Long Reflexive Poems
Long Reflexive Poems. Below are the most popular long Reflexive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reflexive poems by poem length and keyword.
The prophet spoke
until She broke
We are many uniting ecorealities
helping You unbecome
one universal ego-over generalization.
Yet, Universe is ZeroSum LeftBrain total
while united EcoLogians
rebirth Right WinWin
polypathic subclimate healers.
No healthy WinWin Ego
wills to destroy cosmic therapeutic law
of nature/spirit
Left/Right
primal ZeroZone mutual love.
Cosmic re-creative will
feeds on Both/And exercise
enthusiasms of heart yin-wisdom
over mindbody yang
Either me or Loser you dissonating
reflexive opposition,
hardness of mutually despairing hearts,
growing stiff-necked cultures
and subcultures
splinteringly anxious.
chronically stressed,
Win/Lose jaundiced
by bullying
and ego-neglect
thirst and starvation memories
In terminal LoseLose climate peril
Both/And will becomes RightHeart cooperative
with critical moments,
experiences,
events to heal
LoseLose past climate disasters,
When RightBrain GoddessGais restores green cool muse,
WinWin practicing
orthopraxi-sing
Earth's ecotherapeutic
organic nature/spirit rituals
of co-discernment.
Cosmic revolutionary will
is a Yang omnipotent muscle thing
with yin-energy heartflow
toward cooperative Both/And health options
within everyday competing ego-commitments
toward multi-regenerational
ego/eco restorations.
We are Left egoskins
worshiping Father EcoSky
And Right EarthTribe
eco-bilateral core ZeroSums
discerning HereNow together
what healing course to steer
downstream through revolutionary climate crises
confronting our Future regenerating lives
Loving secular patriarchal problems
with sacred matriarchal WinWin
inside implicit muse/spirit resolutions.
Prophets sang
as Climate danced
health/wealth
Both/And
away
and back again...
No "FAKE" Fire Drill
Residents at high
land manor apartments
(aside from myself)
got rudely awakened -
by what sounded
like a screaming,
seething, and shrieking airplane
early morning hour
'ere september eleventh
two thousand eighteen
with deafening decibel (at
maximum threshold)
ear piercing shrill alarm
rousing atavistic primal
Neanderthal tapping primal brain
if NOT a atheist secular humanist,
I would aver my linkedin match
(com mon lee) attributed
to Abel and/or Cain,
but whether broad
minded or parochial,
that deafening fire alarm
this bloke doth disdain
but to ears of
volunteer fire fighters,
that unbearable audio
warning tone beloved,
aye need not explain
how appreciative, and
reassure ring knowing
rough and ready persons fain
to selflessly risk
life and/or limb,
when trucking
extinguishing arsenal
with genuine gratitude to gain
demonstrating without
pomp and circumstance
the art of being humane
automatic reflexive
instincts second nature
where breathe, eat,
and live for others
a credo, dictum,
ethos deep ingrain
within every cell
of their sturdy bodies,
sans indefatigable as
Tarzan and Jane
on par with prestidigitation skill
visa vis tricks of the trade
discovered via legerdemain,
yet aside from
power house strength,
another salient trait
needed asper physically,
emotionally, and spiritually exhausting,
grueling, and taxing job,
would necessitate one to maintain
composure in the
midst of pandemonium
gamely, gingerly, and
gloriously fighting infernos
(WITHOUT any mon
key business)
while training, learning,
and exacting diligence
non harried styled
tailored swiftness!
Arched in reflexive flexibility
Steady and taut like a bow
Tension creaking* to extreme limit
The stretched serpent snaps
And bites its tapered tail
Clinical symbolic cyclicality
Leading to self re-creation
A renewal from death to life
Spinning a conceptual image
Of eternal return, reflection
Of a diseased earth in throes of death
Cleansed by utter devastation
Paving the way for a brand new start
Discarding the fetid outward form
Revitalising the immortal inner soul.
---------------------------------------------
The Ouroboros is a tail-devouring snake.
---------------------------------------------
1st October 2014
Contest: Designed by Devise
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Placed: 3rd
My phone pings.
It's always on these random afternoons.
I don't know why I look for your name,
as if it were still a year ago.
It's almost reflexive,
as if the version of me
that hopelessly fell for you
has returned,
possessed,
ready to smile
at your flurry of messages.
I don't know why I listen for your voice,
as if twisting a stranger's shout
into yours
could bring you back
to my side.
God, she sounded like you.
Not half as precious, though.
I don't know why.
I don't exactly feel sad.
It's more like a helplessness-
so faint that
most of the time,
I wonder if it even exists.
But on these random, sunlit afternoons,
a quiet melancholy
flickers to life.
I know when that little red circle
appears again,
it'll be a red nose,
and I'll be the clown.
I don't know why,
but I'll still look
for the two hearts
next to the name
anyway.
Is life itself merely a matter of perspective?
Does cogitation dwarf the poet's reflexive?
If only my words could spread across the paper.
Build a punter world faded from a barren taper.
Has tied together details with his utterance.
This ringed world is bathed in such radiance.
There, as it blazed, the finest fury was sown.
The glories of lofty notions must be shown.
His clever mind shows words to shove.
The fading sun's beams, the genesis of love
Spur one's heart to beat with goodness.
The globe's first torn-and-wrung governess
Or daydreams when yield is in full flow.
The width of this real mental orbit grows.
the same as in this busy, boisterous space.
My mind rises, free of servitude in place.
It might happen with each passing year.
My name, my life, and my manner endear.
And amid the dust of a poet's silent rest,
Maintain contact with the wise and best!
Exert one obedient deed in one fading hour.
Or heal a fading face with a genuine flower.
My lines are fortunate despite a tight scope.
for their nimble date, on the apex and slope.
Still, this verse is my finest leisure option.
It follows a sly path across the attraction.
One time only, deny a brood urge to revive.
Chase only a sigh or lull a worry not alive.
From brick and frame to flowery blitheness.
Our walks have bred humility and forgiveness.
While conversing, I softly stroked your face.
He commands us to protect this holy place!
Written: February 04, 2023
Verizon payment arrangement -
due november fifteenth two thousand nineteen
Yours truly long time
satisfactory Verizon customer
i.e. namely this monsieur
breathes easy, cuz within noggin
contentment doth whir
billing agent pleasant as
Mister Rogers neighbor.
Great relief pending bill
$148.80, she did defer
'pon my explaining
lack of adequate funds
I did forthrightly inform her
social security disability
electronically deposited door
ring first week of next month
and without dad dough of shout for sure
upon being told, I got no cell phone,
she (courteous billing representative)
waived attendant fee
reflexive generous extempore,
such simple random act of kindness
suffused within me to core
of central processing unit
circuits comprising fatherboard decor
rum lit up analogous to Christmas tree
generating sense and sensibility of euphoria
buoying spirits in severe contrast wherefore
once pawn time... couple nights backs,
I got attacked courtesy small escritoire
after losing balance attempting to stand
from crouched position immediately more
than less unsteadily, veritably, wobbly...
fell back felt desk corner explore
right side ribcage felt brunt edge bore
ring into body, yet
dressed to keep warm
blunt right angle wood frame did score
jabbing, nearly goring thru jacket
feeling searing pain shoot pour
sting as if struck with lightning
resigned to crawl crablike fore
word bracing lower body
while daggers of agony
did not lesson, I did implore
in vain sincerely your deplore
hubble basketcase - reed
no repeat performance nor encore!
A thousand words later,
we were still talking.
I know I’m being reflexive,
this humor is a transparent way
to paint clowns on speech bubbles.
Ripostes that ricochet
off any real wit.
"I must be going."
One thousand and forty.
Later ---
the replay,
witty repartee are invented,
not only as late additions
but as inserts, edits
in an ongoing discourse.
Some words still hang in the air,
digitalized like finger bones.
I try to swat them with a rolled-up script,
but they dance away,
electric and blinking.
(I wish there was a big red plug I could pull.
A cut-off switch maybe,
or lips that folded words into origami birds,
each one so perfect that it would defy
misinterpretation).
One thousand and ninety-two.
I begin to cough up these inner dialogues,
to give up on mind-talk.
My only remedy is to count more numbers,
instead of words –
words not spoken.
How much bloody carnage and rubble
is required to atone for sins of a few?
How many eyes must be gouged
to extract desired justice?
If wronged, is exchanging one eye enough?
What about two eyes for one? Or ten for one?
Is twenty enough?
How about a hundred?
Such revenge might feel like justice,
but it fuels hate’s endless cycle.
Can we exit this interlocked sequence
of oppression and reflexive violence?
Can we struggle toward implementing
a radical, restorative, improbable alternative?
Remember what a crucified carpenter taught
about loving enemies and turning cheeks?
Do such ideals seem impossibly wrong
when gushing anger from our wounds?
Yet, as he stretched on splintery beams
no carpenter would willingly build,
he said, while gushing blood for all our sins,
“Forgive them for they know not what they do.”
The words they articulate
Don't match their mouth movement
Their eyes shift and wander
Like gazelles bounding
Toward a golden sunset
Pierced by a jagged mountain
Before the sky opens
Like a cosmic flower
Revealing a sea of stars
And somewhere among them
I'm just a dreamer
Looking for deeper meaning
In shallow puddles
Thinking less of myself
And more of everyone else
But my feelings are in rotation
Like these lovely seasons
Flavoring my life exuberantly
While filling my cup with intoxicants
That leave me feeling all jittery
And my attempts at love are like lottery tickets
Because not a single one is winning
And I'm just wasting time and money
Pursuing what I don't want or need
In the hopes it'll bring me what I want and need
So in the end I have nothing I want or need
And I spend time daydreaming about what I want and need
And my thoughts are a pot of boiling water
Boiling so rapidly they're spilling everywhere
Just so they can evaporate in the heat
But maybe it's just my imagination
It's all here in my head
Dancing with all the words they articulate
Even if they don't match their mouth movement
Their eyes still shift and wander
But if I'm being really honest
I just want to find my golden sunset
It happened to me one night – when I was coming home late from work;
The police report said he ran a red light – going 80, some drunken jerk.
I didn’t know just what hit me – I didn’t experience any hurt or pain;
Just a moment of instant recognition – that my life had met its end.
I floated around in darkness – hearing a beeping in my head;
Sensing that you were near me – lying vigil by my bed.
They gave you a medical explanation – for the tears upon my face,
But you knew that I was crying – being stuck in this unconscious place.
My body needed to release me – but my soul didn’t want to go;
I had gone to work that morning – without telling you I loved you so.
They said it was a reflexive action – squeezing your hand at the flat line,
But it was me saying my last good-bye – and, I love you, one more time.
Please don’t you grieve too long – you have plenty of life left to live;
And it really is okay – to find somebody else your love to give.
And when you do, don’t make the mistake – that I made on that fatal day,
Before leaving the house each morning – “I love you”, is what you should say.