock news
And hear that they hung themselves in their bedrooms
Then suddenly bullies care, but not soon enough
About those girls who coped with drinking, sex and drugs
If we spent all the time before- lifting them up
And showering them with sisterly love
Then maybe we could all walk arm and arm
Protecting them from all of this harm.
On a recent walk along the beach…like most great walks…unplanned…we stopped because below our feet there was a flower growing in the sand.
I said, “Tell me little flower because I’d like to understand…of all the places you could live…are you happy growing in the sand?”
“Funny you should ask.” The flower said as he looked up at us and grinned. “I had a lot of time to think about that as I rode upon the wind.”
“Would I end up on a mountaintop…neath the pine trees would I grow…would their needles keep me warm and safe under the winter snow?”
Would I be dropped in a field of wildflowers…to be visited by the butterflies and the bees…enjoying the sunshine and the rain while swaying in the breeze?”
“Would I end up in a little girl’s garden…where she gets down on bended knee…every morning just to stop and say hello to me
“Would I grow up sheltered in the forest…is that how the creator designed me…under trees that lift their branches during the day so the rays of the sun could find me?”
“These and other thoughts like these rode along with me…as I floated on the winds awaiting my destiny.”
“To be honest as I drifted on the air…this destiny I hadn’t planned…I never dreamed I’d be a flower growing in the sand.”
“But here’s a little secret when we’re created every seedling knows:
Wherever beauty is needed…that’s where a flower grows.”
We were created for one purpose…to bring beauty to the land…
so my answer to your question is YES…I am happy growing in the sand.”
I think of that little flower often…that flower growing in the sand…
and I wish his little secret…the whole world would understand.
The mid seventies was a great time for a guy to be in high school,
The girls wore dresses so short that they would make me start to drool,
My girl wore skirts that were so micro mini that my concentration suffered,
When I saw her walking down the hall all other thoughts were buffered.
One day as we left the parking lot she was talking about her history class,
She wanted to show me something and just couldn’t let the moment pass.
My car was big and my girl was short and to reach the rear was quite a feat,
She had to lean over to retrieve her notes from behind the driver’s seat.
And when she did the position that she took I can report without exaggeration,
Was a highlight of my young life and left little to my imagination.
Today there is a lot of talk about cell phones being dangerous distractions,
But nothing like that would ever compare to my girl’s lunarous attractions.
As I watched the parked car that I’d hit, roll across three lawns and into a tree,
I noticed my girl sitting on the floor with her legs in the air, looking up at me.
A policeman came to investigate but there was nothing to refute,
So he cited me for having a girlfriend that was calamitously too cute.
I waited with that cop while my wrinkled car was being towed,
The only thing that he said to me was, “Next time, eyes on the road.”
I am who I am and there is very little ground left for me to defend,
Because I knew that if I did it once, I’d most likely do it again.
A sudden thought springs to my mind,
a statement borne in rhyme.
I find this happens frequently
and cherish it each time.
Don’t ask me where the thought came from,
another soul or mine
or maybe it bleeds from the ‘whole’,
if so this thought’s divine.
The thought then echoes through my mind,
I’m clothed within it’s gown
and actually feel the thought’s relief
when it is written down.
Then other thoughts can quickly come
like rain they start to pour,
while some must wait until the first
has more time to mature.
When time is right I sit me down
then more words start to flow,
my pen moves through the rhyme with ease
and writes it in one go.
The written words bear ripened fruit
like grapes plucked from the vine,
but from this point I nourish them
and make them really mine.
I carefully study every thought
and review every line
to keep the meaning shining through,
but help the words to rhyme.
I know that I am meant to share
this gift that I’ve received,
to help some find their inner strength
in what has been conceived.
My poetry can mean so much
to those who care to read,
but please don’t offer me the praise
I did not plant the seed.
There really is a leading light
to see us through our day,
it shows itself in many forms
to help us find our way.
But you my friends must seek it out
then with it you can shine,
like I have done with poetry
a gift that I make mine.
Ivor G Davies