Long Spaced Poems
Long Spaced Poems. Below are the most popular long Spaced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spaced poems by poem length and keyword.
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“What if life is a lucid dream
Borne by thoughts we ourself did stream
Wherein our designated role
Is to dance atop love’s moonbeam” - Unseeking Seeker
Where lies our purpose to be placed
upon this Earth, a speck of dust
hard to depict, obscurely spaced?
Yet, here we are, our lives in trust.
As part of this grand Cosmic realm,
we may believe it's all a dream
feeling in charge behind our helm-
in grasping each favored moonbeam.
But an epiphany will dawn
recognizing that on this Earth,
by God's supreme, unending spawn-
we share His miracle of birth.
Surely by God, we've come to be-
as felt within His gift of soul.
Faith in our journey is the key.
Trust in His love will keep us whole.
Upon this Earth, a speck of dust-
yet, here we are, our lives in trust.
Hard to depict, obscurely spaced.
Here lies our purpose to be placed.
Under No Management
A sad state of mind emergency,
rooted sorrow buried deep within.
Evacuated thought mind urgency,
isolated all alone to weep again.
Sirens, horns, lights flashing,
mentally dialing 911 inside.
Trains, cars, planes all crashing,
wreckages of tears eternally cried.
Mental blue spaced handicap parking,
unrecorded reality in empty closet space.
The brightlights pen flashed sparkling,
No manager home to manage this place...
bmdavey@
002/24/17
For months, I've come to sense it well-
that loneliness, as none before.
In feelings of unrest, I dwell
on what is now- and what's in store.
At first, confined to home- so sad,
deprived of friends and family.
For cellphones, live stream, I was glad,
to speak to, watch them- happily.
For our essentials, I will shop-
six feet apart and with a mask.
Like other patrons, do not stop-
avoid encounters mid the task.
Alone together, when about-
spaced out wherever I now go;
in waiting rooms or eating out-
the pangs of isolation grow.
Just people walking, eyes ahead-
sequestering on streets, in stores.
Thoughts deep within and left unsaid-
pray that old normal soon restores.
We beings are a social kind
and keeping us apart is wrong-
not meant to isolate- I find
within close bonds- we all belong.
At times, I feel we're in a test
to see how we obey commands;
and now, our world in such unrest-
what happens next- increased demands?
July 27, 2020
~5th Place~
Premiere Contest: Isolation Philosophy
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Judged: 07/31/2020
Goodbye Halloween it's Christmas time to tout.
We'll all be getting presents then.
We won't go door to door or dress up anymore.
Here Santa comes at Christmas when...
Midnight strokes of Christmas Eve.
Our stockings by the fire.
Wax candles on the mantelpiece,
spaced opposite to spire.
A Christmas Tree that's flickering
inside the corner full.
The star on top the treetop twig
as holy as it's pull.
A wrap in rust upon the couch
where mama hopes to sit.
Two tables at the sides that show
two lamps of oil lit.
One wooden reindeer on the floor
connected to a sleigh.
It's walnut wood to warm the heart
the Christmas spirits way.
A dim lit room to share the night.
A Christmas scene of lore.
The spirit of old Santa Claus
come Christmas time once more.
A clicking of the rooftop tar.
Eight reindeer or I'm told.
All harnessed to the fattest man
as jolly as is old.
His entrance fanning chimney air.
The fireplace leaping out.
His joyous laughter roaring on
spontaneous to his shout.
He quickly stuffs the stockings snug
and places all the gifts.
Then raises up his one small finger
from which his being lifts.
Once more inside his sleigh above;
a snap to crack the whip.
He nods aside the reindeer heads
and off they go a-rip.
The little sleigh going dangling on.
It sliding through the sky.
The far horizon beckoning him
as Santa waves on bye.
When you first sang that song I loved,
I was so captivated, I knew in that moment
You were always meant to be my beloved.
I felt a release from years of feeling spent.
You didn't even know it, but I was waiting
For anyone to sing it to me with the intention
To reassure I'm worthy of someone forgiving
Me for mistakes I rather never mention.
Whenever you sing at all, I feel speechless.
I may seem spaced out, but you impress me.
Your voice suits your sweet handsomeness.
I just want to harmonize with you, to just be.
Whenever I listen to that song on repeat,
I have a fond smile that frees me from rue,
As well as warmth from my head to my feet.
I'll love you for as long as you love me too.
I visited his grave, but the grave was gone!
What? I know spirits travel but this just seems wrong.
There's a big hole where the grave used to be.
I think someone is playing a big prank on me.
On second thought, this is just what he would do
to have a big laugh, all his spirit friends, too.
I rushed home to see if it was in the back yard,
under the pear tree he would loudly disregard.
It's not there, but between the roses, it might squeeze.
Or under the mulberry that he knows makes me sneeze.
Or inside the house, oh please not beside the couch!
or under a table, so I'll have to crouch!
I open the closet expecting to jump,
not there either, but I spy a big lump
sitting in his "couch potato" chair;
yep, that's where he'd put it, if anywhere.
Not there either, now I'm becoming confused.
Raced back to the grave and it's still not being used.
I checked the marker on the grave next to his.
Why he moved it, I can't fathom, but there it is!
(This poem needs some explaining, I understand.
The grave is where it was, nothing done underhand.
A new one will go in next to the one she misplaced.
This woman got confused. Could be she's a tad spaced.)
hands rapturously slashing satori, bang !
light droplets filter down, bats brushing skin
to fly knowingly low, then water gushed
through cracks, bring —
snakes, spiders, scorpions across our toes
stones spoke in singular sighs as
golden orb set in whirlwinds high
velvet night descends, opposites attract
poles swing — >
cave was nowhere, yet everywhere
Mozart symphonies were future
shadows written on our vacant palms
to sojourn with Harry the Strandloper
was unspoken song by GRACIOUS ALL
for beloved paleo pole points, Call !
Khoisan shores we tread profoundly
adorned with seashell bracelets
before on red concert seats to
sit enraptured, opposites horned
no thoughts tornadoed continents waiting
our ignited centres spaced dichotomy
unnamed species inhabited surrounds
we knew not of wisdom pounds
crystal shafts in dimness protected
our irises reflecting stalactite,
dolomite, Dynamite !
anchovy offering themselves
for hunger appeased
white-black apart yet fulcrum starts
we were Power of One in two
~ seasons our compass
naked emperor with empress embraced
celebration, protection or
fool interventions unknown
variables, not yet defined
contrary poles merging with heather
whispering as copper painted patterns
etheric on grotto’s sotto ~
voices faraway clamped our knees
it was future shackles of Bastille
through time tunnels terrible
vacant minds a pair to stare
simply sky, earth, two lode stars as one
wolves, bears, squirrel frequencies
to dare a similar stare !
womb then lustily grew —
berries, tubers fat ripe
nipples started leaking, crows cackled
she was born in running river, pinking water
cord to trout we fed, who offered us
their firm flesh in turn
clouds melted into navel smooth
moon our compass soon enabled
cavern walls slapping spring to bring
spirit expanded fontanelle
winds chiming bells
hammer forged to chop stone found
swallows still equalled fellow tribes
harmonious cynosures more inscribed
my eyes drew out his to flush awake
nostrils flared flaked, two at stake
slowly malachite dragons dissolved
paleo quintessences evolved
swinging space-time into now
once more polarity’s
sublime ~
___________________
3rd Placement: Premier Contest
Rob Carmack: July 26
Brutal honesty in the inward spiritual search requiring discarding all lower mind thought constructs, including anticipation borne of perception arising from memory imagery, Krama mudra is the direct and fearless exploration of each enabled vibration, directly cognised in wonderment and astonishment within our energy body. Essence of being is realised as resident within the rod of initiation or staff of power, as the Sushumna is often called. The radiation of ineffable bliss throbbing within the central funnel as bliss climax in renewal continual, heightened at geometrically spaced chakras is unmistakable. No doubts remain.
The energy grid
Radiating inside out
Bliss within throbbing
The curious mind is an endless flame,
That facts and truths cannot tame.
For knowing is powerful, sharp and clear,
Helping to adapt, learn and face the fear.
But knowing comes with a heavy cost and toll.
More questions to answer, more doubt to control.
But not knowing, too has its place.
For ignorance is bliss to engrace.
Where the mind lets go in free-fall.
In relief, in surrender, to just enthrall.
Knowing, sometimes it's better not to know.
To lie spaced-out, where turmoil won’t grow.
For though we claim to want to know more,
In the shadow of the knowledge door,
Lies our pull-back, and strain to resist,
Over-reaching beyond the canny twist sophist.
Summer:
Sunshine-blonde with sapphire eyes,
Cheeks tinged pink by bold sunrise.
She smiles at noon to light the sky,
Nudging clouds with gentle sighs.
She wears a gown of mossy lace
With blooming buttons, neatly spaced.
With ocean heart and river veins,
She seldom cries - she dislikes rain.
Autumn:
Fire-red locks with rose gold eyes
Bright with flecks of fireflies.
She pulls a veil of thunder clouds
Across the sky - a purple shroud.
She wears a robe of flaming beads,
A golden crown of rainbow leaves.
With full moon heart and molten veins,
She weeps at will - she enjoys rain.
Winter:
Raven mane with silver eyes,
Soft skin pale as milky skies.
She exhales gusts of icy wind;
Her breath leaves frost on everything.
She wears a cloak of northern lights
With sunburst jewels carved from ice.
With clouded heart and frozen veins,
She cannot cry - she freezes rain.
Spring:
Amber curls with emerald eyes -
A fickle pair that floods and dries.
She melts away the ice and snow
And resurrects the sun's warm glow.
She wears a cape of tangled stems,
Of gauzy vines and rosebud gems.
With honey heart and nectar veins,
She loves to cry - she lives for rain.