Long Stifles Poems
Long Stifles Poems. Below are the most popular long Stifles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stifles poems by poem length and keyword.
When the wayward mind is unsteady,
the dislodging thrust of the negative sensitivity,
unbound from the righteous roots of sanctified soul,
unleashes the base instincts to rush toward the sordid goal.
Beneath the surface of the mortal wisdom’s attire,
where the mind builds the edifice of ignoble desire,
the clinging traits lead to the abyss of dark ignorance,
the bereft life wanders in wilderness in a trance.
The sapling of irresistible urge rooted deep in craving,
nurtured in the receptive core of the heart longing,
blossoms the flower of hedonistic passion,
lures the being with the illusion of impulsive inclination.
In the disorderly squall of divesting dismay,
the mangled mind is disheveled to a dishabille array,
tries to snap the chords of captivating adherence,
the psychic cascade of desire flows without pretence.
Chasing the mirage across the dunes of desolation,
the hope of taking life to the oasis disappears in isolation.
As the beleaguering storms of disenchantment blow
to take the moral course, entranced consciousness revives slow.
Repressed essence entangled in the cobweb of frustration,
looks for the escaping pathway of dissociation,
seeks for the time to listen to the dulcet call from within,
the enticing echo of the tune of soul’s violin.
The consciousness layers are crossed in journey inward
to discover the divine lotus blossom inside as reward,
and hear beguiled the joyous music of freedom within,
in the depth of silence serene.
“it’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”
(Line of inquiry)
It is a night creamed by melting darkness.
Fireflies are obsessed with secrecy tonight
And dim their lights cautiously, frugally.
Crickets and cicadas crepitate with muted
Feelings, sallying wretched, orphaned tadpoles.
I cringe from traditional horror,
Wincing with the power of concern.
Lest I forget, the moon travelled out of town.
The constellation was keeping wake in the outer
Universe, where stars were hired for their lights.
There’s a nocturnal feast going on somewhere
Dimly deep, remotely perturbed,
Beyond the barren brooks beneath transmontane lands.
I hear sounds of distant drums which are silent
On the shoulders of beleaguered cliffs.
They sound like they are being beaten by fettered hands.
Such throbs trouble me.
I hate to be the first to announce the obituary of poets
And musicians, but this moment stifles my resilience.
Darkness lingers with either fortitude or arrogance,
Reminding me of the desolation of higher, clammy
Terrains and narrow footpaths
Where they once schlepped —veterans who went to
Confront the beasts coming for our souls and blood....
I plod on to the place of the throbs,
Accompanied by flickering lights.
But on getting there, the smell of abandonment
Creases my ribs and furrows my brows.
The emptiness, the absence of man and beast
Run my wandering feet cold
I felt lost — like a lone, withered grain in a deep,
Battered straw sack with tiny, lonesome holes.
Itches depress my glabella.
I come late with the issue of remembrances.
Something must be wrong with the night, the illusion,
The world, the fantasies...
Something must be wrong with me.
This orgy of wondering!
The night sleeps on with retired quietude, plenitude.
I retire as well, my bamboo bed squeaking with the
Deliberate noise of the fluttering tongue of flame on
The wick of my oil lamp.
Each cup of silence I drank took me back the way I came —
The tenuous, lonesome, hilly, jagged route I had schlepped,
Drunk with the orgy of the wilful drums and the elated flutes.
My journey was meaningless —like a generation that hardly heard of
Michelangelo, let alone Bernini.
Forgiveness is a monumental gift
that swings both ways. By giving it
to someone, we give it to ourselves
whether we realize it or not.
There's no greater freedom!
It untethers us from the bitterness
that stifles our breath. Forgiveness
allows us to finally breathe.
It lets our spirit loose like an eagle
flying free in the open sky
It gently lifts the cumbersome burden
weighing down the heart and soul
It takes bravery to forgive
the seemingly unforgivable because
it's one of the hardest things we could do,
but it's the most liberating act of all.
We've all asked for forgiveness
for slights we caused and we were
forgiven. There's no reason why
we shouldn't give forgive as well.
Don't be tough on your imperfect self
Don't dwell on your mistakes.
Free yourself of your past and start living
in the present. Forgiveness is freedom!
POTW 12th May 2019
Thank you for visiting my third Visual Video Poem, more or less a continuation of my previous poem – ‘The Dreamer’
(I invite you to view the complete production effects and the superb narration by Kelvin on the video above)
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when faith in ourselves will unshackle old beliefs
I LIVE FOR THE DAY belief in The One Spiritual Energy will be redeemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY that armed conflict against so-called enemies
Is declared pointless and therefore unnecessary will be deemed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when wizened skin a thing of beauty will be perceived
Our elders revered and adhered
Their words of wisdom respected and believed
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when people will recognise the power of natural curing
And not be influenced by the greedy Pharmaceutical manipulating
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when equality by all will be shared
Power segregation abolished ~ racial discrimination repaired
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when schools will encourage children’s gifts and abilities
Rather than stick to outdated systems that stifles innovation and possibilities
I LIVE FOR THE DAY when Man will adapt to our Earth a more reverent conservation
Our steadfast purpose toward environmental change
And Mother Nature becomes our commitment to her preservation
I LIVE FOR THE DAY …
By Maria Williams
Copyright © Maria Williams
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartano
(Our very own Lariese.com Art Director)
Voice over:
Kelvin
Music:
Our Future
Composer:
Peder B. Helland
POTW 12th May 2019
Am I fated to go on living in this impervious place
where everyone wears a mask to conceal his face?
I'm floundering in this difficult period of time,
where no one understands the rhythm of rhyme.
I must search the deepest corners of my mind
for a region where oblivion cannot be defined.
I long to find a habitat where I can be me,
a sanctuary where my inhibitions are set free.
Mankind has become such an abstract machine.
Everyone walks to the beat of the same tambourine.
Egotistic are those blind to the needs of others.
A depth of indifference that stifles and smothers.
When did it happen, that it became a world of greed
where everyone wants more than they'll ever need?
Bump into me on the street, I know you don't care.
The oblivion in society is almost more than I can bear.
I cling to the prospect of a world in which I can behold,
a race of benevolent humans, as in stories long foretold.
Where no masks would be worn to disguise a feeling,
and no need for secrets of embarrassing revealing.
If there will be a place where human qualities exist,
it's a world in which I could more than just subsist.
I need to withdraw from this callous oblivious place,
and live where people are no longer a robotic race.
December 6th 2015
Oblivion Contest
Host: Rob Carmack
Thought flight, faster than light,
propelled by heart’s desire,
creates by magnetism,
destiny we aspire,
played out in body prism.
Thought flight, faster than light,
hijacked by our ego,
stifles voice of conscience,
so unless we go slow,
veiled is luminescence.
Thought flight, faster than light,
is yet an instrument,
brought to rein in stillness,
with love in resonance,
ushering blissfulness.
Thought flight, faster than light,
echoing heart’s impulse,
becomes calm and tranquil,
when we so surrender,
letting God do His will.
30-May-2022
Flight Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
I love those who sit in my silence
Silence I seem to carry with me
It crowds around my shoulders and kneck
It stifles my words
I thought it would someday be filled
By promises to myself I can’t uphold
Living vicariously through
Those who march forward
Without choking on their words
I'll keep my eyes fixed on you
My mind catching every word
Like a hovering shadow
That you only turn to
So your words can fall freely
Without thought of the listener
Some days I feel my own weight
It bears down on me
Whispering sneers of disappointment
The fogginess in my head of unspoken words
It fades their meaning
Nights driving alone
Small snowflakes collecting on my windshield
Muffled echoes from the day
Are suddenly lifted and cleared
By the warm glow of the porchlight
That was left on for me
It lights my way to the door
Remembering small things I said
Bringing me back
From webs of lies in my head
You lay your jacket over my shoulders
I one day hope to give others
The care you’ve given me
Why it's the Flag ? while im here, i believe
Not the people, because of all the thieves
Yes, there are those who have stolen away
The real people from our peaceful ways
Who decides? when serenity fails?
I once thought it was the militaries' detail
But from what I see and what i have seen
i think it's time for the insane to intervene
To Pot in a handbasket, that's the worlds way
But now that's its legal they have nothing to say
Bring on the crazies their voice is allowed
Listen for wisdom as their shouting out loud
then find the sane one who is amongst the crowd
Then watch who will listen or who stifles their voice
The insane know why we are given a choice
So the flag I shall trust long may she wave
And the land it protects may it always be safe!
THE EYE of I
What is life? What is love?
The eye of I took it in…
The material rolling sweeps highs and lows--valleys cuts, grooves, gullies and gorges eye engorge crevices of porphyry
heat flies from the ravines
places the eye cannot see but the soul can visit-- living matter,
infused with tissue thoughts generated externally electrified internally
the sweat that beaded on the brow drips and spatters, absorbs the entity under
What is the breathing open petal life… radiating respiring
One throttle to quell that respiration, bright lightening beauty gently fusing into glow?
Brightening as I faster
Turbine-whistle I your master
beating, spewing, thrusting, ignition transference… body grue and stifles?… Gone
She stiffens the radiance of the face pale, milky, alabaster, clammy pore-less beams the lips and cheeks rubescent now. Smoothes, and transition into deep hues of blues, violent violets, ebony black. Hardens, stiffens stone then softens? as alabaster
Deterioration, matter, entropy all so naturally
Squall has past--the quondam respiring takes long respite..
The eye of I took it in…The material rolling sweeps highs and lows, valleys, cuts, grooves, gully and gorge I engorge crevices of porphyry
heat flies from the ravines folded as petals from
places the eye cannot see but the soul can visit
of living matter, infused with tissue thoughts generated externally electrified internally
The sweat that beaded on the brow drips and spatters, absorbs the entity under lies the breathing open petal life… radiating, respiring?
The fingers trace and fall in place the Etowah infused with breath
The sweat sinks in, absorption energy transfers electricity thoughts
Cabachon crescendos!
All the while the living, beating, breathing, entity flutters, shutters, smiles.
Sleepless, she struggles to breathe in and out
Her nose blocked; a cough once in a while
The mucus in her nostrils and bronchi, who will rout?
A prayer on my lips; what praise report will I file
Jehovah Rapha, take this cup of suffering away
I cannot sit and listen to her as she suckles
I praise your name; even in this you hold sway
On our knees we will fight this with bare knuckles
She is awake talking to the sofa in baby talk
It is half past four in the morning, cold
Our redeemer lives; with Him we walk
Happy again; proud to be part of His fold
With baby’s permission, I wish to lie down
Will sleep escape us with the coming dawn?
I celebrate the gift of another day, without a frown
As my sleepy, happy head stifles a yawn