Long Patterns Poems
Long Patterns Poems. Below are the most popular long Patterns by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patterns poems by poem length and keyword.
People thought we island hopped by random drift,
when our picnic canoes blew away.
"Where are your charts and instruments" they asked?
"Those feeble canoes could never make the journey"
"You only go there 'cause you lost your way"
"You silly driftwood dreamers"
Little did they know we navigate by memory,
with the way to go, and how to get there
whispered between old and new ears, orally.
They say we are fair-weather sailors,
afraid of clouds and rain.
They say we only venture out in season, fair and friendly.
Little did they know in daylight,
we get direction from watching and pin-pointing
where the sun rises and sets on the horizon.
At night we know which star to watch
and align with the mast of double canoe
to hold our course.
We switch stars as they rise and set, in season.
They say we sail just for the fun of it,
for the sheer joy of riding the waves and currents,
sailing with the winds
free as a bird, going wherever they take us.
Little do they know we read
the winds and waves to find our way
on epic planned journeys by canoe.
Wave patterns change when an island is nearby.
We know the swirl of currents,
We read the trade winds like sign-posts.
We know the birds know where they roost.
We follow them home.
We know birds are master navigators on
their migrations, we follow them.
Sadly, these oral skills and
land-finding traditions
are now being lost forever.
Dispelled as oral traditions quelled, forgotten, pass away.
We the navigators have lost our way.
What people said about our ignorance of navigation
and silly random drift for landfinding is now too true,
Repêchage, Touché'.
Common reaction occur in most
they fit you in and bond you close
those similarities meet expectations
I’m unfamiliar in situations
So I stand out and people notice
makes me a target for jokers
assumptions always go with stupid
they humiliate the dumb kid
I grew up as this repeated
getting judged then mistreated
attention that left me deflated
for getting noticed I grew hatred
But I learned from repetition
patterns indicate intentions
minds are placed in my direction
testing leads to destinations
The destination is the laughter
social acceptance comes thereafter
at my expense while I am laughed at
now I’m grown you shouldn’t do that
Not because I will hurt you
nor will I avenge the plot
I just know what you are up to
as it happens quite a lot
Most people would call them out
speaking out to stop the process
let them know what they’re about
not me though allowing progress
because I’ve seen all this before
they’re always the insecure
with egos shrinking miniature
get me the egos restored
people communicate a sequence
they see then realise and they watch
the extra interest easily sensed
then actively test what I’ve got
And I’ve learned to lead them on
show them their judgement ain’t wrong
if I’m oblivious they’ll go again
in front of others to show them
And in a room in view of all
they’ll do what they did before
acting cocky feeling assured
and that is when they’ll look fooled
I’ll lead you to the trophy
let you put one hand on it
before it’s rip unknowingly
and you look like an idiot
In front people you got watching
the ones who heard you mocking me
that last second loss is shocking
humiliated purposely
The ones who play this game ain’t nice
they try it once but never twice
in their heart they’re cold as ice
they thought I’m here to sacrifice
AMENDING COMMENDING, DESCENDING FOR ASCENDING
NAKED OF ALL NAKED, GREATNESS PLEASE TAKE IT
GAME SAYS SUBTRACT TO TAKE IT, LOVE SAYS GIVE CREATE BLISS
HOW MANY CAN KEEP THIS, HOW MANY FALL FREQUENT
LOST TO MY PRESENCE, AND ESSENCE HOW I SPEAK IT
SO MANY PLAY VICTIM FORSAKEN, WHILE HEAVEN ON EARTH AWAITS THEM
CONFUSED MIND PATTERNS RAPE MEN, WHO PROJECT AND RAPE WOMEN
WOMEN SWIMMIN IN MY ADDICTION, CATCH A QUICKNESS OFF FRESH BIT VICTIMS
COURSE I BACK TRACK, STILL A SOUL I CARRY MOVIN SINGIN
BLESS THE HATERS CRINGIN, UNTIL THEY BANDWAGON THE ONLY MISSION
NOTHING IS WRONG, ACCEPT OUR REFUSAL TO SEE WHATS RIGHT
DAY IS SAME AS NIGHT, SEEN THROUGH DIFFERNT EYES
ALL IS ONE BUT YOU SEPERATE, DUE TO CHILDREN WHO HYNOTYZED
I'M WISE BEYOND MY OWN, LEAVE MY REFLECTION SPEAKIN HOMES
GROWN WITHIN THE POEMS, LEFT ALONE FOR CRAZY ROAMS
LIKE SUPPORTING ALL THAT IS, FOR WITHIN EACH TRUTH HOLDS
SO I SALVAGE ALL THE GOLD, MOLD THROUGH UNTIL THE WORLD'S A DIAMOND
SHAPED AS A HEART, AND YOU BREAK THE MOLD OF CLONE
I'VE BURNED MYSELF ON PURPOSE, TO FIND MYSELF AND LEAVE THE SKIRMISH
CALL ME DAVID BLAINES LOST RELATIVE, THANKIN WHODINI A MAGIC PURIST?
EVIL IS TAKING ADVANTAGE, DARKNESS IS JUST A BEAUTY
THAT CONTRASTS TO ENHANCE CANVASES, I LAND WITH THIS
SO MANY CRAMMED POSTS, WITH MORE DEPTH THAN ATLANTIS DID
Why
do I
write
this way
did I
hear you
say?
Why
don't you
pen
in lines
with
commas,
apostrophes;
and rhymes
iambs
metres
or
syllables
and stress
I suppose
to get
your close
attention
with my
sound
patterns
I guess
to
read me
aloud
as poems
should
and once
did
to
attract
a
crowd
The power within you is unique
if you are true to yourself
Today closer to fine
Navigating your inner self
changing landscapes
shadow pages and the imprint of the past
fear fake investors
The word had a different meaning
than expected
Today closer to fine
It is possible
to rise again after a fall
Today closer to fine
Trauma and mental disorders
let go of your expectations
hidden patterns and habits
One step forward and two to the side
move slowly and regularly from side to side
Nobody cares if you can't dance well
Reward yourself with positive affirmations
Today closer to fine
20.02.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem of the Day 21.02.2023
There are no rhymes here.
Only reasons.
Each breath carries one.
Each step carries another.
No patterns, only purpose.
Reasons live in the spaces between words.
They hide in silence.
They are carried in the weight of stillness.
They arrive without announcement.
They leave without regret.
No rhythm but the one we carry.
No rhyme but the truth we hold.
Reasons are not found in matching sounds.
They live in moments of clarity.
They are carried in silence, in breath, in movement.
Each reason is its own truth.
Reasons ask questions without answers.
They are the reasons we stay awake at night.
They are the reasons we breathe when there is no need.
They are the still point in a restless world.
No rhyme to guide them.
Only the weight of being
No rhyme.
Just reasons.
No answer.
Only why.
No ending.
Only unfolding.
This is my poem.
You might say it does not rhyme.
And yes — it doesn’t.
It was never meant to.
It is only reasons.
Reasons to breathe.
Reasons to move.
Reasons to simply be.
No rhyme.
Just reasons
Walk without a song.
Speak without a verse.
Live without a pattern.
Hold onto reasons.
They are enough.
Reasons do not demand proof.
They demand presence.
They ask only to be recognized.
This is my poem.
You might say it does not rhyme.
And yes — it doesn’t.
It is only reasons.
Only reasons to breathe.
Only reasons to move.
Only reasons to simply be.
No rhyme.
Just reasons.
No rhyme.
Just reasons.
No rhyme.
Just reasons.
Gathering odd bits and scattered pieces
I lay on silken sheets of pristine white,
a soft, lavender scent, aired, releases ...
daily sorrows and fears of painful night.
Rising on an astral cord, I hover
all smiling at my earthly nascent self,
wandering, wondering, fractals a glow
we light beings uncover
a unifying geometry ourselves.
Do come, come and join our playful tableau.
Dark interiors pale, as outside I rise
peeking but briefly within where I lay
and I nod to self, then up to the sky
with spirit animals along to play.
The wolves howl with joy, the owls soar high
we stitch herringbone patterns gray on blue
as we loft like birds above forest tall
giving bedside good byes.
High above the earth, we have quite a view
as with rainbows of lights we're enthralled.
From space earth's sphere seems an implausible dream
continents and oceans blue, brown and white
as refreshed we gleam, streaming home on beams
fired solar flares of brilliant delight.
Down, down, we go to just outside the pane
and giggling, I peek through the window shade
myself wound in, on umbilical thin,
whole without a complaint.
Four guardians, I hug and thank for their aide
and slip beneath the silk sheets, all tucked in.
"Our schools are...factories,
in which the raw materials-- [Win/Win hopeful] children--
are to be shaped...into products...
The specifications for manufacturing
come from the [pre-millennial] demands
of 20th century [corporate] civilization,
and it is the [competition] business of the school
to build its [robotic white] pupils
according to the [nature wins so spirit loses] specifications
laid down [by naturally unspiritual disorder].
Dean Ellwood P. Cubberly
Stanford University School of [Fundamentally White] Education
1898
This does feel dated;
A caricature of post-millennial green ecoschools
for healing Earth
as a whole blue/green red-blooded therapeutic system,
sacred ecological home for plants
and ecotherapeutically cooperative people,
resilient bicameral students,
cooperative deep learning robust listeners
to outdoor theological classroom voices
singing more resonantly
restoring ego's inside harmonic peace
through ecojustice Voices.
Because we passionately disagree with 1898
Big patriarchal robotic incorporated Win/Lose propaganda places
against active and creative multicultural Win/Win integrity,
We also agree with deep learning green STEAM outside classroom models
for healthier
more resilient
more nature-spirit integral education
for allied EarthTribe integrity,
secular/sacred learning solidarity.
We would please our democratic selves more
running cooperatively away
from Bored of MisEducation competition platforms
and dualistic personalnature v publicspirit loyalty parties
We will do resiliently better health care
giving and receiving
re-celebrating choices for multicultural climate health
over more and more toxic public storm and terror patterns,
Business as uncooperatively unusual outside
while approaching 2020 more vigorously Left with Right aware,
by letting go of 1898 LeftBrain ego dominance inside.
Were I a seagull, I would glide so fine
with V-shaped wings aflutter in the breeze,
above the ocean's whitecap-wave design,
along with others, join with calls that please.
With V-shaped wings aflutter in the breeze,
creating whirling patterns that unfold,
along with others, join with calls that please-
squawks echoing, rebounding, loud and bold.
Creating whirling patterns that unfold,
I'd mesmerize with movements of my wings-
squawks echoing, rebounding loud and bold,
while hunting food amid my gatherings.
I'd mesmerize with movements of my wings
above the ocean's whitecap-wave design,
while hunting food amid my gatherings.
Were I a seagull, I would glide so fine.
January 24, 2021
Contest: If I Were A . . .
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Chosen: 3. If I Were A Seagull
Revised from a previous poem posted: 12/09/2019
Stones...
Some are whole.
Some are broken.
Some are cut.
Some are rough.
Some are coloured.
Some are shaped.
Some are smooth.
Some are jaggered.
Some have patterns.
Some can skim.
But all will sink...
Stones...
When I see them,
I see beauty.
I see uniqueness
And character.
The human heart
Has, at times, been
Termed to be a stone.
More often than not
Expressed in a
Negative tone.
But some stones will
Put smiles on faces.
Stones are possessed
By all races.
When I see them
I see durability.
I see how
I could be
Like them.
For stones are not
Defined by their appearance
By their source.
They remain unjudged
If used as weapons
For a force.
Stones are what
They are.
Admired by you
And me.
And we value them
By what we see...
Stones.