Long Philosopher Poems
Long Philosopher Poems. Below are the most popular long Philosopher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Philosopher poems by poem length and keyword.
My father was my Idol, Philosopher and Guide.
But he was a dominant person always to Control -
I had regular fight with him on inevitable Clash !
Imprisoned in childhood owing to daily Clash
Tired on conflict ! Developed personality yer he was Guide.
No way, I revolted to escape from his over -all Control !
I had to choose my own way getting rid of his Control
I had to struggle but I was just fed up on continued Clash.
Yet alll along I paid due respect to Dad as my Guide.
Dad was my Guide but I went out of his Control avoiding Clash !
February 27th Lower Peninsula of Michigan
One week of true cold and snow is all
This year
Today is the warmest day ever recorded
For this entire month
An ancient age is passing
Winter shorter
To the flowing length of my shadow
Stretched longer and further from the elder sun
In my backyard
Pileated Woodpeckers like black-eyed dolls
Dressed in too-tight red coats
Are early treasures
To the arms of Silver Beeches and Black Walnuts
Forest thrashes
At the tiny blades of hundreds of robins
Descended
Mis-led
By a premature pull of migration
Too soon
Those permanent words pursed to the lips of us all
When doomed
A philosopher once said that the universe knows
A life is the same in purpose
Whether it be a still birth or that of a 90-year old
Mother or father
I’m not so sure but intrigued
Robins continue to fork and fling last year’s gray leaves
Up in the air and out of the way
To their mad determined pecks at the hard ground
And knotted branches
With pure instinct my house of cats
Look up
Duck and trill at the windows
Like London dodging the Blitzkrieg
Birds can go back to sleep
But blossoms cannot
There’s not much future left
For Michigan’s apple and cherry orchards
This I know in my old bones
As the robins sing
The fragrance of fruit a sail of the past
On the Maiden’s misplaced wind.
In the depths of silence, where shadows dance in circles,
A veil of illusions settles over lost thoughts,
Philosophers wander on misty paths, seeking truth,
Yet in the abyss of their minds, the phantoms of their vanity hide.
Through labyrinths of melted wax, they weave words of smoke,
In their temples of thoughts, they raise walls of self-deception,
For each knows that their dogmas are but shifting sands,
And still, they wear their mantle of wisdom with pride.
An echo of truth is heard, like a whisper from another world,
But who among them will dare to leave their mirage behind?
In their eyes, the shine of glory hides the pure light,
And they choose to feed their souls with nameless, hollow illusions.
In the dead of night, when stars fall like crystal tears,
The philosopher watches his shadow dance on the walls of his mind,
And wonders, in the cosmic silence, where meaning hides,
But the answer is a wave crashing upon the shores of eternity.
Through veils of mystery, we travel, bound by unseen threads,
Seeking truth like a jewel lost in time,
But in this game of illusions, who will ever distinguish,
The pure truth from the sweet dream that holds us captive at night?
And so, we remain alone, in the darkness of our thoughts,
Searching for meanings among the stars, in the silence of eternity,
But perhaps one day, we will find the light that will unbind us,
From the chains of the mind, and we will drift free toward the unknown infinite.
Flava flav, Run DMC,
Digital Underground.
The early 90's I found hip hop.
I found poetry..
Langston Hughes, led to
Tupac Shakur.
Do you remember "Jada"
and "When ure hero falls"
Flamboyant, charismatic,
scholastic,
a ghetto philosopher..
"Thug Life", "2Pacolipse"
I heard you, I felt your pain,
your struggles...
"All Eyes on me"
and my favorite,
Makaveli...
You inspired me.
many have lost resolve to me,
by your collaboration with Jodeci.
"Me and my Girlfriend"
A masterpiece...
Tupac and Biggie,
friends turned vicious enemies.
Five shots,
an attempted murder plot
brought conflict and
a Bill Boards top ten spot...
interactions with Faith,
enhanced Biggies rage
"West coast, East coast"
beef took center stage....
Yet through all of your controversy
you would shock and amaze.
God has judged you my friend!!
I see you in white, sharp
with a glass of "Thug Passion".
When I meet my fate,
I'll see you with Nas
chillin',
in "Thugs Mansion"
I love you Pac!!
This poem is dedicated to one of the greatest artists of all time.
Tupac Shakur will never be forgotten, his message inspired many
before and after his death.... The name Tupac Shakur will always live on..
June 16th 1971--- September 13, 1996
RIP, we miss you Pac!!!
Jared Pickett
6/10/2010
Asavvy1
This poem has been written for Raul Moreno's Tupac Shakur contest.....
Enjoy my friend!!!!!
In 1673 German philosopher Samuel Von Pufendorf disclosed:
‘Man has done more inhumanity to man than even nature has imposed!’
In the 350 years since he wrote that…there have been some minor gains…
but look around and you will see man’s inhumanity to man remains.
So I propose it’s time for all men to concede:
We have done a terrible job…it’s time for someone else to lead.
Below you’ll find my reasoning…my suggestion of who I think can
lead us out and away from the last 350 years of man’s inhumanity to man:
My grandma was there when I was born
or so the family’s told me.
after Mom and Dad, the story goes,
she was the next to hold me.
My grandma was there to teach me
about life…about unconditional love and how to give,
She believed a world of peace and acceptance
is the only world in which to live.
I was there when Grandma died
as her skin turned ever colder
after Mom and Dad...I waited
to be the last to hold her.
I held her in my arms one final time
as she held me at birth
and I wondered…then…as I wonder now…
what our world would look like...
if Grandmas ruled the Earth.
With their wisdom, their patience…their compassion
I think it’s time for a new day…
time for man to step aside…
and let grandmas lead the way.
There is a potential so pure in your nature
that it be nexus between diviner and rapture
where freedom finds the fire of Prime Creator
deep in the brain's interior, a glandular mind expander
crossfertilizer of electrochemical ego and soul sorcerer,
the pineal pinnacle, receptor of solar miracle, regulator of the nocturnal wanderer
it is the tip of your spinal staff, the lituus which levies the chakra current into hypermatter,
33 skeletal sigils bridge the neural signals from root to bloom in the theta theater
as an inner vision of ajna becomes an outter creation of prajna in an unfailing future
with liberty being the law of wherewithal in a world wanting war with the philosopher,
passion becomes the parchment that your rights are riddled upon in cosmic character
unalienable imagination, undeniable in purification of reason unleashing the lotus tiger
into landscapes of raw physics where starry scriptures are alive in the instincts of an originator -
J.A.B.
The youthful Thinker asked...
"What is Life?
How can I find the answer?"
And the wise Philosopher said...
"Life is a tapestry to weave
you are but a single thread."
The enlightened Student queried...
"I must contemplate
where I am in the weave?"
As the inspiring Teacher imparted...
"You are the exquisite monad
unique in all of existence."
The perplexed Scholar insisted...
"How can I find myself
not knowing who I am?"
While the gifted Guardian affirmed...
"Listen to your songs and dreams
and you will foresee your meaning."
The lyrical Listener deemed...
"How can it be
that I am?"
And the consummate Master confirmed...
"Because you are
all that is."
At last the tested Disciple marveled in his journey...
"Where do I go
with this knowledge?"
The Holy Man rekindled...
"You are already here!"
Submitted on November 23, 2022
Dialogue Proficiency Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Matt Calari
Tapestry of Life**
In the intricate tapestry of life, vibrant memories weave their threads, each one shimmering with its own hue. The echoes of past workplaces linger like faint, nostalgic perfume, evoking a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. Seacrest, with its relentless morning shifts and haunting graveyard hours, etched an indelible mark on my soul—a complicated cocktail of disdain and wistful nostalgia. The stench of those long hours, both literal and metaphorical, clings stubbornly to the corridors of my memory like an unwelcome ghost.
Retirement feels like stepping away from a chaotic dance into a tranquil oasis, a serene pond that promises solace after years of turmoil. But as I bask in this newfound peace, self-reflection creeps in uninvited, urging me to take stock of the years lost in an institution where the pursuit of money overshadowed the pursuit of passion. What good remains from that chapter? The ledger of my life seems eerily blank, with joy elusively out of reach.
At sixty, my sanity becomes both a prayer and a quest. A few screws might be loose, but it has yet to shake the foundation of my understanding in a world that often feels absurd. Kindness flows within me, a gentle current that softens the harsh edges of life, yet I am acutely aware that this vulnerability can be both a strength and a weakness in a world that often thrives on sharpness and sting.
And you, a familiar presence, serve as a gentle reminder: “This path, tread cautiously.” In my next life, I envision myself as a poet—a genuine artisan of words, successful and unwavering. A master tinker skillfully weaving language into magical creations that inspire and enlighten. A philosopher delving into the depths of existence, unraveling the mysteries that surround us.
But for now, I embody Annie—the devoted content creator, the nurturing mother, the steadfast friend. And perhaps, in this role, I find that it is enough.
Poetry is relatively new to me
Spent a lifetime just trying to survive
To explore deep down, never had the time
To discover what's hiding inside
Unearthed an exciting and brand new world
That I've only begun to explore
Poetry is the vehicle on which I now ride
Opening intriguing new doors
Providing journeys to exotic places
To experience for the very first time
A whole new world not previously known
Residing deep down in my mind
Never been known as a philosopher
'Hands on' has always described me
Words are now just clamouring to get out
Fingers are flying cross the keys
So thank you P-Soup for setting me free
To allow what's inside to emerge
Providing my soul with a daily platform
On which to satisfy my urge
© Jack Ellison 2013
Is her demise a dark hour in my life?, She had ruled the home honestly for forty years, As a guide, philosopher, preceptor and dedicated wife, I couldn't believe her separation through my innocent ears. I wondered to see her unlimited faith and love, She blossomed my extraordinary traits and habits, Several times, I tried those things to show and prove, She was the first educator who especially sent from the planets. Our home seemed like a temple without goddess, My eyes fed up for searching her in our vast place, Without her,I had become a wild beast, I turned a tamed animal after seeing her face, Her death shattered my life in the world, I felt someone loaded something on my little head, In me, her memories and hospitalities were encircled, I wanted to escape from the motherly bond and fled. I couldn't imagine the world without my mother, Always she followed me on the hard way like a shadow, I couldn't follow simply the foot print of other, No-one was ready and accept to share my sorrow.