Long Spaced out Poems
Long Spaced out Poems. Below are the most popular long Spaced out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spaced out poems by poem length and keyword.
The titular template
of lyrical loneliness,
serenading spaced out
the upbeat ethereal
mystique melody
of dreams cadenced
with rhythmic quietude,
invigorated by
the rhapsody of
the million idyllic steps
I walk,
setting free
the hesitating heart
that quivers with
the wilderness willows,
the concrete contours
of inflexible essence
repudiate intractably
the catharsis reprisal,
I find a placating place
at the serene edge
of the stalled time,
sense sedated
by the sound of silence.
All the dreams
blaze to emotive ember
in memory inferno,
swathed by the ashes
I breathe besieged
the smoky past,
whisper hollow words
to the amorphous air,
for I have nothing
more to say,
and silently float
in the sky of nothingness
with splintered awareness,
the sulking space between
the slices of soul,
where frail feelings
get frozen,
the lattice of desolation
is configured
with the shards of
shapeless desire,
turning to illusive images,
as they soar
to void oblivion
in the solemn sky of
silence…
A meter off the ground - it was chilling to the bone
and they say high up the degrees drop
In a metal bird with conditioned air
forgotten are dreams of wanting to fly
I closed my eyes - could sleep fast-forward eight months?
we stepped down at the other end of the universe
The Earth was wearing white trees clinging on to green
in the middle of this I stood very blue
the sun turned bleak, gave into cold
all time spaced out last day seemed old
summer had waned - and for ever, it seemed
frosting fell before my eyes, crystallizing tears
salting snow nothing stays pure for long
I was stuck in a snow globe, wishing the white was pixie dust
(you can take home away from a person, you can’t take hope out of them)
They say new years let grow new hope
but withering winds breed fear alone
impatience in its veins and shoulders shaking
a spiritless shadow trailed
* * * * * * *
the ghost of a snowflake
settles on my glove
cold touch of a memory
What's with this nudging-
this perpetual nudging
from deep within,
urging me to write a poem?
A poem of feelings,
of rhythm and imagery.
And I am willing-
Grasping for words,
phrases, perhaps
something in iambic pentameter.
But I am so spaced out.
I swivel my eyes-
back to front,
peering into the folds of my
spaced-out mind.
My impenetrable gaze
sifts through gray matter,
where arteries pulse
with bright scarlet oxygenated blood,
where veins run deep purple,
flushed, delicate pink.
It is quite extraordinary.
I could write of colors,
I could paint with words-
but there is nothing there.
No angst in me,
nothing provoking,
nothing bothersome,
boiling, nor bubbling.
Just the nudging,
this perpetual nudging.
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
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.
Tiptoeing in the middle of the night
Certain that Mom and Dad are out of sight
Stealing away to do what I love best
Heart pounding like a hammer in my chest
There on those linen sheets, you wait for me
All spaced out, and as blank as blank can be
I close the door and hide away the key
Escaping from a life of drudgery
Once again, putting my life on the line
Though Mom and Dad say it is such a crime
Neglecting my homework to be with you
Knowing to thine own self I must be true
So with pen in hand, I lay myself down
And pray that this diary won’t be found
Author: Elaine George
Written: May 19, 2014
Inspired by my imagination for the contest
The titular template
of lyrical loneliness,
serenading
spaced out
the upbeat ethereal
mystique melody
of dreams
cadenced with
rhythmic quietude,
invigorated by
the rhapsody of
the million idyllic steps
I walk,
setting free
the hesitating heart
that quivers with
the wilderness willows,
the concrete contours
of inflexible essence
repudiate intractably
the catharsis reprisal.
I find a placating place
at the serene edge
of the stalled time,
sense sedated
the sound of silence.
All the dreams
blaze like emotive ember
in memory inferno,
swathed by the ashes
I breathe besieged
the smoky past,
whisper hollow words
to the amorphous air,
for I have nothing
more to say,
and silently float
in the sky of nothingness
with splintered awareness.
The sulking space between
the slices of soul,
where frail feelings
get frozen,
the lattice of desolation
is configured
with the shards of
shapeless desire,
turning to illusive images,
as they soar
to the void
of oblivion
in the solemn sky of
silence…
The moistened meadow of my heart
dries desolate like a desert.
The climbing cloud of parched passion
doesn’t come low with the mystique shadow,
makes my overcast mind morose.
My halcyon horizon waits
for the southern wind to blow,
brings from the fervent sparkling sky
your sequined charisma below
to swathe my shades of blues.
In the surge of sequestered sandstorm
my derelict desire drifts away
from the anchorless dunes of the desert.
If you turn into an emerald tree
in the far away fawn forest,
the baroque boughs would reach out
to the seraphic sky of desire.
For a while in their soothing shade
I would like to repose,
hear the song the leaves sing
with the dainty drops of dancing rain.
In titular template of loneliness,
the spaced-out ethereal melody,
the dreamy transient tranquility
of the beginning gets energized
in the million steps I walk for you,
setting free the agonized heart
that quivers the wilderness willows.
The configuration of the unyielding essence
repudiates the catharsis reprisal.
I find a place at the edge of your taciturn time,
and sense the sound of silence.
As all the dreams blaze in an inferno,
I breathe the smoke of the ashen memory,
silently float in the nothingness sky.
In the space between the slices of my heart,
where the frail feelings get frozen,
the design of desolation is intertwined
with the splinters of shapeless icons of desire.
They fly away in the trajectory of silent longing.
all you write about is them happy old days
before hair wore thin turned white from grey
rumour has it bad mouthing my name
wise men stay away while you complain.
what is it you don’t like
how I talk of real life
downhill sights
how life bites,
am I not herpy cherpy enough
wear a smile on my face
hurt me hardly not even fazed,
clearly I'm a vile taste
tough tea teas
at least I'm honest not slander committees
out to harm whilst hidden weak and witchy.
see you write of love and nice
but slag me off like a poltergeist,
behind my back throwing dice
shut your face my only advice.
cus me and you are different ages
I’m the internet you’re paper pages
in my prime you’re about to go crazy
spend all day spaced out and dazy
whoops the daisy
looks like you got a raise out me now rose
I'll bash thee rashly
head to toe bask then dash free feeding woes.
picking out a poet with less experience not close
all those your age make you appear dense in pose
so got to go low
shooting like a bozo
but you should know though
I’m a rascal make you dizzie in slowmo
you should never pull my lever
growing up you wrote with feather
mister cotton wool I'm the leather bull
you spread the word make your message fly
cus I’ll live for sixty years after you die
that's it conflict over
leave you old slumped over
nice to know ya
not really coward bye now
My, my, my meteor
Rocks me to my core
She stains the sky
With shooting star fire
Beside the Milky Way
Only far, far brighter.
She rides rainbows
Seesaws on sky scales
Sits and smells grass grow
Sees the songs of whales.
My meteor’s a metaphor
Soon you’ll see what for
My metaphoric meteor
Rocks me to my core.
An alphabetic artist
She weaves song after song
With word worms wriggling
From her all day long.
I’ve seen her climb clouds
Both hands behind her back
Then move moonbeams
To lay down a light track.
My meteor’s a metaphor
Don’t you know what for?
My metaphoric meteor
Rocks me to my core.
She splits the silence
With her spaced out symphony
They spin sound sparks
Into streams of money.
My metaphoric meteor
Shook me off the floor
At all the gigs I rocked to
On her global tour.
My meteor’s a real rock star
She lights up the night
Then she crashes down, down, down
To be my meteorite!
My, my, my meteorite,
You are still my rock star light.
23rd April, 2016