Long Peculiarity Poems
Long Peculiarity Poems. Below are the most popular long Peculiarity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peculiarity poems by poem length and keyword.
What an unusual pragmatism conundrum.
We drum in our kids a sense of quantum.
Then, a few days later, we express our pain,
When we gaze on persons with the same stain.
We maintain tabs on the culprits responsible,
Similar views of the notion that we never boggle.
They also discuss the necessity for integrity.
Possibility of enduring unbearable agony.
Amidst all, we will mainly overlook the peculiarity.
There is a true cure for all our zealotry idiocy,
Our exquisite was driven to beauty, God's grace.
Over halcyon deeds, people in need, and peace.
We view a frail side within; it's a sort of plague.
There is no particular heal; thus, care is vague.
Written: November 25, 2021
It is said time moves ever onward…at a slow and steady climb…
but there is a wrinkle in that theory…a peculiarity in time.
The time that’s measured by our clocks marches forward…absolutely
The time that ages our once young bodies advances resolutely.
But there is a category, a kind of time that plays by different rules
defying all the lessons we once were taught in school.
It’s when old friends get together…for no matter how much time’s amassed
suddenly they are young again...as if time has never passed.
This is the wrinkle in the time continuum, a wrinkle all friends know
allowing them to pick up from where they left off years ago.
And for the time they’re back together…they feel a certain thrill
standing in a moment…where time is standing still…
If you want to see this wrinkle in time…it’s simple…
watch as old friends come together…then…
keep watching for the moment when they are young again.
A poem is not a logically coherent snapshot of consciousness; rather, poetry testifies to a breach of established logical conventions, offering a new perspective. This perspective reveals certain unspecified meanings that can only emerge through poetry. A poem should not be read as some sort of autobiographical document. On the contrary, an honest poem challenges the notion of documentary accuracy; it is almost always an imprint of complex reflections on memory, an event or events, and the musings of the subconscious—musings that are not obvious to the author—and this entire ensemble of meanings emerges at a specific moment and is never repeated thereafter. Or rather, the moment appears only to never appear again. There are no copies, poetry asserts; we cannot halt a moment in time to calmly reproduce the very same action in the very same state of consciousness. Most likely, the river seen by Heraclitus would have remained the same without poetry. In constant change, there is neither truth nor falsehood – there is simply a given reality as it reveals itself to the poet’s keen attention. After all, one might well fail to notice any changes at all – indeed, it is probably safer to perceive reality in this way. And there is no error on the part of the observer here. There are no rules. The play of time shifts with every moment spent within oneself and in the outside world, but we are under no rule to detect these changes. And what if some people do not change? – then their objects, too, remain unchanged. The parade of eternal entities is always somewhere nearby, sometimes closer than one might wish. But we are under no obligation to take part in this parade. On the other hand, we owe no debt for missed changes; little depends on us, for we cannot delude ourselves into thinking that we are the masters of our own destinies. Noticing what the so-called ‘others’ fail to notice is neither an advantage nor a disadvantage. It is simply a peculiarity of perception that brings comfort to the perceiver. It is rather like zooming in with a built-in camera – would be ridiculous to think that the camera acquires a soul the moment it zooms in on a subject.
All I do is be set in some form of pandemonium.
I'm sick of the same ripe, dull daily mind-numbing
How will I be urged if I lose my equilibrium?
Is life's symbiosis likely to be tedious scaling?
Everything appears to me to be rendered nugatory.
Similar to a grave where a covered body is decaying.
With a driven heart, I have for you high expectancy.
Since I induced the fantasies around your trembling.
What's extra, I hear you moaning in the wings, enunciation,
"I'm a long way from your stream; continue to scratch."
My heart is for the domain of passion, its constitution.
For what reason did you peruse it with a skewed outmarch.
Eros won't permit his sprouts to be stifled cautiously.
I opine he'll be revolted by your outrageous peculiarity.
Written: September 3rd 2021
round as the world —
round and round we go...
a merry go ‘round, of
multicultural colors,
like chromatic ponies
on a carousel.
a slide puzzled
a brow —
“not possible,” says the baby teen.
possibly the craziest ex-cube
circumnavigates,
surrounds
the inner core
of happiness.
the slip and slide,
a splash of huge
smiles and sighs.
peculiarity of pixels,
a mixup tottered by a thumb,
exciting as a magic-8 ball,
skaken, assured
of endless challenges
computer never runs
out of fun.
1/3/2021
If the Rubik's cube was round Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Neumann
Seems that with nearly every purchase nowadays for a fee,
Sales representatives want to sell you an extended warranty!
I reckon that's fine should you purchase a washing machine or car,
But the warranty that I was offered today I thought quite bizarre!
A warranty for a disposable camera didn't make a whole lot of sense!
I bought it at the Post Exchange for four dollars and ninety-five cents!
The cashier rang it up and I was dazzled at what the computer displayed!
"For ten bucks you can buy a warranty for the purchase you just made!"
I ain't the keenest guy around, but I considered such a deal a peculiarity!
I astutely deduced, "Gee, I can buy two cameras for the cost of said warranty!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Excuse me, dear friends!
I would like to learn about
something important to me
that keeps my mind rather busy
and makes me look a little bit silly
Would you help me know
if there are still some idiots who are
against color people in our time and why,
and if something like that
isn't supposed to be a crime,
On the other hand, I would like to know
whether or not it is only I who witness
that a great number of whites
go to the beaches in summers
to change the color of their white skin
to light or dark brown
lying in the sun
And also,
there's one more thing I need to know,
Aren't those dumb whites afraid
to look like color people
when their skin turn light or dark brown,
or with their stupid thoughts and approaches
to be like a real clown?
Maybe, they might think that
by looking down on color people
they will be crowned with a crown
on their heads
Such a way of thinking fills me with dreads
Excuse me, frieinds! Say it again.
Do you mean to say they don't care about the legality
as well as their responsibilities to humanity,
and on the beaches in summers
they just aim to develop
their amphibious capability and peculiarity
that once their ancestors had
Now I see better the reality of their stupidity
Thanks a lot for your help
Life is consciousness
All encompassing
In each realm
That is
Upon earth
Related to man
In the third density
Vital life breath is love
Love employs no force
Allows us to choose
From Gunas* three
Our life path
At the bottom
Tamas or stupor
Feels separate, inert
Sadly, dwells in darkness
Shift to interconnectedness
Propelled by Rajas desire
With sporadic empathy
Love flame flickers
Sattva Guna
Head-heart meld
Compassion blossoms
One with God-consciousness
Oh hermit, as we may see
All is already enabled
Love door is open
Just walk in
22-February-2021
* Guna (Sanskrit) is a concept in Hinduism and Sikhism, which can be translated as "quality, peculiarity, attribute, property". ... These three Gunas are called: Sattva (goodness, calmness, harmonious), Rajas (passion, activity, movement), and Tamas (ignorance, inertia, laziness). All of these three Gunas are present in everyone and everything, it is the proportion that is different, according to Hindu worldview. The interplay of these Gunas defines the character of someone or something, of nature and determines the progress of life. ~ Source Wikipedia
F Form - Free Verse- New - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme word: Life
Between Iraq OEF and Afghanistan ISAF I did about 120 months OCONUS..
A peculiarity about Bagram Airfield which housed about 40,000 people, mostly US enlisted soldiers from all 5 groups and the off shoots.. Well, obviously there were a bunch of horny kids with high testosterone on both sides of the fence and sleazy third country nationals .. It was no secret that some of the fat s.kanks from the US Army were there to make a buck.. Most US enlisted person in uniform had to wear a reflector belt at all times, pigs that were selling it wore 'pink belts'... no one else would be caught dead.. These ' women ' made a pile of money.. From what i heard, $150 USD per throw.. these skanks, and there were hundreds, easily raked in five times there take home per day, minimum.. frankly i cant the blame them... good lord they were hideous..
Maestro bows, a motion lulls thunder,
ovations a period of heeling, a clap
diverts a few, then attends silence.
A typical cough failed its challenge,
disturbed section promptly affects
a hall--indulges the jittery few. An
abrupt tapping expresses with
distinction and a Grandeur Hall
transcends towards the respective
measures that virtuous it's due.
His first appearance in the luxurious
auditorium, covetousness befell the
many, save one. Maestro entranced
a curve amidst a grand hall, fulfilling
hopes of men who are dropping jaws
and the prim-n-proper ever-widening
pupils for cosmetics lost effects.
As the thickness of the drape-enriched
velour, entrenched symphonic, designer
concertos, intricate waltzes, filament of
operettas--richly curtained memories
bliss.
Maestro's music world is the gist of his
being. To suggest other worlds, why
bother, it's just the world of music, and
that's the end of it. It's not a peculiarity
when one's grasp of the world is finite
and specific, that's what defines him.
I certainly don't want to be in a spot
when I'm in a surgical room, having my
heart worked on and standing there in
surgeon's clothes is the local dog catcher.
There are no hidden agendas. His life is
an open book. Life can be much simpler
if there were more people like Maestro
when he made up his mind it be so,
assuring his notoriety and, without a
doubt, a place for his name in the annals
of music history.