Long Poles Poems
Long Poles Poems. Below are the most popular long Poles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poles poems by poem length and keyword.
Take things easy in journey air,
Seize moments calm where silence heals;
Wonder sets free that vital flair,
Feel that sure balm that soothes and fills.
There are worlds here beyond mere sight,
Look deeper then to inner realms
Let wonder steer true paths of light,
Joy knows just when that dream undreamt.
Follow your heart that leads you well,
Discern the proof with reason fond;
Let soul impart true sense that tells,
Embrace pure truth as purpose spawns.
Bit by bit see with eyes made whole,
The light floods glow in certain show;
Just let things be in ambient poles,
A deep touch knows the cause of flow.
Thus retreat deep beyond empty,
Greet a grand core of mystic mind;
Deeper than sleep that vital sea,
Watch spirit pour more than mere finds.
Watch as you face that healing grace,
Here love divine awaits to heal;
Here time and space forgets all trace,
Watch mystic lines inspire goodwill.
Love moves all things beyond shadows,
For darkness hides the inner gem;
So gently bring a centred glow,
Stride beyond pride to glimpse love's stem.
Dance with the light in vivid spheres,
Come to know well fond mystery;
Chance and change sight the profound here,
Now dare to dwell calm harmony.
Greet a kind face that knows you well,
A mother's kiss, a father's touch;
Hold on to grace in healing spell,
Love that you miss floods more than much.
Leon Enriquez
27 April 2016
Singapore
Needle by needle
The tunes for the fiddle
Press by press
The pink caress
The up and down
The silky gown
Sideways too
The silky hue
The muslin sheen
The fluid violin
The orange sun
With love spun
The slippery satin
The tender teens
The roof grows crack
The burlap sack
Coarse daytime
The internal rhyme
The needles of strife
The burlap life
The people ragtag
The burlap bag
The filigree of labour
The burlap savour
The blue attachment
For the natural scent
The crafting and decor
Burlap we look for
The hugs and kisses
The blue berry bushes
The burlap screen
No harsh wind
The happy times
For the shrubs and the vines
Though poles apart
Both close to our hearts
Burlap and satin
The brown and the green
From the knife and the blade
Towards the burlap shed
From the market din
Towards the songs of satin
Burlap and satin
The stories umpteen
________________________________
March 26, 2018
Burlap and Satin - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by : Anthony Slausen
Line of enquiry:
“Betwixt two thoughts there is a gap
No illusions therein entrap
In the time stretched pause we then see
Ego craving is a mousetrap”
Its been said that there is truth to be found,
held between two thoughts tightly bound.
Whether similar thoughts come from the start,
or if the thoughts contents are poles apart,
thought waves that are conflicting,
so often defy predicting.
There in the conundrums lie,
a decision is needed to apply.
The strength of ego often wins.
This may be where the problem begins.
Ego is perceived as self-esteem and can tip the scale.
Decisions based on this alone often fail.
Guided by ego internal stimuli causes feeling changes.
Decisions made this way, may be a trap creating dangers.
The idiom of opposition as nature,
extreme poles of ego in rapture.
On one side there is perfection,
one the other there is limitation.
Material weight here in demand,
influences that command.
Pursuits after the impossible,
chronic diseases not reversible.
Light of perfection and flame of hope,
regardless after all still in cope.
Discriminating between want and need,
contentment raises the weight in deed.
Equality longing for every living soul,
prophet and painter beyond the earthly goal.
Every beautiful thought gets entangled,
important knots with busy strangled.
Celestial law in just and perfect right,
the law in our balance to be proclaimed.
What if the time was not linear
Nor cyclical
Nor dialectical
But shaped like a rose
composed of delicate tender tapestries
spiraling between center and far away
consisting of arduously woven passion
enfolding the seed of life
flush with tenderness and blushing with beauty
reaching out to the world
as life's most resplendent embodiment
and its link to the times to come?
what if the time was a rose
made of einsteinian frames
all petals of rose
a cool fragrant tapestry quilted of finest silk
exquisite
delicate
soft
flush with tenderness and blushing with beauty
through multidimensional craftsmanship
bringing the substance of life
into myriad twists and turns
and caressing the wind
as she nourishes the embodied center
and becomes the embodiment of the sublime
spiraling between the immediate and the eternal?
In the interconnectivity
In the interrelativity
In the intersubjectivity
In the interrationality
In the interemotionality
In the interspirituality
the petal of rose will expound
nourishing
flourishing
burnishing all with fragrance and inspiration
seeking the good of the next and the good of the seed
and the good of the whole
and her greatest excellence
and the universe will bloom through her
spiraling from the center and into the air
and between the seed and the frame
with invisible filaments
to weave the infinite through the incorporeal
and alight and aliven them both in sublimity
making the past and the future the present
and two poles a continuity
that the souls move back and forward through time
at the speed of infinity
on the petal of rose
and in her are made eternal and incorporeal
where timeless and time attain one another
through invisible filaments
and become life transcendent
as she maps
her infinite tenderness
and her arduous excellence
and her ethereal delicacy
in every time-shattering moment
of timed eternity
that is her essence and inspiration
upon the valves
of
my
heart.
Minds can draw dividing lines
in different natural spaces
sacred special uniting places
for secular powering chases.
Nature makes poles
and power polarity,
holes
and light circularity,
bright yangs
and dualdark yintegrity
Which spirited minds refine
and natural bodies define
but integrity is not image confined
by these cooperatively determined lines
back through universally wealthy loves
uniting healthy interweaving lives.
We make cognitive distinctions
between quiet emotive attractions
and loudly ejaculative extinctions,
where feelings find
finely balanced tipping points
between what whole has been
and who will yet consecutively
consequentially become
spaciously reappointed
As we undivided are
whom we have been
and much
much potentially more
Beyond our favorite
bottom line integrity
privileged score,
healing Earth sacred weal
Wealthing wikitheistic wellness
when we stop drawing only straight
unwavering lines,
monotheistic bipolarities
to addictively adore.
I love the wind
Blowing softly against my face,
Fanning it on a hot Summer’s day,
Stirring my hair;
Making the branches and leaves quiver
And the grasses to dance and sway,
And all the while
Whispering a soothing melody
If one but listens intently.
I hate the wind
Roaring violently,
Making the branches and leaves fall,
Bending the grasses till they break,
Whipping the dust around
That stings the eyes,
Finding its way through nooks and crannies,
And whistling an eerie tune
Auguring a storm.
I’m scared of the wind
Blasting at everything in its path,
Causing whole trees to tumble,
And flattening grass, blossoms, and all;
Generating huge waves
That claw their way to shore;
Crumpling poles, posts, and walls,
Howling and shrieking like a banshee,
And snatching the life of the unwary.
April 23, 2023
Among 1st Place
Writing Challenge - ‘W’ Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
I was there for the "frenzy"
On the Padre Island shore
The day the park rangers
Set the tiny turtles free.
Eighty-eight babies
Struggled to the gulf,
And I was there to see.
They paddled and pushed their way
Toward the morning sun.
One hundred fifty watched--
I was only one.
A net extended over them,
Protection from the gulls.
Flags on long poles waving
Made the bandits mull.
The babes like bite sized cookies
Sanded with brown sugar.
They moved away with purpose,
Each one near the other.
In a decade the "arrabada"
Will follow a storm ashore.
Each will leave a "clutch" behind
Of maybe a hundred more.
RAIN…….
RAIN……………
RAIN……………….
…………RAIN
Why
I came to this earth?
To keep my wife wet and green
But fools you buried her in concrete poles
You closed all her faces and
Made her home as tomb
You closed all my ways as roads and plots
But, You cursed me
as a hindrance of life.
I am going to sea Poor Fellows I am going to sea
Dig hundreds of meters to find me
You will find me in labs and museums
As a rare component of life
You are wasting my gift When I give and
You are going to buy it for money
You changed my rivers and lakes as buildings
You sold all my ponds, tanks as shops and houses
How can I go to my last place[sea]
No way My Man
except stagnating myself around your homes
Realize at least in this moment to keep you as human
Electric highways sing through open lines
Lullaby's hum good-byes as morning calls
Hang out before they hang up a smile
Yellow birds come to cling
Come alive up on live wires
Thin metallic demarcations safe
That stretch the mind for miles yet to come
Cords stretched to their limits live
A golden sun pops up
Explodes with power outward
Cuts through ice frosted colored trees
Melting before the freeze
Gleaming forth as light awakenings on tomorrow
Roads go silent, worn like Winter white
Unfold wide and long along the path
Against horizons endlessness
Fixed with electric poles that stand
Like soldier sentries stationed down the line
Held up by wooden poles as props in places Spring forgot
Tires nourish the asphalt speeding black attachment there
Wheels hungry for the next turn excel in humble fever
Eat up miles going nowhere fast
Highways know about communicating speed
Electric highways sing, perceptibly, unbelievably clear
Blue sky, green trees, purple mountains
Turn into pastel clouds invisibility up ahead
Pink, cotton candy, licked by rain
Electric highways dance, jump through the age of volts
Take to the pastures excited through wires as speeding light
What's in a name when happiness repeats itself the same
In song, to be alive, breath in the miles crackling with raw energy
Begin again electric, singing, through the wires to that mortal end