Long Screens Poems
Long Screens Poems. Below are the most popular long Screens by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Screens poems by poem length and keyword.
19.6
“Where is close or far,
in or out,
gross or subtle?
I abide in the glory of Self”
Verse revisited on 02-July-2022
Manifestation of space and time
Within yet apart from cosmic chime
Screens the play of seeming separation
In an enigmatic dance of vibrant celebration
Where polarities orbit the invisible source
Recognising love as life’s sole resource
Unerring guiding souls back home
Within the reverberation of Ohm
Vibration recognises no distance
Unless the ego entity offers resistance
Consciousness is omnipresent across space
For where is it where we may find not God’s grace
Seeming duality is but a play of prismatic delight
Playing out in slow motion from That one light
Recognised on cessation of heart’s desire
As we so transmute to become His fire
Notes: Cosmic sound Ohm (Om, Aum) ~ https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Om
You know, I used to be happy all of the time.
what the heck happened? I used to go weeks
without crying, I used to love going to school.
In fairness, I liked real school - not the sad,
sterile, anti-social, virtual experience.
When I'm mad I get silly, then mean. I don't
always know why - angry is the answer, but
I don’t always get the subconscious analysis
behind it. That's a bad day - I'm truly sorry.
If I could step back, in those moments,
and think - clearly - I'm about the luckiest person.
I'm a hundred pounds of privilege
- if we rounding up - but pressurized,
stressed like a movie submarine in deep dive.
I think I miss people - like in an assembly
- before it starts - where a hundred conversations
clash like the random patter of rain. That’s one
of the sounds of joy.
The civilized brain is soaked in the opinions,
and shared experiences with others. These virtual,
interactive shadows on flat screens can't fill the void.
p.s. I write short stories too =]
In Shallow Hours, graves are dug
By words morose,
Their hollow powers seem mundane,
But are much worse.
Being Lonely in a crowded room,
With empty words
Muttered by survivors;
Whose frosty breath in time,
With second hand,
Will still ones heart with breach of mind
From gestures grand;
So gentle souls as we,
Will speak no more about it.
This too shall pass as melancholy.
Whispered mischief of the gods;
The poisoned fruit of folly.
As seasons run their course;
Whose touch so coarse,
Flow unrefined.
A baking of our Maker's choice,
Upon which we have dined.
Too many courses chose
Again, the Blackened Rose.
Life without salience
For such as those.
Naked She,
No longer seductress,
Temptress to youth
Our lives attempt atone.
Experienced eyes, now show revealed;
A Harlot to the bone.
What drug could so impair?
What game be more unfair?
What beauty in beholder's eye,
Less rare?
False Gods flail.
Chariot wheels on ipad screens
In most minute detail.
Now kiss your new God
Soft upon His cheek
And in a moment, through Alexa,
He may speak.
It shakes the screens of folks all over
The thunder, meanest loudest kind
The moving storm, call it a rover
With crumpled buildings left behind
Not gonna stop, until it’s finished
With shaking lands, perceptions, souls
Until the evil is diminished
And once it’s done achieving goals
We don’t get these very often
The scale is grand and awe superb
When ghoulish grip on humans softens
Though lasting echoes shall reverb
The smoke, the flashes, red and yellow
And booming sound of thunderstorm
It’s full of rage emitting bellow
More like exception than the norm
We watch, we listen, caught by fear
Or maybe joy the thunder brings
So far away, and yet so near
Precursor of so many things
March 5, 2026
There once was a tech enthusiast,
Name of Phil, and in him an obsession did persist.
It was with his laptop that he couldn't part
And so he took it, truly, everywhere he'd start.
In meetings, at school, and even in the loo
The laptop never went off, no matter what he'd do.
He called it his wife, with love and a smile
Said it kept him going, every day a new mile.
Late at night, you'd see Phil's face aglow
As he worked on his laptop, with no desire to go
To bed or to rest, for work was all he'd know
As he typed away, letting his ideas flow.
But it wasn't just work, it was about knowledge too
He surfed the web, acquiring new skills in all he'd do
From cooking to carpentry, he wanted to learn
All while maintaining his core tech focus with every turn.
People close to him, they knew him well
And they knew, wherever he went, his laptop he'd sell
His devoted companion, his trusty friend
On whom he could always rely in the end.
And yet, in his mind, it was more than mere attachment
It was a tool, a means for his advancement
In the world of tech, and in life as a whole
He longed for success, to reach his aspirational goal.
In one hand Phil held his laptop tight,
In the other, a hot cup of coffee for the night.
They were the perfect companions, through thick and thin
Simply inseparable, like a twin.
People often wondered, would he ever break away?
From the glimmering screen, that kept the world at bay
But Phil knew what he needed, and it wasn't far
Reaching new heights, reaching for the star.
Here's to the tech enthusiasts, out there in the world
With their laptops by their sides, always unfurled
For passion and drive are what make us who we are
So let's keep typing away, reach for the next bar.
let's remember, as we type away each day,
That our laptops are more than just screens in a way
They're part of our journey, what makes us unique
A reflection of our drive, our purpose, our mystique.
So let us salute Phil, for his drive and his heart
To chase his dreams and let his obsession play a central part
For in this digital age, and in all that we pursue
Our laptops are not mere gadgets, but a part of our soul too.
The ache arrives, a silent guest,
It begins deep within my breast,
Spreads to the back with burning sting
And to the left arm like a string.
It whispers fears, it shouts alarms,
It weakens both my loving arms,
It steals my shine from sunlit days
And leads me through a darkened maze.
I try to fight, to push it back,
To find a less tormented track,
But like a tide it ebbs and flows,
A heavy load that ever grows.
It wears a veil of deadly greed
And plants within my soul a seed
Of doubt, dread and quick weariness,
A slow sombre silent sadness.
It mocks my efforts, scorns me wide
When all my hopes begin to slide,
It thrives on threats and silent sighs,
Reflected in my weary eyes.
I long for peace, a quiet grace,
A moment free from its embrace
To stroll unbound, to breathe with ease
Sense the soft soothing summer breeze.
But still it lingers, ever near,
A constant echo, always clear,
My worst enemy, a harsh plight
That shades stars, sky and screens the light.
II wish it gone, I wish it fled
From my worn out self, my torn head,
To leave me whole, to set me free
From this consuming agony.
Yet in its presence, I have learned
Some lessons that are dearly earned
Of inner strength, of grit and might
To face the darkness with a fight.
Though the cute pain shadows myself,
A foe haunting my inner self,
I'll seek the sunshine and the dawn
Until my journey is soon done.
The craft came in a blaze of light,
people all knelt in awe,
slaves and Pharaoh gazed at the sight
no-one had seen before.
Two beings appeared, surveyed the scene
and down the ramp they trod,
not knowing that before them, all
would worship them as Gods.
The great Pyramid now stood complete,
and the next one would begin,
again, walls that had no apertures
so no light would shine in.
They watched the children run outside
playing, despite the weather,
and, later families all sat to eat
at table, all together.
“ This was how” Anubis said,
“our own lives used to be,
before our species had advanced
with new technology,
the simple pleasures all replaced
by screens and wires and games,
with everyone in their own world
now nothing is the same”
Ra said, “ fair point, it's time to leave”,
engines fired, they were gone,
took with them what Pyramids needed-
Windows, version one.
For contest 'Ancient Aliens', sponsor Anthony Slausen
January 9th 2018
lives clogged with gadgetry
like drains on overflow
young minds scurried atop tech pitchforks
that never know a garden
hand extensions clutching spectacles of risk,
cat airs or lost direction
sites that numb and slacken awareness
like selfies that nix the problem of real-time
interaction
web meandering connections
that blunt kooky-cool love
midst screens clutched in hands like roses
because one can't perceive layers of worth
beneath
where influencers babble in throwaway buying
under a stupefying list of 'likes'
under images of self interest
sometimes tic-toc addiction, time distracting
to steal showtime moments like trees
pressed against a multi-colored sky
or the under valued stillness of
reading
oh to chew up the grid of "cells" that flicker
the world in
luminosity,
stark
and fraying
Poem composed June 14, 2023
The earth seems flat and Godot decided to arrive on the scene
Like a boil stuck on a pancake dressed as a trans gender carnival queen
He carries a prophecy written on a tag hung from his shoulder
Suggests Sisyphus had it easy on slippery slopes with his boulder
A Mocking Bird rears its ugly head on ominous spread sheets of doom
One Hundred Years Of Solitude and Paradise Lost for a safe tomb
No divine comedy but rather Robinson Crusoe's forsaken enclave
Bell Jar meets Darkness at Noon in a world neither new nor brave
Is the cute fluffy bear safe or lost on tracks near Paddington Station
Has Peter Rabbit met Alice while loo roles are the prize for the nation
Will the Famous Five dwelling in a cave of adventure survive the storm
Can Pippi darn enough stockings when isolation becomes the latest norm
A decision for the Little Prince is to whether to leave the planet in time
Would Momo kiss Benno the street sweeper or is it declared a felony crime
Tom Sawyer has to heed aunt Polly's advice and avoid Huckleberry Finn
Who puts genie back into the bottle when Aladdin's lamp shines rather dim
Surely there are more important questions to pose during epic disaster
Why do the marginalized suffer more badly than those who master
Has Donald Trump enough money to put more bricks in the partition
Can we blame Russians or Muslims or some other satanic mission
God forbid if the Monarch of Britain was to bite the dust in the crisis
Would it be a vile conspiracy theory to accuse Jihad Al Qaeda or ISIS
But the worst had to be watching a funeral cortege on computer screens
Or that socialists villains take over the country which is not what it seems
10th April 2020
over occupied world
bewildering hodge-podge of people
pushing stress where it ought not to be
in the slim rays of late day
in the splattered mess of guttered streets
a homeless man asks for a light
for a half burnt cigarette
then money for food
nerve knotted living squeezed between soiled fingers
his fingers
most shove by him like gnats late for breeding
people in pinup poses
keep silent midst foul displacement
shun soiled annoyance like shoddy prospects
does a story untold, matter?
does all humanity deserve recognition?
maybe things just fall apart all on their own
maybe once there was a time when lushness oozed like honey
from a jar
homeless man seeks a light
unflagging energy to be seen
girdled by grit
a real mission
not to wipe away self like crumbs from a plate
sometimes we move in gray clouds
a pretense, unseeing squalor
as vagabond pleas jar at comfort
our aligned security by uttering "No"
such feel good factors
defending synthetic spheres
that peer at screens
as light loses traction
Poem composed April 12, 2023