Long Reverts Poems
Long Reverts Poems. Below are the most popular long Reverts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reverts poems by poem length and keyword.
I am muse-walking,
~~ writing a poem.
The phone rings -
it’s my pal.
Something my mouth says
makes us both laugh.
At the same time,
one of my hands
is searching for the image
I was just about to find,
before the cell phone fractured it.
"Yea come over I’m doing nothing."
I am almost touching a black cat
in a dark room,
almost see it evaporating
on the threshold of nowhere.
We exchange ‘see-yer’ lingo.
Alone again,
my mind reverts to being
a heat-seeking sea anemone.
Sadly, the unfinished poem
has turned into a small owl,
perched on a thin tree
in the Andes.
~~~Turritopsis Nutricular~~~
The immortal jelly fish, I wish we could be
Living like him/her under the sea.
After reaching his or her sexual maturity
It can turn back to a polyp, I wish it was me
It uses a process called transdifferentiation
It absorbs its own body, a good job it’s not a nation
I imagine it all on a global scale
You wiped them all out for them to grow back from a tail.
It seems as though the immortal jellyfish
Is not so immortal though when you read this.
Cos as it reverts it gets diseased, eaten or dies,
By this thing called plankton, and I think that comes with fries.
Its 3 O'clock in the night-
Or morning should I say,
Oh gosh why my eyes & sleep fight?
Can't it just come and stay.
I fear the darkness and its hollowness,
Once I was a sleeping angel;
Now getting driven into the shallowness-
I think about the imminent danger,
Failing to understand,
What is it that bothers me?
I can't stand nor can I flee;
My pain I can no longer withstand,
Day by day I turn into a wreck,
Want to scream and yell my plight;
Alas but I find no one in sight,
My voice reverts and finally breaks.
Nobody has a clue;
Of what i go through-
Or maybe nobody knew;
And none is there to rescue!
Slowly i have learned to live with this;
Falling daily into the deep abyss;
I know something is deeply wrong;
But don't know how far it will go and how long!
SHENIKA SIMS
rushing away in the spirit of you has helped me grow
into a woman of power and passion wich draws souls
to me like a hummingbird to whatever flower chosen
nowadays i enjoy feeling free with contentment collisons
for breakfast similar to slowtake in constance that reverts
me to a rebellion that is helpful to My Self like True Soup
MALAKI MEZCLAR
adjoining river vibe, soothe me
conjoining vapor rhythm, move me
loving the fusion takes me to places
and as a result i am easy to deal with
expresser, i am your smiling diary source
hug me if you need that release to vent
know that i know that you know known in notice....
MARTY KING
a lighter depth ago, i met myself
i was lingering on a dusty shelf
i thought i was neck deep in an invincible wealth
in reality, i was confined to a distasteful disgrace
it was then that i discovered the foundation of solace in prayer
God's Ears Cried The Tears That Were Long Hidden In The Endoskeleton of My Fears
the Red Phoenix hovered over me with a Reassuring Smile
Healed, Willing and Able, I Resume Walking The Renovated Mile....
If venting and throwing sicks
and stones is the only thing
That turns you on and what you
can get your kicks from
And you accept or haven't come
to the realisation or conclusion
You think you may indeed need
help the plobem lies in you not
them
Then thinking i spending time
with you to gather up the biggest
sticks and stone's to cast at me
Through though pious of heart
it will not defend or shield against
the harm you wish to cause and
impart upon me
Because as a happy person wishes
only to help and make an unhappy
person feel much like themself
So to does an unhappy person wish
a happy person feel unappy as
they are
Same theory in essence just miles apart whence it comes to there
own individual different versions
of what joy means to them
The good innocently only wish
to help those unfortunate less
well off and are blind to understand
Why they would ever be open up
to be taken advantage of by those
they are only trying to help
It's crass to say but when someone
you are trying to help reverts to type
And the inevitable eventually
happens just remember
It's never personal though it
may appear to you where as
those you are trying to help
Unfortunately most see you as nothing
more than your generosity a safe
sort target to prey upon and exploit
Barred and estranged from every
friend and crossing family
doorstep and entering the last
saloon in town
Until every outreach and
cry for help was given up
on and lost
And relationship damaged
irrevocably
Just remember though bones
may heal by themselves
Words leave deep emotional scars
that though we may choose to
put to one's side and hide
Can be brought up at a seconds
notice and bring the past back
into the present
Should bear the warning although
naturally and altruistic helping other's
out may seem
Charity begins and starts at home
and they alone can rebuild the
bridge they burnt down
and so to it's up to them
Should they wish to repair it
in order to find their way back
home
They stay in the background
stating a useless union still self-centered
powerless, ill-prepared, inept entity of promises,
the verbiage of false hopes with all the dos and donts,
watching, waiting, predicting, and anticipating
another's demise into servitude rationalized
with lie and innuendo, pseudo promises, outright lie,
treaties made never intended to be kept;
an envious and jealous desire of possession
over control, land and people, ever transitory
it never seems to end, forgetful of history's lessons
never once learning the realities of truth;
self-indulgent arrogance and ignorance
internal self-gratification to be more
bound by useless rhetoric and threat
and the human race reverts ever backward;
how long do we watch from distant shores?
as humanity fades into the past aggressions
back to the dust and earth in regression
of time in restart?
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without
self-doubt. There is no self.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Why do we have imaginary
numbers anyway?
The imaginary i allows us
to find solutions to many equations
that do not have real number solutions.
It is actually common for equations
to be unsolvable in one number system
but solvable in another:
—with only the counting numbers, we can’t solve x+8=1; we need the
integers for this!
—with only the integers, we can’t solve 3x-1=0; we need the rational
numbers for this!
—with only the rational numbers, we can’t solve x2=2; enter the
irrational numbers!
—and with only the real numbers, we can’t solve x2= -1;
we need the imaginary numbers for this!
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
Silence may turn into storms, must I worry?
A lioness soul bends an untamed temperance,
a fierce rage I bury, populist of pure purpose permanence
so do go gentle on me ‘O judgest condemner
I stand with tenets of truth, humanity’s sustainer
not a raging tempest, nor dying light
but an empowering responsive receptor
these spearmint arrows bolt through blight
I don a polished persona of armor
not the helmet of a hypocrite of bone or ivory
but leather boots built to march into Gehenna
the Fiery, for harrowing heavenly causes
Perfidious, I let you keep the repute given me
the rebel rouser fits me well
The prophet himself, p e r s e c u t e d,
whilst he ruffled feathers and raised hell
There’s an ineffable effigy
to whom I bow, sovereign Lady Liberty
her crown, radiant rays jut like the sun
an aureole flickers of freedom
windows of gems like sacral chakras
I, this blatant believer reverts to rebellion
crusading for campaigns and fair elections
with this, I’ve conquered the storm within
11:59 The doomsday clock tics an AI timer,
a hoax yells the denier's lying tongue
I mustn’t keep silent, moksha can we revisit this later?
give me a bit more time to repent
Amongst autumn’s signature rustling leaves
I walk error-free, veins vigor, I roll up my sleeves
alongside rebels alike we fight king of terrors
Swamiye your sacred motive fills my soul,
with me unseeker are your fragrant prayers
the holy hills call, c o m e, yet I stay
at summit’s foothills with seeker sayers,
raised voices not in praise for the divine, not with joy do we sing,
but with sinful pride we chant harmoniously, no kings!
First things first, as we age, bliss bubbles burst
With flow of life flirt, free of desires erst
Essence of presence, vibrant innocence
Carefree dance, waits not for a second chance
On our heart hangs a warning: joy alert
Ego urge reversed, no fears to avert
To divine love and light, our soul reverts
Cognisance of inner luminescence
First things first
Be it need or greed, we retain one thirst
May bliss magnetism continue to spurt
Nestled in silence, tuned to loves cadence
Divine entwined parlance, our indulgence
Agendaless joy, with each breath assert
First things first
08-July-2021
The Last Dance Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
In recent daydreams, I bemused
trekking the wild African plain -
herds of hippoes and elephants
petrifying prey with their might.
Envisioning the behemoth
I recall a story about
behemoth’s strong powerful tail.
So my reverie is confused.
An elephant’s tail I see as
a bottle brush, skinny, floppy.
I had heard, read, or seen somewhere
“the behemoth’s tail sways like a
cedar” which immediately
brought to mind the elephant’s trunk.
This trance has the power to amuse
I ponder the thought of a writer
who mistook the front end for the
rear end of an elephant and
in typical dream fashion had
created a new fantasy -
the legendary behemoth.
At this point my head went on cruise
drifting to comic books of old,
where behemoth is a monster
set in the tales of Atlantis.
I recall a trip with puppets
electric eels, whirlwinds, quicksand
from the brilliant minds at Marvel.
For writers impelled by a muse
to pen our imaginations,
dreams make perfect sense while dreaming.
Sweats, rapid heart beats are the proof
when we awake in frantic haste
to get it all down on paper
before our mind reverts to truth.