Long Random thought Poems

Long Random thought Poems. Below are the most popular long Random thought by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Random thought poems by poem length and keyword.


Random Free Thought Ten Min Clock

Random thought on ten minute clock as been deleted and rethought
from a more steady mind then th one of mine
I held all those years ago and for the waisted time
you may have spent on that ryme I really apologize

You see you dont really see the things your saying
not when your overmedicated your mind is gone and you are just
litigating between the voices in your head trying to have some peace
your just trying to clear your head get some rest and go to bed

I cant really relate to myself and who I was
and I cant remember the person that came before
down south fat boy who had a lot of fun it not the memmories
that miss me but the way i handled the activities how social I was

So next time if you happen to be in a crowd
and you see someone awkward and hear people talk about them in the crowd
take the time to speak to them and get past their wall
they are the best friends you will ever find so dont be so proud
Form:


Premium Member Ramble

Words are always running through my head.
From waking to bed.
Writing from the images I am fed.
Thoughts running to and fro.
Trying to follow as far as they go 
Catching a random thought.
Sometimes lessons taught.
They lead I follow.
Sometimes heartbeats sound rather hollow 
Viewing the world through my eyes. 
Not always blue skies. 
But mankind tries.
Following a dream.
Life holds you back it does seem.
Lost in thought.
Understanding sought.
Hard to follow.
When in self pity you wallow.
Clear you mind.
Nothing is ever left behind.
Only memory has a rewind.
Memories of the past.
The future will never be cast.
Writing a story 
Of life and it's glory
Like a random thought.
May be hard fought 
Follow it through.
The sky will someday turn blue
Modern leaders.
Future readers.
Knowledge breeders.
I'm a child, 
Thoughts run wild.
Life is hard to start 
Not knowing your part.
Should I follow, .....should I lead.
Will my words plant any seed.
 The first breath you take.
Each decision you make.
The future is always at stake.
Times I'm lost in my head.
Can't find my bed.
Where does the story end.
What message does it send.
Will my heart ever mend.
Follow that thought.
I stood up and fought 
The lessons they taught.
Tomorrow will soon be now.
Living the only way I know how. 
,hearing each word.
Such a silence seldom heard.
Peaceful in its way
At least I have today. 
Finding my way to the next line.
Don't worry.....I feel fine. 
.Just so you know 
Letting go of the flow. 
Stepping out of my mind.
Ties that bind.
 flashing lights start to fade
In and out of a dream I wade.
The thought slips away. 
Time begins with each new day. .
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Did Not Sing Today

I did not sing today.
I walked long, 
But there was no song
As I went about my way.

I did not talk today.
There was no friend
With smile to lend
And kind thought steered my way.

I did not write today.
I thought long and hard,
But there was no card
No parchment held its sway.

I did not laugh today.
Save a wry response
To a random thought
On my wandering pondering way.

I did not sup this eve.
No bounteous grace
No warm embrace
No consort at my sleeve.

But I count the day not lost
For the careworn and the cost.

For the steps on every journey
Be they light or weight uncertain
Must be taken...

Lest they bring the final curtain to the Day.

Premium Member When We Were Alive

It’s raining all night, and I’m sleepless
Each random thought carries me through
This habit to think is ridiculous
Except when I’m thinking of you
Hope you would approve my idea
I’ve no desire to celebrate
The date of upcoming New Year
The symbol of time that can’t wait
Champagne and that fabulous salad
We can go without easily 
The spruce with the shimmering garland
Oh dear, it’s too much for me
I paid off a many New Years
Each one was no better than old
I’ve watched the sunrise over hills
I’ve lived up a tale no one told
So why not remain in the past
To drown in your eyes with the sun
That jumped like a ball between us
When we were alive, having fun.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Another Fine Spring Day

Another fine spring day gently dying,
Subtle variegated colors and
Tender vivid greens are dappled now
With golden flecks and dollops of buttery sunlight.
Shadows begin their mysterious, meticulous
March across flowers and shrubbery
As they lengthen and deepen closer to the ground.
Standing at my open study window,
I can feel the struggling, waning sun
Slanting softly across my face
As it caressingly bids me a reluctant au revoir.
A palpable silence descends and seems to reign for a moment.
The very air outside appears to shimmer, almost to vibrate,
As if alive with a joyful, youthful exuberance
Too frenetic to be contained.
Through the open casement a renegade breeze steals craftily in,
Brushes my cheeks with cool tantalizing fingers,
And brings with it the seductively heady perfume of a burgeoning earth.
My body strains to embrace
And merge with this welcome newness
As the random thought occurs to me that people are like the spring.
Both are from the past and live many lives,
But, unlike the past which is dead,
Something that is over and cannot return
Except in memory,
People, like the earth each spring,
Reawaken, reinvent themselves and move on.
I, too, feel alive, joyous, youthful and exuberant
As this notion, like the sheer curtains at my window,
Is caught by that cunning, inveigling breeze
And flutters out again like a capricious spirit escaping.


I Shall Write No More

I shall write no more
 lest I reveal
 a little too much of myself.

The blank book waits patient,
 lines empty on each page
 and a calligraphic portrait
remains invisible waiting
 for the words, the phrases, 
 the rhythm and the rhyme
but nothing comes
 it lingers and falters 
 off in the entries of the mind.

Random thought
 and wild imaginings rise
 wrap the images within a dream
it holds them tight and squeezed
 awaiting some release
 that inner calm scream
with pen in hand
 and scratches itching for release
 it pauses.

I shall write again with haste
 when thought and vision
 words and time find their rightful place.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

From Blank Screen To Logorrhea

most instances when i initially seat
     myself priming creative literary juices to flow,
     an unspecified number hours elapse
     before that eureka i.e. Jackie Oh

     revelation transpires
     witnessing, this scruffy, prickly,
     and madly scratching itchy hairs
     dotting chinny chin chin of this hobo

hook huns hitters hymns elf
     tubby a generic home
     er run (hitting) mill
     (on the floss sing false teeth)
     common everyday fluky,
     nippy, nap noopy Joe,
whence upon gestation ova hen chic idea

     (Egg heads, merely
     scrambled random thought fragments
     at that stage) scrunching brow 
     activates laser focus,
     a scattershot burst of tangential thread populate

     formerly barren tabula rasa,
     sans, Lenovo external screen
once again defying (tomb me
     akin to some eternal mystery),
     trucked since time immemorial

     inexplicable, that sudden ignition
     asper cerebral automatic
     catalytic converter kickstarter
     (hmm...perhaps cogs and gears
     housed within medulla oblongata)

     foster fecund fertilization,
     an inexplicable phenomena, 
     I dune hot know
explanation, but upon advent
     whence, wispy vague undefinable inchoate

     coalesce analogous to genesis of animal new life
     when there appears just the merest hint
     of fledgling wispy notions strive similar
     to sperm cells 
     fervently whipsawing vis a vis,

     via flagellation motility misfits
     and false starts before this crotchety scribe
     mollycoddles crux of embryonic idea
     congeals, expresses, and forms

     grandiose manifest destiny
     mentioned above i.e. Ho
     Lee Judas Priest remaining catharsis
     seems like a versatile

     self determining tour de force
     whereat fingers of the lefthand
     move of their own volition spilling forth poe
whet tree once expended leaves (of grass)
     finds me Walt sing whit man nigh hick cull
     tickled pink with a soft after glow.

Character

Character

What defines us becomes very clear at times,
when the generous spirit works in echoes of frames.
Beside the task of generating month end meets,
are the relations and trust with its deeds.
When prejudice and temptations are wrought,
establishing a particular colour in random thought.
As long the endeavors are not influenced true inward light,
the path before only seem to fall into direction of bright.
Can you with natural intuition very clear discern,
that true knowledge is an act of aware moments to learn.
Be a part of eternal resolve and hold it there,
and make this presence a pleasure to care.
Then those who go in company of vain,
are doomed by insecurities and negotiation on a late train.
Tying to solve the necessity to self-righteous gain,
not seeing the sentiment causing disappointing pain.
The agony to control the moment by influence rights,
trying to subdue the outcome by all might’s.
The act of manipulation as such becomes the endeavor,
in the name of compassionate rendered favor.
Then if the occasions will rise,
there will be no need to any scarifies.
The ‘if’ and all far fetched stories of suffering and distress,
are the cherry on top for the image in tenderness.
Those who take the law of reason as depends,
will have to question, the attraction to strange friends.
The temptation to influence the serene still,
is to challenging the forces of darkness coming to will.
Some of us have the right foundation taken to test,
providing the true peace that exist, for mental rest.
Then every moment with all its caring virtues therein,
is the solution by characters senses combine.
Form: Ballade

Premium Member less point more thumb

random thought
about bought
lesee i let a i o u
tune my poems
& it's so true
entomb my tomes
now for guilt
wrapping quilt
or satisfaction or both
placate faction doth
i don't write know more
blank white boar 
less than not
in ending this
game of rot
composting fbook
if you care to look
just don't kiss
any dyslexic
mix or be sic
sans which rye
on rub in put in pi
know where going
less point more thumb
all ready now showing
orange ain't knew dumb
can't get past
third weak
sans rubbing cash
praytell pay less
peter's pall
merrikka stall
must get this sin
don't kill venezuelan
since rus needs busy be
now that you crane 
has no see
but blown apart brain
an wouldn't want sia
defend with weapon i ran
brics expect expand
wooden wont bee ya
all drunk
aslib progressive punk
hanging hard 
on mccarthy card
ptsd owns petard

Just a Random Thought

Whats up killer
JP

whats good my nig, 
how u been??
Bj

Aww man survivin'.!!
doing this writing thing...
JP

word, 
survivin' is hard nowadays.
Bj

I have no children of my own man, 
none!!
Thirty approaches...
JP

damn son, I got three. 8,5 & 4
my daughter, she is 8, and I have two boys.
They are my heart and soul, 
The three things I was ever any good at.
Bj

That's good my nig, strong just like their daddy
I imagine.. 
JP

You know it, gonna be street & book smart!! 
Just like their daddy...LOL
Bj

Word.... got to be that way nowadays...
JP

I have seen the problems that revolve around something so beautiful
as making a child, friends and family play victim. I've watched the heartache 
as it matured into meltdown... I know  she is around the corner bro... 
Plenty of appetizers never a main course
you feel me?
JP

I hear you!! 
going thru it now my nig, babymamma is retarded!!!
Bj

Now you know..... 
Yeah you know you'll take her back!!! 
because she is retarded... 
Deep down bro, 
you know that is what you love about her!!!
your creations are part her...
Like it or not bro....
JP
No response. . . . . . .

I think I pissed him off...
My bad bro     
                    
                       ! {} !! {} ! 
                             []
                      {=======}

Jared Pickett
3/08/2010
Asavvy1

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