Long Repetitions Poems

Long Repetitions Poems. Below are the most popular long Repetitions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repetitions poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Restoring Cooperatively Owned Education

When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one EarthTribe
with integrity's richest bilateral potential.

When the last competing retributive jurist and counselor
and parent and ecopolitical leader 
sees past his WinLose ecopolitical assumptions and theories
to find sufficient WinWin cooperative mercy
for bilateral yin-squared equals yang-fractal enculturation,
then
(0)-Soul restorative bilateral justice,
for both propogandist perp
and pedagogist victim,
reweaving 4D RealTime peace,
as Tranquility already repletes our deep democratic team learning
through village reforesting designs
for short-deductive through long sacred-inductive
non-violent and yet resilient terms
of and for ecopolitical re-education
restitution,
love's restoration
as also grace
as also karma
reweaving (0)-Sum educational synergy
convexly co-arising secular space-here
with sacred time-now's concaving bilateral co-gravitation
back through Yang/Yin co-listening bicameral strength
erupting notnot Yin's timeless present double-binding flow,
you can't go back again
nor forth 
without ego's eco-geo-bio-imaging whims
of reverse-RealTime 4D polypathic imagination,
polycultural folding/unfolding/refolding/prefolding instructions,
regenerative forward,
degenerative back through space as time's co-gravitational balance.

When WinLose learning competitions end
endless reiterative notnot polynomial repetitions,
WinWin education cooperatives can,
will, 
already do ecopolitically restore climate regenerative health trends'
our left with right-full place in WinYang-WinYin Gaian Principles
for your/our Department of Education's
ReVolutionary ReForestation.

When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed holistic pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative secular/sacred educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one PolyPathic EarthTribe
with integrity's richest bicameral potential.


Premium Member Repetitions - Apr 24

I’ve come to—k(now), the sobering conclusion
that I must be a lunatic; else what
sufficiently explains the smirking smut
clouding my judgment?—what viscous illusion—

outright{(diagnosable[,perhaps)delusion]},—
persuades me to heed your haughty strut?
Each inch of every corner of my gut
is begging—not—accept—refuse—intrusion.

ah!, but I budge, I give in to temptation!
why,why,why must I make the same mistake
instead of just quite well so simply break-
-ing the cycle of you?—o’ that salvation,
in what dark nook lurks it?, which saviour holds
the key that unschackles me from your folds?

Premium Member Submerged

the old sea-pool churns out fun
  frantic heads flick side to side, limbs flashing, thrashing
  some are slicing, cutting through
  elegant submariners chased by water-wake
  here is one of distinction!
  stylistic splasher, appendages pummelling
  plunge under, submerged from sight
  absent for longer than you are prepared to look
  where is he? where's goggle-eyes?
  he's there on the diving board, arm and body poised
  launches out, " Dymo " diving
  flat trajectory, depth-charge slap, bow-wave rippling


  then disappears down the years
  is that really him? no goggles, the next-door house
  distinctly in there somewhere
  reclusive, settled deep in the parental home
  comes up for air, now and then
  bicycle scuttles by, too fast, no time for talk
  submerged by night-time shadows
  the rare morning breaks, he is there! so have a word
  chat about those poolside days
  glimmer in his eyes, about to say, turns away
  hasty retreat back through time
  " Dymo's " really gone now, submerged, bow-wave rippling

  days merge, weeks, months and decades
  we misplace our keys to unlock the present now
  cascading hullabaloo
  our minds fill up with noise, too much whoosh, too much din
  frustration bangs the door
  we exasperate, repeat our repetitions
  submerged below the moment
  grasp at recognition, at memory sticking
  immersion, pressure building
  hold our breath, hold our years inside the pool of joy
  rush up again, what's the fuss?
  hanging on, kick the feet, relaunch, bow-wave rippling
© Ian Love  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Premium Member In the shadow of silence, when the soul sings of unknown longings

In the shadow of silence, when the soul sings of unknown longings,
An ancient song rises within me, like an incantation,
In which lines of stars float, caught in the threads of the night,
And the dream envelops me like a wave of infinite, ungraspable.
In the blue of this universe, where time flows slowly,
Whispers of wind and drifting leaves tell me your story,
A story woven with threads of light and deep shadows,
Where each day is a verse, and each night, a star.
I see you between the lines, like an echo from an ancestral dream,
A shadow dancing on the edge of an abyss of desire,
Where the rain falls like a balm on the wounds of the soul,
And silver memories return like a river of nostalgia.
In this cosmic waltz, where hearts collide and unite,
You are the constellation that lights my deepest night,
A beacon in the ocean of silence that envelops me so often,
And in your arms, I find that eternal, that infinite.
Like an alchemist, you transform chaos into pure beauty,
And I lose myself in your gaze, a labyrinth of hidden desires,
While my soul dances on the edge of time,
Seeking its place among the stars, in a shared destiny.
The repetitions of your words are like a sacred rhythm,
A lullaby for my lost soul,
And in the depths of silence, I hear the call of an unbounded longing,
Which carries me to you, a journey through the unknown universe.
Through this poem, my search continues, shrouded in mystery,
Like an underground river whispering the secrets of an endless love,
And I will find you, in every lifetime, under the eternal sky,
Where our love will be a song, a ritual of reunion.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Waterfalls

Down comes the trickling water down the fossils formed as rocks
The everlasting tranquility that forms in formation
Repetitions as it roars like troubling forceful waves
The ultimate power of force - coming down fierceful each day
Walking the elegant falls with the picturesque enlightening beauty
The rocks formed over the years with their unique features
Abundance be known - thee water makes one of a kind caves
The water sparkling so true like a wild rainfall
A strong unique iridescent abundance of adoration
None in the wilderness too small
Down comes that trickling water down the rocks of fossils
Day after day - the beauty of the force visualizing the way
Bewildered - we see that those troubled waters
True a creation
Visually awesome - truly like sitting by the docks
Splashes - thee - each splatter compelling in the day
Caps they roll down the formation of rocks
Those radiant falls of the trickling waters
Captured by the eye - imagery in my sight
I see the roaring water in broad daylight
And the sun , the hues that shine in awe
Breathtaking I visually am impelled
The abundance of beauty thus I saw
Beauteous be , the waterfalls I then see
In my mind , I thus captured that tranquility.



MERRY CHRISTMAS  SOON    MY book   " Beauteous Be Poesy "  is available as gifts on googles, Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com  also through my publisher  888-232-4444
Trafford  Publishing
© Stacey Law  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Imagism


Premium Member Under the moonlight, in the silence that sings like an ancient bell

Under the moonlight, in the silence that sings like an ancient bell,
Thoughts flow like a river of stars illuminating the path,
Mirroring in waters the faces of forgotten gods, ancient shadows,
In a dance of eternity, where desire and fear meet.
Between truth and dream, a silver bridge is built in the night,
A path to infinity, where spirits find solace,
In the cosmic solitude, where souls reunite,
Seeking the hidden meaning in the silence that whispers stories.
Repetitions swirl, like an ancient incantation, a sacred refrain,
That cradles our minds in the arms of an unseen universe,
Where love transcends words and becomes an eternal fire,
A fire that burns the cold truth, giving birth to a new beginning.
Christ, the light that guides steps through the dense darkness,
Is the beacon piercing the fog of doubt, calling to dream,
We refuse the passive truth to embrace the living spirit,
That spirit which binds us to the divine essence beyond reason.
Philosophy becomes an act of creation, a celebration of knowledge,
Where the mind dances freely, guided by celestial harmony,
And in the chaos of existence, we find the beauty of a hidden order,
An order that breathes through us, like a prayer to the stars.
In this mystical journey, where time loses its echo,
We find ourselves in the embrace of a universe that knows us,
Discovering that solitude is just a fleeting illusion,
And the true connection is the love that knows no end.
So, in the silence of the night, where dreams become reality,
We raise our souls to the heavens, seeking the infinity within us,
In a dance of stars, where light and shadow merge,
We find the meaning, that eternal flame burning beyond words.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Drum Beat

Enticing beat,
ancient accolades, achieving ancestry
 backbeat barrage, buoyant beats
crescendo chorus  calculations
 dulled dirges, double drumming durations
environmental echoed egos
 faint, fading fervent falsettos;
Ghost-Note grooves
 hi-hat hoop heads hued
intended isolation idio-synchrony
 jembe jaunt journeyings
kidi kick knockings
 linear lick loggings
metronome mallets magical
 nostalgic notations neurological
ostinato off-beat odd-modulationss
 paradiddle  percussive permutations,  
rudimentary rack repetitions, relentless rolls,
 soft solitary shakers, steady shredding, single stroking spurs,
tenacious, tribal tectonic tympani trance 
 udu utterance 
 vibraslap virgin, vivid vibes vile,
 wood-block whirls winging wild 
xboba, x-hat, xaern
 yearning yugen yarn 
zigzag
 enticing beat.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Quarantine

Forty days and forty nights in lock down

	Breathless for inhaling my own air ad infinitum

		Could be worse if I was left out to dry in the desert


Isolation in my own four walls in solitude

	Puffing and panting from the magic scented flacon
 
		Fragrant innocence of lost childhood in terminal decline


		Slimming down expectations for a slice on the road to Nirvana

	I light sandalwood from a candle of flickering dreams

Perfumed ideation adamantly adheres to waxen resolve


		It's only over when the slim lady sung a tune of lifting reprieve

	I hope that she has been told when to bow for applause

And that the virus chokes on the curtain of epical demands


Like a bat out of hell I run round in circles along my four walls

	Loose count of repetitions as I pace an eclipse of boredom

		Enact biblical scenes with a teddy bear and ragged dolls


Lego figures dance a concert of doom with swift ballerinas

	Trinkets on the mantlepiece rejoice in prominent position

		Count their blessings and have their day in the lime light


Super powers of alien invasion penetrate my face mask

	Order my persona to reveal resilience and count down

		The apocalypse for when the gloves are off and insanity ends


03rd April 2020
Form: Persona

Premium Member Evolution From Chaos

aging is a blessing,
of existent being...

where-in mind re-iterates,
repetitions that mark time...

as waves crashing,
upon some shore...

and seeing itself,
re-shaped by tides...

currents and weathers,
changing accordingly...

with respect constants,
that define the nature of time...

relatively speaking as a concept,
of ideas that illustrates reflections...

of the minds-concept itself,
as subject to it's own objectivity...

such that aging is growth,
of a 'sole' in a species...

of existent beings adapting,
according to defines of time...

constants that demand an order,
that is us perceiving ourselves perceiving...

accelerations relative a speed limit,
constant on the growth path...

of consciousness and belonging,
to a continuity that becomes clearer...

as the mind is subject to itself,
and not so much that outer world...

that is seemingly the change and cause,
where-as it is the mind that effects itself...

as being the very definition of relativity,
with respect the changes the eyes see...

stan sand
© Sand Blown  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Jazz the Form Aloud

imagist fragments
              rhythmical effects of
                 virtuous wordplay
                  of    singular soundplay
phenomena
       in   linguistic tracts
        occurrences in the vernacular
        disfunctions,interpolations
        from the poetic heart
repetitions
          stereotypical
          transcribed in a whirlwing of verse
          virtuosity intensified
           heightened &focussed
           sensitively sounded
            envisioned
authentic perceptions
                           made manifest
           initiated in discourse
           conceived in patterns of dialogue

inherent dynamics
          extraordinary in breadth
     lengthened beyond 
       lexical limits
fashioned to facilitate
enrich&endow

the unfamiliar      introduced, then
           interpreted becoming conjectural
           unexpected metaphors of
           the observed natural
                                     panorama
the spectacular articulated
                  with inventiveness
                     surpassing the everyday
rhythmic interplay
Form: Verse

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