Long Rayed Poems
Long Rayed Poems. Below are the most popular long Rayed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rayed poems by poem length and keyword.
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
Great was the escape, you need to hear
Riding on the blade of death, oh dear
Eerie and scary too, from my rear
An attack on me, it was so near.
Tried to swallow me, he a frogster
Emerged from the leaves, was a monster
Silent as death behind a piper
Craving to catch him, came a viper.
And that greedy frog, I failed to understand
Prayed by the snake, yet on his mouth he wished
Eagerly to catch me and to relish, his last supper!
Won fifth place in Great escape Poetry Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
(This is a fictional poem)
You're a funny and friendly man but you are incapable of even having a thought.
You hired two men to cripple you just to be able to park in the handicaped spots.
You bought a wheelchair and wherever you go, you have to haul it.
Two days ago a little girl kicked you in the nuts and took your wallet.
You chased her in your wheelchair and you got hit by a bus.
That was the first time in my life that I heard a preacher cus.
As soon as you get better, you plan to have those guys cripple you again.
Your head should be X-rayed because I don't think you have a brain within.
Amóre; what is that, he wondered,
before, before her, before the raw
Circean glimpsed across the buzzing
dance crazed rhythmic beating pulsing room.
Erudite, perniciously droll his
father was, he could have been, the old
generation, but not him, no sir;
he was master of the universe.
It took a while to traverse the room,
jam-packed with hot, febrile bodies in
karezza writhings, bodies touching;
love, or lust, on their minds and on his.
"May I?" "May you what?" She taunted;
neither spoke; both stared. His head bowed in
obeisance, bright red shoes his focus.
Power shifted, as both knew it would.
Quarry now the huntress, wolf killer
relishing command, his submission.
Slowly, mischievously; a wink; words;
"take me to your room, this moment, now
undress me; like you have already."
Vainglorious once; now, kin to a
witless fool, he stood, helpless; she stared;
x-rayed him with her cold steel-blue eyes;
"you're blushing," she whispered. The words like
zephyrs softly caressing his face …
( * )
*** one Filipino identity waving with pride
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***with eight-rayed sun, three hues and stars
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*** emblems of solidarity, courage and love
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R.P.@@
(Republic of the Phil)
July 19, 2015 2.20pm
©2015Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Notes:
Flag Symbols:
8 rays – 8 heroic provinces
3 stars- 3 main islands
3 colors:
blue-peace
red-bravery (red found on the lower part of the flag means no war)
white-purity
• Love means
-love of country and countrymen
-love of democracy and freedom
-love of peace, liberty and solidarity
First Place
Contest: Country or State Flag
Judged: 7/23/2015
Sponsor: Poet Skat A
First Place
Contest: Your Country State City Flag
Judged: 8/8/2015
Sponsor: Poet Judy Konos
Popular Mozart melodies are playing on a low loop.
Five people tense as a clinic nurse
calls us in or leaves us hanging.
I know the drill,
she’ll lead me reluctantly to the scales,
the usual sighs of ritual humiliation;
“Are you 6 foot” she inquires
looking at the chart skeptically.
I don’t tell her that for the last 10 years
I have been shrinking while my bull neck
sinks lower, torpedoed by a laptop navy.
In the Doctors examination room
I slump worry and hum.
I know I will be there for a while,
long enough for me to scribble this poem down
in a dollar store notepad.
Back home I will spell-check every other word -
my mind was on a lump in my gullet, but it’s okay,
after much examination
the doctor declared that I have a bone in my throat
unknown to medical science;
at first she thought it might be a chicken bone
but it waggles only when I talk
and spins when I write.
Apparently there are strings attached to it,
something is pulling at that little bone.
When x-rayed it dances a jig
as if to entertain.
I’m still waiting for a second opinion
though I must admit I am enjoying
being the unidentified voice
of my muses little finger.
Buying corporate profit tickets
to this June's PRIDE event
does not feel therapeutic,
where once lived public trauma.
Another annual rite
of well-bred socialization
political masturbation
with no flavor of resistance
to white-washed Capitalism's greed,
to straight Patriarchalism's need
to rapaciously breed
to gluttonously feed
on humble margins
of truly empowered
LeftBrain dominant humanity
not RightBrain depressed
demonically repressed
satanically oppressed
devilishly suppressed
Right supremely unimpressed
by deeply felt insanity
born a profanity
against Earth's Straight
White
MonoTheistic God
False idol
of patriotic
nationalistic pride
parades before
and lingers after
sins against EarthMother's uncapitalized
poor in spirited nature
Our planet's
traumatically wounded child,
x-rated
x-rayed
x-cised
by homophobic
feministphobic
Afrophobic toxins,
divinely inspired hate,
monotheistic vengeance-is-mine
militaristic fate.
This, and future, summers of inclusive love,
I would give away invitations to proud PASSION,
co-passion
compassion
compassionate integrity
passionate enquiry
of Left erect
correct cognition
greets Right flowing
enlightened growing
synergy glowing
sacred felt reconnecting
concelebrations
Of timeless
dipolar co-arising parades,
out-rageous raving displays
of globally spectral
spectacular
spiraling circular rainbows
of regenerating strings
and co-passionate things
Sacred hope promises
form ribboned resonant faith
for love
of EarthTribe's holy
co-emergent DNA diversity
deeply held
in silent summer whispers
Inviting year-round
and full
and sweaty wet PASSION plays
stories
narratives
epic songs,
starred night light
and lunar displays
Flowing Right
Left strength
universally full
uniting Color
Healthy polycultures
wealthy multicultures evoking
not revoking
compassionating
never mindlessly sedating
fully woke
out celebrating
Earth's PASSIONTribe.
Surrender to the rhythm
under the world!
The night music of ages
Dance the Dance Macabre
Clubs deep bass seeps
Into Dark corners
as the lunar keeps the time!
Electric lights keep the rhythm
under the world…
Absent images in cathode
rayed tubes keep the thump and hum…
The feet move to the groove
The pulse of a heartbeat
in ascends in rhythm and rhyme
to a world beyond worlds…
Divine!
A never-were that never was a
Neverland…
Nevermore!
Keep in metronome march.
The ruthless ragged raging rhythm.
In the earth under the currents of life
dance the Divinities, the dance Macabre!
Of the world within, and the world without surrender to…
The rhythm and rage
of the metronomes grace!
The rhythm under the world…
For the break.fast at hand,
So that I'll understand,
He makes me a sloppy jo.
... ug. So over I rolled.
She nibbles at JO,
waves g’morning to MO…
Mmmm.
A tasty treat, made so sweet,
I’m glad, one of us can cook…
First it was Sweez, now it’s Swowz…
I politely, normally don’t eat cows.
Having said that, while I pet my cat,
I’ve bitten in anyway.
Was like the day, the corn turned grey,
Was that by chance, in May?
!! Eleven elevens !! cried those sevens,
While being tossed into the pan!!!!
Who is the cook with spatula hand,
Who is the chef, and Who, this man?
. . . . .
Little salt my dear?
Little taste on the fix?
Was that May?
Or did you say May-trix?
. . . . .
With the morning JO,
He makes Sloppy MO!
How can I show him, to understand….?
My friend the chef, reads to the left,
So Who, is the spatula’s hand?
Psst…
They want a plan.
Four corners are on…
and the Dan said ‘when’.
. . . . .
Don’t assume, my cutest Jew,
That spelling is all for not.
My dog is a Rot, but a Rot she’s knot,
And the language She barks is new.
Did you want that clue?
Bye and bye, for now I must fly,
My belly has quite the mix.
Did he say JO, or was that MO?
I know, SHE said May-tricks.
. . . . .
Hey Jo…?
Little Do,
Rayed me,
but falls hope?
Know,... T.
La.tte...my Dear?
Satire is *****.
Hugs you love,
The morning calls,
From Above.
Xoxox
. . . . .
Makes note: keeping friendship.s.new, that's me and you.
~I'm such a muse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
~wow and meow the Catz say, how,
!~! did he fix you, a sloppy JO?
Does he not know,
That you never show,
Your face, in the drive and go?
~except maybe four treats,
that have no feet...
Like the splits, and
the camels, pistachio...
~and why aren't cow,
a treat you say?
~they have square feet,
and it's knot my way.
Sr. Faustina had prayed...
for souls to be un-decayed
her Divine Mercy crusade--
was for a long time delayed
her cool Diary -- forbade!
its publishers, too afraid!!
its devotees, all dismayed
but the Marians obeyed :)
its Message refused to fade,
and the editors -- inveighed
my fave part: when she crocheted
to please Goodness Itself -- rayed
His Blood and Water --- displayed
to seek our soul's worth (mislaid)
to restore our hearts/ persuade
to follow His path-- yet unmade
through Mary's pure Heart: our glade
protect us from Sorrow's blade! ----->
by His new Chaplet-- allayed
with Mercy Song, serenade...
usher in Healing-- pervade!
let my soul not be decayed
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dark or Decayed Words Poetry Contest
Poetry Contest Deadline: Wednesday, October 4, 2023
14 poems of the maximum 35 allowed have been entered.
(as of Wednesday, September 6, 2023)
Sponsored by: Constance La France
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Resources:
~Academic-- Rhymezone: "decayed" (find rhymes-- advanced)
~Spiritual-- Diary of St. Faustina: Divine Mercy in my Soul (plus articles)
"Were a soul like a decaying corpse so that from a human standpoint, there would be no [hope of] restoration and everything would already be lost, it is not so with God. The miracle of Divine Mercy restores that soul in full. Oh, how miserable are those who do not take advantage of the miracle of God’s mercy! You will call out in vain, but it will be too late!" (Diary, par. 1448).