Long Response Poems
Long Response Poems. Below are the most popular long Response by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Response poems by poem length and keyword.
Your words, which seem to be my words,
are but footprints on the fen floor of
the white page, echoes of wand'ring lyric loping.
And if, perhaps, the P's that B have blessed,
they click, they crunch, they sweetly rot underlip.
Tearing words from mind, squeezing through that jealous heartspace.
Tearing follows, wetting page after page, piling into a formless stream.
They clatter upon the mocking whiteness, an array in disarray.
A shattered and graphic mythography, mud clots on tile
after a hike. Why do not my hot words summon Leidenfrost?
I love words, no...I love meaning.
I love meaning, I don't love
the promise of words' bringing of
meaning.
It is National Poetry Month and Shakespeare.
died today.* The first time he died today was
four hundred years ago. I am set to write and read
'publicly' (which spellcheck insists and my heart
does not insist is better writ as 'public ally') some
'poetry' while dancers carve the air, in response to,
in love with, in relation to, hand/heart drawn trees
which have drawn, well-
wishers to wine 'n cheese' 'n chit 'n chat
an opening. A gallery.
But Prince died last night.
The artist formerly known as Prince Rogers Nelson,
and formerly known as a symbol,
and now formerly known as Prince. He died.
The symbol has gone and I don't know what it means.
The words are here behind my teeth, within my fingertips,
astride my heart, tickling that lump in my throat.
It is Earth Day, too. I'm supposed to say some words and make
them meaningful. And make them sing. And ring in the hearts as though
my ditherings are one tine of a tuning fork and the other is the spirits
of those dearly beloved, gathered here. Our coils unshuffled, for in our
sleep of life what dreams may come. But we stand upon, today, both
the funeral's grounds and the corpse to be. The Earth. We are meant
to celebrate her life as she withers. Strangled, starved, and trampled. And I?
I can't.
I just...
cant.
-ShhDragon
*He died today but every day we don't give birth to him with our tongue, on the stages of our heart, he remains a fetid, rotting, beautiful corpse. ’Lo four hundred years ago he died, but every day he isn't summoned, isn't animated, he remains dead. The fact of anniversary is our failing, our repeated failings, to bring forth what might be dead.
Descending,
I manipulate and manoeuvre for the updraft
Spluttering,
I spiral down, then briefly up again, to glimpse a glowing sky
Flapping,
I fall forever faster, flat-eagled
Plunging,
I watch the unwelcome gloom envelope my horizon
Tumbling,
I twist, turn and turbulate, ... then the thudding thump
Gasping,
I groan and exhale, a noiseless moan
Curling,
I recoil as innards become outward form
Emerging,
a base inside-out creature crawls and creeps
Tasting,
the tongue-tied intestines and the unseeing socket eyes
Groping,
a gruesome grub befriends the worm and slurps the slug-slime
Engorging,
as flaunted members flail blood and flick licky, sticky fluid
Reforming,
dim visions populate carnal shapes with awful movement
Gaping,
a fearful half-formed and startled face averts its gaze
Residing,
in deep gutter niches... these are my companion dwellers
Wallowing,
I sniff a redolent upswell of dank fissured earth
Disturbing,
I scrape, cleave and wipe away a smear of covering soil
Trembling,
I sense a warmth of body, a stretching of exotic wings
Enquiring,
I mutter clumsy overtures and crude enticements
Retreating,
I hear unmistaken rebuke and a sigh of disappointment
Imploring,
I elevate my utterances and seek a further hearing
Caressing,
I feel a welcoming and forgiving response
Pulsing,
the creature's cocoon gives way to nebulous female form
Ascending,
at first a cherub woman smiles playfully down on me
Transforming,
a stimulating and sensuous siren cavorts and teases
Uplifting,
wings gather me in for a swooping flight of fancy
Revealing,
from above, her intimate view of dwellers in the hinterland
Coaxing,
she fills me now with empathy and understanding
Alighting,
my body-mind lies prone beneath her
Tingling,
I feel her form and thoughts slowly enter and encompass me
Exploring,
I arouse and we gently probe between lips and sphincter
Delving,
I follow our rhythm of kiss, taste, touch and thrust
Wandering,
I experience our ambiguous male and female desire
Playing,
I laugh at how we tickle our innocence and sophistication
Loving,
I know for delirious moments what it is to be another
Consumed,
lost in coexistence with a like- but more extraordinary- mind
A difference between compassion and sympathy,
between co-empathic passion
and unilateral YangPatriarchal-empathic,
ego-empowering intent,
Compassion matures passion FOR
into shared passion WITH.
This same emergent fluidity
cannot be said of sympathy
for suffering of Other,
who remains another dissociated Other
Exempted from democratic inclusion
in further considerations
of constitutionally appropriate applications
of Golden Rules
to those who remain
in darker xenophobic shadows
more appropriate for retributive reaction
than restoration to peaceful justice response.
This same contrast and compare
may also apply to political empowerment
and more of the same
competitive economic investment,
to global enlightenment
and more localized, and often nationalized, pockets
of self-enrichment,
to recreative cooperative love
and to recreational competitive lust
Now that some of us
revolutionaries and evangelists
of the ecological 1960s
have been given this great green gift
of old age wisdom,
what on Earth
shall we choose to do with
such awesomely sacred/secular
private/public sectoral
nonpartisan WisdomCircle responsibility?
Settle for fading sympathy,
gradual depressive loss of sensory health awareness,
of physical consciousness?
Or, Reconsider ways to optimize active compassion,
compassionately lively communication,
fragrantTrue and savoredBeauty,
bicamerally touched
and binomially felt Pos/Neg/InBetween
1/0 double-binary positive polyvagal neurological
systemic health structure
[Wow! That was a lot to dispassionately ask. Sorry.]
non-violently heard
and green revolutionary 20/20 revisioned,
Co-passionate DNA/RNA EarthTribes
currently in living residential relationships
growing hotly combative climates
of anthro-privileged salvific empathy,
Seeking more cool green Wisdom Circles
of democratic sacred energy discernment
within and among consensual multicultures
of ecosystemic health-sensory consciousness.
How is universal EarthWealth
compassion
different
yet often felt the same
as unilateral LeftBrain EitherEgo/OrEcoSystemic Health and Safety
RightBrain Truth and Beauty
in sacredly holonic
CoPassion
with great transition gratitude
for this Old WisdomCircle
healthy democratic gift
of revolutionary evangelicals
in cooperative multiculturing redevelopment.
Thank You President Trump
Leadership by President Trump
(And then some)
Put America at the forefront
In combating the Coronavirus
With decisive response and measures
To ensure the safety of the American people.
Though some feel as if guinea pigs
And question whether over reaction
It had to be done
To prevent the spread
Of the viral toxin.
Resuscitating the old
With infusion of new
To revive an antiquated system
In germ warfare infection.
America will come out the better
A global leader
In preparedness and first respondence
To combat future pandemics
Man-made or natural
With preemptive action.
Give credit
Where credit is due;
The calamity contained
And disaster thwarted.
***
Note:
The Coronavirus (Covid-19) is an infectious flu like disease. It spreads through contact with an infected person when they cough or sneeze, or when a person touches a surface or object that has the virus on it, and then they touch their eyes, nose, or mouth.
The outbreak began in Wuhan China, surfacing in a seafood and poultry market in late 2019. The first confirmed case in the United States was in the state of Washington, January 20, 2020, involving a 35-year-old man who had travelled to Wuhan, China and returned. The first recorded death in the U.S.A. was on February 29, 2020.
On January 31, 2020, President Trump declared a public health emergency and issued a travel ban barring entry into the U.S.A. of most foreign nationals who travelled to China within the past 14 days. Other measures included mass testing, social distancing, a stay home policy, shutdown of large crowd gatherings, restaurants and bars, etc. and large scale disinfecting.
Both bacterial and viral infections are caused by microbes. Bacteria are single-cell creatures that can reproduce on their own.
Viruses, on the other hand, are smaller than the smallest bacteria and have a protein coat and a core of genetic material (DNA or RNA). Unlike bacteria, viruses cannot survive without a host and reproduce by attaching themselves to other cells and are known as ‘parasitic.’ Viruses are packaged RNA or DNA who make copies of themselves by hijacking the machinery of cells to replicate themselves.
Most bacteria are harmless, but those that cause infections are called ‘pathogenic bacteria.’ Viruses in most cases are harmful.
For days now he had hungered.
His search took him along many an avenue,
where his pleas were so harshly ignored.
But his need was such he had to continue,
so to all that he met he implored.
Many turned him away with brusque impatience,
what had he to offer them they all sneered.
Still he searched with all true innocence,
of the way he was evidently feared.
Daringly he turned his gaze upon all,
all those who walked the same paths,
all those who he heard from over their wall,
where they tended their gardens with care,
ever hoping soon he might find that one,
that one person who would freely share.
His recent loss still burned in his heavy heart,
all the devotion he had given and received
had been beyond reproach from the very start.
She had been the one and now alone he grieved.
His thoughts turned to that day when he awoke,
to find his companion gone but yet still there...
No response came as usual to his gentle stroke,
still and cold, so very cold as he proffered care.
All that long day his hope lingered with them,
until night fell and hope slid away numbed,
tangibly wandering out into the dark and mean
moon shadows cast behind their wind rattled shed.
A sharp whistle seemed to bring him from his dream,
it turned his head and stopped him still in his tracks.
He shook his head twice hardly believing the scene,
then ran swiftly towards his mistress now back!
Joyous reunion after those last empty days
filled both as they then embraced so lovingly,
her hands no longer felt cold but her eyes,
her eyes did seem a little pale and misty.
The pair were soon jauntily walking back home
to their ramshackle old potting shed.
All the spiders would ask why did they roam,
neither would answer as they settled to bed.
Down the avenue none had noticed their sheer joy,
none had seen them walk by in such evident glee.
None had heard their footfalls or calls of good boy,
but minutes after one lad saw what didn't flee...
'Hey Mum' he called into the kitchen,
'Come and look at this old dog over here.'
'There's nowt you can do for it Marvin,
poor old thing - must have been a stray dear.'
Back in the shed Good Boy and Mistress rested,
peace was with them amidst peat and dead fern.
Neither ever pined or wept again in their bed,
the hunger was gone now, never more to return.
©Rhumour
June 12th 2009
Earth had offered Her eco-centric contract
of love and synergy,
awaiting ego's personal response each day,
each moment,
eager to optimize wealthy health care cooperations
of sacred grace.
Over an apparently inadequate lifetime
ego implied his competitive response:
I grow increasingly excited,
stimulated,
by this co-petitioning challenge
to frame our dissonance,
our operational riddles and puzzles,
games and illogistics
and dark strategies
Measured in statistical decomposition
of the odds for sustaining life
by perfecting hatred and fear
of death's dissociative decay.
I question Earth's right to positive resolution
and harmonic resonance,
as consonant co-governance
of enlightened ego empowering eco
to play win/win,
recreate without sin,
and co-passion nicely together
This co-petition against wasted anxious time
fully exercises my right of conscience,
to re-search 0-sum ego-partisanship
for absolute freedom from eco-dependence.
This co-petition asserts our human natural guild's unlovely preference
for contention over contentment
for sustained longing rather than resilient belonging
for uni-lateral freedom
rather than ego/eco bilateral interdependence.
EarthMother absorbed this richly contentious compost,
this dissembling over cooperative rights of assembly
and competition challenging associative eco-creation
as too inclusive recreation,
divisive of ego's omnipotent present place
in organic space
derived from eco's multisystemic functions
within history's healthiest seasons.
It seems to me,
said She,
Time has unfolded an eco-systemic co-tractive gift,
born of Her binomial grace
in bilaterally felt space,
a belonging response to mutually co-tribute with ego
gratitude for bicameral mutuality
and full freedom of co-scientific consciousness,
to conjoin time's eternal moment
of past personal ego
with future eco recentering life.
Post Scripted: "After all this time and space
repeating inhumane competitions and cooperative contractions,
deductive inducements to balance positive political space
with negative un-ecological economic time,
thank you for remembering why RightBrain felt eco-normics
gave birth to LeftBrain's verbal ego-petitions
in our first through last breathing moment
of win/win eco-operative identity."
Signed: Earth's Polypathic CoOperative Covenant
My phone died this week.
I’ve ordered a new one—
I’d like to say I’ve enjoyed the silence,
just lo-fi music playing, slipping into a flow state.
But I’d be lying.
Only a handful of friends to tell.
Enough to register
the tragedy of going off-grid
like it’s 1503—
where I imagine
I’d be decent
at throwing logs on a fire,
but useless at hunting.
No survival instinct.
I get sentimental when it gets quiet.
It's surprising
that this is how I finally understand
what Black Mirror really meant.
Slick glass, dark and dead,
reflecting back:
smeared rectangle
of myself
slack-jawed, staring.
Neither of us blinking—
only one of us
alive,
allegedly.
I’d had that phone
since before the pandemic.
It held more than my cache:
its shape, my memory—
my hand
aches
for its frictionless drag,
but I had to get a replacement.
I picked the same model,
not out of loyalty,
just me hoping
it would backfill the imprint
of its ancestor.
I'm not too proud
to admit
I miss the constancy,
companionship,
the fugue-state afternoons
given over to scrolling.
I’ve been more alone than I expected.
And lonelier still,
realizing
how much of me
was never here to begin with.
It's a disorienting false north,
this gatherlessness; I'm still sitting with it.
By the way, it's untrue news
that tech is soulless—
it's been up
at least one mortal ever since
my husband powered it on for me,
a gift,
ersatz affection
in response to a lack of discretion
he'd only recently admitted.
And get this: apparently, I cry now.
Despite half a life of spent
convincing myself
I’d therapized it out—
that tears were just poorly timed
girlish things I'd evicted
due to their silencing effect.
I was wrong,
they were only hiding in the attic—
turns out all this noise was just insulation
from every soft place.
Evenings with him feel longer.
He’s older, closer
to death than me. He’d hate that I said it.
I won’t tell him. We’ve learned
to steer clear of each other’s art.
No rules about who we kill
on the page.
Best to leave it that way.
I wonder if we'll go back to old habits.
I think I already know answer.
This screenless space hasn’t been clarifying—
just absence,
with no metaphor to cushion it.
At the risk of repeating myself,
I do know this:
I miss her, Distraction—
Studying history
tries to be objectively subjective,
at its best
when also a comparative study of Sacred Plantings and Harvests.
Not a coincidence,
unfortunately,
that when I studied Christian Church history,
we discovered a not-so-very-catholic co-arising GreatMen picture story
of historic and theological harvest,
but not necessarily ecological
because more anthropocentric objectives of Earth's history.
Yet studying historic development of SkyWoman-resourced Turtle Island
is still largely confined to specialists
in EcoFeminist EcoPolitical Ancient History Compartments
of WhoCares Sacred Plantings and Harvests,
still RightBrain Yin-nurture oppression,
suppression,
within this objective-subjective
How to best deep learn ecopolitical history
of Earth's sciences
and cultural GreatMen and SacredGoddess religions
and all things patriarchal-matriarchal enculturing
Left with Right
Yang with Yin, and not so much Yang v poor little dualdark Yin,
counter-balancing in-between
Tipping Points of Sacred Plantings and Harvest Networks,
CoOperative Investments and EarthTribe's ReInvestments
in (0)-Sum/Soul Sacred Seven ReGenerations
of MatriarchalEarth
historically studying objective-subjective
CoOperative BiCameral Tao-Networks.
In this alternative Left with Right ecofeminist universe,
it is immediately transparent
to all five co-empathic senses
why Donald Trump
would be much more GreatMen entertaining,
rather than PathologicalMan alarming,
as a Public CrossDresser,
trying to walk in his wife's stilettos,
right behind her,
neither too left nor right,
where he belongs
if he knows what's best for him
tonight.
And,
while I totally get it about not drinking alcohol,
I really do think Medical Marijuana
should be deeply and widely prescribed
within the District of Columbia
in response to our current epidemic
of Yang v Yin Oppositional Disorder.
Maybe we could at least cooperatively agree
on a health and climate care budget for
Balancing Sacred EgoPlantings with EcoHarvests.
And maybe think about
how our melting icecap and glacier harvesting issues
may be both related and unrelated to
planting 12 foot reptiles
hunting vulnerable prey on MainStreet Texas and Florida,
which seems not so good for national health care
or defense
or security,
or even anything resembling GreatMen global rationality.
Once there was a famous king,
More famous than Ozymandias.
His name was King Wolf.
Sultan was his nickname.
He called himself a benevolent despot;
And his style of government
A ‘democratic dictatorship.’
He spoke good English—
A foreign language, though;
Only a minor problem with 'l' and 'r':
Once, for instance, a reporter asked him,
"What about elections, Your Majesty?"
His response:
"Why, I have them everyday!"
The poor reporter was thoroughly confused.
His kingdom was a land of superlatives:
The oldest civilization,
The largest standing army,
The largest population,
The largest exporter—of people,
The largest emitter of carbon dioxide,
Now the second largest exporter of goods, too,
And will soon be the largest.
Since his was the most populous kingdom,
Demography was his obsession,
Which he called his specialization.
Of course, Sultan had tried his best
To check population growth—
By means of family planning.
It didn't work.
So he curbed people’s Right to have children.
But still there was a huge difference
Between the optimum number
And ground reality!
Therefore, Sultan hatched a wonderful plan:
Started a war with a friendly neighbour.
Every section of twenty soldiers in his army
Had just one primitive rifle between them:
If a soldier went on,
He would be shot.
If he went back,
Again, he would be shot.
A Catch-22!
Many of his men were slaughtered.
But still Sultan won—by sheer numbers!
Oh, God!
But the King did not believe in God.
Like king, like people!
But the dead soldiers were only a small number.
So, now another plan:
Government is the boss.
Let people overwork.
Sultan cracked the whip.
And a number of people died—
Of overwork, year after year.
Further reduction in population.
Production increased:
Cheap goods flooded the world market:
From PCs to push-up bras.
No warranty.
The economy boomed.
Ah, his kingdom became a Big Power!
But once some workers gathered
In the Capital and protested—
Against exploitation.
The name of Karl Marx was in the air.
“Listen,” Sultan roared, “Marx died—
Long ago.
So should you—now,
For raising his name in vain.”
So, still further reduction in population!
Now, when this narrative ended,
Sultan was busy, planning for another war.
Poor soul!
How else could he solve the problem—
Of overpopulation?!
***
An essence heard a heartfelt plea
meek, unconfident, not familiar
"Should I bother anymore? Please guide me."
His words hardly mist....
a response slices the scene
with the speed of a guillotine.
skittering over the asymmetrical
similarities of a snowy expanse
a messenger appears
cracks of icy dunes
produce precarious pawfalls
plaguing the vixen.
venturing further precisely
she plods over precipices
of ragged protrusions
desperate to achieve the comfort
of a smooth surface.
"Where you go is perilous!
I worry for your safety!
It can't be done, you won't survive!"
...cried the timid.
Her movement stops on cue
slowly facing the pupil
she teaches in silent syllables
floating on unknown frequencies.
" DAMN YOU NAYSAYER!
I have no time for the likes of you.
Say I won't survive? Come out alive?
I've fought through worse pain
finding sustenance to gain
morsels leaving one inspired
not feeling as if they're mired.
Search within your pores
find where you have hidden yours."
Dumbfounded - the novice stirs restlessly
"Perplexed, I see, you are mon cherie.
Hear what you seek before I flee.
When life's coldness surrounding you
leaves you writhingly wretched
don't feel so desolate and utterly dejected.
Deep inside lies the truth
albeit quite protected.
Bugger those scorning your worth
their eyes glisten shades green.
Stagnantly feeding ego's girth
pompous words - own to preen.
YOU are the Alpha here Jack
there is no need to whine
Condemn the disapproving pack
let your own light shine
Too much weight put into their drivel
making your inner child snivel
Buck up, put them in their place
other's ire force them to chase.
This be your nefarious impasse
faux approval merely to fit in
Always people of that class
saying anything to win
Lastly,
though I've said enough....
It's as you learned when a tyke
those times you fell off your bike
quit being a ruse
get back to your muse
keep working at what you like!"
Sunset facing her gaze
signals the quest resumed
Her protege audibly sobs
a simple seven syllable soliloquy stating:
"Thank you
I love and miss you!"
with a whispered (mom)
Tender tendrils of whispy wind
touch a cheek with a kiss
and a lasting voiceless return.....
"Forever, son"