Long Related to Poems
Long Related to Poems. Below are the most popular long Related to by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Related to poems by poem length and keyword.
I thought trees one,
time looked like ,
giant broccoli because-,
of their leafs that shoot
from their trunk after
reading Radical Mycol-
ology then I thought years ago when I was still mobile I thought trees,were related to fungi in the days,
of yore then I found fungi
helps trees grow when
looking the tallest trees
on earth,being red-
woods and giants,
sequoias finding
them to be thous-
and of years old
I started to see
trees as antenna
to the universe
receiving and
sending info
to the Cosmos,
then man be,
gan to chop
them all down,
Earth looks
bald.
Water and Wine
it is a
matter of belief
a religious persuasion
that the conversion
was a miracle
unquestioned..
marking a tribe..
might we find
an expression of
this astonishing story
for a more universal
understanding..
to his mother
he was direct:
that his hour had
not yet come..
how we ask is
this related to
the rest of the story..
water
stands forth as our
essence divine..
wine
for all experience
for lives seeming
to be separate..
the Cana conversion
calmly asserts: wine
is made of water..
a new hour
will know suffering
born of fear and desire
a forgetting of Cana..
wine is resurrected
recognized as water
our essence clarified
as a miracle unveils...
(ref: John 2: 1-11)
(This is a fictional poem)
I have to come here continuously to be on dialysis.
My kidneys are no longer good and I really hate this.
Several of my relatives could've donated a kidney but they all said no.
I've always been good to them and when they refused, it was pretty low.
When my brother had an accident last year, I donated blood.
I even bought him his first car and he treated me like mud.
After three and a half decades, I finally see these relatives for what they are.
Being related to such losers really hurts and it has given me emotional scars.
Maybe I'll get a kidney even though things look pretty grim.
But when it comes to my relatives, I will never forgive them.
Once we were a room,
a space for the spilling of pagan oaths,
for the pleading of primal prayers.
Now that room rages
upon an emptiness only my blood hears.
Bondage was good for us.
“You’re not my master”, she would say,
“you are me taking me”. She was right,
I would lose myself in her.
She’s related to George Washington,
at least by sexual union.
A man of his time.
A black girl for all times.
As her descendent she shared herself with me.
I imagine her now as she arranges
the form and flavors of desire.
Her skin a sensual braille for my shaping hands.
Her limbs submissive yet grasping a
binding chimera. Flesh capturing silks;
blind Labial dances preface
a choreography of complying violence.
We struggle with the glottal language
of inarticulate gods,
we’re deep sea divers bound to an erotic gravity.
This place is a womb
for the birthing of tattooing hungers.
Rooms enter rooms until dark suns
open our mouths with their electric flares.
Somewhere in another story,
an aged Washington shoves
his shriveled member
into another girl – another room.
A place we were pleased to burn down
again, and again.
Azaleas with their vibrant jewelled colours mingle with
Begonias to bring beauty to my garden borders.
Calendula or Marigolds in glorious gold dazzle me like spring sunshine.
Daffodils dance delightfully on a zephyr breeze whilst
Exochorda macrantha is like a spring bride dressed in white pearls.
Forsythia with bright yellow blossom is such a sunny spring shrub
Gentiana is the queen of the alpines with its blue star like blooms.
Hyacinths with their heady scent are stunning when placed with
Irises in lovely lilac shades and grown in the same container.
Jonquil blooms are beautiful with many flowers on one stem.
Koreanspice viburnum provides colour and scent with their fragrant flowers.
Lily of the valley is sweetly scented but be wary as it is poisonous.
Magnolia’s magnificent flowers remind me of pink stars in the daytime.
Nemisia gives out superb scent and a splash of colour.
Oxlips look like large cowslips but with yellow primula flowers
Pansies remind me of smiling faces and brighten my pots
Quince trees produce pretty pink flowers in late spring
Rhododendrons provide a riot of springtime colour
Scillia or bluebells are abundant in April and May
Trillium thrive in a shady spot in your garden
Ulex or gorse gives a golden glow in the hedgerows
Violets have tiny flowers that can be sugared for pretty decorations.
Wallflowers grow anywhere in our gardens … not just by walls!!!
Xeranthemum or immortal flowers are related to sunflowers.
Yarrow has a lovely scent and can be used for medicinal purposes.
Zephyranthes robusta or rain lilies thrive in spring showers.
Spring Abecadarian Contest Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
04~19~16
In everything I perceive the beauty,
I understand that beauty is related to flowers,
poetry releases the prisoners from the chains,
Heaven rejoices when a sinner
converts ...
The sun shines brighter than the cannons of war ...
Clouds ride the sky with joy.
The cherubs sing to the stars.
the breezes blow and receive perfume from the roses
poetic words are over impressive than
apocalyptic ones,
Living is greater than dreaming, but without dreams
no one lives
In all this is the beauty,
find it and live well;
Ps. Re-creation and interaction with the poem BEAUTY
of the site" LES PRINTEMPS DES POÉTES' - FRANCE 2019
If only you knew
Of how painful is the throb
That grips my heart
When I think of how cold you are
Towards me, Love!
If only you knew,
Of how powerful are the waves
That strike my coast
Submerging me in their surge
Drowning my tears in them
Killing me with their might!
If only you knew,
Of those dreams that I have constantly,
Those dreams related to both of us
Those dreams, given to me by the skies,
Wanting so eagerly to see us being
By each other's side
While we row our given boat
In the murkiness of this world's swamps!
If only you knew,
Of how desperate I feel
When I think that you may not see reason
In between the folds of that mystical side
Of mine which is related to you!
If only you knew,
That I have sworn to the skies
To be made to cease to exist
Should it be that you love me not!
After all, the roots that bind us together
Originate from the source of all existence
If only you knew,
That you came in this world,
For my sake,
But, blinded by Maya's veil,
You have forgotten about everything else!
If only you knew,
That you are a fallen God,
Fallen for my sake,
And that your cause on Earth
Would turn out to be void
If you choose not to cuddle my heart
In between the desirous pulls
Of your lips!
If only you knew
Of how I yearn for an opportunity
To tell you of same,
When you have pushed me into
A blank silence,
A silence which witnesses my tears,
My fears, my floods and the wilting of my flowers!
If only you knew
That you are hurting the Gods
By not abiding to their will!
Pray, if only you knew
That this world is not your home,
Never has it been so and never shall it be
Awaited you are back there,
With me by your side!
If only you knew,
But how would you?
When you refuse to let me open up
To you,
As you most probably see not my pain,
My hurt, my agony, my visions,
And my dreams!
How would you?
When I remain overpowered here,
Countered on all sides
By the frugality of maya and its illusions!
How would you?
When I remain mad
Mad, with my wild imagination
And my mystical visions!
Sweaty Palms – Chronic Woe Renders...
Po' Whet Tick Dampened Curse = A
Worse Fate Than Death!
No idea when the incessant onset
of sweaty palms first burst forth,
nor why physiological symptom,
sans secretion spoils socialization
upon thy totally tubular handsome
grooves that criss cross the flat
skin surface of my hands. These
lines called 'palmar flexion creases'
develop before birth. This modern
day bipedal hominid i.e. human
primate attests (like the average
person) two main lines across the
palm but some have a single 'Simian
crease'. Profuse outpouring of
perspiration (as if Biblical Flood
gates opened) oft times directly
related to adrenaline coursing
through every pore sans the under:
side of my hands) reflexively
followed by swiping clamminess
(in vein) on clothing or woolen
pocket size cloth brought along
with me everywhere I go, (cuz
a lamb might not part ways
with mother Mary (of story
book fame), and this chap would
shear lee feel sheepish toting
extremely cumbersome to tote
in the event this intimation
predicated on decades worth
of experience, when in the throes
potential ordinary action re: guard
ding strongly shaking, grasping,
or holding hands took place
occurred sopping wet
clangorous human clapper,
(which frenzied trickling akin
to a vicious feedback loop),
my psyche feels under staccato
rat-a-tat siege from an enemy),
the natural inclination to with:
draw myself from “bad” company
of others helps stave of self-
consciousness. This avoidance
of socialization subsequently
impedes any promotion of hanker
ring viz genuine friendship,
employment and desiring care
free bona fide affectionate bond
ding with family of origin and/or
two precious progeny. Under:
standable, the human reaction
to shrink away and recoil quickly
when pressed to touch what feels
like a wet noodle. Ah…courtesy
Was it insanity or brilliance that stood calling my name?
I woke out of a deep sleep, disoriented, desiring an explanation.
My heart was beating triple time. Was this a heart attack then?
Don’t be any crazier than you have been, urged my persnickety muse.
Let’s get up and write something.
I knew it would not be anything that could appeal to the masses.
I have never related to any of them.
They want clean sheets and neat drawers.
I am not one to iron clothes or sweep a driveway.
The messier the room, the better; I have a hoarder’s habits.
Don’t write that! Said my muse.
My anti-muse laughed, wanting me to.
My heart had stopped beating now.
Not entirely, probably, but it had slowed down.
Pick up that pen! I rolled my eyes at the voice.
Cognizant that whatever I wrote today I would not recognize tomorrow.
I am a frenzied writer, channeling spirit, insanely clairaudient.
The First Paradise
We humans are related to the dolphins
not so smooth, that's why we stayed near
sea was shallow
Fruit trees grew near the shoreline and
often apples fell into the sea, which was
as a blessing, and we walked ashore
On dry land, we become aware of our nakedness
and hastily covered our bodies in palm leaves
Flirting and lifting palm leaves became a sport
disapproved of by the adults
In the apple trees lived snakes; if a woman was
bitten, she convulsed, and if not given
satisfaction becomes what we know as Karen
When children asked where we came from
adults told us we came from Mars
Now, scientists tell us they have found dry
river beds on Mars. I say no more