Long Reverse Poems
Long Reverse Poems. Below are the most popular long Reverse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reverse poems by poem length and keyword.
When first I was born, weekends were every day of the week.
Then once I started elementary school, weekends started with Saturday morning cartoons.
In high school, weekends started with the Friday Night Football games.
Freshmen year in college, weekends were starting on Thursday nights
And by my Senior Year (6 years later) weekends were starting on Wednesday afternoons.
Then, the process started to reverse itself.
As a young professional, my weekends were starting on Thursday nights.
Once I got married and settled down, weekends started with Friday Date Nights.
When the kids arrived, weekends started again with Saturday morning cartoons.
And now that I am retired, weekends are every day of the week again.
Funny how that works.
Written: January 27, 2024
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"Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you. Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking".
Oh, a flimsy state over grief, issues, and dualism.
How do I find the inner sanctum of nihilism?
As the guillotine of deceit hangs in plain sight,
How tempting are laziness, ease, and blight?
True divine tandem can occur at a sacred site.
An inner haven as you dwell in glory and light
Yield the path to connecting with the infinite.
In an inner sanctum, calm flows over divine might.
Bewilderment seems sporadic at first glance.
Once you've linked culprits, anguish may trance.
I succumb when the climate renders them unwell.
Cluttered mounds of breadcrumbs lead to a swell.
Ascending free from ominous pits of dread,
Seeking trust across awareness lies ahead.
Sensing the heavenly spark that will soothe,
Illuminating the path leading to the truth.
Stillness enhances your perception of taste.
Find the light; the climate seems to be quaint.
How subtly do things reverse disastrous?
I often fall into that abyss, myself in vastness.
The stain of low scorn darkens in midst of trust.
I stroll into the dismal clay of scarlet excess dust.
The ruthless grasp buried inside suffocates life.
In empathy, I endure the agonizing pains of strife.
Invest oneself in each mission and excursion.
These wonderful events allow for sensations.
Mercury is in and out of phase, as is the moon.
Be mindful of your tongue. The lips are strewn.
Flawed sensory acumen of a stray mind,
uncovers a spiritual path within a gild divined.
The inner sanctum door unlocks at that sight.
While the tulip blossoms with glorious light.
The soul sparkles with astral splendor and sequins.
In a hallowed realm, where rays serve as beacons
In my self-searching dedication toward eternity.
Inward cosmic trends enrich my trust earnestly.
1st place contest winner / POTD
First there was oblivion, before emptiness began
Then everything grew from a (dot) and so forth into man
Using reverse extrapolation, large brains, and a plan
Intelligent beings worked this out, as only they can
Logic itself explains two plus two, if you do the math
Belief invokes a loving god, yet threatens words of wrath
Philosophy brings wisdom, but follows different paths
They all leave unanswered questions, and I don’t accept that
Some say why bother, ultimately we will all expire
Life doesn’t need reason, it’s a cosmic quirk we acquired
No creatures besides few humans, actually inquire
To what the fu*k is going on, driving me to great ire
Here on a rocky planet, in no mean region of space
Between infinite voids, our very own goldilocks place
Nowhere else in this universe, does life emit a trace
Two trillion galaxies of numpties, til we showed our face
What makes us so special, all beings are made of stardust
We observe novas and quanta, build weapons that use thrust
Split atoms, launch rockets, measure time, use tools to adjust
The apex of life, not out of choice, more because we must
Our task may seem absurd, whatever compels us is not
A universe seeks a god, and we’re the best eyes its got
Who else figured reality, grew from a tiny (dot)
And we will stop at nothing, to see past fate as our lot
Now we’re becoming gods, creating A.I. in the lab,
A logical next step, for robotic fingers that grab
No doubt will kill and rebel, try putting us on a slab
Exactly like we strung up Jesus, in one foul backstab
Oh who would be man, his intelligence driving us mad
Capable of loving deeds, only every bit as bad
Aberrations by design, or infused by E.T. cads
What the fu*k is going on, again what the fu*k, I add!
05/31/23
W T F got an N/A Doh!
a place of peaceful rest
from cursing…reversed
in Paramount Plus
gun slinging verbiage —
trashing the Most Holy’s name
in Star Trek IV, Nimoy
was given his lines —
exposé of colorful language
not heard of in their age
now Picard is old
and the old returns
to the silver-lie-zed screen
screaming in our faces
like overdue feces
a species showing its true colors
unfortunately…throw in sex scenes too
nothing unimagined, nothing civilized,
only the dematerialization
of minds. And the startup
of this series…i’m yawning
nothing like the lively action
of the past. evolution seems
to be a blast from the past.
am i picking on Picard?
why call him JL,
when Jean-Luc
sounded so much cooler
ooh…ooh let me answer this!
it’s a prelude to disaster
of epic proportions
will mankind be saved this time
in the nick of time
the Captain’s apt to fail
his dog is “number one”
his predecessor in spot two
they are in doo doo
bring back a place of peaceful rest -
it’s paramount to reverse
the cursing, the death
of good old-fashioned fun
3/8/2022
On this revelation that i`m walking into as the devil/evil at a level inside of the devils head. After a really testing day yesterday and awakened to the depth of controlling powers/issues from the boss out of Maritimo and the demonic assertive aggressive CONTROLLING JESEBEL way in which she told me off at having getting paint on the table. I rebuke her and reverse it all in spirit. Also Wayne and his mate who wanted to beat me as i strongly opposed him putting his tent next to mine, the devil trying to get his way.
After a few weeks down by the sea shore being prepared for this new chapter at being moved into the wedding cake, on the bottom tier, after this yesterday i was moved up to the top of the "WEDDING" cake. God sent a storm, a wind very strong, that changed a lot in the spirit and the aftermath of demonics going on in me ( the universe ) The bigger picture the WEDDING DAY is very close. Which is why the painful contention of evil is being endured.
Inside of the devil, in many forms from Oli Seb David and Karen, all differant carachteristics of the devil in many forms too, and trying to be as still as i can is very daunting to say the least. The devils horn i`m` wearing is the epitomy of evil i felt in Wayne and his mate yesterday. Burning Fire , thank you o LORD that all things come together for your good . I give them all to you to make them footstools. And help me to be still and learn against this pure evil i`m enduring . AMEN
Kathy Boudin thought the U.S. beyond repair,
She thought she saw the deep reality, and it was unfair.
From SDS to the Weather Underground,
She dived deep in Marxism, plain sense no longer found.
A bomb went off, unintended, by chance,
Meant to shatter lives at a soldier's dance.
Kathy didn't learn from that gory scene,
She fled intact, still in the radical dream.
She tasted deeply of the bitter cup,
When stopped by cops, she gave herself up.
But behind her guns took two cops away,
In Bedford prison for years, her price to pay
[chorus]
You say you're for right, end up for the reverse
The end of the road is a funeral hearse
The road to hell is paved with ideals,
Know thyself, its honesty that heals
A model prisoner, sorry but still red
After decades released, but her victims just as dead
Then hired at a university of high renown
Or was Columbia just a facade, already going down
A contrast was Yeonmi Park, a source of light
She escaped North Korea one frozen night
Walked across the Gobi Desert, a long, hard trek
Got mercy when she held a knife to her neck
Columbia told Yeonmi patriarchy to blame,
To censor her voice or join in their victim game.
Echos of a homeland that brooked no debate
Both places she observed anti-American hate
In North Korea you had to obey
In the U.S. students would throw their rights away
North Korea's great leader, a feudal regression
But U.S. Students had illusions of oppression.
[chorus]
You say you're for right, end up for the reverse
The end of the road is a funeral hearse
The road to hell is paved with ideals,
Know thyself, its honesty that heals
Boudin thought it moral to join the B.L.A
A Black Army who claimed crime was OK
She thought it was not for her to ask why
Trust the oppressed, her self-erasing lie.
At the Hamas protests, a leftist describes
Students manic, electric dazed look in their eyes
Who, do you think, more worthy of respect
Yeonmi, Kathy, which one ultimately correct?
Which way will those students go
Will they relearn what the rest of us know?
Must they repeat Boudin's trail of fear
Is there any intelligent life down here?
When life enjoys our full inhale,
breathing in-formation,
Then dying purges through breathing out,
exhaling excarnation,
recessively oriented toward last breath,
precessively convexing (B. Fuller) back in Dia-Memory toward next breath
as first breath of each eternal moment;
reverse regeneration advent.
These two, living fully and dying co-redemptively for future regeneration,
always balance within each Eternal Prime CoArising Moment,
at least potentially, with implications, enthymematic,
as Yang+Yin Incarnating-Form = Polynomial+Not-Not-Binomial In/Out-Formation.
Summing and adding,
proportioning and Golden Ruling,
Natural Lawing and Ordering all these universal Tao variables,
Zero-Balancing Life-Fractal Prime Relationship
and Economically Deep Ecological TransIssual TransActions,
regenerate full ++/(-)(-) naturally dialectic fractals
of harmonic trust restoring justice,
Prime Principle of Universal Life/Death systemic apposition
through (-)(-) double-binding,
double-negative bicamerally balancing hemispheres
noticing RNA's Dark Logos Soul;
PreGenesis of Tao.
This Form of Great Chi-Atman Explication (Bohm),
Incarnation
Primally follows from our regenerative speciating path of evolution;
Tao.
SpaceTime languaged as Tao,
Great Harmonic Way,
evolves elusively, evasively,
ubiquitously, coincidentally,
Yet latent (Implicate--D Bohm) within are objects
subjects of dense ergodic Energy, ionically balancing bionic,
co-intelligent in-formating,
Dark and dim,
blinding Primal Vortex,
implied, implicating, Synergy-Love Order,
Latent with life-force,
regenerational (0)-sum systemic.
Life-force being very true,
positive as double-negative,
rational numeric,
just systemic,
Laytext evidence,
content-ing Golden Rule riches within
this (0)-soul Theorem's (G. Perelman)
human natured deductive dipolar Proof.
From the days of old till now
Taos' Logos for manifest Forms,
Beloved Green Commons enculturing,
has never ceased formating,
permaculturing,
By which we may view this Progeneration of Universal Intelligence (Fuller).
How do I know the shape of DNA,
double-bound smooth-structured elliptical Co-Memory?
Through Polyculturing Natural Systemic
Ecological
and Economic Optimization Function!
The art of creating a visual response to a piece of writing is known as a reverse ekphrasis ie the inverse of the centuries old poetic form of ekphrasis.
The most well known example being Charles Demuth 'Figure 5' based upon a W C Williams Poem.(see link in notes above)
EMAGI is a recent (fun) variation of a reverse ekphrasis derived by the advent of the widespread use of hand held digital communication devices -where words in digital symbols /letters can be represented as a shape
and uses a poet's poem to inspire the digitised 'drawing'
and an EMAGI as entered Sep 14 in this weeks VISUAL POETRY STUDIO
Wallace Stevens Valley Candle
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On the other side of the world
(pick any side)
you find a lost penny,
it is encrusted with layers of your skin
and is as dry as long spilled blood.
You find there the baleful,
the emblematic heraldry of woe.
The fool behind the knave,
both the henchman and the harlequin,
the sinister wink of the Jack of Hearts.
On that far-side, mirrors face inward
to nothing but yourself.
You see your image raging in an empty room.
You look upon the unhinged horror
of that unleashed autonomy of the many
as they run to the cliff edge as one.
Better to say at home - if you can find one.
Better to rent space in a larger cage,
better to be blinded by bewilderment
than end there, raving for no reason.
On that reverse side of anywhere
an ill-faced moon hangs sallow
alive and hollow, it is a bare and vexing glare,
a feud everlasting,
a fathomless quaff of odium
and an enemy
to every Spring flowering of love.
Don't go there - maybe you cannot,
maybe you don't know the way?
Then stay,
stay with those ghosts you know.
Do not ever dream or think to go.
Pray to that God deep rooted in your mind -
seek you there and hope to find.
You are an enigma,
only found hidden under leaves.
A colour in the rainbow still unseen.
Fate has formed your mind into a revolving door,
without pressing the buttons,
it remains like dead seeds,
so I became your gardener to help you blossom -
perceiving you will flourish into the rarest rose.
Only you can soothe me from your thorns.
You are a sleeping volcano, sometimes senseless,
irritated by every polish to regain consciousness.
When embers ignite within your enraged eyes,
fragile flames spiral into bitter bonfires -
visible from scorching scars on my soul.
I always wonder
is this the last time I adorn my armour,
as I follow you into your internal inferno,
hoping your fulvous frenzies
are temporary like the last star.
You are a master in your art,
but I'm an alchemist with your secret ingredients,
so I tug your strings in reverse,
but never leave you dangling in a
disorderly drunkard manner,
because you are a unique, untouched gem.
Words are vortex to your heart,
so I summon silence to keep you on the edge,
but before you fall, I'm there to catch you.
You insist it's ebony, when it's ivory,
so I tell you to go left, knowing you will go right
and when you say you cannot write,
I Whisper secrets to the wind,
aware they'll carry to you like a typhoon.
As you vent, your metaphors manifest the
honesty behind the poison in your veins.
Suppressed emotions become poetry.
When you imply, I do not feel
and you are hellbent to hurt,
your wrath leaves me hanging like a punch bag,
yet I never aim back, knowing calmness heals.
I can tell you it's the final spring,
or I've laid down my shield and sword,
but you are unable to halt the slaughter,
until the sour aftertaste becomes pleasant,
so I place sugar cubes, slowly on your tongue.
I was born to take the stones out of your heart.
In this cognitive warfare of intellect and logic,
where you push and I pull,
there is only one winner, no sinner,
as in your quest to prove me wrong,
you succeed and that my love is
reverse psychology.