Long Rarity Poems
Long Rarity Poems. Below are the most popular long Rarity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rarity poems by poem length and keyword.
Non-conforming impresses me
Humbleness is sexy (if you can't see)
Arrogance is not even worth my precious time
Too many people nowadays - are making true love a crime
Too many mundanes play games and lie
Too many men lead their lives with ill-placed pride
Where is the integrity and honesty? Where did those days go?
Where are the actions of people who SAY they wanna show?
Where is the teamwork? Where are the compromises?
Where are all the little things? Where are all the surprises?
Whatever happened to nice things that got said?
What happened to loving with your heart AND head?
I want rarity, originality, loyalty, integrity, and truth
I want to feel young with my partner and enjoy our youth
Whatever happened to communication nowadays?
Why must they lock good souls in this twisted maze?
FEELINGS
a
very
reflective time
unfolding
a strong
sense
of
being
cherished
nerves
raw
&
exposed
&
yet
sympathetico
co
to
intellectual
development
patient
desires
in
culturally
frank
innocence
&accomplished
receiving
chimed
rising
tides
on forgotten
times
CHALLENGES
a touchstone
so
familiar
its
beauty
falling
shadowing
the ego
a natural
rarity
in
a
perfect
range
of moods
sombre
to facile
to
illustrate
complling
connotation
of the
unconscious
sonorous
&imposing
a
cascading
momentum
in
exact
equivalence
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Written: October 10, 2023
There is no bee without the sting; cleverness consists in gathering the honey nevertheless. Sathya Sai Baba
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the thick of a human tumultuous storm.
Among the rhythms that ceaselessly swarm
There prevails an interval, a peaceful interlude.
An instant of silence, filled with peaceful exudes
A respite from the frantic pace,
An intermezzo in life's busy race.
In the intimacy of this instant, desrcy solace.
A fleeting interlude, a precious space.
A balmy sigh of bliss, a breath of fresh air
All dilemmas dissolve, akin to placid prayer.
Zest hovers motionless in this interlude.
As we unleash and pour our woeful mood,
The world around us fades away.
As we immerse ourselves in this intermezzo play,
A while to ruminate and discover our core.
Our spirits can blithe in this pause on shore.
A heaven of equanimity, a peaceful state,
Where trammels and troubles dissipate.
A lapse of respite, a gentle reprieve,
A scope to heal, to descry relief.
In this interlude, we decry clarity,
A respite amid the insanity, a fleeting rarity
A spectrum to galvanize, redeem our strength,
To corral balance amidst life's immense length.
I will utterly cherish these intermezzo breaks.
These are the times when our souls awake.
It is in this burly epitome that we desire peace.
A break from the humdrum of constant lease
Thus, just relish these intermezzo pauses.
And let our minds rejoice in miraculous causes.
Not everything in life has to be a mad dash.
But also with ushering in canorous times to hush.
h u r t me…
with your deadly devotion,
leave lethal love-bites
across pulsing pages…
I ache to wear the burning blaze
of your rhymes around my neck,
to be choked by poetic desire,
to be punished with personified fire…
but what is a jewel
without your touch?
there is no gold ~ free-falling
from outer space,
deeper than sparks rising higher,
in tune with the mercury madness,
the cosmos of craving ~
taste this undying thirst
for ethereal union,
wrist to wrist, poem to poem,
ink to ink, skin to skin,
lips locked in longing,
as I yearn for eternal rest ~
knowing that when
I return, you’ll still be there,
willingly mine, evermore,
leashed to my Stygian stars,
O beloved blue moon rarity,
my Orpheus of musical silver,
where the throb of Eurydice
echoes like the pain of passion
I cradle within ~ heaven’s roses
bruised by obsession,
throned in an orchard of thorns
where every petal bleeds
the fragrance
of fatal fidelity ~
surrender
to my fixated fantasy,
worship the warmth of want,
as I slip into the
void of this endless black,
swallowing the ambrosia
from your acidic tongue
that drips venom and verses,
hauntingly hypnotizing
with the wet
heat of a rain-soaked lyre,
where we will be reborn
from the underworld ashes
of ghost-glazed diamonds…
I crave to be the cluster of reasons,
the wedded widow,
still gowned in viper’s devouring,
chained in anklets jeweled
with jinxed jade,
dragging me down a realm
of the unspoken
parts of the underworld ~
oblivious to the earthly creatures
crawling through coldness…
I am smoothly strangled
by the symphonic sentiments
of a loyal liaison,
an epic obedience,
that made the angels of life and death
weep and sleep
to the sound of defiant dews
of a reckless romance ~
for love seeps from curling
words into a
floundering bloodstream,
tying fanatic temptation
to the corpse tunes of gothic twilight…
How can one once so familiar become so strange?
The ease and flow of conversation, so stilted?
Awkward even. Our 'in-commonness' a rarity?
Our connectedness disconnected?
The once passionate embrace a tentative touch:
a 'should I or shouldn't I' interrelation.
Now so different to then - a then quite recent,
yet distant in its memory.
Do you feel the same as I? Or do you not feel
any more? Do you no longer love me?
Or have you simply forgotten that you once did
- or I you, so vehemently.
Where did we misplace it? Carelessly lost
like the guarantee for the cooker.
Perhaps it too can be found amongst the
rancid rotten waste in the bin.
How remiss we have been: carried on the wave
of daily activity. Ships passing in the night
without even a 'hoot' of acknowledgement.
Two separate shadows in the darkness.
This is a dangerous game we are playing.
A contest with two losers and nothing to win.
Come search the contents of the bin with me.
We may just find what we are looking for
in the mucky murky depths of memory.
Or at the back of a disorganised drawer somewhere.
If we search our hearts, maybe it still beats there?
We'll never know unless we try.
As I amble along, a trance me shakes
an immense silence, I fear, my tread wakes
A respite from angst in an oasis of rarity
my stroll in timelessness and spirituality
A joy of mind dancing in thrill and ecstasy
lulling my soul into a winsome reverie
Forget me nots calling for vernal breeze
heartseases blooming, poundering throbs I seize
Love in a Mist promising a golden summer
a stunning pallet! a peerless paintbrush to colour
Morning glories, beauty and forbearance
flowering souls, no void and time for abhorrence
Marguerite Daisies dropping a curtsy to shiny sun
a night retreat, then paths of charm to run
One rare of gems from The Master of the Universe
poets ever carving its ineffable beauty in verse
Artists blend their appealing hues and rising perceptions
a work of Art of emotional power and pure impressions
Beholding in awe and gratitude such a bliss
many of God's grace and blessings I miss.
(Tribute to the original poem "Tomorrow's Light)
Waking in the smother cold
Breathing ashes of discarded souls
The chills of old withered hopes
Binding those into Hell's traps
Screams of begs and pleas fill the crimson meadows
Craters filled with poisonous promises
Light of grey and carmine paved the ruins
Scent of rust and debris cover all untouched
Branded by the Reaping ignorance
Watching in the crimson thrones
Sparring no favors but sounds of laughter
These eyes heavy of dirt and rumble
Needing to rest upon bloodied heavy doors
A rarity of true light's warm fills the cold vessel
A breath of blooming life blazing an ember
Reaching a wrinkled, broken hand of hope
Within the abyss of harden abandonment
A soften tear runs down one's defeated features
Wishing for the retuning light to ablaze again
A rose, in the hands of God, lays her fate
As Summer exhales its fury and dries its rain
Those are Nature creed, just obey and not berate
God's wisdom, vain minds couldn't debate.
Pains that affect the heart, we do feel once
As deep they might dig, the pleasure is immense
Time when slow to meet a wish, the ache intense
God's wisdom, vain minds couldn't make sense.
A rhymer lays bare the fine music of verse
Mother nature would fill a heart and wounds nurse
Uphold Beauty and in the wonders of Poetry the soul immerse
Wisdom, in a blessed heart, God would disperse.
What of rarity, the words could not meet
Who dares, of humanity, delete a heartbeat!
Love and peace, a Poet's ever tweet
Wisdom from the Almighty God, a huge treat.
Written By: D. Collins 3/8/19
I wish you could have taken this ride with me.
By now, they'd be calling us both a rarity.
Who would've thunk it? Or, thought we'd survive?
Who would've given us a chance of still being alive?
Two strong, black men well into their late fifties.
I dread you're not here to take the ride with me.
When I took a left, you made a right.
God called you home to sit by His side.
Yet, I feel you standing to the right of me.
Keeping me calm. Putting me back on a leash.
If the world only knew what we have lost.
That breath of fresh air, right before the floss.
I sure wish you could have took that ride with me.
Don't worry little brother. I'm still Big-Brotherly.
If they party in Heaven, there's one thing I want to say...
Let God and every Angel know that it is your birthday.
Bone-drained, there is no respite, no split second of peace. The “sundowner”, a hyper-active toddler in a man’s vehicle, never sleeps nor sits.
When I succumb to that one precious moment of rest; I am awakened to a furnace running full blast in a freezing cold house and on a nineteen degree night. A butter knife has removed a window; the culprit and dementia-mind panics; he’s terrified of being trapped in a fire. There’s no arguing with dementia-mind; it’s best to play along with the his ideas.
Another day of madness and I awake to a frantically screeching doorbell; it’s his nurse. I've revived in the floor. A migraine faint pulled me down; I’ve had no sleep for eight nights, you see. Sweet respite…she says she’ll, “sit with him”, so I can lie down a bit; a pleasant miracle; such happenstance is a rarity.
Dementia-mind has no solutions, only hallucinations, delusions; absence of mind and aggression for the “sundowners”. I watch at breakfast, as he pours his milk upon the floor; he has no clue of what he is doing or why;
he stares, mindless. When the eyes go blank it’s obvious; he’s not in there. A robot gone haywire, used to be my Father. The last thing to go, were his mathematical skills. Dementia-mind has forgotten so many people; how to swallow, but recalls numbers…
“Who is that man?” he demands, pointing at himself in the mirror. My exhausted mind briefly forgets and I mistakenly reply, “You dad.” The firestorm is initiated; he calls me a, “liar”. Self recognition has failed him now; the flame of his mind is burning low; soon to extinguish.
He’s fed and dressed, but I’ve no time to eat; if he should sleep an hour today; I must cook for the week. It’s the only opportunity I have…when and if he sleeps. I must not go to the bathroom; he’ll break something or fall. I must hold myself until my sister arrives.
The “passives” are painful to watch, as they deteriorate, but the “sundowners” are constant exhaustion. I was in the ER, almost as much as, he. You see, there’s no one to care for the caregiver, but themselves and when they can’t, exhaustion and malnutrition escalate. Dementia-mind is round-the-clock work and two doing the work of six people, takes its’ toll. The disease never discriminates; it destroys everyone.
(My Father died with dementia, a form of Alzheimer's in 2003, after a 15 year battle.)