Long Phlegmatic Poems
Long Phlegmatic Poems. Below are the most popular long Phlegmatic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phlegmatic poems by poem length and keyword.
Repeated reincarnations reveal,
that on ensouling a new body-mind,
the truth of agape love, we cease to feel
and as we flounder about on earth blind,
we are caught in ego’s relentless bind.
Recognising this fact, how should we act,
since we are no longer by wisdom backed?
The optimal path is thought cessation,
requiring simply we cease to react,
nonchalant to outcomes and sensation.
All answers are within, so let’s begin
by becoming a witness to ourself,
in the flow of life, choosing to plug-in
but having no agenda in our shelf,
watching how fate pans out all by itself.
We’re not suggesting a phlegmatic stance
nor ceasing striving, leaving all to chance,
yet being still, in timeless time we learn
of how nodes within us joyfully prance,
as in fire of bliss, we willingly burn.
The four seasons mark the turning year,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter clear.
Four phases of the moon at night we can see,
Waxing, Full, Waning, and New, set free.
The earth has four elements that matter,
Earth, Air, Fire, and Water to splatter.
The four directions from which winds blow,
are North, South East and West on show.
Matter has four states to behold,
Solid, Liquid, Gas, and Plasma to unfold.
The four causes in nature are con-formal,
To the material, final, efficient and formal.
For the faithful, the four cardinal virtues include,
Justice, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude.
The four personality temperaments, so emphatic,
are Sanguine, Choleric, Melancholic, Phlegmatic.
There are four colors in a printing pot stack,
Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Black.
Where we are, when, is defined by four dimensions sublime,
Length, Width, Height and Time.
What about those 'four-letter' words you cry?
Enough said! Let us not be led awry!
"We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop". Mother Teresa
Moonlight shimmers on the phlegmatic ocean.
Creating a whimsical billow of prose.
On the zenith of the print's folds, as spoken.
The carol "Induces Sleep" by Seas' Compose
With a sweep of waves, echoing your passion.
Gloom made him unwise; life was a growing rose.
Red-colored ripples amidst the white-blue foam
The moments are short, and my love is now home.
Seeing the crest of crimson sunset ripple
The azure ocean disappears after night.
And each time I get adjacent, I whistle.
It's a cool way, yet tough in a high stake fight.
Earth is waning, and all are growing little.
I can't cross the lines, and wait for morning light.
Body, blood, and anguish are racing on board.
Rainbow prism waves tendril moist to kiss the chord.
Checked by: HMS.COM/ 11 syllables per line--Rhyme; abababcc-dededeff
Written: March 24, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'O' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I,I,I,I, don't know what got me here.
My soul is impacted with heartbreaking despair, and logic is dim and unclear.
Should I have?
Should I have stopped him from walking out the door?
Should I have expressed my feelings more to the core?
Was I?
Was I too intrusive or hollow during his moments of introspections?
Was I beastly in measuring his fervor revelations?
Now I.
Now, I sit and stew and contemplate if we ever were compatible.
Now, I think that maybe I grazed his tender brow on how a relationship should work, and I think; is my demeanor implacable?
Was I?
Was I on a collision course to destroy the nature of such an acquiescent and loving man?
Was I less attentive during our talks and more distrait and that, maybe that's how it all began?
Many days befuddlement has siege my mind rendering me illogical and blind.
Many days I find myself standing in front of the mirror, bare of any wanting to make anew.
Many times I tell myself that it was my phlegmatic spirit that causes our love affair to fall through.
Many days my brooding has no resolution, potion, or notion.
Maybe.
Maybe the situation is not as complex.
Maybe he will call or maybe he will text.
Maybe my state of mind is too devoured, and I care less what happens next.
August 6, 2021
We've Got To Live For The Moment.
When Time Meets the world.
When evil forces meet Good God Forces.
Be Good, Be Kind. Be Forgiving. Be Resolute to your principles.
Be Happy.
Live for The Moment. Live for The truth.
The Truth sooner or later will live on forever.
The Truth Never dies, though buried beneath the surface of the moment.
Always Honour All your promises with a calm phlegmatic approach.
And have yourself a Lively and Lovely Day.
Seize the moment, seize the day in a positive way,
And try to be positive say positive things, do positive acts today.
So that at the end of the day you can look back and reflect
And pronounce I did well, I tried. I tried to do my best.
At Least I helped someone somewhere along life's way, along life's journey today.
I lived for the moment.
I am one of those who still think that life is full of beauty and so much to be thankful for.
Many overlook and refuse to appreciate the beauties of life and only observe and lament on the negatives.
Look up, look around you, and appreciate and value that bird flying freely in the sky,
or your pet relaxing there nearby nonchalantly without a care, without sentiment.
Life Is Still Beautiful, Still Sweet,
In Spite of all her amazing ups and downs.
Coruscating gravitas
imbibed algebraic
cerebral tranches
to spark
alacrity defiant
material manducation
deployed tangibly
phlegmatic
whilst
begetting manifest
miraculous meteoric
innovative impulses
when
penetrating bailiwicks
of tongue-contortion
cerebrum
eidetic retention
straddling juncture’s
poised gateway
as
baton weaving
catalyst triumphant
for
pumped ensemble
virtuoso visionaries
who
taproot trajectories
cocoon emerging
brainchild unfettered
obsessing
magazine mandarins
artistic
archetypal Monet
lavish lavender
lily pond
with
balsamic brushstrokes
galvanising
similar maven
budding Einsteins
blazing trails
of
original contrivance
boosting beneficial
health domain
of
wellspring weal
integrating impactful
slants
gearshift gargantuan
narcissistic nadir
repetitive
regurgitations rampant
abjured by
polymath prodigious
whose
appalachian peak
of antecedents
an avalanche
tintinnabulation
enunciated showpiece
heralds harvesting
gilt-edged prodigy
in fields
belletrist
nimble-fingered
experiential
Sunday morning beauty
Comes into the room
Much anticipation
Excitement in full bloom
Straightfaced and phlegmatic
I cannot let her see
That inside I'm ecstatic
My heart and mind agree
I'll look at her for moments
A second, two, or three
"I know you want to for much more
but don't," says me to me
Then later in the break room
I'll make sure there's a chair
That's open right near where I am
And hope that she sits there
So I can be close by her
For precious extra time
Then later at my thinking spot
I'll put it into rhyme
It's a way for me to tell her
In writing what I think
Another way's recording
With a smile and a wink
Gods of glowing neon and gaudy screens
smile upon charming, charming patterns of heads.
All colors of hair, lit red, then green, then blue,
guided along invisible paths, crown heads
perspiring, chanting and glancing down
on marching, mechanical arms, then worrying
as they scurry along infinite, crisscrossing paths -
at once so ordered and so unfathomably chaotic.
Drums are rolled by hurrying feet
dictating the race of mankind.
A metropolis looms, adorned by a billion shimmering jewels -
electric jewels - and an apparition sways over the
bustle, silently watching, silently floating.
Giant chutes proudly puff out plumes of nightly black
and devils forged in impure fire do rise
to the heavens above, graced by the blessings of
the industrial revolution, in turn blessing humanity with progress,
imperceptible except as phlegmatic gasps
and the whiff of crisp green paper, distinguished by
wizened faces and packed in neat bundles.
Bulbous, aged fingers do trace from within
the sanctum sanctorum of a temple aged a thousand years,
charming, charming patterns of jewels
in intricate, frozen dance, carving out hexagons of perfect symmetry
from wearily cut marble windowsills.
The work of a thousand splendid hands
preserved by the unseen, dusty hands of time
did render the mosque palatial, its beauty heavenly.
The admiring eyes sing hymns praising the architecture, alas
they are blind, for the marble, white as angelic wings, is grey now.
The scientist appears, eyes hidden by thick glassy cubicles
yet shining through, lit by the endless pursuit of knowledge
and equally burdened by numbers, figures, notes
and the maddening myopia of man.
On the screen appears, against fresh white
charming, charming patterns of red, green and blue
sinking downward, worryingly as it would seem,
his uninflected pleas let in through one ear, instantly
shunted out through the next by the populace, to whom
the music of modernity rings sweeter.
First Place, Charming Patterns Poetry Contest
Date: 16th October 2021
Purposeful thought leaders, empowering intellect they reign,
In disposition phlegmatic, indifferent to pleasure or pain,
Rejecting emotions vain, impassive within taciturn domain,
Questing for mindful contentment, virtues of reason ordain.
Missives tolling of rectitude, emanate from heart and mind,
Guiding sanctity of awareness, wisdom virtuous aligned,
Maximizing positive thoughts, amplifying tendencies kind,
Of knowledge and understanding, spirits tranquil designed.
Freeing from distress, achieving balance in purity sublime,
Reverberating in noble song of life, echoing through time,
Strumming happiness, where refrain of reason is prime,
Where goodwill of speech, and actions benevolent rhyme.
Enlightened people find harmony in realms of self-control
Overcoming disturbances that in silhouettes of past troll,
Vying aspirations of tomorrow, enamored in sanctity of soul,
Consciously shedding negativity, passions imprudent extol.
Volatility of perturbed life calms, embracing thoughts divine,
As sapient ways of erudite mind, on arc of cognition shine,
Triumphing over negative vibes as dissonant distractions decline
When goals of reason and acts of virtue inextricably entwine.
Bliss-filled, awesome… yet simply fantastic
Highlights my special son’s show, eclectic
To the phlegmatic, it’s too dramatic
Midst praise-songs, verily operatic
While others comment as realistic…
Heaven-bound, spiritually ecstatic
Journeying zealously, never static
Treading on holy paths though erratic…
There he is, during first scene’s act, frantic
While communing with God in the attic.
He says, he’s no religious fanatic
Proven by his Scripture-driven antic
With what he labels as divine tactic
Against load intellectually hectic
To combat boredom that’s enigmatic.
In counseling grumbling pessimistic
He can become passionately poetic;
Defending his beliefs, he’s dogmatic
Challenging every self-confessed skeptic
With Bible truths to which his soul does stick.
Striving to persuade the apathetic
He trusts the Lord’s mind, indeed majestic
So as to be wisely analytic
Prudent, being lovingly didactic
To share the Gospel*, evangelistic.
In preaching, he’s very enthusiastic
As one who’s practically theistic
With gracious zest, he’s so energetic;
Ministering, indeed altruistic
Bearing Christ’s heart… surely empathetic.
Luke 4:18 The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel.
April 2, 2019
3rd place, "YOUR CHOICE(9),any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 6/15/2019.