Long Perceiver Poems
Long Perceiver Poems. Below are the most popular long Perceiver by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Perceiver poems by poem length and keyword.
Whispering wings ~ feathers afloat,
Molting and marvelous, magnanimous
Wonders, alighting in familiar places.
~
Each feather remembers the warmth,
The pear-shaped cradle ere birth.
The quietude-nest, the guardian enfolds.
~
Even in rapid flight, into ebony night,
Wings, like a butterfly’s, though they sing,
trumpet no sound, unless one’s in tune
~
With God, unless the Spirit is just right,
Unless the Father is prepared to save
Or take away or just delight - just because…
~
Molting and marvelous, plucked from memories,
The magnanimous calls to the perceiver —
The flight, the whisper, the hesperus-hour,
~
Tingle of senses, the angelic featherbed
Releases an echo of space and time
To loved ones left behind…a single dove.
~
Even the blind, deaf and dumb recover
their senses, grab hold of the felicitous flight
…somehow, one’s guardian angel delivers this gift.
~
Godspeed, feather-light, wings that glow
whiter than snow. The Holy Spirit prepared
to disentangle truth from fiction in one’s frightful season.
~
Guardian-wing’d, miracle snow-drift, lights up
those dust-filled dendrites, attempts to clear
the cobwebs — spread of peace and light.
~
Next to her, smiling wide, exact replica
of an angel - Mom. Next to her frame —
a feather-gift treasured by my father.
1/12/2022
Hear my special child’s alphabet features
Eagerly, he mumbles with sheer delight
a-ape; b-bear; c-cat… dear God’s creatures!
D-dove; e-eagle; f-falcon… birds of great flight
g-goat; h-horse; i-impala…all in Noah’s ark
j-jaguar; k-koala; l-lion… oh, what a sight!
m-monkey; n-newt; o-opossum; hey, they don’t bark
p-parrot, q-quail, r-robin; busy in their nests
s-snake; t-turtle; u-unicorn…hiding in the park!
v-viper; w-wallaby: do they hate pests?
x-x-ray fish; y-yellow fin tuna: swimming gaily
z-zebra and zebrafish together in animal fests…
Alphabet "perceiver" he’s become expertly
Reading, sounding, blending letters blissfully!
April 12, 2019
Edited on May 22, 2020
Honorable Mention, "BRIAN'S CHOICE Q,any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/23/2020.
Honorable Mention, "YOUR CHOICE h" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/17/2025.
Reflections
Reflecting upon – it is a dangerous game for one to play
for it leads to flawed judgements – unreasonable expectations
for expectations are seldom realizes or met by others.
Expectations are difficult to live up to, by others or by ones self.
Images projected, those reflections are often built upon fantasies,
illusions, delusions that distort or blind the perceiver to a reality.
Personal history is just that – personal – and not a measuring stick
by which to quantify, see, judge, to comprehend what is here and now
nor is it the mirror by which to bring forward – into the future.
Judge not but by that which is in the moment – the here and now.
Yesterday is history, it’s past, not the story upon which to create – today.
Today is all we have !, yesterday is gone !, - tomorrow is promised to no one !
B. J. “A” 2
January 12th 2007
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.
I am...
a lamb of the Good Shepherd; seeking to love and follow him more faithfully
the husband of my college sweetheart; with her, I hold a winning lottery ticket
a family man; seeking to make my clan a place to thrive, a safe haven for all
a hard worker; seeking to pour heart, soul, strength and mind into each task
an empathetic friend; seeking to acknowledge pain and help you find your way
a waistwatcher; seeking that enigmatic perfect ratio of flavor to calorie count
an aficionado of nature's beauty; seeking moon rises, waterfalls, and sunsets
a trail maven; seeking to conquer unattained summits and enjoy unseen vistas
a pedal pusher; seeking to luxuriate in the great outdoors by cycling through it
a careful arranger of words; seeking to write poetry qualifying as transcendent
a student of the arts; seeking to divine their secrets and know myself better
a creator of music; seeking to be a blessing, mindful of those far more talented
a lover of humor; seeking to laugh at myself, and 'dish' with a wink and smile
a player of games; seeking camaraderie over a win, fellowship over high score
a solver of puzzles; seeking to use math and science to comprehend my world
a connoisseur of the fine wine of baseball; seeking that elusive championship
a perceiver; seeking to heal with a compassionate ear and encouraging word
.....
I am blessed and grateful to be alive and loved by such wonderful people
I am a zoo of many animals; come by some time and find one you like!
—The Heresy of Light—
Before light, there was no darkness—
only the fathomless unarticulated,
where neither here nor elsewhere
had yet divided the infinite.
Then one photon,
an infinitesimal apostate of the void,
crossed the primordial silence—
and existence acquired
its first distinction.
Here.
Beyond it:
Elsewhere.
Thus distance was born,
and time, that patient devourer,
received its first wound.
A star kindled.
The universe became capable
of remembering itself.
We named this creation.
Perhaps it was the first betrayal
of the invisible.
For ever since,
we have mistaken the name
for the thing named:
we call a mountain mountain
and think we have contained its immensity;
a flower flower
and mistake taxonomy for perfume;
we draw constellations through ancient fires
and praise ourselves for discovering
what the heavens never inscribed.
Yet the unseen is not emptiness.
It is plenitude exceeding apprehension—
reality overflowing
the narrow vessel of the perceiver.
Even love refuses our jurisdiction.
Learn the beloved's face,
the genealogy of every scar,
the cadence of every silence—
and still, when that face withdraws,
there remains an inward country
to which knowledge has no road.
Perhaps this is the secret wound of absence:
presence gives the senses an object;
absence reveals
that the beloved was never an object
to begin with.
And death—
what if gone means only
beyond the jurisdiction of sight?
A star may perish
before its radiance reaches us;
yet centuries after its furnace is ash,
its last light enters a living eye.
So extinction is not necessarily silence.
What has ceased to burn
may yet arrive.
What has become dust
may remain luminous in consequence.
We are, perhaps,
the afterlife of vanished fires.
Therefore, when my own light falters,
do not say I have entered darkness.
Say only:
he has crossed beyond
the vocabulary of sight.
For darkness was never light's opposite.
It was the immeasurable
within which light,
having committed its first heresy,
was still learning
what it meant
to be seen.
The foggy snow hats the mount peaks,
The chilly wind frosts all snaky creeks.
The shelter covered by creamy layer;
Face of a pane of the wistful thinker.
The clear icicles cling from the gutter,
Like the tearing of a sadden perceiver;
The thousand drops flood within:
Reviving my mother's teaching.
Once a spoiled teen in mother's arms;
Had poetical talent with full charms.
Then flew to adore distant flowers,
Received pitiful consequences later.
The obstacles shadowed the daily life,
Just a few of them have been rectified.
The foggy days repeat over and over?
Only self-confident man can endeavor.
Even powerful mind soaked in tears,
Let the body move on without fear,
Hopefully the snow fog will cease;
The strong heart could stay at peace!
Tomorrow the weather could be fine,
Keep moving on the tough, nasty line,
Even the fuzzy way lessens the vision,
Try hard to find the right destination.
Go on to reach out the ideal flowers
That bloom in the beautiful weather;
Leave the foggy days, obstacles of life,
To pass over the foggy day and smile!
now to try to re-formulate; that...
previous hour and a half; which...
ended with a power-off; that...
erased a brew of words; which...
mirrored both context and content; that...
was poetic meaning of a moment; which...
echoed perceived and perceiver as time; that...
had been slowed to an image of symbols; which...
illustrated an embedment of space and time; that...
reflected as a background; which...
cast spells of words from a point; that...
defined a perspective on time as the container; which...
served recipes for any matter; that...
was some form from a concept mechanics; witch...
who worried the power might shut off again; that...
once more all will be lost but the perceiver; witch...
left with nothing but ideas; that...
were a recipe for a context-content objective; witch...
stan sand
The Queen
Mom—
the enlightenment, the luxury, the tranquility;
all are the ornaments that replenish, the necessity
and brightens the steps, nourishes the born rarity
You, the whisper of infinity, the sensation of divinity
O’ Queen—
Dignity welcomes your dignity, Love cherishes your love—the divine presence
Appraisal embraces your colors, Almighty grants you treasure—the only essence
Hands—the symbolic perception: the perceiver of affection
The Love—
Embellish the divine purity, protection guards my sincerity
You—the spring breeze,
even echoes high, the winter’s warmth ease
more above the moon’s forever moonlight,
and the fragrance of daylight delight
The Presence—
of unmeasurable affection, beating bright dimension
You-the rock of beliefs, the luxury of ultimate energies
Regarding your enduring duties, often brightly emerges
I owe, you my heart’s castle, sparked and over sparked.
Mom—
I most often wholeheartedly desire to relish all your dreams,
bowing before your brilliance, owing the fragrance of all your beams
Soon! the stage echoes—the aura of your daughter, the intellect, the roaring accomplishments
Soon! the heart blossoms, the eye sprinkles, the step dances.
perceiving both sides
at once is as
of an equality
within...
an eclipse-moons light that appears dark and
hence light and dark seem as knotted
mind concepts
within...
perception limits just as left reflects as right
light humour may appear as darker being that an
equality of opposites is as an infinity mobius strip concept
within...
any single mind at any one moment in time to munch input/output
as with having the minds mirrored molars on both sides of an issue at once
and the perceiver pondering a neutrality as readers might perceive some bias
within...
an equality of opposites that a neutrality sums as a zero
stans sand