Long Possibility Poems
Long Possibility Poems. Below are the most popular long Possibility by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Possibility poems by poem length and keyword.
Walking with you
Is a walk on the side of terror
With gentle breezes tickling your cheek
You can count on faith
To bring you to opportunities feet
With an empty mouth for the Spirit to speak
I giggle inside when I see Him
I see and follow, take in joy and swallow
THEN
Your presence consumes me
Like requited love’s passionate kiss
Resounding vibrations requiring the whole
To come on its white stallion
Swiftly catching the virtuous maiden
And one touch stills the quivering soul
Oh how you break my heart with your suffering
I take them to my breast, let them suckle as I lie on your chest
My words are uncertain
But probability births possibility
I simply can’t refrain
You move me out of fear into glorious heights
Where I pray hope and we play with dismantled ropes
The enemy used to drive them insane
I roar with laughter in my happily ever after
Where your light captures my darkest night to
Feast forever on blinded sight
Written by Trudy Schrader on 6-19-09
I smile, deceiving time, but my bewitching heart weeps,
In the evenings when loneliness spreads its canvas with sparse stars.
To love you – means I wish you fields of poppies under the illuminated moon,
Means that your kindness blossoms in my speechless garden.
I love you – and this translates to my breeze no longer caressing your foundation,
Words have become white butterflies, meetings – willowy trees by the river,
No more food is needed for my melancholy,
Nor fuel for the giant clock of restlessness.
And on the path, where our steps were meant to drip the dawn of silk,
Now, spills only a froth of darkness and a murmur of pearls.
From the banks, old age, like a lighthouse in the fog, sends its silent signals,
And it’s time to walk towards oblivion, with peonies on shoulders, with stars caught in hair.
My love – means I want to filter out every mist, to only distill grace upon you.
How to pluck the memory, a vase adorned with night crystals in the soul?
How to leave in the cold your blue giving, bruised by wind, smeared by the storm?
How not to bear your burden in hands, a sacred altar of this earthly pilgrimage?
But whispers are lost in the echo of the wilderness – who will answer, my comfort?
Who will speak of what is possibility, what is a dream, in this realm-kingdom?
No one will sing in chorus for us, no one will illuminate the city of addresses,
Nobody will unravel the enigma – who will say love isn’t a struggle in the unseen?
We are lost in the story, where love does not wear a light cloak,
Nowhere is it written how to give up on love, how to remove entwined stars from the heart,
Nowhere is there a map, nor compass that shows the path to the simple,
And the knots of the heart, in this tangled labyrinth, not even a Merlin can undo,
Who has uttered, in the whisper of the century, that to love is like to fly without wings to beseech?
They said it just wouldn't work
And would only lead to disappointment and hurt.
They claimed it was too lofty
And simply too costly.
This thing, this divine thing,
This beautiful notion that makes your heart sing.
That sweetly and vibrantly dwells,
Growing stronger with each passing day, it swells.
Pregnant—beautifully pregnant—with the possibility,
You can see...
And you can feel...
And it's oh so real.
Just because they said you shouldn't doesn't mean you should rant.
Just because they couldn't doesn't mean you can't.
Just because she didn't doesn't mean you don't.
Just because he wouldn't doesn't mean you won't.
What does their reluctance have to do with you?
Because you can see it and you can feel it, so see it through.
A People Power Champion
that how they speak when
most people say his name.
Stormester Amir born in
Mobius Grander(Parts Unknow) once
blacklisted and removed
from active competition made a
world renowned return
" Amazing Impossible Possibility"
a promoter named his intent to be
Champion.
Due to his inability to get involved
because of his blacklisting
he marveled around and was thought
to be "Masked Wrestler" and
"Slugger Caul"
Both found to be not him
when both men were
challenged to be in the same
arena and were both unmasked
by "Large" Gussy Steeper.
Arco Danzon and Bolero Clave Dinger
were found to be the Masked grapplers
but due to there ages some spoke of a
wrestlers conspirasy: most ragsheets reported
the guys being both in there early twenties
but the they beleived was
the Masked WrestlerII had wrestled
Masked for more then ten years prior to
this unmasking. This made the return
of the superstar a specail event.
Every
Now and then
Again and again
In and after a wee while
Where once something
Made us feel
A terrible sense of inner pain
Eventually turns into a smile
When enough time has been taken to heal
Old wounds of an innocent young fool
Not every time granted
Over and over again
Just in and after a wee while
Old wounds have taken enough time
To let one be enabled to remember
That life must and does carry on regardless
And doing so devoid of any possibility
Of joy , happiness , laughing raising a smile
Is neither in reality living in the
Here or Now
As technically you already
Living and walking amongst the Dead
The stuff of songs , painting and poems
Loitering in a public library this rainy afternoon,
courting inspiration, subjects come to mind
but are more suitable as essay than as poem.
All usual activities occur -- visitors come, visitors go --
a typical afternoon flow of many who, unlike me,
may have no other place to go.
My empty house -- comfortable, dry --
far from bare, has a large flat-screen TV:
it reports the news and offers any other
sort of program that I choose.
The fridge is stocked, coffee brewed,
the doors unlocked. But now no neighbors come.
My cell phone mutely occupies an empty pocket.
A need for others' presence
does confirm I am a social animal
unsuited to prolonged separations.
Library visits provide assurance
a possibility exists for contact --
to know and to be known --
to extend, or to grasp,
a hand in friendship.
Even, perhaps, for mutual
spoken, or unspoken,
communication.
Why, then, do I
often leave discouraged,
without having said aloud
even a single word?
Inspired by the heartbreaking moments of profound loss. There are no words when a woman miscarries. It cannot be described as a "loss". It is a death that affects a woman far beyond that experience.
My heart goes out with love and light to you and yours. May the colours come back in time.
Colours drain away
By Michelle Morris
17/05/2023
Red is the signal
Pain is the chaser
You know it's over
But you get the hospital to confirm
Red of blood
Of rage and frustration
Red of death and loss
And cell destruction
Blue is the mood
It descends so quickly
Lying there in the aftermath
Of all that could've been
Blue is the heart
As it turns cold and alone
That tiny essence
Is forever gone; forever gone
Yellow is the sun
It represents our hope
We live because she gives warmth
She gives life on Earth
Yellow is the possibility
The power in our bodies
We live and learn and grow
We become stronger with perseverance
Primary colours
That create all the others
And inspire our love
Our lives, our souls
Primary colours
We need them every day
They touch us all
Paint our memories vividly and well
The colours drain away
Inside your heart and soul
Your mind is grey
Not even black and white will do
The colours drain away
While outside the rainbow shines
Through all the raincloud mist
The world goes on, even if we don't
May you find peace one day
May you be healed in every way
May the rainbows shine for you
And bring colours back to your world
May your heart beat red again
May the blue shine in your eyes
May the yellow of your halo glow
Remind you of your angelic vibes
© Michelle Morris, 2023
If you are alive and on earth my brother
You better take every risk to succeed,
Even if you do not court any hazard
Existence is the biggest risk you must heed.
Some things about this life are just not fine.
You may gather remarkable wealth over time,
Skipping meals and working instead of sleeping
Until you end up with such abundance of dime;
But then your Jeep loses one of its speeding wheels
And you end up on the ice-cold slab of the morgue.
Some other lazy folks take over your hard-earned estate,
As other licentious rascals comfort your wife with a sinful song.
The biggest risk my uncultured brother
Is the fact that you live here on earth;
Here heavens give you the grace to make the world better,
And soon after the labor demise trims your mirth.
Something about our earthly existence is simply not alright.
You start the maturing of some expensive whisky, forty years in all;
If you are fifty, be sure other never-do-wells will sell your whisky,
Don’t think Azrael will watch you outlive the ninetieth fall.
So those impatient chaps will imbibe your distillation without gratitude,
Not even mentioning the name of the deceased fellow who brewed the thing,
And cursing the ‘idiot’ who made such a crisp thing to be by others imbued;
Not even humbled by the fact that the whisky is far much older than they!
Living is the greatest peril, man.
And if you dare attempt some funny suicide
To do away with the unbearable menace,
What do you think the final Judgment Council will decide?
That a brazen murderer you should burn forever.
You might be irreligious – but it’s a possibility still!
Dear Carnsworth,
I have been dreaming that we will become an “us” since the first day of school.
You are friendly, and funny, and handsome, and you simply make me drool.
We need a date to give this wonderful possibility a long, sweet chance.
I know that you like kicking a football, soccer, and you really love to dance.
The Twist, Train, Slide, and Macarena are all moves that I already know.
I am quick. If you teach me some other moves, I will not dance on your toe.
Two months, since Shelly broke your heart, I have wanted to make a move.
My feeling we would be great together is why I am being so incredibly smooth.
Be at Cartelli’s Restaurant at 6:30 this Thursday night so I can reveal myself.
I was told by a girlfriend that you still believe in the jolly green Christmas elf.
Leave your friends at home or I will sneak away, and you will not get a reveal.
I guarantee we will have fun, and I will pay, so you receive a nice free meal.
Yes, I am paying this time, my dear so do not worry your dendrites gray.
I am confident this will be one of many days we will enjoy in every kind of way.
Your sis knows me but is sworn to secrecy, as I want to surprise you on Friday.
When you arrive, let them bring you to the party of fun-loving "Hidden May".
If you are the man I see sublime, you will be there, and promptly on time.
Five months I have had this crush for I see you as the future man of mine.
Written Jan 9, 2019 Contest: School Time Crush Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
A new home feels slightly pregnant
with possibility
yet empty of sacred reality
Not yet any echoing memories
of bumps on stairs,
late night scraping chairs
stuffed with familiar intimates.
Organic warmth sacrificed with each move,
attenuation of well aged relationships
with a new view,
a cleaner character of silence,
more unscrubbed inscrutable
than mere absence of familiar sounds
and sights
and savored smells left behind.
Each move a commencement
toward a renewing sense of home
and reincarnation
of ego-culture within eco-climate
identity
nondually co-arising
toward a deeper
dug in
sacred place.