Long Solidify Poems
Long Solidify Poems. Below are the most popular long Solidify by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solidify poems by poem length and keyword.
AHA HAIKU 5
Word after word
Not much said;
Top-up empty
~~~~~~~~~
Mind over matter
Easy breezy dance;
Plumeria colours
~~~~~~~~~
Moments solidify
Faces in a chase;
Transitory
~~~~~~~~~
Silence percolates
Coffee cuppa surprise;
Caffeine illumination
~~~~~~~~~
He said
She said;
Love unpaid
~~~~~~~~~
Mother dead
Father died;
Orphan child
~~~~~~~~~
Sad cheer distracts
Joy smiles empty;
Fleeting sway
~~~~~~~~~
Happy journey
China perspectives;
Returning home
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Happy reunions;
Feelings feast
~~~~~~~~~
Not much to say
Silence speaks more;
Smiles for words
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
19 May 2016
Singapore
I seek peace within the silence & find joy
inside the noise
Both are deafening in a way but the vision is
sharpened as they're on par
Some scars will drift toward the surface once
true immersion has been employed
The distance between opposing poles is close
but oh so far
The inner world is liquid in a sense with various
waves of liquid thoughts
Your malleable dreams solidify based on strength &
the intent
Some nightmares can slip between the cracks
& manifest if not caught
The law cares not which side you sit but there's
no riding on the fence
I'm convinced we're thoughts in God's mind
with the world being his brain
He manifests in different ways as various versions
of himself
We were made in his holy image & we create more
of the same
Everything is a thought coming from you or someone
else's inner self
Peace comes when you accept aspects of the self
that innately have been ingrained
Go with the flow & ride the wave until you've reached
a higher you
Don't swim against the current & waste your time
for opposing self is against the grain
Seek peace in the noise that silence brings & by
listening you'll hear the truth
Darkening of the land of man
Shadows pool into wells as gloom
Solidify into the things best left unseen
A thing from a different realm
A different reality
The coming Doom.
A realm between what is known and unseen
We are of this life
We are in the weakening world
The walkers in daylight
Maybe its’s death
But we are only one side of the coin
We are of one world and our souls the other
The only thing that keeps the worlds apart
A thing unseen as thin as smoke
An elusive as a shadow.
Maybe its’s death
Not much separates the two
A heartbeat away
A second reaction
A Fatal attraction
A crash, a drowning, pull of the trigger
A moment in between one thing
And the next a season of shadows
or light everlasting.
Maybe its’s death, maybe not
What is the difference?
The thin veil between realities
A shifting between the seen and unseen
In one moment we are talking to our love
The next they are gone beyond where we can transverse
maybe it is Death?
Or a voyage we sea in deep dreams.
Darkening of the land of man
Shadows pool into wells as gloom
Solidify into the things best left unseen
A thing from a different realm
A different reality
A realm between what is known and unseen…
The coming Doom.
"And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves..." - Virginia Woolf
When sun grows stingy in the sky
melancholy wilts happy flowers
summer’s long days will be fading away
when trees announce fall’s coming
in their brightest attire
Gold and Crimson waltz
in autumn’s cooling breezes.
Pumpkins wear strange grins!
Summer’s obituary
by this time has been planted.
when rivers and lakes
solidify into ice . . .
december skates in
September 16, 2020
for Brian Strand's
Completely Your Choice (22)Any Form AnyTheme Poetry Contest
Clouds drift slowly like soft tissues across the lonely cold face of the crying moon,
absorbing its golden tears and leaving the night painted in ebon darkness.
Darker still on Halloween, the ethereal shadows seem to solidify and come to life
taking labored breaths, pulsing and writhing, in the changing lamp light's starkness.
He is the shadow, ancient as the contorted limbs on the twisted leafless trees that cast
grotesque shadow puppet silhouettes against the canvas of the sky. Need palpitating,
he remains melted in the corner of the cemetery behind the church's old bell tower.
How long he has been here he can not remember, sitting and waiting, always waiting.
He hungers for emotion and savors each delectable morsel, anger and hate has a delicious taste,
so creamy like freshly churned butter, but lust is his desire, his deepest craving
and what he waits for this night, as he licks from his gnarled hands the sticky remnants
of blood and doomed soul of his latest victim as he lay in the filth of the street raving.
Remaining hidden in his favorite haunt, the alley by the graveyard where few people pass,
only the most deviant come, muggers, murderers and ladies of the night, the ultimate chocolates.
The dulcet sound of epicene heels echo on the pavement near him, the beautiful vamp
her prey in tow, unaware she's on tonight's menu, moves into the shadows... as he waits.
10/05/15
One day out of the blue,
I was compelled by reality’s bite
to release him
from the prisons of my obsession
he was bound only
by my imagination,
my doubts
my hopes
One day out of the blue,
I was met by his green eyes
Like a snake
I recoiled
Uncouth were the qualms
And I misgave him
As I felt the wind of his passing
Incessantly
Out of the blue
I realized how selfish I was
Like sand in my shoes,
It would take days
Effort, to shake away
To open my eyes
And fully awaken to the absence
Of someone I never quite knew
My impacts on you were weak
There was nothing extraordinary
About our reunion
All that was notable
Was my realization
My tear-jerking epiphanies
And the result—
Emptiness
One day out of the blue
You will continue to be absent
And I will be able to say I’m okay
That I am not unworthy,
That I am not miserly
For thinking I had loved you
I will solidify the reasons, the tears—
With the truth
Given that i have started now
I may as well now finish what I began
Surely shouldn't I
As wouldn't it be pointless stopping
now I have come thus far
And pondering and wondering the
how's and why
I started down this path at all is
derelict and reticent and frivelent
at best
As once this my very own box of
Pandora's trick's is opened
The tap begins to drip and this individual
certain leak can never afterwards be
turned off or repaired
Word's and thoughts keep streaming
into your conciousness thereafter
Matter's not whether it is am or pm
night nor day
As everything you now wish to say
have an opinion on or think
You are and feel duty bound to
illiterate and solidify in ink
If only for no other prying eye's but
your own to covert and revisit at a
later date
In order to remind you that at very
least for once in your life
You finished what you started
And meant every single word
Imagine they find your bones
in a boggy field -
it happens all the time,
speaking of which,
time is your pocket handkerchief,
your wristwatch,
and your best evening pants
all reduced to insect dust.
Only a fragment
(a rust-addled skimpy second hand)
remains to be picked up
by the pale flesh
of a much more efficient brain
than you or your many cousins
ever had.
The rest of you is much scattered,
much distributed among the small
bog dwelling children of lesser gods.
Ten or a hundred years later they may find
a distant tooth with its crown intact,
later still, a being reports your broken jaw
unearthed by the sludging rain.
Will they then have enough of your head
to commence a plaster likeness of your
drunken grin after a cocktail party,
or will they find the rest of your skull
in a deeper layer of dirt
with an old crack across its dome.
Perhaps they will assume you died
at the hands of an axe wielding foe,
never guessing
you fell heavily off your girlfriends Honda
practicing one last incautious wheelie
on a minor road in darkest Derbyshire?
Will the few decimated parts of that Honda
be thought to be a primitive metallic skeleton
of an ancient sacrificial temple?
When the elements finally reveal
more fractured bits of you
will an artificial intelligence
reassemble your last moments
while misinterpreting
the age and time of your mediocre your life?
Will they solidify your that life
the way we reconstruct diorama’s
of mastodon herds grazing in tall grass,
while illustrating for dramatic effect,
menacingly concealed packs
of saber tooth tigers lying in wait.
Be very sure to care of your wrist watch,
for they who excavate your posterity
will probably misplace your existence
by at least ten thousand years,
not that you, like the mastodons, will care,
but they might.
"I'm a vessel
I'm a temple
of the Holy Spirit
I'm a vessel
taping me feel me I'm a container
a receptacle
suppository a drum
have not any disintegrating bones and dust I am not call a urn
me with sign hand mold me shaping me
until I an imaged All Father grieving me to me
until design plans tell me about plans
give me receive I be for your purpose qualifying
quality used me for thy Divine Purpose
Kneed me mold me shape me
need not leave me 5 a.m. solidify me
My flawed forgotten or broken reshaped me
Mold me He chose me He's spoken wholeness and peace
Sweet release amend bend me mold Me Hold squeeze me never leave me in
Mme concessions hold me whisper to my ears I am a blessing
Dress Your Vessel God mode me Temple of the Holy Spirit
I am a vessel sleeping me fill me your container I am the drum
You're calling me I am insured I am endowed with just a drop of your power
For the Masters use
Use me for the Masters use mode me for the Masters use
and shaped me remake me absolute Oh! Lord
I Am Your Vessel
thoughtful inciting security exposed to the Father
you and words and works
I am a vessel
I am shaping I am filled I am contained with his ever-present
I am love I am just calling I am called on to me to be God's vessel
Into thine image All Father speak up into me
you mean much to me received me
I be will purposed I qualify with quality used me for thine Divine Purpose
may not leave me Father feeling flawed forgotten or broken
You spoken to speak wholeness in my life
and peace sweet release in my life
you molded me get a hold of me
if you squeeze me never leaves me but. Still, since of your calling,
you made me your son and daughter.
I Am Your Vessel! "
6/10/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
How far Dreams fly from that ponderous room—
a fear gripping the bones that dares to be a vision!
Feel its power as —like rivers—it percolates,
transporting cool beauty to heated nerves.
Wedging through the density of the dark
till bursts of color cry out to be seen,
Water flows—yes, Water—but Breath too.
New and cold—fresh Breath,
swelling in and out of focus
until inextricably delivered!
These Waters— these Breaths,
They are Dreams—
and yet they solidify solely into the earth
into the thirsty soils of solicitude,
straight into minds and hearts
that Believe in every bristly spur.
All stirs of emotion trace new meaning,
sustaining life in its wake.