Long Parabolic Poems
Long Parabolic Poems. Below are the most popular long Parabolic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parabolic poems by poem length and keyword.
What if a day came when reason
Overtakes the true false hopes
And deprograms the whole known commonly
No restraint pure word of essence
So you can't help but feel what you've heard
So comes the translation of a new season
I have no miracles to give only given word
Tis not the Man who speak so bold, so
Not blasphemy or cultural spiritual treason
These words the organic man does not hold
Its not of the past which up to now Was irrelevant
Its not on the way in coming days , all in or fold
This is streaming current of parabolic prevalence
Judge me not I tried to go
Seek me not this body easily judged
By the false who say they know
The essence never stops, the rock does not budge
Since its was told once
Used right three times
And death to each divine shell
This one died already, three times
This man is now hollow
Truth and word are his soul
He wishes not to be followed
But he has no control
Prove him wrong cure his fate
It is not yet written
Not up to date
But time for revision
This are not his words
It is not his decision
time to cut chord
Through parable precision
The past leads here
Time to end it
This moment don't show fear
Be real with atonement
Tis shame fellowship fate
Exploitation formed faith
So now its lil late
Like a wraith
The self will know and relate
So look past your faces
Let go of all wealth
Pick a steady pace
To cleanse thyself.
Circle in the sand could tell a story
of a lost world, where celestials and machines
were one.
A crafty place where symbiosis is tasted
on the tongue.
Chimera epoxies elysian forgeries,
ruins, blistered and urned
by the seasons and the sun.
Cogs turning in the Temple of
Desperidium.
Wraith of translucent heat layers, reeling as film,
screen of video player stealing the image
of vesselic seal.
Black wings covering the eye of the past in-echoed Artisan-
lens cap, loosed, by
gait of prose and print of boot.
But it won't, divulge its secret cache,
of high hand, poker face,
in sign language-of cornerstones plans
laid from.
Jacobs Ladder Inn-hiding,
drone wave form.
A fleeting glimpse of visage,
visitage of what will soon again re-spawn,
kit of kingdom come.
Masking, its schema in paved,
mapping in hum of ley-line amathema,
violet band in tardigrade.
Petrified rainbow relic in the strata,
its soil forgotten in mind shade.
Like black chute of night blooming mushroom,
bubbles up, defiant creation,
pharmakeia l.e.d balloon parabolic ort-asm,
phantifuge,
sailing its wave of rebellion in bloom.
Renaissance reconnaissance recognizance
frequency of insanity of fallen ones
that denies their death row doom.
Tower of Babel has one foot in the grave
and one lit up in stereo- fm,
in the netherealms of CERN/Hades
a portal seeking to pierce the veil,
as a mitochondria drill.
They seek to house themselves in your temple
and corrupt the windows to your soul.
During my elementary, high school and college educational quest,
I struggled to do my very best on every mathematical test.
I was a "B" student in English, History and Art as I recall,
But I never mastered the mysteries of mathematics at all!
Basic arithmetic such as division and multiplication left me at sea.
Even simple addition and subtraction overwhelmed me to a degree!
Trying to conquer the times-table gave me a shocking jolt!
Alas, teachers considered me a hopeless mathematical dolt!
Geometry baffled me as to which were acute and obtuse angles,
And even more perplexing were isosceles and scalene triangles!
Beyond me were the formulas for figuring the areas of hexagons,
Trapezoids, pyramids, circles, cubes and five-sided pentagons!
Teachers told me that for my future, algebra was indispensable.
Maybe so, but variables and coefficients were incomprehensible!
My limited intellect couldn't comprehend quotients and binomials,
Nor integrers, exponents, irrational numbers and trinomials!
Needless to say, I didn't attempt calculus or trigonometry!
Those disciplines were as foreign to me as parabolic geometry!
I'm eternally grateful to that selfless, ingenioius creator,
Who eased my plight by inventing the handy calculator!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
living in this flagitious society life becomes numb
yet we extrapolate irrespective reality till we become dumb
mental break downs and frivolous exercises of intellectual contempt
permeates a paradigmatic volition of unparsimonious content
we are axiomatic in our subjective minds as we conceptualize truths
but preconceived notions poison and impede the capacity of our fruits
berayed by the thick insulating cover of vitriolic and obligatory words
you can see with more than our eyes and hear more than whats heard
virtue and value will hurt you in battle
as expression and intention fight for domain
necessity and certainty like humans and cattle
like pride and despair both going insane
miraculous recoveries and extravagant claims
cognitive faculties misfiring as the mind refuses to aim
lost in translation as we wander our brains
a mental castration of parabolic restrains
feelings, opinions and emotions all subjective and chained
like a broken track on a bridge made for a 4,000 ton train
we refuse to abide by the laws in our hearts
as we accept solipsism in whole and in part
judgmental determinist with a maniacal skill
to violate logic and ignore the freewill
you recapitulate hate and promulgate lies
like maggots on a carcass embedded by flies
you are dead in your thoughts and dead in your walk
Trace the outline of your body with a forensic white chalk
to be dead in your mind is to be dead inside time
and if life is subjective theres no reason or rhyme
No Primus Inter Pares
Germans at the Costa Brava they just cannot yield
‘Brava’ the fight and they are conquering once more
Always the first on the beach or the striped deck chair but
The towel goes right up front and then they have breakfast
They claim their place in the sun and colonize the pool
I’m not a racist am German myself light skinned at dawn
Prejudice Discrimination Stereotype or double innocent vision
When too much sun meets a squinting eye of any beholder
Ready with parasol and sombrero and not enough lotion
To make sure I blend colourfully in and pretend I am native
Ingenious maybe but indigenous nowhere near but at my home
Not first under equals just one of the travelling circus’ crowd
I stake my claim forget all about physics in diabolical parable
Parabolic distant same old points and lines but when will I learn
That the sun scorches at high noon whatever I attempt
That horizons only widen when travelling in much truer fashion
Far and further afield immersion in less indifferent ventures
Brings me closer to peace to my own roots unburdens my search
I’ve seen the Taj Mahal under a midnight moon shadow absorbed
The Grand Canyon looked for precious Yellow Stone wisdom
Pyramids at Giza tear gas at Tahrir Square caves in Cappadocia
Never setting sun in Rovaniemi Omaha Beach and trenches in Belgium
I took local busses towards nowhere with no imminent return
No plan no target no defined ambition not steps merely ticked
Call me a voyeur in slums townships or favelas a frotteur with no towel
But I was made welcome once I shed my emperor’s colonial clothes
My luxury problems became smaller when I returned to the start
The gifts of the present the past and my very privileged future
One way or another I cannot and need not shed European origin
But my Universe has become less ignorant and a bit more unsure
23th July 2018
Germ of essence.
Human blob.
Shattered eggshell to the chicklet hatched.
Interlocking family of a kingdom.
Beget or begone? Antigone!
Pouch bearing mammal with no issue for her milk a plenty.
Enlightened species on
a zodiac sign.
Propagating genus wild and free yet stillborn.
Wet nurse in a pregnant phase but still a child at hearth or so it seems.
Meadow grazing Macropod fazes antipodean observer all the while.
New arrival signage whose laboured footprint chills on every impact.
Courier from catacombs, fateful torch aloft, flambeau at a glance where toddlers cheer, sonnet form heraldry ablaze with kindling verse.
Human destination thread that spins a hopeful tale.
Cave of legends halting site persevered by household zeal.
Stalagmite, stalactite, granite grey day gulag’s natal spasm.
Troglodyte who once did tramp upon a uterine tunnel trading in survival for relief.
Embryonic creeper stuck on dry wall canvas.
Border crossing cradle cordons off a check point, never mind the cost or inconvenience.
Acorn random toss, mighty oak seed trap between a leaf and fallen log.
Flower pollen stigma,
never seen as shameful to the fertile mind.
Tree of life penumbra casts a limelight shade.
Concepts pulse the mind like nascent parabolic kites that stymie outcome.
Genesis of brainwave.....
nurtured by insightful minds and marble carver tomes.
Olympic status offspring, budding Einstein player on the ball.
Thought, the inner urchin magnet probing deep inside magenta labyrinths.
Wheel of fortune‘s mumsy shadow
ova.
Masterful philosophy storing foetal logic on some growth cell’s wellspring fountain.
Infant augur embers fan their winter flame regardless.
Birthright , birthstone,
birth pang, the reproductive organs of infinity whose algebraic series has no final chapter scheduled.
Script for a Jester’s Fears
The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd
A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun
They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audience’s grasp
Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jester’s charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells
‘I can do this once more and for all’ she convinces her mask
‘I may crush my persona for no one to see’ grimace or not
Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen
Fool’s cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
25th April 2017
My life devoid of exotic adventure
(in fact...yours truly
never set foot outside the United States,
nor took to the skies, yes...how bore)
ring, the solitary endeavors,
not an onerous unbearable chore,
although (as mentioned in a previous poem)
this fellow rarely exits apartment door,
(particularly during biting cold),
fabulous grandeur tis mine to explore
thru (healthy escape)
by way of imagination fourscore
minus ten orbits completed
round the sun, and tapping
mind bending places galore
envisioning how a blind person -
nonetheless lamentable and heartsore
(more so since birth, this pupil doth ignore
versus tragedy eye will not site here),
no limitation to where this loner can soar,
which appears contradictory to previous
disclosures, yet revisiting said notion,
sans feeling tour
charred asper meaninglessness, a spore
germinated evincing clearly reassure
ring mine psyche, those select modes
engaging body, mind, and spirit for
instance exercise, reading/
writing, and meditation
with deliberation yours truly doth pour,
the entire heart and soul of
Matthew Scott Harris to shore
up sagging sullenness, yet though disheartened
at squelching interpersonal/social, mental,
and physical parabolic contour
of healthy development,
this fellow wishes he did more
class participation, dating,
fostering friendships/relationships
such ordinary human development that did war
rant raving about prior
disappointment, the decor
ration accrued, via strengthening muscles at core
of happiness from this
sojourner for truth...bonjour!
The prism had reflected a crumbling schism of broken glass for far too long
A mosaic with sharp spikes and edges imprinted on a breaking point of shards
Copious cornucopia scattered over a trapdoor of lost fragments in disarray
Is the whole more than the sum of its part when there is a hole at the centre
How does one create a hologram when light has faded all shades of colours
In which the shadows of memories fail to illuminate meaningful anticipation
Tim’s gaze fell on the mantel piece towering over the time worn fireplace
Perched on the crumbling wall of passion surrounded by ash crested tiles
Ornaments collected and surpassed by engraved chinks in the passage of time
He got out a scraper and sand paper to lure wood worm out of the darkened
Grooves and hollow burrows leading from an illusion of truthful misconception
The fire had gone cold no ember just decrepit burns on the disintegrating grid
Tim stared into the chimney searched for an oracle from soot and from sorrow
Yearned for passion and a few bits of ember to alight from hard frozen pain
His focus ascended to a cracked mirror above framed with ivory and marble
Rose petals and ivy adorning a longed-for metaphor on the margins of truth
A whole mirror cabinet exploded in the diaphanous mind full of distortion
Pierced his eyes stroked a few lonely tears once he burnished the pine surface
Inhaled turpentine paint stripper and uncovered a labyrinthine underworld maze
Sand paper was not merely enough and linseed oil would not paper over cracks
He could not let go of the image of parabolic imagination that right there hidden
Under dust and grime was a hidden treasure parchment paper and fountain pen
One last look and Tim realized he did not wish for a mirror image because that
Would be solely a mirage quite fantastical and delirious but fraught just the same
He needed just one more mirror for the mirror to take a close look of himself
26th February 2019
“I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.”
~Alice Hoffman
The man I love is far away,
does he exist? I cannot say;
perhaps a hope, perhaps a fantasy~
perhaps a fevered dream’s cliche.
If a dream I will stay most happily
beyond the veil in chastity,
the nightmare is the world alluded,
where vaunted knights are garbed in travesty .
The doctors say I am deluded,
that thought processes are occluded
by parabolic stimulations,
and reality has been excluded.
Am I insane to prefer creations
when life is full of corrupt castrations?
The man I love is far away,
can he not see my heart’s pulsations?