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.
As when you wake upon the day smoldering
Aware not yet, quite yet sad burdens shouldering
Skies light white wisps float high, hope new again
Motion ignites the soul that feeds what’s been
All conscious now of eternal recurrence
And returning to returning the groove
Set golden and red fires to my thoughts
Of all things that’ve been and all things that’ve not
And the perpetuity of it all doth soothe
The intricate patterns the webs unseen
We rise, we fall in small circles and grand
Repeats to each all time n’ over again
And we, you, I, they all follow refrain
And succumb we must free will to fates plan
I’ve seen it all at ONCE they come they go
Upon a mountain top the Fakir cries
And rounds back vibrations to the skies,
I’ve seen it all at ONCE they come they go
We rise upon golden suns forever
This thought survives my death, dies never
All lives fixed and lasting eternally in the hope of new lives
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 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
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 ~
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.
oh, my precious child!
let me kiss away your weep -
do not be troubled, the moon but bids good night
(stars whispering their ancient lullaby)
swallowing not, the western reach
but merely giving pause to the day, waking
so that the grateful star of morn
should adorn its burgeoning bosom
let not the salty seep of your cheek yet trill
such certain and elegant inequity there be
should a stain darken that pinafore, pressed
a scandal be my name with thy mother
should those eyes dampen your Sunday best
and surely not for the sake of Luna's languor -
oh, such dire dalliance, that!
I adore thee, my wee lass
Boundless are the ways -
Echoed in your mother's smile
There, so deep your gaze
'tis true, his aged face did blush, fleeting
dipping his dusty chin to the sea
but it was for Sol's regard only
(their goodnight kiss - pressed tender, a-cheek)
and no misfortune was spun
we shall return, my child, sooner than soon
and you will bear witness their recurrence
your old man moon will beg company again
with his patient aspect beaming
shimmering bright for your veneration -
soft, soft, so daubs the moon
soft as bluebells blooming -
wan on skin to softly swoon
e'er a dream's consuming
yes, I vow this to you, my daughter -
you shall dance again on this shore
bound and prance, my tiny ballerina
you will twirl in the breath of evening, I am sure
lit by the gangling glow, star-ward
and tonight's lament will seem a silly song
you shall see and be heartened, my little one
and should I yet kiss that weep away, too?
ah, but joyous, those tears...
and as the heavens themselves
(and the best born of a father's heart)
how immeasurable their number …
oh, my darling, precious child!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice (4), Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 18" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.
Seven minutes lingered, an interim of residue,
a trembling partition between continuance and conclusion.
The body rehearsed survival, a theatre of reflex and delay.
Then the stage went silent,
a horizon drawn flat, an axis without a pulse,
and the world sank into a white silence.
Afterward, an emergence.
Not awakening, but reclassification.
not darkness, but a chamber of neutrality,
where remnants of existence drifted in an ordered abyss.
No faces, only the abstraction of record:
gestures catalogued, errors weighed beside their opposites,
the arithmetic of a lifetime balanced without judgment.
No weeping, no pleading, just the hollow patience of cattle.
An attendant present neither stern nor merciful, only procedural,
spoke as if reading an inventory.
Then a designation was issued.
At first numerical, then nominal.
Identification persisted, even as the self no longer did.
The chamber resembled judgment,
yet nothing of judgment occurred.
Records lay in sequence: notations, erasures, marginalia.
"An account, not a verdict." The clerk read,
Errors and kindnesses balanced in two columns.
The result: Passable.
A new dossier appeared.
Families arranged in archival order,
faces attached for reference.
Instruction: Choose.
The choice was not preference, but compliance
the necessity of continuation.
From abstraction into assignment,
from absence into recurrence.
Thus the cycle proceeds:
not reward, not punishment, but iteration.
Existence drafted again,
not as consequence but as mechanism.
The soul does not inherit.
The soul does not stumble.
The soul is allocated, reinserted,
until the ledger of moral requires no more.
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
This day born an industrious Eve
Good on paper and better practical wise
Which Adam gets to have a view
How truly the combination would yield
Of himself in his Maker's image
Feel safe and relax-- caution free
Without mirror cum a true reflection
Today's atmospheric template perceive
The bliss, grace, and joy of age to apprise
Giving everyone an open hint to the right clue
How nature's agents naturally wield
Combining colors like rainbow in range
To celebrating her age in such a wonderful glee
Season is experiencing a nice actualization!
To celebrate you isn't a choice
A must if not would develop an ire
Be there soon with you and the cake
But as I prepare, don't wait the party
What a traffic quite aleatory can do?
Just woke up to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY
Meanwhile, such a moment can't be missed
Gain more wishes with the party noise
Let your dance steps electrify souls like wire
Many would have it a nice memory for that sake
Some will map it out footing such really arty
And laugh themselves all alone without a boo
Yet of you each will have h/her own say
And eventually take it a lovely twist
Over the year gone by, life has a weir
High or low, one can't jump in reverse
May be of laughter in memory, we can
Or of joy in abundance cum such dream
Like what regret can only adjust for us
Or the skills failure enriched our energy
To keep fit the focus of moving forward
Hang them all up in praise as to coffin by bier
And baptize each but only the lessons, don't submerse
To cool its repetitive heat, you need its fan
Alone in its drowning sea, learn how you once swum its stream
That is surely an empowering plus
To cope with a recurrence life lethargy
Aiming at a good time to drag one backward
Please shift to a clockwise direction, be veer
Past is such an insincere infection
Permit not its influence to interfere
Lest, you go ga ga ga in suspension
Instead of going gay gay gay for success
And unsteady motion will rest
Till comes out every of your timing best
Be good dear lovely sister
Be happy now and forever
Be nice to your darling mister
Be his pill cum natural fever ??
Make the best out of today
Make even the very beast go really gay
Make sure sky is not just red
Make sense of the say from each head
Courtesy of Adebiyi Anu O'Dayo
oh, my precious child,
let me kiss away your weep -
do not be troubled, the moon but bids good night,
stars whispering their ancient lullaby,
swallowing not, the western reach,
but merely giving pause to the day, waking
so that the grateful star of morn
should adorn its burgeoning bosom.
let not the salty seep of your cheek yet trill
such certain and elegant inequity there be,
should a stain darken that pinafore, pressed.
a scandal be my name with thy mother,
should those eyes dampen your Sunday best,
and surely not for the sake of Luna's languor -
oh, such dire dalliance, that!
I adore thee, my wee lass
boundless are the ways -
echoed in your mother's smile
there, so deep your gaze.
'tis true, his aged face did blush, fleeting,
dipping his dusty chin to the sea,
but it was for Sol's regard only,
their goodnight kiss - pressed tender, a-cheek
and no misfortune was spun.
we shall return, my child, sooner than soon,
and you will bear witness their recurrence!
your old man moon will beg company again,
with his patient aspect beaming -
shimmering bright for your veneration -
soft, soft, so daubs the moon
soft as bluebells blooming -
wan on skin to softly swoon
e'er a dream's consuming.
oh, I vow this to you, my daughter!
you shall dance again on this shore,
bound and prance, my tiny ballerina!
you will twirl in the breath of evening, I am sure,
lit by the gangling glow, star-ward,
and tonight's lament will seem a silly song,
you shall see and be heartened, my little one!
and should I yet kiss that weep away, too?
ah, but joyous, those tears...
and as the heavens themselves,
and the best born of a father's heart,
how immeasurable their number!
oh, my darling, precious child!