Long Outsides Poems
Long Outsides Poems. Below are the most popular long Outsides by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Outsides poems by poem length and keyword.
I was an army-brat town boy
of ten when we moved to the country.
I recall arriving in a village
called Cold Springs.
My dad purchased
a century-old house
with five and a half acres of farmland.
But it had no running water,
no bathroom, and no furnace.
An outhouse was
attached to a barn
some distance from the house.
And a rusty outside pump
was our only means of water.
For heat, it had a pot-bellied iron stove;
that we had to feed all day and all night.
It felt spooky and haunted.
At first, I hated it!
At night, I'd hear groans and squeaks
that invaded my dreams.
But Dad dug a well, painted the outsides,
had copper plumbing installed, put in a septic tank,
built a bathroom, and added a furnace,
turning that house into a home, I've learned to love.
I wonder sometimes if longing
is no more or less than misplaced belonging,
on my list of absences
that are more honestly presences
we have deferred explicitly owning right now,
you and I potentially co-empathic,
Left with Right dialectical insides and outsides,
without even knowing this absence from each in-
and outside other.
Things and relationships and transactional places
longed for yet unseen and unknown
we walk within and of and for in outflowing imaginations
both within and without ego/ecoconscious polypathic sacred-organic
ecology.
Bicamerally,
as Yang to Yin to not not back to positive Yang
we long to belong to no longer longing
to become to not not simply be
ecoconscious healthy EarthTribe cooperative reorganizers,
as, hopefully, was, and remains, Elder RNA's original organic regenerative designs,
Earth's original thermo-resonant polyculturing climate intent.
Personal and familial history
evolves into ecopolitical re-creation and de-generation stories
of great, and more typically smaller, transitions within dipolar climate histories,
ecological WinAnthro/WinEarth evolutions of octaved major thru minor memory dialects,
musical pitch and personal rhythm patterns of vibrating light
across evolution's transformative polypathic through monopolistic trends.
BiCameral CoBinary neurosystemic anthro-intelligence
recreating ecosystemic Gaian-intelligence matriarchal mysteries
HerStory cooperative strings and tales of evolutionary synergies,
authentically integral
indigenously and wisely owned incorporations,
divestments from dysfunctional climatically revolting competitions,
unkind suffering loss and death,
slowing domesticated empire-building force of irreligious nationalistic form
by day,
tsunamis and hurricanes and Earth's quaking futures by night
As perceived through bicameral co-evolving eyes,
still longing to belong within co-empathic humane-divine
nature-spirit Me/We ego/eco-systemic healing
body-mind belonging
cobinary
neurosystemically felt-thought longing
anima/animus rebalancing belonging.
Rumi Quote contest "The universe is not outside of you. Look inside yourself; everything that you want, you already are"
on the outside
parents nurture their offspring
until other outsides, come into view
then got to choose a song you want to sing
win or lose, you must see it through
and feel life’s tingling
you are an inside
there is nowhere to hide
on the outside
someone wants to share
will you commit and risk the pain
oh they say that they really care
but you must trust and hope to gain
it’s a beguiling affair
you are on the inside
there is nothing to divide
on the outside
is where you can chase your dream
gotta find a way to make it so
sometimes you got to be part of a team
sometimes an extra mile you must go
to be as you seem
we are on the inside
can’t take the mirror for a ride
on the outside
oceans of decisions changing destiny
got to work out the right and wrong
abide with what you like to see
then hope you can sing their song
and be somewhere you want to be
you are all on the inside
got to take it in your stride
we are an inside
there is nowhere to hide
we are on the inside
there is nothing to divide
we are the inside
can’t take the mirror for a ride
we are on the inside
gotta take it in our stride
but always remember on your ride
you are someone else’s outside
Ever since my early days of youth
I've been questioning
All the hidden secrets of life
And exactly what it means
So imagine my excitement
When I climbed the mountain top
And asked the man of wisdom
Just what it is he thought
Where he said...
Life is like a toaster
With people dropping in and popping out
Some may stay in the heat of life for too long
And find themselves burned out
Life is like a toaster
If you're kept down long enough
The heat that's applied to your outsides
Only strengthens your inner crust
Life is like a toaster
Some people are shiny on the outside
But lift them up and what you see
Are the crumbs they leave behind
After all these years of searching
I climbed high enough to learn the truth
With the meaning of life now by my side
I knew just what I had to do
I went straight back home to my people
The ones that I could help the most
I started at the local breakfast diner
Where I ordered up some toast
Do you see that girl?
The one over there.
With earbuds in and curly hair.
Curly hair that no one liked.
That’s brought mild contempt a good part of her life.
Do you see that girl?
Sitting all alone,
Making strange gestures over paper, tablet, or phone.
She hides the fact that she can write and draw,
From teachers and friends. (She’d hate if they saw.)
Can you hear her hum?
Tunes happy and sad.
Just that simple action makes her heart glad.
But she struggles to sing when others can hear.
Her voice is a secret that she holds near.
She plays the piano, the clarinet too.
She’s actually proud of what she can do.
But if you ask her to show you,
She’ll do her best to say no.
Even close friends are confused. (She knows).
Sometimes she doesn’t care,
Sometimes she’s fine,
But a part of the time, that’s just the outside.
“I don’t want them to see.”
“I don’t want them to judge.”
Her inner thoughts won’t let her be.
In quite moment’s she wonders
“Did they mean what they said?”
“What did they really want?”
‘Til there’s pain in her head.
Because she’s too much a tomboy,
Her curls aren’t neat;
There’s no makeup on her face,
Or heels on her feet.
Her style is too different.
Her music all kinds.
Her interests are nerdy.
She sleeps all the time.
If she becomes quiet,
When you compliment her art.
Remember she has an anxious mind and heart.
If her hands and voice quiver,
When she sings out loud,
Just be glad you’re there in the crowd.
When she comes out of her box,
Don’t make a big scene.
Just quietly accept it,
Don’t point and scream.
Compliments are fine, but she’s going to blush.
She’ll disagree a little, but won’t tell you to shush.
She’s trying to do better.
She’s trying not to hide.
To make things the same,
Between the ins and outsides.
You know you like her “as is”,
She’ll know someday too.
Be patient with her,
And she might smile for you.
A Poem in Me
There is a poem in me that wants
To come out deep beneath the surface
There is a poem in me that refuses to be contained
And retrained and withheld in my brain.
I spit the verse and let the poem
Shed the tears.
It started as a whisper.
You know the kind—
the kind you pretend not to hear
because you’re in public,
because you’re polite,
because you’ve been taught that silence is safer than truth.
But this—
this thing inside me—
doesn’t do polite.
This is louder than survival.
Because this poem—?this unruly, untamed, uninvited guest—?does not want to live inside me.
It wants light.
?It wants breath that isn’t recycled.?It wants an audience,?even if that audience is just one person?who didn’t plan on understanding me?but does anyway.
It wants a stage.
And I am terrified of stages.
Of the way they turn your insides into outsides,?of the way they hold you still?while your truth runs wild,?of the way silence from a crowd?can feel like judgment?or reverence—?and you don’t get to choose which.
will let it take the mic
with my shaking hands as witnesses.
But this poem—?this stubborn, beautiful rebellion—?keeps building.
Line by line,?it stacks itself against my hesitation.?Metaphor by metaphor,?it constructs a ladder?from my gut to my lips.
It was never trying to escape me.
It was trying to become me.
Un-contained.?Un-apologetic.?Unfinished.
And finally—?heard.
Day after day moment by moment second by second you see,
life's rollercoaster of thought's feeling's and emotion's delivered to you and me.
We all go through our own unique fair share,
yes, we all have our own rollercoaster to bare.
It's not easy sometimes just to try and catch your breath I know,
the up's and down's the insides and outsides we go.
Pulled and yanked around tossed here and there,
here's a twist of perception I'd like with to you share.
Life is all about growing, learning to change with the change,
if we are not growing each day we're not living, think this strange?
If we aren't living, then we're already dead, this is what I see,
life's rollercoaster trying to strengthen both you and me.
Let your heart rule each thought of the mind,
walk in Gods Spirit, and you won't be blind
You will learn to grow with each changing faze of your life,
everything we have been through, with all of it's strife.
Learn to live and grow with each good thought, feeling, and emotion's I say,
Look for a positive outcome in all things you encounter today.
Do this without giving up or or giving in,
looking for positive outcomes, you'll learn how to win!
Your Ummah has been line by line
Their eyes are full of cry
In and outsides are full of light
I have seen dear Prophet
Your garden I have watched
Placed the moment into my heart
At that minute real faith
I have found dear Prophet
At your mosque I stood
To your tomb I stared
Was infinitely inspired
Overflowed dear Prophet
Face to face with Faithfuls
Knee to knee we seated
Let you to us intercede
Kindly please dear Prophet
Lover have found his love
My heart is full of peace
What a blessed road it is
I have passed dear Prophet
Written By Yahya Soyyigit
Translation Onur Ünlü
Trees form an alliance…you might say they’re in cahoots…
with other trees and organisms that intertwine within their roots.
Pine, fir, palm, cherry, maple…it matters not what we call them
what differences on their outsides we may see…
The thread connecting them means they are all one family…
and that family is…tree.
It’s amazing how it works…if a tree needs something it is lacking
from another tree it gets donated….
Trees instinctively know they are stronger when they stand together….
when a forest is created.
A human family has a similar thread connecting every member of the family
branching out in all time and directions….that’s why it’s called our family tree.
Our family also forms alliances with other families…you might say we’re in cahoots
as other families across the world share and intertwine within our roots.
It matters not what we call ourselves…what differences on our outsides we may see….
the thread connecting each of us means we are all one….
one human family.
But unlike the family of tree…our human family has made a grave mistake…
allowing our fear and hatred and prejudice…to cause our thread to fray…at times to brake.
Unlike the family of tree we have forgotten we’re all related…
all a human sister and human brother….
the broken thread means we have stopped caring for…and helping one another.
And if we are unable…if we cannot find a way…to fix or repair this thread….
I have no doubt…eventually…our entire human forest will be dead….
But the Earth need not worry….long after we’ve caused our own extinction…
she will still be floating in the Universe…with dignity and distinction.
Because in those places once occupied by our now-extinct human family…
She will be soaring through the heavens still beautifully enveloped
by the family of tree.
just saying what i seeing
baby you need to come up for air
before you despair
i look over at your flesh
you look really a mess
just saying
you should be praying
somebody needs some sun
and fun
just saying
you should be praying
its like you look as pale as a ghost
you're a pariah at most
baby you need to air out
your pout
that chip on your shoulder
needs to smolder
and you need to come to the surface
with a different purpose
baby you moving to the dark side
as you inhabit those four walls and hide
you're insides are dark, outsides are white
paradox i see it day and night
its like your morph'in
but you're rott'in
just saying
someone should be praying
connie pachecho
1/14/17