Long Outer Poems
Long Outer Poems. Below are the most popular long Outer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outer poems by poem length and keyword.
Soul Soliloquy
I turn away a stage no more
Set up high on a pedestal
To say my peace, naught to be lore,
Observed a point, incredible.
If this naught be my righteous day
I feel my eyes will not suffice,
But close my heart its stead, say nay,
Kept opened to much need advice.
I claim no virtue 'tis of mines,
For I, a mind, made full of sorts,
So worthy be the choice defines,
This day mines will then set the course.
It is but a crawl through mired mud,
Slime of crimes my outer being
The innards smell a stench of crud,
My essence hid but seen fleeing.
I will not heed to ill advice,
To consort with those troubled minds,
This naught be a good day of choice,
To listen to a host of whines.
If I could change but one small thing,
It is my mindset one accord,
I wait what righteous day will bring,
Find you a servant of the Lord.
2019 June 05
The earth opens its hungry gut looking at us
The earth opens its craving gut laughing at us
The heat is twirling meticulously in the dust
And big eyes are popping out of the sky
with an appetite that says do or die
The earth is yearning and munching at its gum
Sweet tooth sweet corn rising from the bottomless pit
And a solemn appetite mingled with a desire that is unfit
The inner core burns with lust and a strange desire
you cannot trust creeps slowly upon us
As the heat burns the outer crust vibrate
and the trees struggle to hold their gravity
and the animals run for safety
I begin my journey looking for food
I pass through village and town chopping down trees
And digging up ground
catapulting houses all around
My search for food takes me round and around
My search for food pulls down cities and towns
Every time you walk upon the earth,
You come in contact with spirits and dirt
Someone had occupied that rigid spot
Someone made that deadly shot
Though the dust remains on the earth,
Their spirit and soul live inside the outer crust
You might weep and mourn their memories,
or build a giant memorial in the sky but the flesh
will never come alive again ,
The earth is where it all began
with the sordid penitence of man
Speaking to mankind’s conscience
The memories of yesterday hang on fallen trees
Holding chunks of earth in its roots
and walking around in water boots
You cannot replace the fleeting time
And hold memories that are divine
It’s you and me that is walking in the middle of the sea
It is you and me that is yearning for victory
The life in you still remains strong,
And the passing of time cannot be framed.
The good or bad that you do,
have their appointments in the sun, wind and the rain
While you celebrate the gift of life many more will have to die
The earth is a reminder that mankind must pay the sacrifice
I walked the earth for a year without shoes
and I could feel the pressure when I step on the ground
The bile is bubbling up in my gut
And the saliva in my mouth tastes bitter
The earth with cracks and holes
and giant size tectonic plates
Are waiting patiently at the gate
Take the narrow road through the village
and cross over the river.
The earth will regurgitate.
We had been welcomed with an exquisite embrace.
With sentences that stream the same as a wave.
The sky-blue vault is shaded in smooth grace.
A glimpse of the sea, to stroll to and from the cave.
We'd gladly cross the solid and subtle field.
In innate oneness, we are complete;
We didn't have to talk as we appear to wield.
Until we were ousted by an outer beat.
From pretty places to revolting symbolism.
Where such discussions and gatherings happen.
On a day, the typical scene is momentum.
He is a ruthless normal hero or a demon.
The aura glimmered brightly near.
In a desert area, you'll have a sun clear.
Written: September 6, 2021
Wet nights, warm days are what we want in the summer noosphere.
Man's mind one with weather.
If this is true, life is good, or will be good.
Can I be encouraged that my sons will find mystery on the planet
as I did?
How sweet the slow spring! May already and the canopy not out yet.
Woods quiet all winter.
Now I can't distinguish the many bird songs from where I sit.
Red maple flowers and first sugar maple leaves are, to me, the Christ
child
that's been coming.
The ancient poems and the new make the 1/10 inch of annual topsoil
from carbon dioxide loading.
As a humanist I want everyone pursuing happiness; as a naturalist
I sometimes pray for man's destruction. As a rationalist I admit
I lack data.
O to play slow and sure, even when the tune is fast. Inside an aquifer
of love for the audience.
Not to fear or even necessarily obey the changing wind's
direction. Being here I breathe and make the atmosphere as seen
from outer space.
The song of the world will often take you far from yourself. There
will be no self. How will you know yourself?
By knowing thyme and dandelion, the blue jay from the hawk,
the heron in its swamp, black cherries and the one pear at the junction
of the trails.
They are yourself.
I’ve chased my tail for thirty-seven years,
September. And I would do us all well,
my night of whittling wicks to waxen tears,
to blow my wish that truths be lies we tell
and birth a better version to review:
The song for birthdays all my daughters sung,
all three at once and all together, too -
(a glint of giggle as I’m backwards flung
and turned in somersaults across the room)
- I’ve never made it past the birthday song
when sung by conjured singers, once presumed,
where all is and was and all I am is wrong
to think September I’ve a right to face
while playing “pirate ships” in outer space.
A moment on the ear an opus creation without flaw
the sound of pure laughter from a child on a see saw
prolonged hours of ecstasy in the palm of God's hand
the sound of the ocean on my chest and where I stand
A daffodil of yellow smiling up at me from base
the scent of petrichor in the soil after a days rain
spectacular views from Mars or any place in outer space
just about anything that makes me laugh, insane !
A slow and gentle kiss and poetry from Baudelaire
romantic dates that end with chocolate and roses
wooly socks, afghan blankets made of little squares
antiques that remind me of mom, and her neurosis
a million breaths released just after, "I SIGH",
and all the things on my bucket list before I die.
July 10, 2021/center>
Where do you get these ideas? She asks; poetry is a daunting task.
See the apple, Playdough, pen, stapler, and bleach cleanser I ask?
I use them with “what if” and create a missive in seconds sometimes.
I open a drawer and show her markers, a notebook and sixteen dimes.
Everything in my world can easily end up in a poem, you see.
Items quickly and connivingly jump into my brain and tantalize me
She does not see, she does not understand, and she tells me this too.
I have no other suggestions, for now a dog is being eaten by a shoe.
A horse from outer space is whispering sweet everythings in my ear.
There is a knight with one leg who is limping toward me, my dear.
Ideas are bombarding me from my left, south and right.
All I can do is begin writing with all of my might.
Where do the ideas come from? I have no idea at all.
I cannot figure it out, but the wall has grown tall.
The couch is rolling around with the recliner in a lecherous way.
I will have to get back to you at the end of the day.
A storm is brewing in the azure ether
Somber clouds loom with thunderbolts
Shadows enshrouded small seaside town
Tides crashes with ire against the rocks
Inner turmoil seethes in Lara's addled mind
Racing thoughts haunt through the years
Double personality was an escape from reality
Evincing the forbidden behavior by society
Cloudburst flooded the fishing coast by hours
Paralyzing a town when time seems stand still
Waterspout appeared in the fierce ocean waves
Desolating Cape Fishing Town without mercy
Shiny sun rays appeared in the sky after the storm
As a sign of hope between the desolated scene
Lara came out from the basement used as shelter
The inner and outer tempest concluded synchronously
For A Storm Is Brewing Contest
Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Fifth Place
4-17-2016
No Particle Theory can ever be Unified –
for there is always the space between...the
unknown that separates while binds us
in a matrix of primitive wonder. Dark
Matter is only dark to those accustomed to one
light...for those whose eyes adjust to the
thin horizons of others who have passed
before them – and not the endless expanse within,
the heart and soul of a boundless Universe. So,
we slowly peel-back our outer layers, those of
earth and moon, the illumining stars, limiting
skins of meagerly defined senses. Without God
there is only Science...
hopping from one physical rock to the other, skimming
over the depth of spaces,
stepping cautiously into shallow pools
as yet to explore the unimaginable realms
of a far greater Spiritual Sea.
(More Context)
We are observers...consciousness existing
in an elevated dimension of reality. Difficult
to imagine, yet our thoughts are entirely
separate from our physical senses and their
body sources; we truly, not figuratively,
look in or down upon the many instances
and vehicles of manifest substance.
There can only be
one Unified Theory: it must be a Continuity Theory,
where separation is merely an elaborate illusion:
In fact, all we see and seem are Wave effects
propagated through a flexible yet solid dimension,
driven by vibrations or shivers (so to speak) –
Waves collide, and those peaks or points
of collision become our physical reality –
these are the pixels our eyes and minds interpret
and assemble in the likeness of recalled
references, desires and predilections – We look down,
look in, look out, but always from positions independent
of the objects of our inquiry. Mind, Consciousness
is entirely independent of the physical. This
explains the phenomenon of Savants. Our
brains are not developing receptacles of
knowledge – but, in fact, developing
gateways. Who we are, where we come
from, and how long we live progresses
far outside our experiences of birth and
death.
Jesus is indeed the great story teller
on this occasion He told of a king
telling what heavens kingdom is like
the king gave a feast for his son to bring
Those who were invited but they didn't come
then other servants went to hand out invites
but many excuses they made to not appear
despite promising a feast so very bright
This king was raging full of fire
many invited so sent army out to kill
then sought anyone to come to feast
though not worthy, bring them in still
So sent to the highways and byways
whether they be invited to be a guest
but one is found with no wedding dress
how he got in? seeing not proper dressed
The king brought judgement to bare
ordered the man to be sent in dark to weep
concluding that many indeed are called
but chosen are the few to be His sheep
("And again Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying, “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son, and sent his servants[a] to call those who were invited to the wedding feast, but they would not come. Again he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those who are invited, “See, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding feast.”’ But they paid no attention and went off, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. The king was angry, and he sent his troops and destroyed those murderers and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore to the main roads and invite to the wedding feast as many as you find.’ And those servants went out into the roads and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good. So the wedding hall was filled with guests. “But when the king came in to look at the guests, he saw there a man who had no wedding garment. And he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” ")
Matthew 22: 1-14 (ESV)