Long Pulse Poems
Long Pulse Poems. Below are the most popular long Pulse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pulse poems by poem length and keyword.
in silence we hide our fear
midst peculiar helter skelter reality
striving to stop a pandemic in its tracks
it’s left behind a trail of devastation
while thousands of our neighbours die
in silence we hold our breath
not fully grasping the magnitude
the world’s our global village
countries shut down unprecedented
the pulse slowed down to a morbid crawl
in silence we listen to the news
it’s grim and shockingly surreal
we’re asked to stay indoors to stop the spread
we do our part it’s not enough
as death tolls rise exponentially
in silence mass graves keep being dug
AP: 1st place 2020
Caused Steinbeck reword "Mirth" known printed write,
harmony pulse conducts the marooned cell,
though breaks, wisely kept in tune with itself.
The gauge's clicks sway one to soothe its height.
"Each and All", "Earth Song" Emerson's ballad.
Unversed preexist's renewed care recalls.
Harp rhythm strings strum as the organ pedals.
Rhapsody ensures airy suite valid.
Calm reflects symmetry, pleasures belong,
deep voices grants the life-timers acclaim.
Solemn occasions psalm, heartfelt gifts claim.
Unsung Heavenly pace grow the swan song.
invites internal hope vibrates anew,
renewed life rewarded, heartbeat pipes true.
It lives with me
in the hush
between heartbeats,
in the black seam
between waking
and dread.
Not loud.
Not gone.
Not kind,
but familiar
as breath in winter.
It speaks in fragments,
in static,
in tremors,
in the pulse
behind my eyes.
I have called it
fear,
I have called it
wound,
I have called it
the storm
that would not leave.
But at night
when the world
goes dim,
when the last light
fades from the corners,
it is only myself
coming back
to find me.
So I listen.
And always
it returns
not as a stranger
but as a song
I almost remember,
a silver thread
pulled through the dark,
a soft rain
on a closed window.
My voice and I
are not enemies.
We are two notes
trying to become harmony,
two fires
learning how to share one dark.
And in the listening
the noise begins to soften,
the ache becomes less sharp,
the night a little less alone.
Born free and playful, our soul was complete
Reaching out to one and all, joy replete
Illumined was our soul, divine entwined
Dispersing love, nothing to be divined
Giving rather than taking, was the norm
Immersed deep in a bliss magnetised storm
Neophyte humble, prayer on our lips
Grateful for each heartbeat that rapture grips
Then lower mind, cast upon us a spell
Head-heart split, in fears we began to dwell
Ego spawned sorrow, spelt our heart’s death knell
Empty heart sought joy amidst illusions
God’s light veiled, unending our delusions
Opaqued truth birthed mistaken conclusions
Acceptance dawns, we enter the abyss
Bowing down to conscience, erst fears dismiss
Yearning for God, replacing narrow views
Stillness dynamic, joy pulse that renews
Surrender complete, filling heart with bliss
09-December-2021
(Acrostic Syllabic Rhyme)
Syllables: HMS
Rhymezone check
1st stanza: aabbccdd, 2nd: eee, 3rd: fff, 4th: gghhg
''A'' Forms, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The dog goes still and tilts a heavy head,
To catch a whistle pitched above the wind;
I watch the clouds, by unseen fingers spread,
And wonder where the boundary has thinned.
They say the sky is scripted, line by line,
A closed-off room where only we are kept—
But then a pulse, a stutter in the design,
Wakes the silence where the stars have slept.
Does He allow for fire in foreign cold?
Or is this just a trick of tired sight?
The scripture feels too small, too neatly told,
To house the ghosts that flicker in the night.
The men of logic ask for iron proof,
A heavy weight to anchor down the soul,
While I sit quiet on the cool night’s roof,
Watching the fragments drift to make a whole.
We are not gods; we are the ones who stare,
Constructing altars out of stone and fear.
Whatever breathes within that thin, sharp air,
It leaves a question hanging in the clear.
And if it’s truth, it won't be found in charts
Or measured out by how we name the spheres,
But in the way it unstrings human hearts
And leaves us small, beneath the grinding years.
Then, the sudden tear—the curtain drawn—
Revealing depths where ancient engines hum;
The terror of a dark and nameless dawn,
The beating heart of all that is to come.
Not iron ships, but light that knows no name,
A vast unfolding of the hidden mind;
We stand beneath the roar of solar flame,
And leave our narrow, earthly truths behind.
Oh, how the heavens open, wide and vast,
To swallow up the pride of what we knew;
We find our place within the mold at last,
Drowned in the awe of all the bright and new.
To gaze upon the infinite is prayer,
And God is waiting, breathing in the air.
Poesy lives here, poesy now tints;
Observe the range, observe the feel;
Echoes draw near, echoes bring hints;
Trust in sure change, trust in vast will;
Read works that steer, read brand new mint;
Yes wild and strange, yes words and deals.
Sign your best work, sign your fond child;
Options that farm, options that show;
Urge flings bold jerk, urge hurls things wild;
Pulse frees sure sums, pulse floods prime flow.
Come take a look, come read a bit;
Opt for a style, opt for a taste;
Meet a verse cook, meet a new hit;
Melt with clear smile, melt with fond haste.
Use verse that spark, use norms that swirl;
Now start your feel, now find your way;
Indulge your mark, inspire your twirl;
Trust words to heal, trust touch to sway;
Yield to verse will, yield to word play.
Come here and sing, come here and share;
A precious write, a certain slant;
Love words you bring, love voice you bare;
Make poetry cite, make verses chant!
(Note: An anniversary poem to celebrate my 1st month with the PoetrySoup Community. I like the Spirit of this website and you can feel this in my daily writes. A special "Thank You" to everyone who made me feel welcome here and especially for the kind comments. This poem is my simple gratitude offering for all the support from PoetrySoupers. Leon)
Leon Enriquez
09 March 2014
Singapore
Barefoot, I romp on flush of evening’s bliss
when gangmates act as allies to this trance,
my hair ruffling with the sashay of leaves
as if summer air wafts tunes to enhance
the fine chorus of birdsong’s melody--
among cobblestones from old hometown's alley.
And there I find childlike spirit's release
this body darting in malleable form;
while woodland becomes a new universe
bathed in luscious dew the glint of stars,warm--
my pulse rising to catch north- winds recede
that giggles bounce, pop like a dancing reed!
Caren Krutsinger's Pure Childlike Fun And Enthusiasm
Jazz City breathes like a smoke ring in a midnight club/ Rudy Van Gelder at the console, the world’s greatest keeper of sound, Prestige Records spinning stories in the air/
First with the great jazzman, a medium tempo groove that slides from bebop to hard-swing, rails blazing as the jazz Coltrane blows by on a melody that climbs and flies/
Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis, cookin’ the pot, steamin’ with a pocket full of jazz soul/ Clifford Brownie Brown leads a hip Quintet, Max Roach on drums, a harmonic understudy whispering the language of the streets and the back alleys' life and love/
Some cats just don’t give a straight face to the night—high, sad, happy, drunk, angry—moods poured out on the bandstand like rain through a skylight/ The club crowd feels every wave, every push and pull, as these cats stride into something cool, strutting like tenor giants of the ‘50s and ‘60s, leaping on a note at the Half Note jazz club/
Ruth Brown, an R&B queen with a jazz vibe in her voice, comes drifting through the doorway—rhythm and blues calling her name, she answers with a smile that cuts through the smoke and lights up the room at the Surger Shack/ She’s something else, a heartbeat of dance steps in a rhythm and blues night that never truly ends? This is not just music; it’s a city waking up with a horn section for a skyline, a doorway into sound where every mood is a stairway into every solo/
a streetlight, a conga line in every chorus/ Jazz City isn’t a place; it’s a pulse in the air, a memory you can hear whenever the world pretends to be quiet. So lean in, my brother, and get super hip/listen close, let the grooves pull you into their orbit/where the greats walk the stairs of time and the present keeps time with the past, one note at a time."
I saw the world through
your eyes, its follies, and surprises,
I felt the pulse of time with you,
And we saw earthly changes.
What I can't see with my eyes
Visions reach into my dreams,
I believe when my heart cries,
I won’t stop dreaming dreams.
Until I reach heaven’s bright shore
I see nothing here of lasting worth,
Evil has driven away the pure,
Existence becomes greed and mirth.
On earth, I am still walking tall,
and thinking deep within,
of the times, I hear your voice call,
for a new journey to begin.
Listening to a holy voice pleading
From a far distance,
We started at once listening,
To receive unmerited grace.
Only death will take us apart,
When breath starts leaving
The petals to bloom bright,
bereave roses, in the garden.
I considered the sky before rain
Stars gathering below,
clouds flying with the glimpse of heaven,
The realms surrounded with a halo.
See the beauty of sun and moon,
in everything, give thanks,
In the light and in the gloom,
I glimpse heaven in the distant.
God’s presence is the brightest light,
of revelation, that I see in your eyes
on a clear moonshine night
the sky is full of surprise.
19.5
“Where is sleeping, dreaming, waking,
or even the fourth state?
Where is fear?
I abide in the glory of Self”
Verse revisited on 09-June-2022
Timeless continuum of here, now, this
Peace rippleless, humming with bliss
Holds steady internalised attention
As ever present divine orientation
Wherein heart thus, void-centric
Radiates loving intent concentric
Be it in waking or dreaming state
Magnetic bliss throbs within gyrate
Each life pulse embrace and release
Flowing gently, like the morning breeze
Dreams within dreams do thus renew
Witnessing linear time flow continue
Aware that we’re breathed by God
Of cause, not effect, overawed
Witnessed from fulcrum of stillness
Be it day or night in vibrant blissfulness