Long Predicts Poems
Long Predicts Poems. Below are the most popular long Predicts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Predicts poems by poem length and keyword.
Resilient phylogeny is to resonant homology,
As neurological balance
is to psycho-sociological harmony,
as cooperative economics
is to democratically compassionate politics.
Polyvagal neurological win/lose connections
and win/win polypathic/polyphonic reconnections
and lose/lose disconnections
predicate socio-psychological healthy v pathological choices
for ego-centering rooted in eco-systemic resonant wealth
for multiculturing health optimization.
Win/Win cooperative economic models
predict healthy democratic
bicameral political empowerment
While Win/Lose competitive capitalism
predicts unhealthy anti-social climate pathology
contrary to Earth-centered
democratic Win/Win
regenerative energy governance.
Neurological Left/Right hemisphere bicameral balance
predicates
associates regenerative health trends
for both ego homology and ecosystemic phylogeny.
Continuing Either/Or dissociative
competitive assumptions
of zero-sum Win/Lose LeftHemisphere
WestHemisphere monocultural dominance
predicts further virally degenerative climate developments,
internal socio-psychological
and external eco-political
As resilient eco-political networks
are to resonant ego-womanist
natural health/spiritual wealth-wombed
strong/flowing
Yang/Yin
Left/Right
epi/geo/ego/eco-healing sacred Earth.
To be blocked, it’s black and white or grey as a rock.
You can exist and be present, like floating particles in the air,
no mudslinging expressed but someone will make it their nosy affair.
Then a block, no valid reason for them to act like an angry cock!
A childish act of them trying to grasp a little control,
But they’ll end up acting like the biggest troll.
Past behavior often predicts their present one,
it’s only a matter of time before they’ll run.
I will never use my control to cowardly block,
instead, I'll enjoy reading real poetry around the clock.
Not AI generated with flowery alliterated words,
Or full of garbled rhymes that are just plain absurd.
Positive Yin knows
bilateral awed impression
as Positive Yang grows
healthy-wealth wondrous compassion,
As Negative Yin flows risks
to pride's depression
as Negative Yang down-blows
humility's oppression,
Winter in as Summer out
WhiteHouse down as GreenHouse up
Yin back as Yang forth,
BrightHole Alpha
as Matriarchal (0)Mega Womb
Depressed Alfalfa
as oppressive OliveOil,
in another LoseLose childhood dream.
These four faces of change
are like four-horse seasons
of worship,
liturgical summer life
through winterish death
of ego's LeftBrain Robber Baron dominance.
Negative Yang with Negative Yin,
both self-oppression and other-depressing,
represent winter
as advent of creolizing chaotic rebirth
through grief and messianic healing weakness.
Positive Yang with Negative Yin,
self-compassion with residual depressing memories
of winter's coldly violent revolutions,
nightmares of loss,
hibernation of interdependence,
usher spring's replanting schedules,
organic developments
for environmental and interior rebirth.
NewBorns cooperatively search
and knock
and find
summer's PositiveYang-PositiveYin
co-passion with awed self-esteem
climax,
Yet late summer Musing maturity
already predicts Autumn,
early harvest stages
of WiseElder beloved community discernment.
PositiveYin with NegativeYang
speak up
for a healthier Left with Right ego-eco balance,
a return to secular/sacred worshiping
health quantities and love qualities
of ElderRight procreator
with YoungerLeft co-awed
interior personal
exterior political compassion,
impression,
harvesting our best WinWin seeds,
Rejecting LoseLose historical supremacist experience,
Negative Yang with Negative Yin
eternal winter
predicting
both Ego and Eco-demise
rather than
PositiveYang health
with PositiveYin wealth,
wondrous FullSun compassion for myself
impressed by awe with sacred EarthTribe Other.
Regarding what we will
now more polyculturally
polypathically plant
this polyphonic WinWin
ZeroZone renewing Spring.
Two weeks ago snow turned
trees into beautiful chandeliers,
and at night they glittered...
not broken by the howling wind.
" We finally got a break from the bitter cold...
being slammed by winter is everybody's demise;
rejoice that on the ghostly trees the ice is melting.
Brandon thrillingly shouts, " It feels like spring!"
His mom turned to him him saying, " It's ice
slowly melting, tonight cuddle up...do as told! "
Yesterday eyebrows froze, it seemed Finland;
breath emitted vapors, kids rode ice skates and laughed
braving the brutal weather with warm hats and gloves;.
their mom came out to warn them of dangers,
but they ignored her and got frostbite on fingers:
they rushed into the warm house screaming aloud.
It's past supper time, and they are huddled
on the sofa talking about the fun they had;
school is closed tomorrow, a huge storm predicts more snowy days,
but mom reads their thoughts admoning," Keep your room clean, boys! "
Sea of searching tore hope without explanation
Crucified crests cascaded, crazed static fall crashing
Thrown spontaneous needs, unclean situations
Wayward waltz of flotsam incongruity, faith attacking
Tossed by tumult of quick duty drifters expected
Wanton women sought whimsy single wave provided
Crudest crass antics satisfied, longevity rejected
Your initial impression of love soured, ineptly guided
Passing storms glinted possibilitiy, gold molten
Tides' turn triggered stability, a precious daughter born
Island high respite bleached prior sin, forgotten
Barbaric baby mother forced ongoing warranted scorn
Struggle to maintain safety, sentry shipwrecked
Shattered bow released soul mate satiate foreseeable
Tormented tiny child splintered fragile prospect
Cuts met welted wounds, salt sterile from recent evils
Collapse on a beach of relief, I'm your purest cove
Bloodied hands bandaged, nurtured with tender heed
Mollusc polished particles to resume trust's trove
Immortal vessel promise predicts turgid tides recede
24th October 2020
Written for Contest: After The Hurricane
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
picture to take inspiration from is
'After The Hurricane, Bahamas',
painted by Winslow Homer
I watched
as the day slipped fast away.
The cold set a chill
frosting the dew upon the grassy hill.
The birds and squirrels were wide awake
in the trees and branches as they shake.
In the background rose a pale white sun
hovering in the white puff clouds on blue rungs.
Quiet came the mid afternoon
and I watched as winter began to loom.
Seasons change as weather predicts
as if mother nature gives her fingers a click.
There, hiding in the shortened shadows
lies the seconds and hours the day only borrows.
I watched without a word
as the day slipped to night unheard.
Brutal winds snap frozen branches,
no drowsy Tree Sparrows soak up sun rays;
I shiver wondering if they can survive...
somewhere huddled together to stay alive!
The Hudson River has the slowest flow in several years,
it struggles to reach the huge Atlantic Ocean that roars;
there all the boats are anchored while hungry seagulls
search the icy waves for a prey that fears their beaks!
Playful dolphins are seen often and amaze spectators,
hawks perch on red maples and birches unless it snows;
and watch them with killer eyes unable to defeat these creatures:
they should be happy to catch bluefish and river herring, not these!
Ebbs won't rise, as they do on moonlights, their surface is too bleak,
and the absence of a plenilune surely predicts their imminent doom;
there are six weeks to spring: isn't it the awaited relief we seek,
or the longing for flowing water and weeping willows to bloom?
Though gloomy, devoid of brightness’ stain,
Beyond the firmament… God sees me languishing in pain…
...with my heart pleading for His miracle to gain.
I praise Him… since from the sky,
He spreads to me His loving domain!
Though showing environmental discomfort,
Beyond the clouds… God hears me seeking for divine aid and support…
…with my cry begging for His help, my ultimate resort.
I thank Him… that from the sky,
He presents Himself as the steadfast fort!
Though radiating with stars so rare,
Beyond the earthly heaven… God knows me needing urgent care…
…with my soul longing for His assured welfare.
I worship Him… as from the sky,
He opens His throne where at His blessings I stare!
Though it seems to predicts calamity,
Beyond the space above… God understands me agonizing in my infirmity…
…with my faith clinging to His security.
I trust Him… for from the sky,
He assures His sovereign authority!
*Mark 11:22 And Jesus answering saith ... Have faith in God.
May 26, 2018
Edited on June 16, 2018
1st Place, "Late June 2018 Standard..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 6/21/2018.
My healthy right mind
is not one likely to retain left brain
disparate details
more than elastic and interconnected trends.
So it has been with U.S. religious history recall.
I live immersed in impressions of indigenous communities
without investment in distinguishing
relationships within ecological nature
from communications between theological spirits;
without language capable of recognizing difference
between left brain either/or outside transcendent divides
and right mind both/and inside immanent imminent dialogue.
I remember early religious cultures
were also natural tribal communities
of profound communication resonance.
I seem to remember prophets for change,
for renewed faith communities,
were those whose personal immersion experiences
within nature/spirit
ecological theologies
were marginalized,
considered heterodox
and/or not colonizingly competitive enough
to safeguard patriarchal fertility
regenerativity
sacred communion
of Earth's interdependent health/wealth web
inherited from faithful progenitors
and projected to continue only without multicultural change
by uniformly utilitarian future robotic generations.
While U.S. religious history
is dominated by exodus trends,
advocates of old time religious revival
often break off from frozen icebergs
claiming it is no more possible for Earth's sinful nature to change
than it is for a transcendent god of punishing jealousy
to change His ever-loving mind about evil nature, fallen
down and up
in and out against good healthy HolySpirit.
Yet this Great Transitional divide,
when we consider global religious history
back to indigenous nature/spirit immersion experience
of multiculturing EarthTribes,
appears like a Great Fall
after, and maybe not before,
this human species became supremely self-anointed prophets
of self-inflicted divine realms
inspiring more of a Great Rapture
co-arising communal healthy wealth
back when prophets
and sages,
seers and witches
were being devoured by dinosaurs,
decimated by protracted frozen winters,
unseasoned steamy swamps
of nature/spirit immersion
in marginalization experiences.
Could it be
that ecological empowering relationship,
or lack thereof,
predicts theological communication,
compassion,
and lack thereof?
I wouldn’t have let you down if you didn’t expect too much
you and me are constantly in but you’re out of touch
thinking you’ve divine right an authority as such
but if I did that to you it would be double Dutch
You believe we have roles in this friendship
I’m the labour running and you're conserva-sits
as though you’ve a stable head while mine flips
and mine has no foresight while yours predicts
As though you’re successful and sorted
whilst I’m the fool who’s thwarted
you’re always right with clever thoughts
believing me to be outthought
You’re auto sorted at the top of the pack
looking down on me as the pyramid stack
In hard times I spend time pull you out the black
face my problems alone cus you don’t give it back
This gives you limelight centre of attention
thinking I'm you’re staff creating expectation
things I do for you are seen as your exception
confused when my actions fail retention
You believe you do the things I do for you
and acknowledge these things are things I do
but you receive don’t give and forget this true
it’s all about you and now the friendship is through
And I’m not your only friend saying this
in fact all your friends are friends you miss
and on the day you marry the misses
mr most important with his best man missing