Long Pervades Poems
Long Pervades Poems. Below are the most popular long Pervades by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pervades poems by poem length and keyword.
In the quiet corners of the heart,
Where shadows linger, dreams depart,
The path of grief begins to wind,
A journey through the fractured mind.
**Denial** cloaks the soul in shrouds,
A veil of fog amidst the clouds,
A hollow echo, faint and thin,
Where reality can’t enter in.
In this place, the world seems still,
The pain subdued, the heart is still,
Yet somewhere deep, a tremor calls,
A whisper through the echoing halls.
**Anger** soon ignites the blaze,
A furious storm through mournful days,
An unrelenting, searing fire,
That burns through hope and will’s desire.
It lashes out, it seeks to find,
A reason for the troubled mind,
A target for the raging storm,
A way to break the endless norm.
Then comes the **bargaining**, a plea,
For what was lost, for what could be,
A dance with fate, a subtle twist,
To change the past or clear the mist.
Promises to mend the wrong,
A hope that reason will prolong,
The grasp of loss, the aching fear,
In every whisper, every tear.
**Depression** settles like a shroud,
A silent, dark, encircling cloud,
It drapes the spirit, heavy, still,
A void where light and joy are nil.
In this embrace, the heart may sink,
The soul retreats, the thoughts may shrink,
A hollow space where sorrow grows,
And endless night in darkness flows.
Yet from the depths of darkest night,
Emerges **acceptance**, faint yet bright,
A quiet peace amidst the pain,
A gentle hope to start again.
It’s not a cure or quick reprieve,
But understanding to believe,
That though the scars may still remain,
The heart can heal from sorrow’s strain.
Acceptance is a tender place,
A space where one can still embrace
The memories that never fade,
The love that once and still pervades.
It’s knowing that the journey’s end
Is not a loss but a time to mend,
A path where pain and healing blend,
Where broken hearts can gently mend.
So through these stages, one will tread,
With tears and hope and words unsaid,
Each step a chapter in the quest,
To find a place where grief can rest.
For in the depths of loss and pain,
There lies a strength we can regain,
A light that guides through darkened skies,
And helps the spirit to arise.
Penelope Alecknavage nee perskin whose death aye assay
to comprehend, this son of the late Harriet Harris -
November thirteenth 2016 marked her eighty first birthday
if she still lived these last eleven years - instead met crossway
where grim reaper awaited - though my mum sought to delay
futility to accept Pyrrhic outcome - homage pep rally
thru poetry n essay
writing, and finding cadence of words
helps me (with powder milk biscuits)
gather courageous foray
and means to grapple with demise
of a loved one, and hence my gray
matter sifts thru childhoods' end,
where remembrance of hooray
amidst claque of chattering aunts, cousins, and uncles
the fuzzy interplay
of Penny racing at dog speed across lawn of family home
cordoned off via a jackstay
looms in forefront of my mind,
vulnerable to grief most people sad - me, oh kay,
reckons cessation of life = equalizer of sorts
when significant person without breath doth lay
Tom foolery deft hands of motley crue prestidigitation
playing game versus sobbing as corpse
driven to graveside viz motorway,
where belief at such stark catastrophe - nay
numbness pervades next of kin survivors
especially when passing occurs pre-holiday,
yet no matter whence one departs
bobbing along River Styx to unreachable quay
mourning iz broken with nary sunny and Cher full ray
to warm earth, wind and fire - seeking soul asylum,
trying to blink away ill logic cheap trick re: acceptance,
but inxs of tears for fears begs scene 2b screenplay
not hard rocking coldplay accursed reality
terminal illness ushers helplessness cuz part of ourselves
agonizingly rent asunder, which psychic tearaway
far exceeds any physical pain, and will underlay
the immediate future, which bodes hollow
with the sounds of silence
despite informing musicians or veejay
to lighten moody blue -
boot invariably bono fide, green day,
Lady gaga emitting beat,
per the human league (plus the culture club
of heart felt village people affiliated with goo goo doll
traversing into nirvana)
creates clangorous discordant ringing
increasing nostalgia for loved one lost before yesterday!
Akin twin invisible presence coaxing...paranormal
Action across ouija board
herald Faustian bargain
as fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits, perhaps dimension unexplored
twilight zone, (where spirit of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation from an atheist sword
like cross my heart and hope
to die a martyrs death), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...Without explanation,
there gets heard clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn freed
from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...
a deathlike stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades painfully quiet
as if sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled poem
to "grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he dashes off runners block
blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete
with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But, aye beg (bribe
with wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with pennywise
and pound foolish sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst to me
computer laptop black keys!
Uneasy calm!The crystal ball of clearity incompletely serened atmosphere for
serious,sensible decision making.A profane confirmation of black or white,
narrow or wide,positive,negative or neutral response.A turning point!
Uneasy calm!Pervades the air in an atmosphere of temporary settled confusion,
upheaval and general uncertainties awaiting a definite final answer.Certainly a
concise decision must follow;the starting point of chains of reactions.
Uneasy calm!The think thank of all the egg heads of all world opinion leaders
and eiderstate's men.Clear mindedness is the game.No mistakes!Could be
costly!All details must be censored and put in place now.Alright!
Uneasy calm!A situation that calls for serious sober reflections and concise
collation of all relevant statistics,logistics and vital necessary information to forge
ahead.The complete picture of the expressed definite answer.
Uneasy calm!Your dimensions are multifaroius.Good or bad!Peace or war!
Enjoyment or suffering!You have the final answer.Egg heads!You cannot afford to
make mistakes at this point.No!No!!No!!!Not at all.We count on you.
Uneasy calm!Dialogue,compromise,fairplay and finding alternative lasting
solutions to problem solving is your best option.War is completely out of the
game!Reason!There are millions of positive options at your disposal.Choose!
Uneasy calm!Your best choice is satety of human life's and peace for all nations.
This is the only antidote and best tonic for the world at the moment.Peace!Peace!!
Peace!!! is golden.Embrace it!
Uneasy calm!Your only legacy is an unalloyed world stability and unity among all
nations.Nobody is screening or judging anybody.Everybody has a right to his own
opinion!Pick the positive ones to move the world forward.Calm down!Embrace
peace always.
Uneasy calm!The world is an egg that is placed delicately in your hands for
keeps at the moment.It must not break.Scrutinize and weigh all options very
well.Your time must be remembered for good.
Uneasy calm!You are close to the best options.Use all machinery at your
disposal.human resources and ideas,technology and fine details firmly on
ground
to move forward.The world is at your mercy.Restrain!
In dribs and drabs, in fits and starts,
the elders slowly congregate;
in the common room of the seniors' home,
they patiently sit and wait.
Some are wheeled in, some simply shuffle
in orderly fashion, without kerfuffle.
They've all been told
there's "gonna be a show"
put off by some "young people"
who (chances are) they don't know.
Many are quite alert and very aware
delighted to be together
and to have an experience to share.
Others come in a different mental state,
in their own little worlds,
seemingly uncerebral
yet dignified, quiet, sedate.
The entertainers have already arrived, in fact,
and as soon as the seniors come in
they start to interact,
exchanging pleasantries with hellos,
how-do-you-dos and "what're-ya-ats!";
smiles and handshakes easily given
with banter and casual chit-chat.
The nurses and attendants smile,
noting the connectivity,
and across the room faces brighten
at the growing sense of fun and festivity.
A happy mood pervades the place
as the singers smile and sing;
their voices effortlessly fill the air,
easy, relaxed, warm, soothing.
Lots of "old" songs are played and sung:
"Country Roads", "Danny Boy",
"Kiss an Angel Good Morning".
"If you know the words, please sing along!"
and so many of them do, with voices soft or strong.
But what sets this show apart
is the interaction
between singers and seniors;
their reaction and sense of satisfaction
of a diversion from the mundane,
a vivid and vibrant distraction.
And those with minds in altered states
are aroused from their lethargy,
hearing the music and sensing joy,
perhaps remembering when they felt such ecstasy.
Often, the singers will reach out to touch and hold a hand.
Elderly eyes light up and smiles show they understand.
A few of the more able-bodied are invited to dance,
a reminder of the long-ago days of youth and romance.
After an hour or so, the concert reaches its conclusion
with applause and cheers, compliments said in profusion.
The Sunshine Singers are pleased with a job well done.
The seniors and staff feel delight and satisfaction;
and everyone is enveloped in a warm glow:
the simple joy that comes from human connection.
Spain in Rain Falls
There’s something different
About the rain in Spain
And being an English man
And well versed in rainfall
I should know a thing or two
About rain
It still falls horizontal
Occasionally with a side to side wiggle
But it seems to land with a different splatter
And the ringlet pools in puddles
Seem to matter
More
The thrumping, drumming trickles and rivers
Have an alternate way
Of running down the road side gutters
And there is a coastal tinkle
In expanses formed by the space of sea
So close to the sky grey
People do not rush in the rain
They understand this brief refreshment
And draw it in through sun-baked pores
Drink it in on dry parched throats
Many weeks may pass before its cool embellishment
Returns to break the dusty heat
Its almost as if you can hear the dry ground soaking
Drinking, shlurping, on the straws of greedy roots
And every leaf is a green extended tongue
With closed eyes savours the feel of water
As it plinkers and splotters
Leaping in sprays off their wet leafy diving boards
And the mood seems slowed, patient, waiting
And every where you go there is a warm glow of unspoken appreciating
Smiling; the clouds do not feel heavy
And the sky still reflects its blue
And the rain is there just reminding you
Of the long days of desiccant sun yet to come
The all is basking, washing under arm nooks and niches
Where the dusty days have gathered
Everything is stretching revitalized as if from a weary sleep
Shaking and rattling with incessant drips and drops
Sounds like laughter echoed from a thousand swimming pools
Repeated by every blade of grass
Even ones eyes are relieved from straining
The blanket droplet laden cotton sky
Hangs a shade of diffuse balm on ones retina
Instead of squinting in sunglass bright glaring
Can see the deeper hues of dampened colour
Crisp, clean pervades
With a slow unencumbered sense of peace
Yes, there is something different
In the rain, in Spain
Something expansive, more spiritually deliberative
And being an Englishman hailing from that bleak raining land
Am well versed in all the aspects of water-fall
I should know a thing or two
About rain
1861
Dust rises from the rutted road. Cannon laden caissons rumble slowly forward. A red sun competing with the campfires glow. Weary troops break camp, joining the ranks of
colleagues on the move. An enemy, unseen, lays before them, waiting to exact a deadly blow.
Bellowed orders cut through the hushed encampment, bugles sound, urgency pervades. Battle lines are drawn, men marching, resolve and fear etched upon their hearts.
Artillery from behind sing the opening anthem. Flashes on the horizon acknowledging their song. In quickstep they press toward the waiting army, searching til they face the long gray line.
A fusillade rips through the forward soldiers, leaving death and carnage in its wake. A
row of men drop in lines of destruction, their cries of pain soon muted by the battles call.
Panicked faces seek cover as their Captains, yell and threaten, urging them on.
Deadly canister screams overhead, delivering their fingers of death, Fragments of life left littering the field. “Close ranks” the Captain cries. “Rally round the colors.” In the
face of death the army presses onward, drummer boys beating cadence on their drums.
Smoke and bodies soon consume the landscape, fragments of lives lost, attesting to the
horrors of the day. On and on the contest rages. Giving, taking, winning, losing, dying.
Until welcome darkness cloaks the field of battle, forcing war to take a short respite
In darkened fields, litter bearers rummage through a broken army. Seeking those whose ravaged bodies won’t surrender, selecting those who might still have a chance.
Hot tears run down the face of hardened soldiers, gripped by a mix of anger, fear and
sorrow. Mourning for the sons and brothers taken. Respecting those that they must leave behind.
Unknown to them this is but a beginning. A scene to be replayed so many times. Our
nation would become a blood soaked homeland. Each side sure that they were on His side.
Time would leave its scars upon our nation. Destroying in an effort to unite. A terrible
price would be exacted. With the lives of many men it would be paid
The War Between The States officially ended April 9, 1865. The conflict cost 624000 lives.
Akin Twin Invisible Presence Coaxing...
Action across ouija board
fingers of left hand appear to move
planchette of their own accord...
inexplicably, silently, and verily
along a barely traceable minuscule chord
dance, with some spatial force
from outer limits,
perhaps a dimension unexplored
of twilight zone, (where spirit
of Rod Serling dwells)
horizontally, linearly, and peculiarly unmoored
hashtagging, kickstarting, and zigzagging
while just barely hoovering
with maybe a hair breath
of space to afford
between alien world and terrestrial
plain playing field, when oh my lord...
(this premature ejeculation
from an atheist sword
like cross my heart), thee paranormal
shenanigans witness movement toward,
and away from death still
participants mouths agape
with bated breath until last letter scored
which message... uh...ah...cannot be revealed
yeah...yeah...yeah...due to HIPAA laws...
...(Without explanation, there
gets heard a clangorous din
along with whooshes of ice cold air
brushing against my chin
analogous to some unseen
genie i.e. and/or jinn
freed from the lantern by Aladdin,
then,...how odd...a deathlike
stillness one could hear a pin
drop pervades so painfully quiet
as if...all sound got vacuumed in
to a void of parallel universe...
...Though I don't dabble in the black magic,
nor nothing linkedin with the occult,
yours truly titled his poem used to
"grab" attention fast as Usain Bolt,
he who dashes off runners block
as a blinding earth shattering jolt
faster than speeding bullet,
a praiseworthy athlete with no win tent to insult,
but merely chose his name out of thin air
(in accordance with abracadabra)
and flimsy rhyme that did result...
But..., aye...beg (bribe with
all the wealth of Midas)...please
believe me you, this rather cheese
zee poetic endeavor got
wrought with eyes wide shut
(for all intents and purposes eyes closed),
where gentle force did cease
phalanges asthma southern paw
of righteous honest to dog
gone guy with sixth cents sees
dead people as like miniature floaters
(in my eyes with ease)
poised and struck unbeknownst
computer laptop black keys!
Gazing at the Sky
Gazing at the sky on a summer night
With MYRIADS of stars shining sheer bright
Beside the LUNAR orb is sheer delight,
To my heart and mind an exquisite sight,
A scene I would ever wish to relish,
A picture I would take pride to cherish.
Lending an awfully attentive ear,
Dispelling all SLITHERING waves of fear
I can overhear LILTING songs of stars,
Though many a hundred light years afar,
So tuneful and melodious to hear
So harmonious, lyrical and clear,
Staring at the sky with still closer eyes
A NEBULA close to the stars up high
I can view, a swirling canvas full bright,
Painted with hues of cosmic dazzling light,
A shining seedbed for stars to take birth,
A SERPENTINE charm when viewed from the earth.
As I gaze at nightly sky from a couch
A sour PHOSPHOROUS taste pervades my mouth
And streams of deep thoughts CASCADE from my mind
As in the sky real joy I can`t find
As peering down my inner self procures
And scanning the depth of myself secures.
The inner self is a matchless art piece,
A fountain of true happiness and peace
A serene Nebula of sparkling light
That never fades, but day and night shines bright
Leads man to the rightful path in his life
And spares him from a stark Serpentine strife.
In the depths of my heart, a love resides,
For the man of my dreams, my soul confides.
And yet, though he fulfills my every desire,
His affection remains distant, a deep wound, a dire.
Each passing day, my longing grows,
Every part of me, in yearning shows.
But amidst the care, a pain I find,
His thoughts and gestures, sometimes leave me behind.
A seemingly small act, yet it cuts so deep,
Leaving my heart to silently weep.
Was it deliberate, to stir my fears?
Or simply misunderstood, through my sincere tears?
I wish I could release this love's tight grip,
But with each attempt, deeper into memories I slip.
Dreams of a future, with children by our side,
With him, the eternal glow of my heart, wide and bright.
So here I am, torn and shattered,
In love with a man, yet feeling abandoned.
For he holds my heart, but keeps it at bay,
Leaving me yearning, day after day.
In the darkness of the night, where dreams dance,
I hear my heart whispering, in secret, in a trance.
A melancholic longing, a song without end,
For an unrequited love, a story to transcend.
Memories of moments, when our eyes meet,
In those moments, our universe is complete.
But oh, how quickly that magic fades,
Leaving my soul empty, in search of a love that pervades.
Through the labyrinth of my heart, I lose myself in thought,
A symphony of emotions, of desires and dreams sought.
Why does love have to be such a cruel game?
To offer hope, only to leave a hollow frame?
In every smile of his, I see a universe,
But in every absence, I feel a verse in reverse.
A poetry of pain, written on a parchment of tears,
A love that burns, but cannot be fulfilled through the years.
I wish I could forget him, to free my heart,
But my love for him is like the boundless sea, apart.
It fills my soul, consumes every thought,
And yet, leaves me empty, in the cold wind, caught.
So here I remain, in this melancholic dance,
In love and lost, in an esoteric trance.
For an unrequited love, a story without end,
I carry my heart, an eternal flame, in an infinite universe.