Long Shape shifters Poems
Long Shape shifters Poems. Below are the most popular long Shape shifters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shape shifters poems by poem length and keyword.
Devils and the like come in many forms
They can be invisible or a behemoth
In the flesh or of the spirit
Rooting into the foothills of the mind
Spreading and climbing like a dead rose.
There'll always be devils in our lives.
Replacing confidence with doubt
love-with disdain
clever they are = shape-shifters supreme...
Prolonged depression means a devil is chewing
the pulp of your being.
Your every failure is their victory.
Your every victory is their failure.
Never become complacent; they always circle back...
When they troll your space
they'll splinter tranquility
sprinkle burning monkeys over the mind
and scorch the soul every time-
Back in ancient matriarchal time
Divine inspiration told sacred stories
of epic journeys
for creation and birthing re-creation
and against death and degeneration
Around fire-circles
for cooking
and cleaning
and keeping wolves
and shape-shifters at bay
away from form-drifter nightmares.
These were told
and retold
like a wealthy creolizing river of DNA codex
speaking in four gospel prime voices,
And only then
began to become more patriarchal orthodox
as written down
in fundamentally evangelical missionary monoculturing
monotheistic Bibles.
Yet, even so,
what were they breathing in
while divinely expiring out?
As if DNA diversity
would be more self-regeneratively fluid and effective
when labeled in LeftBrain deductive networks
growing more pathology free
through authoritative cross-referenced liberty to read
Codex Either/Or
with Both/And double-bound
in-between binary binomial bilateral ingenuous integrity
of Left secular commodification
with Right sacred unification
co-operation
Dipolar co-arising
Left scientific Right sacred co-evolutions
of ecopolitical empowering/disempowering
scripture telling
Original multicultural matriarchal outside CreationStories
inside deep ecologically wealthy Voices.
Back in ancient matriarchy
timelessly understoried
warm womb of Time our reborn effluent selves.
Never write a poem about the sky,
she says,
that blue and blue and blue
interrupted by shape-shifters,
squawking crows, grumbling
aircraft.
It’s been done.
Besides, the day is tranquil,
disinclined to fuss.
The porch rails studiously etch
the sun into diagonal slats.
A silver spider practices ballet
across them
A chickadee chirps predictably.
If you could breathe and
see and know, she says,
all at once,
the glimmering line that bisects the air--
the one the spiders left behind--
the absence of wind, of wings,
of words—the morning itself,
woken with the slurp of ripe pears
and the ashes of a dream--
that would be your poem.
teardrops are shape-shifters,
changing the instant
they slip free~
tiny pilgrims
already seeking
what they’ll become next.
spiders collect some of them,
drinking them delicately,
then spinning our sorrow
into silver webs
that glisten like forgiveness
in morning light.
some harden into marbles~
miniature worlds of color
swirled from emotion~
grief becoming something
you can hold
without breaking.
some rise as pixie dust
soft as breath,
bright as mischief~
the raw material
of small miracles.
some drift upward as moonbeams
their heaviness forgotten,
their ache turned silver
as they join the quiet
of the night sky.
some sew themselves into wings
effervescent, glowing~
the soft architecture
of angels
who know what it means
to fall and rise again.
and the rarest tears
vibrate together~
a trembling chorus
that becomes stardust,
then dreams,
then the gentle light
that guides us home.
Shape shifters come in all shape and form.
Politicians are naturals of course
Smiling and promising one thing
Then delivering quite another.
Then there are con artists and scammers
Taking advantage of the naive
And innocent at least if only once.
Then there’s those like my neighbor
Who’s nothing more than a welfare rancher
Taking funds from a do-gooder land trust NGO
Ostensively to keep his lands whole.
Appearing on the outside a good old boy
But really just another scamming thief
Feeling entitled to whatever he can take
Such as a small sliver of my land
For some reason fenced inaccurately long ago.
In this particular case the law isn’t on his side
But that doesn’t matter
In his desire to be right,
Uphold the bizarre tradition of adverse possession
And bully his way to some who knows what end
To who knows whose advantage.
The thing about shape shifters is just that,
They shift and change
So can only be trusted to be untrustworthy.
It’s good to know though
Caveat emptor
They can be anywhere, and dangerous
Especially when least expected.
(11/14/25)
Sorceress Polgara ascended above all warriors;
Fought wars against mighty kings and came out victorious...!
Remus Lupin, into a werewolf magically turned;
As great professor, taught thrillingly and his living earned...!
Count Dracula transformed all great and small into vampires;
Threatening and killing others, he founded his empires...!
Mystique, fictionally filled whole American comics;
With her strength, speed, stamina and super economics...!
Mei Lee and Ming Lee and the evil queen of Turning Red;
With wisdom and wit, turned celluloid, bed of joy and dread...!
All these shape-shifters, like clowns, do not merely entertain,
They're ideals! They give ideas to every young brain...!
26 May 2022
Shapeshifters and Shapeshifting Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
Moon by day, a sight to behold,
Myths and legends, forever told,
Spiritual growth, transformation,
The gibbous moon is a stunning creation.
Sunrise and sunset, a time to reflect,
In the stories of the age, we must respect,
For under the sickle moonlight,
Mythical transformations bear flight.
Werewolves howl, vampires roam,
Mermaids swim, unicorns stir foam,
Shape-shifters, fairies, and shore,
All come alive, under the moon allure.
The sickle moon, a symbol of change,
A time of growth, to rearrange,
To shed aged skin, and embrace the view,
To transform into something true.
Under the sickle moonlight,
We too can alter, and bear flight,
Embrace our inner myths and magic,
And become something truly fantastic.
So let us dance, under the moon glow,
And let our spirits flow.
Written: June 06, 2023
I want to tell you the story of my life . . .
I am a Shape Shifter and a Traveller, a girl of a different species,
In a moment, I can become anything I think of, and go anywhere;
My true physical appearance is a beautiful woman with long raven hair,
For a long time my gift was hidden from me, then one day I found out the truth.
My parents came from another universe, thousands of years ago,
And lived among mortals, no one ever suspecting their true nature;
Sadly even Shape Shifters cannot live forever and their time here ended,
Before their last gasp, they told me the truth and how to shift and go to places.
Of course, Shape Shifters are not new to this world but to travel is,
I am the only one left on the Earth, the only one left with this ability;
In a second, I am the majestic lion, or a green slithering snake hissing,
Perhaps a bird of prey, or a delicate butterfly drifting, a fish swimming gracefully.
In a thought I can be in deepest darkest Africa, then in Canada,
I can be a princess in Indian, or a little girl playing with her many dolls;
Even at times, I have become a rose for a day, or a tangled tree creaking,
I feel all the emotions of these shapes and all the heartbreak and all the sorrow.
Some may say, oh what an incredible gift to be able to be anything,
Even a star in the sky, twinkling, and no one suspects this of me at all;
I have no evil intention, although I could be evil, my species gentle in nature,
It is a lonely life, as I will live for a thousand years more, still I do love the beauty.
I could have any lover I desire and do, it is only for a short time,
The kisses and embraces and words whispered have to last me forever;
I have no future, just this endless shifting and travelling to beautiful places,
But it is not enough, I wish to find my own universe, and join my own species.
____________________________
March 21, 2016
Poetry/Narrative/A Beautiful Shape Shifter and Traveler
Copyright Protected, ID 16-770-583-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, A New Species,
sponsor, Anthony Slausen
Eighth Place
Man waits for his second coming, but is to blind to see
He came million of times before, but we didn't use our key
Each year, many millions of children, are born of his flesh
but, it's greed for riches and wealth, mankind does enmesh
Word's meanings, are tangled and stretched, to what end
with all this organized confusion, will mankind ever mend
His shape shifters still arrive here, as legends from the past
Will they lead us to his heaven, or keep us wandering aghast
Why? Our key is simple, all men must get on their knees,
Bow to worship and pray for children, and seek to appease
Their hearts and eyes, hold a true wealth, of riches untold
It can be seen in their spirit, outshining all of mans gold
Children are not just a resource, to be used and disposed
Born to us, his key, if we love, cherish, teach. It's enclosed