Long Plurality Poems
Long Plurality Poems. Below are the most popular long Plurality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plurality poems by poem length and keyword.
Absolute truth, both mystery… and paradox.
“You make me wonder if you exist or not?”
The Greeks glimpsed you in circles and squares,
The medievals revered you in scriptures and prayers,
The moderns doubted you in so many facts and proofs.
Absolute truth
your a hidden treasure in the dark.
I’ve been searching for you with a lantern and a map.
Absolute truth, a misty mountain peak,
We’ve been climbing towards you
with a rope and a pick.
Absolute truth, a real puzzler
and a wonder.
We’ve been solving you with a clue and a key.
The enlighteners searched for you
in nature and reason
The romantics sang about you
in passion and vision
Whereas existentialists certainly questioned you
in freedom and action.
Absolute truth: are you actually still alive and relevant today?
You’ve been inspiring us with
your beauty and your grace.
Absolute truth, you are most diverse and multifaceted.
You’ve been expressing yourself
in every culture and every race.
Absolute truth, you are so complex and yet, paradoxical.
You’ve been challenging me
to question and embrace.
The analytics dissected you in symbols and many signs.
Whereas continentals explored you
in history and culture.
Yes, those postmoderns deconstructed you
in relativity and plurality.
Absolute truth, you invite us to seek
doubt, affirm, and critique.
You show us the value of
curiosity and humility.
Absolute truth: you challenge us to
dialogue, dignity, listen, respect, and appreciate.
You teach us of the importance of
diversity and empathy.
Absolute truth, you call us
to transcend, transform, love, and willingly serve.
You lead us to the ultimate goal of harmony and peace.
The scientists explain you in matter and energy,
The believers proclaim you in faith and grace,
The artists create you in beauty and meaning.
But the needle spins wildly, a chilling impart…
"Absolute Truth is a compass with a broken heart."
Window to the Soul
The eyes of lovers are open doors, unlocked by true love and intimacy.
Each of us holds ourselves captive in that inner panic room, that shelter we begin building upon our first disappointment and heartbreak.
Every hurt and betrayal adds a brick or stone…a log or nail to that tranquil room that protects our fragile, egg shell souls.
Their eyes were locked together once.
Hers like the glowing amber of whiskey as the light shines through the glass.
His, the earthy green of a moss covered rock, sheltered under the canopy of majestic trees.
She gave him the intoxicating power of her untarnished soul.
He gifted her with the safe refuge of his woodland hideaway, his eager inner-self.
Sadly, his gaze began to falter, his head lowered to hide his shame.
Unable to escape into her lover's abode, she became frightened, her power wasted on common sights.
In rare moments of connection she hoped and exhaled. But all too soon his far away stare looked past her.
Without moving a muscle, he veiled his soul.
He tore down her refuge with inattention, neglect...
...only to leave her helpless.
“Look at me!”, the scream rips from her glare.
“See me!”, her brow raises its mime’s voice.
Not able to continue this intimacy alone, for intimacy requires plurality, she looks into a mirror.
Loneliness demands frequent intoxicated binging.
She pours her whiskey gaze into herself and actively forgets.
Her naked, broken soul curls up without shelter, shivering, exposed.
As raw as a body, flayed to muscle and bone.
There’s no tread or scuffing hinted,
By that tough father-like figure,
Painted red, gown not flung on,
But a thoughtfully configured picture.
Bright red, vibrant with energy,
For each kid, loud, silent or bewildered;
Wanting to give them all enjoyment,
With heart, love and feeling rendered.
All are included, none left out,
Coloured, tall, disabled, skinny;
Loved, lonely, fat, intelligent,
Sporty, introvert, nerd, bubbly.
That red velvet met by white fur,
Exploding with purity rather explicitly;
Entitled to be warm, that morality,
That pillar of nurture and equality.
There’s not one gift or present, but many,
A plurality for each face that lights,
For each smile that justifies the giving,
To let parents quietly adjust their sights.
But kids must be good and kind too,
To merit that spark of interest from Claus,
Because that’s the condition of giving,
The hinge of the egalitarian laws.
A bright symbol of societal progress,
That’s so loved by the generation gap;
Love wrought through dispute, disagreement,
Worked out through a family’s cold tap.
When your child has an intense interest,
And your faith impedes your reason,
Father Christmas begs that you submit,
By thus calling your child a small person.
Not so as to render him an adult,
Or consider her older than yourself,
But to admit that their hobbies,
Only come from society’s shelf.
Santa Claus has a moral point, a focus,
Hints politely to those who lack the personal,
To embrace the child’s joys and pleasures,
At Christmas, when you may be feeling neural.
I found my love in granules,
In father of manuals,
On 13th of annual,
In teacher of Samuel.
I am drunk, still awake to drink his elixir of love.
I pass out, and return to life like flying dove.
In his literature, I am the best of the buff.
In lonely cold nights, I escape with his love as ****.
Kill my activity,
Stole my creativity,
Bury my selectivity,
Stop my festivity,
Even vanish my identity,
In your worst nightmares.
I will be peeping and cheeping “ALI”
When the first person sat,
Then another came to bat,
Third the mischievous rat.
Then he came,
The brother of personality,
The origin of principality,
The epitome of functionality,
Having 11 as plurality,
The servant of immortality.
Come do repeat Mesum,
I am obsessed with his rum,
Cut my tongue or make me dumb,
Till my last breath I will not succumb.
Suicide is against the law,
Come and kill me and make me saw.
My Goal, My Destiny, My Station “ALI”
My Insanity leads me to getting called mad,
I am overwhelmed instead of being pale and sad,
I am supreme, having him as my master and lad,
My treasure of heart is out of your capacity to add.
He is not God, I believe in his Lord,
He is Creator’s Instrument 2nd Chord,
He is almighty’s best accord,
Beware of the double-edged sword.
Oh Superior of the men,
Oh host of the then,
Oh authority of the when,
Oh pen of the pen.
If I see anyone from first to fourteenth,
I will say “ALI”
-Daniel Rizvi
As you chase the melting mirage in the desert storm
I look at your evasive eyes permanently petrified,
see the void vision fixed in the personal frame.
As the shroud of devious dust spreads on sneaky you,
you wane in the waste land,
like the shrivelled shadow of the skeletal tree,
green once, but I know, you've lost your roots,
turned into a stubborn wooden entity.
Layer on layer the dubious design of deception
morphs into motif of masquerade mask,
the chameleon skin fashions your face
with the smoke screen, I can't see through.
The epitome of pretense creates the cloak of charade,
thwarts the rays of reality,
so, you make obscure onyx world of your own,
don't discern you turn into an ambiguous antique,
but I know, for I walk in the museum of masked people.
You build the bastion of enveloping emptiness
of abysmal abyss of your vagabond valley,
no window opens on the secluded sapphire sky.
The eradicated sunburst sequined sense
doesn't illumine your insipid isolation.
Your fixated mind remains fossilized in dark dereliction,
becomes slate slice of starless night.
You don't know why all the dreams disappear,
but I know, no rainbow ribbon wraps
your remote opaque heart,
for an obstinate object you become.
The ubiquitous vivacity ingrained in every story
gets the dormant light of the absolute truth,
yet each one is a tree on the thicket of diversity,
each one is a flower in the garden of plurality.
BEAUTY BLOSSOMS AT A BLESSING’S BEHEST
She was new to me on New Year’s Eve
Even when I felt my senses take their quickened and quiet leave
She had on high heeled purple patent leather shoes
And a patent pending on perfection
Until romance was reborn as rejection
Saliently I was sequestered to a semi- exclusive island
Where slaves to sensuousness succumb to seduction
With the introduction of infinitely instant infatuation for a fool
And desire that could only be quelled by the quietude that resides in her sigh
But for the lasciviousness that lay in her every lie
We begged the New Year begin with Louisiana, lakes, limericks and love
and, per chance, poetry provided by proverbial peacefulness
with cheery cherry blossoms budding beguilingly for only both of us
like the tree we sat under when wonder stole my eye
and I first heard you lie
sadly,
falsehoods failed to forecast a future of fogginess
and a mistiness that hid amid a mystery
for you were an enigma…….
a duality
with a persuasion to plurality
and conceived of by conviviality
you were a mercurial imp of imperfections personified
But what’s worse is that you so casually, callously and caustically lied
Oh yes, and the following New Year’s Eve
I heard our apple blossom tree finally died
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
Life is the epithet of extant intermission,
the construct of divine elements almighty designs
with the heavenly cosmic essence suffused supremely
within the coalesced trinity of body, mind and soul.
Beneath the surreptitious surface of frail mental frame,
the mortal being transitorily builds fleeting facades
on the indestructible screen of acuity awareness,
that persists unchanged to portray new perception.
Trying to get released from the egoistic karmic clasp
of existential crisis, leading to the loss of self-actuation sense,
the precept of pervading metaphysical consciousness
transcends the space-time limits for psychic enlightenment.
The dawn of discernment of the true purpose of existence
illumines the dark pathway of the perplexed life.
The esoteric insight journey to the spiritual sanctum
then activates the sense of connection with oneness notion.
The universal elements embedded in each soul,
interconnect the instinctive nodes of surreal survival,
yet each one exists as a tree in the forest of variety,
each one blooms as a flower in the garden of plurality.
Glowing in the glimmer of the creator’s candle,
sublime soul recognizes the tenet of interconnectedness,
formulates the unified equation of metaphysical dimension
in the integral divine domain of integrated identity.
Goddess
What is your psychology? Is this apart of our evolutionary biology?
Don’t you see that this kind of thinking paves the way for pathology ?
To kill with your sword in the name of the lord
A good way to justify all those that have been ignored
Don’t pay mind to the rest because you know this is the test
Of gods theory and gods will and he shall not shut his eyes to the best
Yea we heard the game but what’s in it besides the pain and the fame and the shame
It’s time we reclaim our history and let our minds finally be free
All the mysteries have unraveled you see
It’s time to mix it up and add some her-story
Because her- story isn’t centered around the killings and the beatings of innocent lives that be
The destruction of mankind that we see
Her-story revolves around mastering spirituality
Of Plurality, mentality, and reality
The goddess within and the goddess without pay homage to your surroundings
You know what this is about,
Revolutionaries will do it as nature does, take roots and sprout
Look back and shout, get ready for a stake out because we are devout to the bone
Takin it back to when women were treated as if they were on thrones
Rest aside the implied pride, our cries have been far too long denied
Please allow the sexes to coincide, you know it’s about time.
Truth, the absolute, and the primordial light,
the supreme celestial creator of the universe,
lasting as the surviving sequins of the remnant radiance,
the perennial pristine essence of the living.
Truth, the ultimate, and the primeval energy,
the undefined driver of the unique universe,
persistent as the imperceptible force,
the perpetual designer of the destiny of the being.
The invisible rays of the enlightening certainty,
travel across the infinite space of realization
with the profound energy spectrum,
meaningfully manifest mutely in the eternal soul.
The ubiquitous vivacity ingrained in things that exist,
gets Illumined by the light of the absolute truth.
Yet each one is a tree in the forest of diversity,
each one is a flower in the garden of plurality.
The truth dissipates dormant and unsensed,
as the unrealized kinship of universal oneness
generates the consuming conflicts of intolerance,
degrade the truthful spirit in stifling strife.
The assailed human affinity decays in the debris of reality,
as the mangled mind loses the true sense of consciousness,
the basic bliss reposed in divine soul remains unperceived,
the anguished life searches for solace in the concept of truth.
The critical tendency coming from the untruthful agitation of the mind,
while the disliking of our dislikes is the beginning to like all in kind.
Like the infant brings with it the air of the heaven and sensation in prime,
making feelings the force of life and death at the same time.
The devotion aroused gives all and ask for nothing,
so we can rise above facts and reality turn to healing touching.
Patients with endurance crowns goodness with beauty,
powerless, but the possessor of it, by duty.
What is rooted out in the quest of truth becomes ignorance,
then truth takes love in its own law as reference.
The seed of plurality begins life, while in the consciousness of unity,
it is life’s culmination all in one eternity.
The laws of nature regard no conventionality,
making righteousness the natural outcome of right thinking the ability.
Let those virtues dissolve in the waters of purity,
making that doctrine the fuel for divine maturity.
Belief is a conception, but faith is conviction,
establishing the politics in religion as addiction.
As the pursuit after the truth is more interesting,
than its attainment with no end of resting.
The liberty of faith is the only integrity,
making the impossible the current of all mystery.