Long Recurrence Poems
Long Recurrence Poems. Below are the most popular long Recurrence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recurrence poems by poem length and keyword.
Alliteration adorns muses
Artistic aesthetics appealing,
Repetitions reasonable form rhythm
Voices of the verses accentuate.
Children literature adores
Its cadence and charm.
Paper holding his passion
In patience and poise,
To portray Pen's ponderings
Yearning to sense
Her soulful sprinkles,
As she travels through
Recurrence of patterns
Carved by consonants.
Beauty of poem enriches when
Bedecked with alliteration.
Sweet sounds evoke
Flow of music
In reader's mind when
Repeated in harmony.
Children love the fun
To read it aloud,
And it makes easy
To reckon and remember.
Date: 01/30/2021
At the sound of the opening door
The crows cawed a warning
A stray cat perched upon the fence
Meowed to greet this morning
The warm sticky fog touched each pore
Made life uncomfortable
How early in spring does summer
Appear so formidable
Each plant contained within a pot
Cries out for moisture please
Like works upon the edited page
Call for a similar reprise
From old, old themes can lines read new
To modern generations
Let my lines ring within their hearts
A message to nations
The sound of thunder marked the time
But no lightning was seen
Like a comet always has a tail
Youth dream their awesome dreams
Some fall by the wayside consumed
Like seed pecked by those crows
Let God's message be heard by all
His love for man disclose
Finis'
Formidable__arousing fear, dread or alarm or inspiring fear or respect
through impressively large, powerful, intense or capable
Reprise__a return to the first theme or subject
A recurrence, renewal, or resumption of action
The Heart of The Edifice
In the midst of the forest
Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine,
and brush is the thickest
Standing so tall and blissful
Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
A rock structure that use to be the heart
Of the edifice where long time recurrence
Of lives that lived with endurance
The, hiss, crackling fire persuades
Warm comfort
From a chilly cold winter day,
Or soaked from the hard pounding rain
That chills to the bone
The scents of smoke, mixed with spice food,
Coffee, and bread cooking in a cast iron Dutch oven
Now habitat of nature's small creatures
A rock structure that use to be the heart of the edifice
Standing so tall and blissful
In the midst of the forest
Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
1/2/2014
The Stream-Winners
Many a moon, ascending-avatars spent
Eons in caves, on shadows intent,
Struggling to crawl from the shimmering-flow,
Behind the reflections where sentiments grow.
This was the goal—the long, lonely climb—
To slip from the tether of space and of time.
They called them the Stream-Winners, grasped in the sight
That the numinous-moving-us is a trick of the light.
But the means of escaping the torrent’s embrace
Was as illusive as stillness in a galloping race;
Stepping twice in the same stream? A traveler’s lie.
So they sat staring-forever, with a parched, hollow eye,
Until wonder turned-Awe, and the glitter returned,
As they saw in the beauty what the soul had once burned.
For the Stream, it returns! In a spiral, a dance—
Eternal-Recurrence—no victim of chance.
You step in the same stream twice, and then more,
While the water-longs-fierce for your feet on its floor.
It craves you, it seeks you, each time it rolls by,
In infinite waves, beneath a vast, violet sky.
It speeds up to feel you—deep-inside the bone—
Until every Déjà-vu makes itself known.
Flowing inside-out, till your eyes open wide,
Caught in the rush of the free-streaming tide.
An organic-embrace, a shimmering-shove,
This free-flowing, visceral, streaming-Love.
And there, in the vortex where the currents all chase,
We find our own footing...
Taking one step in Grace.
The usual guide posts have become unreadable,
Their stony font occluded as in an ancient riddle;
Glyphs without the Greek.
The road is marked one way, no returning traffic,
Its service islands marked - MRI, CT, CAT - all graphic;
Ultrasound without the music.
People speak in the language of probabilities,
Yes, no ,do not appear in a lexicon of uncertainties;
Welcome to Cancerland.
Cancerland is an archipelago of tests, and immutable
Results, its residents adrift in the intervals and vulnerable;
Runners between bases.
A chemical war zone, Cancerland employs its foremost
Weapons to kill the Invaders, and the Invaded - almost.
"A village destroyed to save it."
There is no exit visa for Cancerland, always the next test,
For surveillance of recurrence in the never ending contest;
Life lived in the intervals.
The farmer looked on sown fields with dismay,
Be-spotted with tiny holes in despoiled array.
Each spot where mice had dug up and eaten.
Wheat seeds sown with mice-controls well beaten.
The farmer had tried to poison the mice.
Tried birds of prey once or twice.
Tried cats and smelly scent deterrents,
All to no avail to beat the endless recurrence.
One night the farmer awoke from fitful sleep.
Ah Hah! I have an idea cheap, neat and deep.
What if I make the entire field smell of wheat,
By spraying the field all over with wheat-oil neat?
Sure enough, the over spray with oil worked a treat.
The mice dug a myriad of holes with tiny feet,
Where their smell, said wheat should be,
Only to find all their holes empty, no seed to see.
Frustrated, exhausted they paused their paws.
Cursed their noses, tricked by the scent-only cause.
A wheat field, over-sown with superfluousness,
Made their search, dig to eat meaningless.
The fear of separation
Gives desperation
To Think of sacrifice
As a law of life
Thousands we meet ,
Hundreds we greet
We Get in sacrifice queue
Then only Remains few
We picture the new sequence
If Someone complements its recurrence
We End up expecting,
Instead of sacrificing
The Mind gets polished
Making picture demolished
The love that check in,
If Creates psyco assassin
Mind will little twinkle
Creating a viscous cycle
Asking for reason
Gives depression
Why that happened
Will that happen
Don't react
Accept the fact
Tells everyone
follows none
lot of things
nothing rings
The attraction again transpire
With harsh experience you retire
Takes lot of courage to say hello
at the end of the day its just philo
History will repeat
Or you will beat
but think of sacrifice
As a law of life
I am tempered in tender triggers
of transitory ticking tunes,
as the air feels heavy ~
with withered whispers
of waning reveries,
a mercurial mirror to
my burning skin...
I've nurtured the nature
nestled between
nuances of nostalgia
feeling the nudge
from wistful noons
freezing my thoughts
to follow the fleeting ebb and flow
of slipping silence,
swerving through
curtained homesickness…
but why must the salt
of sea-breeze melt into memories
hope knows how the heart
heals with hurt
whilst you see not the
pained palpitations
amidst light of life liquefying
into unmerciful minutes ~ of time…
O time ~ the tricking tamer
restricting inner resilience
straining the summer softness
retrospective recurrence
rewinding on repeat,
leaving me searching for
the falling familiarity ~
rays of wavering warmth
to feel the pulse of pleasure
closer to
the confined corners
within my conscious thoughts...
for grey is throttled in grievance
heeding not the restless rhythm
of wind and waves
ferrying the ocean-highs
speaking to my skies
~ catching catharsis ~
as heat unbuttons
the soul of azure
alliterating the alienation
of breathing blistered bliss
aching across the shifting
shadows of unmoved fields
and I waltz… a wanderer ...
sleeplessly swirling
through the love-phased
lace of longing
replaying the comforting touch
from yesterday’s dawn
the sun and
moon that soothed whirlwinds
of weathered
wild-jasmines ~
I look,but have far to go,
Scenic beauty steals the show.
Try to realise the belongings,
Its arrangement with the surrounding.
Blanket of air as covering,
Flowers to share an offering.
Grass spread throughout,
Not an inch is left out.
Birds are resting in their nest,
Sun is glazing at its brightest.
Moon is ready to take things over,
Stars are getting a makeover.
With a shift ending soon,
Just similar to a sonic boom.
Nights are even better,
Decorated sky with bright pointers.
with the short passage, will go,
Getting ready for the next show.
The recurrence would never stop,
A continuity by joining dots.
When equanimity falls to the wayside
And the eyes empirically survey the hillside,
It’s Einstein’s time that I can’t bide,
Mawkish mental masturbation adroitly I chide,
Thy self,
Then my discreet self in its inchoate knowledge of reality,
Like the mass of humanity
Dissembling about Nature,
And Nature in turn disassembles matter, that we build up and think
Matters,
Your death is no grand spectacle even if it seems to be,
wrought cosmologies wield fantastical narratives of eternity,
Even when my hero Nietzsche in his tautology: Amor Fati unfolds itself like origami into eternal recurrence
Don’t get any ideas about permanence.
Take an uncompromising acceptance of reality, isn’t that just akin to Buddhist philosophy?
As discreet markings form abstract symbols of meaning in letters that form alphabets, that form words, that form sentences, that form phrases that compose ideology to compel us and histories, that inform us of existence, don’t get too cozy with them as they have a way of presenting like the Horizon,
The horizon, you know is just an illusion.
I do not subscribe to Pascal’s wager, Dawkins showed me the light,
I do not matter much, but no matter, as surely as I exist nothing is more precious.
All religious cosmologies aside, miraculous evocative entertainments beguiling distractions,
"Cogito ergo sum" Descartes comforting statement.
You bring the inside out,
this doubting mind can be certain of existence, by our certain doubt.