Long Portal Poems
Long Portal Poems. Below are the most popular long Portal by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Portal poems by poem length and keyword.
and in my dream, I left this realm and floated through a yellow portal door,
a world of shimmering glow, fields of golden rod swaying under an amber sky ;
fluttering yellow butterflies and pretty yellow bird melodies, and bumblebees buzzing,
I dwelled in this spiritual world of yellow until the morning dawn called me away.
_______________________
March 3, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/in my yellow dream
Copyright Protected, ID 16-763-832-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Unitied Colours: Yellow,
sponsor, Silent One, (Inspiration Image 2)
Second Place
Life's golden hours take one through so many,
Our footsteps echoing through time's hallways.
Peach dawn through sunset, legs running plenty,
Like brilliant seasons searching for always!
In and out of each other's lives we turn,
Touched with puzzlement by each mystery,
And with our heart's passions slowly we burn,
'Til glowing sunset years' tinged memory!
Some portals grand, and some are quite humble,
For each life's filled with unique challenges,
And we hold fast to faith, lest we stumble.
Savouring charmed sunrooms and passages.
Through each portal new sensations await,
Like a field blooming wild behind the gate!
And so I submit to survive
I so survive because I am blessed love
and protected and guarded embraced in my Father’s arms in His light life
ever recently I derived
From His mouth spoken in the universe
I shine brighter than the star for
He's in me and I saw humanity fly
We, I am the spark of Heaven
I shine on this brighter is the sun
I am, we are His adorned son
Souls we I we shine I we interact I we am blessed
All sre one, we are one in Him
and on track I we shine we're going to move
through space through the tunnel of the vessel
that will and has embraced me
I come through the portal of the womb
but not wounded
I am we are whole I trespassed as I walk
Briefly on this Earth to share my witness
My Father's life on this planet Earth
6/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
timing is everything
pretty much anytime
anyhow anyplace
morning noon or evening
whatever the birth date
no matter the season
or how tight the G-string
victuals and drink
the chiefs of a good diet
this old woman could not be quiet
she wiped her clammy hands
on a mellow yellow chiffon dress
Circa 1959
timing is overdressed
always never again
maybe sometimes never thrice
the aging colors
of dusty dreams
invite us to frolic
but only briefly
now that it's technical
there are no more heroes
this old lady only waved
when she was yawning
where had her archives gone
into a lifetime of sea
timing is to blame
cooks faster than bacon
doesn't stop and carries a knife
hour after hour reaches out
blinds us to see
takes us half the way there
days tripping over rock stars
nothing is by accident
in adjoining rooms
that old lady never listened
had many years of unread messages
lost the keys to the Jeep
waited for the next available rep
timing held its breath
up-to-the-minute
it was no small matter
prior days posted
atop one another
stealing sunshine
never recoiling
yesterday at sundown
she crashed the ATV
this old lady lived to skål
joy rides at the speed of sound
backward and past the contrasts
always in a leopard pill-box hat
timing had meant everything
still in response to yesterday
it was no grand prize
a gray higgledy-piggledy shrub
below the tidal noise
standing in the doorway with poise
blocking the Entrance
that's what ^tiempo_ was
cowbells and castagnettes
this old lady kicked it
in an instant such as this
cursed by seasons of glare
life kissed her feet in recompense
timing and it's belongings
had paced past and present
and lasted but a moment
in the vestibule by the portal
there is a possessed clock
it stages lifetime shifts
every step you take up or down the staircase
days weeks months years decades
a life-span of keeping your eyes on it
The self-obsessive free-will ever seemingly dormant,
envelopes the mind with an illusory veil transient,
obscures the decreed destination God ordains,
l need to reach, for I should submissively at His will.
The camouflaged glow of the omnipresent light
floods my possessed quintessence, but I don’t discern,
for I formulate the free-rule tenets enslaving the ego
in the revered realm of fantasized self-deception.
I travel unshackled out of the dark abyss of despair,
on inward journey through the layers of awareness,
perceive in the soul the shimmer of the divine beacon,
lighting up the lane leading to the abode of bliss.
When the ill-conceived endeavor of the migrant mind
finds the dead end dark in the introspective pensive path,
the prime portal of the innate consciousness opens,
where the essence blooms permeated by divine light.
My soul shines with astral radiance in the space within
with the flaring brilliance of thousand suns,
in my self-searching odyssey at the edge of eternity
I’m illumined by heavenly galaxy in the inner sanctum.
It's not footprints that we should be talking about -
They’re personal – my footprints, bold and giving,
Which shape me, make me me - who I am:
They're not Jesus’s, the king of living.
Your personal history partly determines your life,
Helps you, or makes you want to overcome,
Makes you want to become who you want to be,
Because I'm more than just my history’s sum.
The Jesus that we know is a universality:
Communal, all-knowing and immortal;
But that I evolved and am part of humankind,
Gives me purpose and a rather large portal.
Individual responsibility makes the criminal weep:
His actions are only his, there's no leeway;
It gives the success story her satisfied smile,
At past determination in her disbelieving day.
Existentialism posits we each exist without divinity,
As self-sufficient entities with meaning as your call;
Supernature strokes the ego, fondles the pride,
So just believe in atheism and be relational to all.
In Mary Stevenson’s Footprints poem,
Jesus carries you, with his footprints in yours;
But I think my role-models, physios and teachers,
Along with myself, carried me in theirs!
Guns,
and ballistic threats
don't settle anything
They can't,
more quickly
kill.
Mindfulness,
and compassion therapies,
might restore peace
We could
most inclusively
embrace.
Could our court
and prison
and police
and legislative systems
become more mindful,
less judgmental,
by restoring win/win hopeful health?
Rather than punishing
shadowed neurodiversity
and cognitive limitations
and post traumatic stress disorders
and attention deficit hyperactivity disorders
and poverty
and lack of affordable self-medication choices,
Retribution
revenge
assuming perpetrators had real-world powers
to choose
and chose badly
madly
sadly.
Court fines
and forced confinement
in bullying cultural environments,
and verbal abuse from guards
and cops
are not infractions
are not extractions
predations
crimes against healthy wealth
of possibilities
for restoring EarthTribe justice.
If mindfulness
could reflect
restore
nurture
anticipate
only panentheistic
win/win compassion within
and without
A portal
back through indigenous
ecofeminist
wisdom,
and forward
toward resilient co-therapeutic resonance
Musicians fading win/lose trauma
Wise elders listening together
to social anxiety,
through restorative
becameral curiosity,
anticipation,
EarthTribal integrity.
I was awakened in the middle of the night
by a noise coming from inside the house;
Carefully, I slipped out of bed
so as not to wake my spouse.
I quietly snuck down the stairs
to see just what it might be
and was surprised to come face to face
with another one of me!
“Excuse me … who are you?
And just what are you doing here?”
“I knew it!”, the other me shouted,
“I knew in real life I could appear.”
“I am the you in your dreams;
the one you see when you’re asleep.
I figured out how to reverse the process
and through real life’s portal I did creep.”
“Here I can prove it, I’ll show you”
the dream me excitedly said,
“I can do all the neat things that you do
when dreaming inside your head.”
He then floated about the room;
did handstand push-ups with relative ease;
moved objects with his mind;
and, pulled money from his sleeves.
Well, I had to admit that it was true;
I had dreamt all of those things;
I must be dreaming right now, I thought,
this can’t really be happening!
“And I brought someone with me,
the composite perfect girl from your dreams.
Would you like to have sex with her now?”
“No, I can’t – I am married!”, I had to scream.
“You need to go back into my dreams;
You can’t stay here in real life;
And take that Barbie doll with you
Before she is seen by my real wife!”
“No can do”, the dream me said,
And he flew with a jet pack out of the house;
Followed by the oversexed super model
with the very see through blouse.
I don’t know where he could be,
or what he is pretending to have me do,
but if you see me doing really absurd things
try to find a dream portal to push me through.
this middle aged rue stirring bummer
haint no stranger to cold,
when dark hen stormy wintry days
eggs hit from Arctic portal en fold
ding Atlantic Seaboard
in a blizzard of bitterly, blindingly, and
brutally sub zero temperatures
from an occasional nor'easter
fiercely gripping hold
the majority years, sans this prolific
recalcitrant scrivener lived
in various and sundry abode
housed within Southeastern
Montgomery County, Pennsylvania
with 19*** zip code,
and during my boyhood recall,
how massive ice sheets did erode
the (then) opened expansive farmland,
in preparation for planting time,
where runnels of frigid water flowed
with childish cheeks exposed to glowed
after hours upon
many a green acre got tilled and hoed
despite feeling energized and refreshed
with arms and legs n'er fro zen
aye didst eagerly await with exuberant yen
kickstarting thy body electric
experiencing hearthstone nook
designed and built by Christopher Wren
after heading indoors counting fingers
and toes to make sure, i still got ten
soon hearing the chorus of fauna,
and floral kaleidoscope of color
aground or taking wing
thus, upon thawing out thoughts
drifted toward approaching spring,
the season revitalizing
dormant natural inhabitants,
whose excite (like mine) didst ping
announcing the debut of fecundity
nsync with screeching from the lizard king.
This Spring Equinox (i.e. man date:
12:15 PM Tuesday,
March twentieth two thousand eighteen)
doth rejuvenate
inviolable hibernating animals
and plants, and me equate
to experience sensation,
whereby entire being does inflate
and (despite marital status),
nonetheless envisions another gal asthma mate
no...no...no...please do not think this chap
mean spirited and under rate
the woman (at present taking a siesta,
and i breathe easy),
who oft times doth henpeck, a trait
inherited many a chic hen
(with tantalizing tail feathers)
now (until she awakens)
proscribing yours truly to wait
for my repast most likely ad hoc
moist ideal for any nerdy kid to knock
senseless, the worst facet of self important jock
consisting of pop slop mock
Hungarian Goulash, a melange
of relics from age old meals
transformed into a petrified sawed little rock.
Naomi"s passage
As we pass through lives journey filled with obstacles
Along the way a light will shine
Awakening a hope of happiness
As out lives is a canvass of purest wishes for the future.
Only as time goes by our picture that"s created
is our moods and blues, and you the reason for loving
As the canvass fill"s up with the picture of your perfect smile
If ever i was looking for a love of endless seas.
And found it in a heart as pure and content from above.
I know a value cannot be found for your love and laughter
echoed throughout our darkest hours
With you as my anchor,knowing is from heavens portal,
And not erasing anything from yesterday
knowing that's the reason
we have a masterpiece of priceless love