Long Spaces Poems
Long Spaces Poems. Below are the most popular long Spaces by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spaces poems by poem length and keyword.
DECODING THE MESSAGE
a gentle
& tasteful
critique
with
an ongoing
preoccupatation
with
figuration
a change
in
direction
a collaboration
initiated
by
memorabilia
of emerging
improvisation
a series
concentrating
on fragments
of imagery
from
the unexpectedly
& overt
underlying
currently
unscripted
this non-stop
this
churn
now long long
forgotten &
discounted ten
yet a
prized
improvisation
of the
intuitive
approach
to a
creativity
but
so
compellingly
strange
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
BEGINNINGS
so
haunting
run deeper
till
unlearning
openness
listening
to explore
for a moment
identity
fatigue
&
washs
cathartic
from
the detritus
&extract
tomorrow's
surprise
in contrast
encounters
an
appetite
for change
a reaction
to
emotion
an
intellectual
challenge
to
inspire
& to
instil
understanding
with
identity
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
HUNGER DOES NOT KNOCK: THE BLIND SILENCE OF LIFE WE SHARE
The raga muffins,
invisibly stood there;
lone tears wrapping
themselves around
his frail heart:-
Blue skies had lost
their luster—gone dark—
like clothes of those who
who had to mourn the blessed
children they had borne and lost:-
You see, hunger does not knock—
just bellies in—whirling through empty spaces
like winds leaching cracks in an abandoned barn
of rotting crops from barren fields no lower sown:-
Yes, many try to imprison themselves in sleep
to delay the storming hunger pangs—
seeing that dark abysmal realm—to fill
their vacuous, abdominal-plowed rows:-
No, old hunger does not knock—
through the cracks of life—it seeps in
like sun rays through poorly shaded panes:-
Hey, for hunger, each day is an audacious dare;
knowing that its life grows invisible to those
who say they really care and want to help.
In awareness, hunger
does not knock;
just boldly creeps
right in, and demand
its agonistic share:-
Within its soul, life
and death still struggle;
aware that suicide
is one of the greatest sins—
Only the Master
must decide who and when:-
In this blessed, reaping land
of the plenty that God has given us,
starvation must not be treated
as if it were a sin of hungry souls:
Minds, bodies, and spirits, withering:
Many cleaning fridges of wasted food:-
There's plenty of empty
Shelves and pantries
The streets weep for missing feet
Crowds of clouds float and gloat
Mocking our lot, as they mingle and flock
Oh, the lords of hoard now run the board
Going by social media shifts
Toilet paper's now the sought-after gift
One can't use scanty panties
To clean your fanny's nooks and crannies
In this sparse farce
The walls grow small
Under the strain
To remain sane
Our horizons turn on spaces burned
My dear, it is with love I say
I can't miss you
If you can't go away.
3/28/20
For 'A-Muse-Sing' poetry contest
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux
Written: February 28, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
***********************
I long to explore
the depth of your flummoxed mind,
fathom the forms of
your emotions,
and outline the scenery of
in dreams of avarice
It seems to be the right time
to thrive, to flourish
In this sacred space,
we build together,
from strands of gloom
where whispers bear root
and emotion bloom.
in quiet, we'll savor
the halcyon garden
of dancing daffodils
and radiant rays,
beyond splendid orbs
and fluttering, fickle flowers
Can't you catch a glimpse
of life not being all gray?
We have never felt so uplifted
and so high full of hope!
waiting wistfully beneath
the whispering willow.
As time ticks by,
I have been tallying,
and now it's time
to amend our perspective.
On this onyx challenge, I face,
there are no winners to find.
My role isn't to create
splattered, noxious rhymes;
rather, I often seek escape from it all.
I strive to express
our communion,
as we sow and reap
In this shared space
Of ideas and inspirations,
to freeze the marvelous symphony
within your solipsistic gaze;
don't you long to
reconnect with my maze,
the joy of everyday life?
and capture that fantastic
Melody in my spirit too?
It only takes a moment,
or so they say.
The Fact is, we're stranded here.
With an ever-ungrateful, godless population.
Resources are far beyond strained.
The selfish leadership perched upon nuclear-oriented brains...
In a race to see if we can outrun the dark side of ourselves.
Into the safety mirage of our stained-glass spaces.
We move like banana slugs trying to escape the flames.
From a renegade campfire of our own making.
We've been ordained, the fragile species.
Swept away by the gentlest of tides.
Suffocated by a slight dip in oxygen.
Our mason jar spacecraft with microscopic cracks.
Searching for fresh drinking water in the seams of heaven...
Although we've skunked our own Eden.
We're alone in the universe by divine design.
Stranded by colossal egos and tiny cane toad brains...
Who'll be the alpha cannibal?
Sitting around the omega campfire.
Taunted by the sirens of the stars.
Haunted by the gray wing of a nuclear rain.
A FAMILIAR NARRATIVE
actions to navigate
fast-fleeting
interpretation
of
the source
of
little light
a commitment
so distinctive
& valuable
overwhelmingly
admired
a
perspective
with hindsight
depictions
so clean
&simple
a
stance
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Walking main street in Autumnal sunshine
a donkey stops to look at a wolf.
After a mutual gaze they stroll together.
So far, not a word has been said between them.
Words are tricky, they are largely spaces
bookending secrets.
They will have to hide their true natures,
become lost in the running legs of the crowd.
However they must mate with words first,
but what words?
He prefers straw sounds full of drunken sunsets.
She is a predator, she wants fat
edible baby words full of juice.
His soul is a rusty windmill,
her soul it is an ever-spinning dolls head,
it is always hungry, always wanting.
They both commence to speak at once.
Passerby’s are startled at the sounds they make,
yet they smile knowing that young love
between different species will prevail,
even when words fail.
Together Again
Moonless night, clear sky no stars in the heavens above.
Silence fills the void where the sounds of birds now sleep use to be,
Soft hum of modern life in the spaces when day light comes, lit by their own fluorescent glow.
Dreams walk the stairs past the empty frames, of love now gone.
Through the rooms where joy once lived, happiness filled years walked out with no goodbye or reason why.
Playful banter jokes and cushions thrown in joyous wonder, plans made now long gone.
Each step takes it higher to a place it fears to go, outside each door it stands and lingers on memories of hopes and dreams now ended.
One door it stands outside too long, the sound coming forth brings stabbing pains deep within.
Through the light painted wood dream drifts and see’s the arms reaching out to hold an empty space, sobbing sounds escape with each tear, cascading down a broken soul to join others on the sheet where they have all gathered.
Day’s and months, time all rolled together senses mingled hard to handle.
Taken too soon nature’s cruel game, beauty mixed with sorrow and pain.
Never forgotten but wished one more day had together, the sound forever of goodbye but memories of hello fill the empty hole till together again we stand.
By
Patrick D
Form:
The heart is a language
of feelings, the mind a
language of wordy debate
let my heart transgress
always lead my poetic fate --
let the spaces between
suggest so little as mere that,
this, and such
but never clearly
too much –
through the
blessed fog of creation I will
bravely be led, the language
of poetry, a wild predator, always
in pursuit, dangerously un-fed
let my erratic emotion
cause composition commotion,
let me fearlessly scribe works
both soothing and those irritating
needing lotion
let poetry be my prayer as well
my devotion...so God please
delay my heaven-bound hearse
till I have penned, to take with me,
a sh't-load of pungent verse!