Long Psyche Poems
Long Psyche Poems. Below are the most popular long Psyche by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psyche poems by poem length and keyword.
Poetry and the Occult
The human psyche and its thirst for both inward
and outward reflection finds its medium in poetry.
The source of poetry’s metaphorical power and its
wonderment exist in the realm of the supernatural.
Poetry oft reflects many arcane notions of the mysterious
as it thrusts mankind into the reality of the ethereal world.
The precepts of the everyday world of mankind may be
inherently challenged, at times, by the aura of the unknown.
Mankind’s historic pathway to true enlightenment brings
each of us closer to God as we seek His divine attention.
The mystical evolution of our individual soul bodies
helps us to understand who we are in relation to God.
The most essential aspect of all of this is for mankind
to have true faith always in the power of the Almighty.
Mankind must never fall prey to fear, temptation, and
darkness which personify the Devil’s earthly presence.
The past, present, and future speak to our soul’s essence,
And poetry’s one impetus to awaken us to our divine role!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 13, 2018 (Couplet)
I hear the voices you once bequeathed to me
Enchanting concert music in symphony of love
But I left the theater before the show was over
Walking all alone in the missteps of contempt,
Endorsing the reticence of unspoken words.
Deep in my psyche these memories now reside
Where devoid of fond smiles, blossoms have dried.
As I refuse to accept that I’ve lost you forever
Echoes of outcry from the unsung emotions
Poignantly evoke the saddest lines of discourse
In conversations espousing laments of my soul,
Within backstreets of mind amid chaos of thoughts
Having lost directions to dreamlands of the past,
For I refused the promise in winter’s goodbye
And rejected fiery passions of autumnal vibes,
As I squashed the dreams in flights of monarchs—
Never kissing fragrant lips of doting ambrosia.
Though you guided me through twilight of romance
I struggled in ineptitude of lovesick night of dark—
Oh, how I missed my mark beneath the northern star!
As my storm keeps churning, hosting a cyclone,
The rivers, once calm, have flooded my crops
And gusty winds ravaged dismantling my farm
And tall weeds have now occupied my sidewalks,
As dissonance of our love remorsefully squalls
Within indecisive nomenclature of my timid heart.
September 25, 2019
Placed 1st: In the backstreets of my mind poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand select C contest by Brian Strand
“a heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I Am that dwelling in unbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation” ~ Unseeking Seeker...
You write amidst the midnight musings
and their throb for moving moonbeams,
while I kiss the breathing space
between my air and your Elysian waters,
like the pause between poems ~
the stillness between syllables...
And tonight, I trace the heat of truth,
slipping free the lilac of ego’s linen,
unclothing the veil of vivacious vanity ~
inner riddles ruffled with regal lies,
robed in layers of superficial silk,
as my mind tiptoes through the dusk,
aware of how I sabotaged the soul’s sun,
lost in perplexed pages plagued with pride.
O star-touched chakra ~ source of salvation,
the aurora essence spilling through
formless fingers of faith.
I am nevermore the pain I home,
nor the dawn I mindlessly forsake.
I refuse to be named by the scarred stars,
nor crowned by the crawling contradictions
of fears fringed with self-condemnation.
I am peace ~ the simplicity my psyche wears,
woven like Zen around my neck ~
a healing hush of heaven’s voice.
I am the salt of sapphires serenading
through warm streams of lotus bliss.
I long to love and bloom along pearl shores,
forevermore ~ the blue within a dreaming ripple.
Entering the Dark Side of a Moonbeam
Entering the dark side of a moonbeam is always very risky
since the cold and howling bitterness of the night escapes,
as a moaning, devilish agony of selfishness devours the good.
As the human heart fills with air, a legion of grieving spirits
in the human psyche is at once intoxicated with the sacred
kissed-gift of this hallowed eve as promised by the Devil.
Cain searches now within Life’s Garden that special hiding
place where unsuspecting Zombies of a grief-stricken nature
dwell whilst being seduced by a darkness as fires burn black.
What remains evident is an emotionless being who is tortured
with murderous feelings that are affected when the dark smoke
blows away all pride and one finds there is no remorse at all.
An agonizing pain is cleared now with the Moon’s eclipse as
the ghosts and goblins of the Devil seek “Hate’s Trigger” that
lies under a deep-dark crater where twilight ghosts cry out now.
These demonic ghosts are known as the “Crying Beggars of Despair,”
who haunt the soul of mankind and are born out of the dark ashes of
unhappy wild beasts who speak with tongues of envy and sadness.
These ghosts now set up their invisible barbed-wire boundaries
that they want to burst later as they begin fighting for their true
existence in the Devil’s own “Dark Netherworld of Lost Souls.”
These ghosts begin now to dance gracefully in the dark shadows as
their deceptive tongues make false complaints and poisonous lies
that throw the state of mind of the demonic ghosts into utter turmoil.
With this evil event, their blood rushes rapidly below the skin’s
surface, as a fear now clings to their throat as an eternal burning
battle gains no foothold to the next following step they must take.
Yes, even for the Devil’s own demonic ghosts from the depths of
Hell itself, their life, their very own existence is incredibly fragile
and vulnerable just like a match is to a flame. Mors omnia solvit.
Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
Copyright © All Rights Reserved, December 7, 2021
(Tercet)
(“Desert Dreams II”, 2023, original encaustic)
Forty days and forty nights
Alone in the desert is no small thing,
Demons after all are demons
No matter how big or small,
No matter if for a moment or a day,
But lifetime after lifetime we all wander,
An endless passage of days and nights,
Filled with just our share
Of demons and angels.
But what are these phantom beings after all,
Projections of our psyche
Or cosmic forces which in turn have projected us?
And still we travel on
As days turn into nights, and nights to days
Angels morphing into demons and back
Putting our psyches on display
Like the contents of a mind laid out
On the front lawn for yard sale
All of it cleared out and willingly let go,
For pennies on the dollar,
Or a garage ready for spring cleaning
Preparing for one last bucket-list road trip
To the West and south with its endless deserts
Seekers and vision questers
Wandering, 'round and ‘round
Searching for a way out but not back.
(2/2/26)
Suicidal Ideation March 30th, 2022 linkedin...
to mein kampf insync with mine body dysmorphia
After reading articles
published within April 4/11 2022
of The Nation
I challenged the efficacy
taking prescription medication
categorized as SSRIs
and/or SNRIs.
Unpleasant side effects
such as earth shaking dreams
and/or especially hefty weight gain
linkedin with former
comprising my daily cocktail
of approved prescription medication
courtesy nurse practitioner.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche
fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty three)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Shayna Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide in tandem
with Old Rotten Gotham
into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention
offspring boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
Discombobulation thunderously
torments, triumphs, tumults
courtesy deafening,
earsplitting, fracturing...
whereby unbearable mental anguish
rents psyche asunder
into bajillion pieces
singular recourse necessitates
invoking cerebral powers
to engender feeling
comfortably numb skull,
hence tried and true value accorded
transcendental meditation recourse
offering absolutely zero choice
incumbent upon yours truly
to remedy cerebral chaos,
an unpleasant quotidian experience,
whenever yours truly
exits deep sleep
more potent solution
versus pharmacological medication
to instill peace of mind,
plus elevating cosmic consciousness
allowing, enabling and providing
pronouncedly heightened awareness
acutely poignant insight
permeating throughout this body electric
calming, fanning, jumpstarting
vitally important discipline
in order for lifetime anxiety riddled
disabling affliction upends
potential to satiate existence
(oft times state of severe panic -
triggering chronic sweaty palms
extremely bothersome
physiological manifestation
induces suicidal ideation
i.e. death welcomed),
which onset regarding
ordinary agitated state
inchoate congenital malady
probably coalesced in utero
extremely intolerable,
especially incorporating socialization,
cuz no contra dance partner
(cue Irish jig and reel
musicians playing lively tunes)
favors grasping hand
analogous to wet dishrag.
Lapses in mindscape lane don't
denote being fantastical,
subconscious realm portrayed
by vivid thoughts as Déjà vu.
The body lingers and ages but
the Psyche, new as dew.
Countless times,
a reminder of certainty
that I was seen somewhere
when in reality,
staring inquisitively
into my TV.
Then I pondered, did
I unknowingly fall into a trance,
Or did time travel come knocking
unexpectedly?
and even if it did, again,
the lapses don't come to light.
Dreams are pathways to
meditation, that birth
happenings unknown
to this world. But the body
is a shield to absolute
exploration of cognisance.
My imaginary circus yawns
for transportation and
these scenarios distinctively
and simultaneously
visualize without limitations.
Not a pause for impossibility,
we see levitation happen as a tornado,
I can only imagine a gust of parading
doppelganger, I'm just not the witch elevating.
But my illusioned awareness puts me in diverse places through manifestation and imagery conception.
Your inner colors, make your life more active, passionate, and zestful. By Poet
Zenith of zeal and zonary of zealousness
It left me feeling as if I'd been enchanted.
In a man's aloof psyche lies preciousness.
Swiftly glide, by wide sea or sky, undaunted.
Hinder your hope zealous even if dreams die.
A bird with its pennons clipped can't fly.
Life is a bleak, frozen plain in the sway.
If you stayed awake with a zing and a zap
Put glory aside and pound it off with a rap.
Frost might have seen no spring in this gap.
Adopt each day with zeal and dreadlessness.
Feel sway all the way up till skies are slanted.
At its core, any demise should be given away.
Consider heeding this and reaching the cap.
Written: May 12, 2023
Writing Challenge - 'Z' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Fragmented Rhyme: Form created by Poetess Constance La France
Going Somewhere
Somewhere is another bizarre place to be,
especially if didn’t know how you got there.
Somewhere qualifies as another special
metaphysical indeterminate like nowhere.
Generally, we’re all going somewhere as
part of the greater space-time continuum.
In our earthly mortal world, daily points of
destination are readily known to each of us.
This is part of that tangible-known world
that each of us as human beings conform to.
One’s inner psyche, on the metaphysical plane,
may experience something entirely different.
What was once a “tangible-known” on this Earth,
may be that “intangible-unknown” of somewhere.
Space and time define us all in our human world,
whilst the terra firma of Earth is our palpable surety.
After dreaming deeply one night, who knows, maybe
your soul might become resident in that somewhere!
Perhaps your new presence in this realm of somewhere,
like being in nowhere, is your preordained karmic strife.
If this isn’t the case, then by cosmic fate, you’ve now
unknowingly found yourself in another dimension.
If this be so, then praying to God might be of help, since
He knows that somewhere is out there in the Great Beyond!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2018 (Couplet)