Long Reconnection Poems
Long Reconnection Poems. Below are the most popular long Reconnection by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reconnection poems by poem length and keyword.
Hey, Self
Hey self,
I called your number
I was hoping you’d pick up
But I had no luck
You sent me right to voicemail
It's been awhile
I wanted to hear your voice
Raw, messy
Wavering and raspy
Hey self,
I scanned your face
In every white truck
But again I had no luck
I couldn’t find you
I checked the side
And the rearview
Then I caught a glimpse
Teary-eyed
rough at the edges
Hey self
I stare at the store window
But its someone else
staring back at me
Its okay, to be vulnerable
To say “I hurt”
I’m in pain, I’m lost again
I’m to be blamed
You’ve been through it all
Let’s sit in front of the fake fireplace
So you see your true reflection
The first-hand mistakes
the second-hand concepts
Let them burn up
Let's sit together and drink this cup
Wallow in the rubble
Of your shattered dreams
And their expectations
Let's find a space
For reconnection
Your deepest fears and longings
Lets step further
in your full power
Find your inner joy
Learn to love yourself again
Hey self,
“I love you”
I really want you to have this
A new ground to flourish
Amidst the uncertainty
Happiness lies within you
They can never take away
We are safe either way….
Cities panic
Earth weeps
Solar flares
Explosion, heat
Sun's surface
Erratic release
Her atmosphere
Radiation increase
Earth's ionosphere
Disruptive invade
Frequency, communications
Existence outplayed
Magnetic reconnection
Responsible rearrangement
Opposed fields
Worlds descent
Energetic particles
Aurora Borealis
Solar winds
Aurora Australis
Proton storm
Biochemical damage
Human body
Cooking, engage
Time scale
Visual detection
Two hours
Negative protection
Heat intensifies
Populations panic
Chaotic scenes
Earth manic
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-9.php
Ground of Being,
Climate of All Becoming
horizon's here now moment
when MotherEarth
meets FatherSky
EcoSpirit bound solar fire heating air
warming crystal ice floating water
soaking absorbent soul of soil
rusting fractal minerals
decomposing eviL-ing flesh
regenerating Live-ing organic systems
open sets inform researching rhythms
percuss prehensile patterns
of octave colored sounds in songs
reconnecting mythic culture stories
reweaving co-grounded horizon long becoming,
Be longing nondual here/now
space/time
body/mind
natural/spiritual
justice/peace
universe/uniting
secular/sacred
reconnection.
Perilous fall risks
these double-binding thoughts
with feelings still nascently attached
positive and negative,
often complexly ambiguous
Sad and glad
as an old calico sock
become chew toy
Stumbled over in emotive colored sequences
contrasting tasteful language
comparing visions sweet and sour,
bland touch not grand
but better than feeling bitter
qualitative resonant/dissonant scales
of magnificent maleficence
and malicious magnificence
Narrow
overflowing
personally compelling
dispelling private passions
remain within a high and wide inspiration
yet deep and narrow aspiring
respiring multigenerational permaculture
of co-empathic compassion
To heal sacred MaternalEarth
and thereby correlate
all Her multiculturing
divinely languaged
singularly health-hearted
dizzying slip-shod playful business
Positive and negative
universal uniting
and severing
ecopolitically co-invested
ego-recentering emotions
Eco-logically restorative
climate resilient growing
peaceful co-messymanic valleys
of resonant reconnection
As reliable as an old
hand knit pair
of variegated socks
now repurposed
as sacred
savory
scented
salty
smokey
saliva celebrated
chewtoys.
I was reposed on green velvet
when a notion struck,
so, I took out my tweezers
and set to task
painstakingly I separated
minute fibers of spirit,
away from itself
after examining each shimmer
as it waxed and waned,
a lifeline of ego and id
refracted from Father
I fell into conundrum
what had I done ??
it was only when
daffodils bloomed
and the blue heron arrived
that my tweezers
breached a void
I was astonished to find
a vast empty cavern,
and without its whole
the inner was,
nonexistent
I begin a new endeavor
of reconnection
for, what was once
a spirit for life
throwing a dustcover
on the typewriter,
and sheathing my pen
I have but Milli seconds
left on this page
I detect the scent of lilies
mixed with myrrh,
I follow,
and in my wake
a white dingo steps light
as riding his back the claws
of a blue heron relax,
into the syncopation of journey
at each step the strips
of separation,
refashion a new age
on the horizon Esperanza
swirls veils of green velvet
and in the peripheral
La Mort’s shadow
curls, ever closer
NARCISSIST PRIDE
He knows he caused her distress & stress,
Yet chooses silence, though he's a mess.
Within his heart, a tempest brews,
Regret and anguish he can't refuse.4
But his ego, like a shield, remains,
Suppressing remorse, embracing his pains.
Within solitude, he cries alone,
A tortured spirit, his heart turned stone.8
He'd rather suffer, a silent plight,
Than humbly seek forgiveness, contrite.
In silence, he bears the weight of remorse,
A self-inflicted punishment, a twisted course.¹²
But the girl he injured longs for his plea,
A heartfelt apology to truly set her free.
Yet, trapped in his narcissistic hall,
He wallows in his prideful thrall.¹6
He chooses his thorny path instead,
Leaving the girl's heart heavy with dread.
Oh, narcissist, blinded by your own reflection,
Release your ego and seek reconnection.²°
For in apology lies the bridge to mend,
And in humility, a chance to comprehend.
Let your tears fall, not in solitude's demise,
But as a catalyst for heartfelt apologies to arise.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? December 2023.
Whispers in Transit
In the journey of our lives, we traveled far and wide,
On paths to various places, destiny is our guide.
She was calm, serene, with a humble, Godly grace,
From a service she had come, with peace upon her face.
We spoke not much, for words were few,
But actions whispered louder, a silent cue.
Her name unknown, yet we felt a bond so tight,
Liquid money flowed, bringing us to light.
Assuming we knew each other, we dove into the bond,
Creating memories, of which I grew fond.
Little did I know, my actions would lead,
To a silence that hurt, a heart left to bleed.
In the trap of love, from Othaya, Nyeri's embrace,
I fell deeply, lost in her grace.
But silence crept in, a ghost in our midst,
Realizing she didn't know me, nor I her, I wished.
For weeks we had talked, yet names eluded me,
Calling her Roseline, but that was not to be.
We rubbed the past, introductions made anew,
Yet silence remained, a rift that grew.
Still, I thank you, for the brief time we shared,
You became family, in ways that were rare.
Hope lingers, for reconnection, as hearts mend and heal,
My feelings remain, always real.
For in this journey, we found a chance,
A fleeting connection, a delicate dance.
Though silence followed, and distance grew,
The memory of you, forever true.
Here I stand, with gratitude and grace,
For the moments we shared, for your gentle face.
Hopeful for a future, where paths may align,
Our bond will shine.
By Otieno Elvis Gikoi
#ArtFromHeart
a songbird beloved who moves with intention
will find themselves in times of trouble
mother mary on their bustier—
a sight for those with the privilege to see.
stands on a paddleboard oaring towards me.
embodies a world full of pain in their bones
and their muscles and mind—
the will of some force that’s beyond understanding
waiting for a note to attune to and decides
while they wait they will sing anyway;
it helps them to be.
i hope you never stop singing, my sweet bumblebee.
i enter the conversation with gentle movements
loving sweet nothings sweet somethings substantial
i love them i love them so radiant gentle
no one could deserve them as they sing determinedly.
we sit on the dock by the lake and share stories and
secrets and heartwants and troubles
and worries and stressors and loves
from the six years or three years or
too many seconds since we last communed with the
spirits of nature or aliens telling us
to save the planet and stop making bombs can’t we
all love each other we hold hands and
cry when we need to and lie on the ground and do
stretches and quietly sing and make tea.
we have faith the ginger and turmeric lemon and leaves will help
soothe the hum in the background of long covid—the chronic
experience—life in and out of high levels of pain
we’ve adjusted to, sleeping and stretching
a cascade of moves through the hours to assuage the
pain we express and choose not to repress
we decenter we manage we bargain with, converse with—
that we embody.
we choose to live life melodiously.
If now is your time
in this final threshold
between life
and death,
then this is our passion time,
remembered past
torn from imaged future.
I cannot bear this burden
this loss
this relinquishment of relationship
in which wealth fully invests
in knowing
and growing our love
together.
If now is our time,
I would accompany you
embrace you
full bodied
with these emphatic tears
of sad
sacred gratitude
for all we have been
togathering.
Not needing,
in this transition,
to bear tomorrow's weight
adjusting to a crippling hole
in my holy heart,
gaping mind,
useless body
unable to touch you
with voice
and impassioned loving choice.
If now is your time
to depart,
then we leave together
as far as our compassionate bodies
our co-emphatic minds
can yet embrace
this eternal
reverent severance space
Slow dancing,
soft breathing
in-between silent mortal dusk
and immortal dawn
of disembodied love
Becoming, already,
and much too soon,
some new emergent rebirth
of divine memories
within
As without,
touched by grace
written across each face
in which I may search
for your cherished trace
of reconnection
to this soulful time
and transition place
Interceding prayers
between daylight's empowering life
and twilight's disengaging death
apart.
Remember punks? That luscious smell
Brings back my childhood days
Of country summers, where I'd dwell
In youth's more simple ways.
We didn't have TV or phone
Or internet or Kindle;
Yet time was precious, all our own -
We couldn't see it dwindle.
On sultry nights, we'd strike a match
To set our punks aflame,
Then blow until our nose would snatch
The scent that slowly came.
The wisps would rise and we'd inhale
That sweet and smoky flavor;
And every time, we'd never fail
To deeply sniff and savor.
The purpose of a punk, I think,
Was keeping bugs away.
That yummy smell to bugs must stink -
At least that's what they'd say.
I don't remember if it worked -
It didn't really matter -
But we believed that power lurked
And so the bugs would scatter.
The other day I found a punk
And set its tip to burning;
Before I knew it, i was sunk,
My summer youth returning.
Amazing how a certain scent
Can cause a reconnection
With years that long ago we spent
And think of with affection.