Long Self talk Poems
Long Self talk Poems. Below are the most popular long Self talk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Self talk poems by poem length and keyword.
The deep and sonorous voice of
his defeatist self-talk was paternal,
and torturous,
reinforcing the force fed message,
"There is no happiness,
only gradients of misery,"
leaving him indifferent to the present,
careless of the future.
Reared in the shadows of perfection,
parental conflicts played out
as the "self-made men"
of a fathers' generation chased ambitions
beyond the cramped lives
of their own youth.
Affection and approval,
bestowed and withdrawn
by the performance scale;
he was a sundial
numbering only sunny hours,
with little of consequence to say,
a lucid, inquisitive and fertile mind.
His native endowment
a vivid sensibility for the beauty
of words.
He learned woman from
his quint-essential sisters
yet remained profoundly ignorant of women;
if love were happiness
it generated a loneliness
made all the more desperate
by the intimacy of severed connections.
Psychic numbness, and fauxbia,
yes, he feared being false,
had plunged him into darkness,
with his vision
of a minimum level of connectedness,
the raw ache of personal loss,
the empty feeling of helplessness.
Forced to live as that outsider
trapped inside a familys' feuds;
being bonded to survivors,
learning to live with the understanding
he would be jettisoned for others to survive:
emotional dishonesty became
necessary for survival.
Denial was the best defense
since he could change nothing
and repression had long since
ceased to offer relief;
he was too articulate
for that lie.
The tightly packed crowd
contained inside his head was
momentarily frozen by the question
"How to unlearn the lessons of his youth?"
To love and be loved, a necessary condition,
a prerequisite to a happiness
that could not exist?
Now, he works,
and writes,
and trusts in simple verities;
chaos, pacified by distance and routine,
serve to mitigate the sting
of realitys' reminder -
he'd found that so urgently sought,
only to have lost it in the finding.
Poet's Notes:
My poet's notes must precede the next Echo Poem as well because the poet
has not given me permission to publish her poems on my site. I can, of course,
reference her poems without restriction. So the TH in the title here is short for
Treasure Hunt. To really enjoy my poem to the full (although it does stand
alone as well), I suggest you read Lora Colon's Poem called 'And I Think Of You'
on Poemhunter.com first. PH is a great site as well and I publish both places.
Extremes
As I cross glacial ice at fifty below,
My spit freezes solid before hitting the ground,
Frozen horizons in a world white with snow,
Even current goals reverberate piano,
Dreaming of all the warmth that I've ever found,
My home in your heart is really all that I know.
At ten thousand feet chute has not shown its face,
After leaving the plane I just feel so alone,
But for air rush - of falling's fact there's no trace.
It is always like that when man and sky embrace,
When my chute opens, near deaf ears turn to stone
And songs of love all seem to have bled into space.
Ninety feet below the sea is quite a thrill,
Colors fade to grey in subterranean light,
Breathing compressed air that could easily kill.
For escaping to care, I remember the drill,
'Keep calm' the rule, death's embrace hidden in fright,
Recalling in depth the buried thrust of my will
Birds of paradise dance on jungle stages
In the prurient hope that they can hypnotize.
Seeking a mystical move that engages,
Weird things that no unsotted fool does for wages,
Enticed by a five second chance at glazed eyes.
Makes you wonder in fact what a sage is?
Are we so easily duped by life's antics,
Are both sexes seduced by instinctual charms
Self-talk assuring that we are romantics.
Perhaps we should take time to study semantics
And just why not one of us hears the alarms?
To an alien race we must all seem like hicks!
Brian Johnston
July 19, 2014
God of creation did not send us here without instructions:
Did not hide it in books with strange languages,neither does
God give his message to some;
While leaving others to run amuck, looking flummoxed.
God of creation, the omniscient mind,
left clear and unmistakable
directions for the people of planet earth;
Those who live in the city, and the country as well,
for those who can read, and for those who cannot.
For the rich, for the poor,
For the meek and for the proud.
For the blind and for the seeing,
for the genius and the dunce.
Sometimes the seeing can't see,
And the genius thinks it's all his idea;
...and proudly eases God out.
The fickle-minded depends totally upon man.
While those who are deaf hears God’s message,
More clear, than the hearing.
Where is this message, these directions?
Where are these instructions;
If not in a book and intended for all?
Where be this message-guide?
That you claim is from God?
It's that peace that passes understanding...
from that infinite mind source.
It is that love, and truth, that soul,
that heart, that brain, those lungs,
that creative wise and conscious voice,
that speaks life’s breath, within your breast.!
The Spirit of God’s breath exists inside.
That map in us we must search and seek;
That self-talk, when we meditate and relate;
The pains we feel, when we make mistakes.
That relief we feel when all goes well...!
Search yourselves, and just keep still !
That glow of knowing that we have done God's Will.
Our treasures are buried deep within;
Available to all who are willing to venture inside;
And take instruction from where our creator resides.
Not everything in those books is half-truths
But the whole truth is...what’s been scrolled on your souls:
Stop searching high and low,being inundated with lies;
As you are ignoring the epistles that are plainly written, there inside.!
The poison parrot is repulsed by me, hates my art, laughs at my poems.
sneers when I enter my imaginary world, pokes fun at it.
She throws roadblocks into my mood zone,
destroys my great ideas as fast as they enter my dendrite alley.
You think you are something! Ha! She laughs. You are less than nothing.
No one will like that. It is too sassy, too bright, too snotty, too tall, too snarly.
She snips away at me, chopping little pieces off, as I try not to cry.
You are an idiot! She yells at me, her favorite pastime.
Poison Parrot managed to hold me down, away from myself, for years.
She held me hostage in a prison I helped her build; I cowered in a scared way.
Until I met Savior Boy. Savior Boy did not know about Poison Parrot, for when
I was around him, I was confident, witty, sassy, fun,
out-going and memorably lovely.
He let me do his homework, and he received good grades,
praising me to high heaven.
The closer we became. the more self-assured I became,
assertive genius oozed out of me.
Poison Parrot was fearful now, she saw she was losing her grip.
She began yelling louder than ever.
“You are an idiot! You are worthless! You are a loser!”
I stopped hearing her. Savior Boy’s love and respect helped me
to clip her wings, and tape her beak.
By the time our children arrived, I had re-invented my self-talk.
I was now being talked to by Sophie,
a dynamic, self-assured, marvelous pixie queen who
believed in herself, and everyone else.
I released Poison Parrot and let her limp away,
saving no face at all, after Sophie arrived.
Plucking the Poison Parrot Number 156
Written: 1-6-2019 Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
Dusk descends here with sudden dark;
Devoid of cheer this lonely park;
Stay away dear from this deep dark.
The wind blows chill by seafront sway;
Blurry mists grow to cloud pathway;
I breeze this show with thoughts that stray.
Stride for stride I glimpse in self-talk;
Images ply, odd visions chalk;
Echoes and sighs now follow walk.
I seek to find moments that come;
Notice in kind that wordplay sums;
I feel my mind float sounds that hum.
I wonder why the flow and feel
Prompts a fond sigh as verse reveals
A certain high as waves fund thrill.
Here by the way is path that leads;
Heart flings fond say like wind-blown seed;
A burst of play in thoughts that feed.
There comes a time when lonely shores
Compel clear chimes in feel galore
Watch fleeing rhymes fling seaside stores.
Dusk sets the stage for random plots;
Imprints of age in preying thoughts;
Browse mental rage for hidden lot.
Take note of change that confronts pain;
Plain vocal range sets sure disdain;
Rest in the strange in words once slain.
Here on this trip to nowhere near,
Unzip old grip to confront fear,
Heartbeats now rip beyond sane gear.
When all seems dark and hope looks grim,
I let soul spark a timely hymn,
Circle new arc and rest odd whim.
Dusk heralds poise to gain new lease,
Heed a calm choice to prime new ease,
Then surge of voice must surely please.
Leon Enriquez
26 Mar 2014
Singapore
Thursday evening, a moment of healing.
Stuck in my bed, thoughts pondering
Thoughts about life’s essence that we breathe out, sparkled with woes
Those days, when your feelings gush out,
Like an army of soldiers ,
Announcing a war between your mind and heart .
You are trying hard,
Harder and tougher
You feel lost,
Wasted and shunned like a rotten fruit
You want to be seen and acknowledged ,
For your slotted pain,
That keeps entering your soul,
Flooding that “once upon a time” swag,
That you have in your zodiac.
You try hard,
Trying to protect your fragile mind,
Constantly attacked by timeless time.
Your fears run a marathon,
Instead of your legs
Your shadow watches you,
Rather than your pets.
Wait, do I make sense ?
No, let me get back to the point.
Step up , my sweetness
Unveil yourself to the world of madness,
Where reality actions your brain,
To a world of happiness again.
Daydream, self talk , stage your dreams
and sleep walk.
Place your heart over your head,
And let the golden light clear your mess.
Rise up from being a voiceless extinct,
Spread your blissful gown,
Far across the land, where women will talk
And men will stalk
And they will murmur in Romeo's style,
O, she doth teach the torch to
burn bright!
So, you my friend
Here I am presenting you,
A coffin to depress depression
And erase it from your precious mind,
And bathe in the sweetness of your life.
The blindfold slips away under currents of corrosive tears
Shadows line myopic eyes in blistering haze
Cataracts melt sightless accusations and brooding incisions
A flickering candle waxes and wanes the stare
Monosyllabic lines dance repetitions in the moribund chorus
Sound out how far boundaries of sanity refrain
A masked persona reverberates and berates piercing doubts
Red hot pokers reveal a babble of puncturing focus
When my soul parades on a tempting abyss of volcanic eruptions
My Alter Ego becomes my best friend near the edge
Honest reliable and trustworthy she voices concern and advice
‘Stay close to yourself’ she repels ashes and ember
In starless nights her song recollects meaning from a lunar eclipse
She never complains about the hardship I bring to task
Simply challenges and embraces what is left in the seeds of darkness
Sometimes shouts to overcome shrieking cacophony
Beats the drum of retreat and leads muted reason onto the stage
Demands an encore when I am again tangled in a veil
She never asks for gratitude does not demand applause or acclaim
Like a mother of pearl she will not pretend to be a diamond
At face value she recovers my face and faith in an alchemist’s world
And then her lips sing a lullaby instead of the eulogy
29th January 2020
Words sculpt ideas in a fond gist,
Thought flow reveals day's poignant feel;
Movement made clear in some odd list,
Work and play thrill a spur of will.
Moments move brisk with swift surprise,
Action primes moods in splurge of fest;
Purpose greets risk to seize the prize,
Passion feels good in profound zest.
Each day I pause to write fine fit,
Allow my mind to collect thoughts;
Diary stains course of precious bits,
Memory finds how word scripts plot.
Pieces and bits of that and this,
Observe odd spills of happenings;
Jot cheer's fond wit in wordy bliss,
Time does reveal thoughts and feelings.
Days and weeks pass and months roll by,
Each day a link in time's passage;
A fragile glass of timely sighs,
Thoughts in plain ink for my message.
Highlights and trace of moments here,
Jolt of bold stance of inner poise;
Life that I face ample and clear,
Cheer knows the dance of charming voice.
Now when I flip pages to check,
Browse on old tact or mundane acts;
I come to grip with random deck,
Pace through past fact in previous pacts.
Words I now cite as events wrought,
Self-talk can tell me where and when;
Notice how writes spell what I bought,
Review propels the way back then.
Leon Enriquez
13 April 2016
Singapore
City mall stroll,
Quaint shoppes and things;
Brisk on a roll,
Sales placards sing!
Shoppers cascade,
Bump, browse and look;
Fancy parades,
Clothes, food and books.
Hypermart queues,
Waiting in line;
Purchase on cue
Stuff to feel fine.
Tempting offers,
Nice stuff to get;
Do consider,
Cash your best bet!
Waltz here and there,
Love that and this;
Unneeded wares
Sum up the list.
Such pretty fares,
Stocks on display;
Showcase new cares,
Confront your sway.
Here as you walk,
Watch appetites
Pitch new self-talk;
Appeal and bite!
Watch noisy crowds
Congregate here;
Frenzy screams loud,
Store stocks to clear.
To buy or not,
The question comes;
Impulse and lot
Attend and sum!
Snatch a quick browse,
Search for bargains;
Needs and wants grouse,
Reason gets slain.
Be light of heart,
Seek not to buy
What impulse arts,
Heed thrifty sigh.
So many things
You think you need;
Then in a fling,
An empty feed.
Just look around,
Beware of greed;
Just stand your ground,
Don't let cash bleed!
And if you must,
Discern and see
Goods that you trust
To help you be.
Go to the mall,
Buy what you need;
Glide through each stall,
Don't feed your greed!
A prudent spend,
Cash and carry;
A lovely trend
Light and breezy.
Leon Enriquez
23 Feb 2014
Singapore
Grass verge
Blooms swaying
Breezy sparkles;
A wandering stray dog
I see
Moments
Smiles punctuate
This waiting game;
Sudden monsoon downpour
Stranded
Bus stop
Long wait here
Dehydration;
Fondle mobile device
Self-talk
Old place
Nicole Green
Freehold condo;
Once upon a time there
We stayed
Flowers
Plumeria
Red and yellow;
Pathway for a warm stroll
So nice
Darling
There you go
Waltzing my heart;
Purpose, puzzle, passion --
That's love
Dawn light
Sparrow song
On window ledge;
Morning thanksgiving hymn
Of praise
Start here
Toil and work
Cramp To Do Lists;
Schedule endless meetings
New day
Meal time
Well-earned break
Gulp food and drink;
So many things to do
So how?
Big crowd
Gathering
Now at our house;
Noisy get-to-gather
Beer fest
Story?
Tell me now
What's going on;
People playing board games
Rowdy
Urban
Adventures
Pandemonium;
Party portfolios scream
Madness
Who knows
The way out
Unending maze;
Escape from sanity
Takes time
Words paint
Strange pictures
Vague feelings cue;
Question your stumbling ways
To be
Listen
Laughter sums
Pulse, pun and wit;
Humour packs a sure punch
Right here
Leon Enriquez
03 Mar 2014
Singapore