Long Play Poems
Long Play Poems. Below are the most popular long Play by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Play poems by poem length and keyword.
We may liken head as Hiranyagarbha
Containing manifested universe within
The dimensionless Anahata an enigma
Residence of Atma in stillness sanguine
Upon cosmic egg splitting arises duality
Male & female energies fuse in the heart
Giving rise to bliss of explosive intensity
Moment to moment ignition does restart
Gurus divine blessing as rod of initiation
Enlivening within form enabled lifetrons
Thus arises from root to crown bliss elation
The pulse of bliss at each moment reborn
There is no finality upon this pathless path
The divine love imbibed in hues beauteous
Each moment in the pulse a holy sabbath
Resonating with the divine play continuous
Our affirmation no validation of this secret
Each in aloneness receives as of their merit
31-July-2020
- I take a step back to reflect. Fecal matter storms a reality check in to the mental hotel of chaos. In utter disorder; rationality eludes us. Cluelessly, we are insane—on a temporary leave of absence. Senselessly numb; simply, simple... Obsolete and discreet, keeping eyes down low. Hidden from the world; we stick out like sore thumbs. An overwhelming sense of paranoia takes wheel; who's driving? Slippery when wet; we slide. Uncontrollably... Unmistakeable, but make no mistake. Masks that we wear are transparent; fooling only some. High strung like the strings of an old banjo, our dirty laundry is airing out. The presence of stains shout out secrecy in whispers, silently broken. We enable auto pilot and go through the motions; subtly coded from paranoia. This ride becomes turbulent. Lightning strikes and in a flash, real gets real. Feelings of panic offset stabity. Balance forced to recollect. Frantically scrambling to find our lost librium. Playing cards that we repeatedly deal out ourselves, it's time to go manual. Reality delivers a stunning right hook; drawing first blood. Dazed and confused, fight or flight mode sets in. Voices of criticism echo in our heads. Self doubt secures confidence with an iron fist. Insanity begins it's never ending rant, as we argue amongst ourselves. Our worst nightmares become reality. At this moment it becomes impossible to deny. We are who they thought we were.
The youngest seventy five year old, that I've ever known
Because of your happy, you will never be alone
Whether you're playing card games, or out on the dance floor
You make the place happy, when you walk though the door
Perhaps a bit silly, but with me that is okay
Let others be serious, I much prefer play
Life shouldn't be wasted, I know that's what you think
You enjoy every moment and you don't need to drink
So here is to living, you are an example to all
You'll never be a flower, that blends into a wall
Yes forever young, I will try to live life your way
Good times or bad times, I'll make the best of each day
Written for my mom for my upcoming visit home.
You are terrific mom, and if you are reading this "bad mommy"
You didn't follow instructions. See you later, love Rick.
In a race on the savannah
fleet of foot is the cheetah
at up to 75 mph
no animal can beat her
and with a top speed of 50 mph
lion is the second fastest cat
tho' at
38 mph a leopard can't change its spots
the lion can do that
cubs are born with them and later lose
to become lion spots have-nots
an ostrich third place will land
at up to 43 mph
if it takes its head out of the sand
tho' cheetahs don't have racing stripes zebra do
(Burchell's, mountain and Grévy's)
but they're no boon for at 40 mph
they're only 10 mph ahead of a yellow baboon
however no matter how fast they all run
none can beat the speeding bullet
fired from a hunter's gun
Simple, simple, are words on softened lips,
Less do speech counts on it, offensive hold,
Unlike how hardened lips grip words- break zips.
For shame to let out its surprising flips
Always, but never on softened lips' gold.
Simple, simple, are words on softened lips.
Pleasing to ears like rainbow to eyes' clips,
Unto its stunning color, variance fold,
Unlike how hardened lips grip words- break zips.
To loose blazing sun's heat- its climax rips
On hardened words, loose lips do not withhold.
Simple, simple, are words on softened lips
That lights darkened souls to voice humble grips,
Yet becomes not a slave for been that bold,
Unlike how hardened lips grip words- break zips
And change the atmosphere blue-red eclipse.
How hardly eyes shine its way not blindfold!
Simple, simple, are words on softened lips,
Unlike how hardened lips grip words- break zips.
I can't play a single musical instrument to save my life.
I guess I could if I really tried, but who has the time
to put aside and sacrifice other pleasures that I indulge religously,
my poetry, love of photography and most importantly,
quality time spent often with my fur babies,
but all is not lost with today's technology.
Computer programs presently allow me
to play any musical instrument professionally,
well, not exactly.
I can program any musical instrument at whatever tone or speed,
or combination thereof to compose a musical masterpiece.
Bucket List Item #, oh whatever, just do it eventually;
Compose And Perform
One Of The Greatest Music Orchestrations Ever Released,
even though it will only truly be
composed and performed by me virtually
with computer programing technology.
My love you are not with me,
My love I am so cold
My love I love you deeply
My love cannot be told…
To come to me and hurry
For I’m wrinkling like a prune
My hair is now half silver
With much despair and ruin
Once we are together
To drink from loving cup
Will you hold my walking cane
Or simply hold me up?
The dream to merely marry
Is fading like the sun
Counting on the lottery
Which I have not yet won
The dentist does await me
You don’t have his degree
Maybe when I see him-
He will marry me…
You have no competition
For me you are the best
If you shall not come to me
I surely will protest
It’s becoming so ridiculous
Pull your finger out
Guess it does not matter...
Now with so much doubt.
Thank God I have this pillow
And on my wall a moth
Again once more-emotional;
Upon my lips some froth.
I blame you for my fatness
And my broken wing
This residence is evidence;
Blame for everything.
It’s all your fault the sun came up
Your fault the sun went down
It’s all your fault the moon came up
And left with such a frown.
It’s all your fault- the oxygen
Your fault the rain does fall
It’s all your fault you are a stud
Your fault you’re really tall
You're to blame my hands are old
Your fault I am so wilty
All your fault my back is sore
You're absolutely guilty
My love you are not with me,
My love I am so cold
My love I love you deeply
My love cannot be told…
* To rope, I'll get back to this
Rare forms blare
into the empirical hot sun.
Each traced in fire,
each outlined by the crystal
shimmer of the son.
Haloed in glamour
A play of color.
Of One.
Layers of imagery in rare forms
Dare to stare, brilliant!
Into the heliosphere
crystalline forms
of pure white energy,
rare oblique symmetry.
Flare!
Infernal waves of Thermal…
Radiates, detonates,
compress the empirical sum!
White light oppresses…
The haloed sun stretches, its flares tracing
a burning thermal holocaust!
…objects blaze here and there listening!
To the aftermath, as the sun
sets into nightmare…
My grandfather and I had a special relationship.
When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore. But, my family moved away from
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my
grandfather. Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles. I was the one grandchild who
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.
Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when
he was young. In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or
get married and raise a family. As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove,
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.
But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles. As crummy as the Baltimore bums are
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.
I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing. Had he
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.
When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once
again strap on his spikes and don the leather. Without a doubt, they must play baseball in
heaven. And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.
(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)
(Silly& humorous children's poem in the style of Dr. Seuss)
The more around I see
The more and more I want I say
Give me more and more
Give me more now I say
I don’t really care at all
You can make it small or tall
Give me more today I say
Give me more and more to play
The more I see the more I want.
Give me more and more don’t say you can’t.
I don’t really care at all
It can be big as a house or tall as a wall
Give me a ladder big and as tall
Give it to me to climb that tall wall
I don’t really care anymore if I fall
Anything is better than none at all
The more and more I want and I say
The more and more I see and I do
Give me more and more for today
Give me more to have and play
Give me more and more to hold and play
Give it to me small or tall I say
I don’t really care if it is small as an ant
Or if it is big and mean as my aunt
Give me more and more today I say.
Give it to me as high as the sky.
Give it to me yellow red or blue
Give me more and more today to play.
Make it big or small.
Make it small or tall.
Make it hairy or bold.
Give it to me quick as you’re told.
Give me more and more I say.
Give me more and more today.
I don’t really care if you don’t want
I don’t really care if you can’t
Give me more and more as the sky
Give me more and more just as high.
Make it big as a house
Or make it small as a mouse.
Give me more and more to see with my eyes.
Give me more and more to hold and play.
Make it small or tall.
Anything is better than none at all.
Give me more and more I say.
Give it to me as tall as the sky.
Give me a ladder as big and tall.
Give it to me to climb that wall.
Dorian Petersen Potter
Aka ladydp2000
copyright@2008
December,24, 2008