Long Strange Poems
Long Strange Poems. Below are the most popular long Strange by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strange poems by poem length and keyword.
Ego, not love, seeks vibrational match
for love is simply an effervescence
like yonder sun, lighting up each dark patch,
being quintessence of our soul’s essence.
Is not fickle love, that seeks a caress,
being dependent upon an exchange;
which if denied, soon begins to regress,
succumbing to cravings, our soul finds strange?
Love that is pure, is of the agape kind,
non-judging, all-embracing compassion,
a sublime radiance, no urge can bind
but perhaps such love is not in fashion.
If endearment be reduced to a trade,
deludedly, we assign love a grade.
Deludedly, we assign love a grade,
higher, if it gratifies our ego,
which is afraid to call a spade a spade,
need to be stroked, unable to let go.
As life unfolds and our consciousness shifts,
we may find that our interests diverge
but elixir of pure love, all hearts lifts,
radiating at all times, a bliss surge.
What matters at all times, is simply this,
that we see in our partner, divine light,
ensconced wherein, both our souls merge to kiss,
drenched in bliss mists, heightening heart’s delight.
Where love pulsates, there can remain no catch;
ego, not love, seeks vibrational match.
Watch autumn grace a chilly browse,
By Hamlet Place a certain house.
Heed garden thoughts by lemon tree,
As verse now slots a sublime spree.
Here by the way hurls sun and wind,
Watch bird song play a poise unseen.
On grass verge lawn a misty calm,
As sleepy dawn strays frosty balm.
Frozen feel knows a strange insight,
A certain show awaits warm light.
Hoist that swift tact as time reveals,
Space seeds a pact of change that spills.
By this front porch dandelions stray,
A floral torch of yellows play.
A dreamy trance shows stillness loud,
See autumn dance in tints most proud.
A sleepy daze rolls in the wind,
Watch feeble craze lift anxious bin.
Here for a while the coast looks clear,
So watch love style a precious cheer.
This too shall pass as change now turns,
Dry patch of grass where death now churns.
Now in plain sight this grand moon glow,
A fond delight this luna show.
Leon Enriquez
28 May 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT
Werna wakes up in a fast unnaturally strange, unfamiliar way.
Her body is racing, she is disoriented. What time is it?
She looks at the clock.
It is 5:23.
Harold has been caught in one of his traps!
She knows it without knowing how she knows.
Her body cannot settle down. She is filled with terror.
It is dark out there. He has probably been hunting for at least half an hour.
Where would she begin to look, in the dark?
She does not even know where he puts his snares.
She tries to picture him trying to gnaw off his leg, the way so many
animals have done, to escape his snares.
Harold is a mighty hunter, and a vicious husband.
Angry when sober.
Mean when drunk.
Mostly mean now.
She sees a flashback of what he looked like at nineteen,
before he became addicted.
He was gorgeous, beautiful smile, and heart of gold.
Never angry, even-tempered, sweetest person she had ever met.
She rarely saw that Harold now.
She took another look at the clock.
5:27 a.m.
Rolled over and went back to sleep.
With skilled search plans, maps and watchful scanning eyes,
The packs of hunters and dogs head off into the pine trees,
Scouring the land carefully, as the dogs yelp their cries.
Digging out strange white-brown and black lumps, while on their knees.
Pushing the dogs away as the hunters from the earth they prise.
Beneath the earth, lies this wondrous precious culinary surprise,
A delicacy much cherished, that's more priceless than gold.
Its truffles they're after, lying low in the pine roots there is the prize,
Dogs have been trained to help in the hunt since the days of old.
To sniff about under the trees, for any tell-tale scents that arise.
The truffle unearthed is a strange amorphous, dirty ball.
Belying its splendid aroma and tantalizing taste.
A pile of soil-like lumps pulled from the stumps is the haul.
A harvest, which could so easily be thrown away in haste,
Is this rare delicacy, so much treasured by chefs one and all.
In fancy kitchens everywhere, the magic becomes clear.
From pasta to risotto, sauces and sprinkles, truffles infuse delight,
With masterful hands, the lovely delicate flavors appear
And make every bite a symphony, a culinary trip, a joy-flight.
Savoring the earthy flavor and aroma beloved so dear.
The un-bodily sphere in realms of conscious,
introverted senses in space ponder precious.
Through deep quiet into different existence,
uncertainties from beyond the distance.
It felt like fire kindling in my blood,
as I by some strange flowing river stood.
My first reaction is to reassure the sapphire key,
that could unlock some dreadful history.
Intruders who in their rights had no part,
took memories of true pleasures from natives heart.
Replacing them with digital images to rejoice,
taken on their mind by an artificial happy voice.
A slender woman smiling waiting at the creek,
been told that another Avatar will join the seek.
She speaks of the feast from the joy and its dying spark,
and the firmament in hollow frightening dark.
We had to reach the domain of the controlling power,
the glimmering lights from that high grey tower.
Then for those rescued life new seems to be,
for joy provides a purpose reason quality.
The tower now clearly near and we feel that joyous delight,
as the key absorbs poor energies turning bright.
The rich of worship levitates the yellow bright stone,
deliverance of weary years ended in a squeaky moan.
At last one tower down while other places are still,
I took that key in protocol of safety goodwill.
Empty shadows by my eyes racing passed,
another world sustained from the bottom of my heart.
I have other plans to suit my life.
The time has come when you just have
to stop pretending that you really care.
I care not for your attitude
nor your ever-changing moods
I hate experiencing tempestuous feelings
of unsatisfied hunger:
births of lusty fires that always fizzle out
insatiate and forlorn.
I'd rather have rejection,
experience a strange mystery,
remain speechless while you're around.
Yet like a leech, a parasite of my life,
you stick around, never leaving me alone.
You’re too much part of me.
A familiar dance?
Blessed silence, broken by your silly notions
inducing pregnant pains of frivolous thoughts.
I experience mirthful reflections
of a fragile soul that needed approval of others.
I'll never accept that. Hope fades forever.
Reckless behaviour is definitely called for.
I stand steadfast like a black rock
just off the craggy shore. I'll never see you again.
Goodbye loneliness.
I have other plans to suit my life.
My Sunday’s fades into Mondays and the hours have come and gone and I can still feel the sensation rubbing against my cheeks but I could not tell what was going on. I look on both sides of the room but no one was there except a picture on the wall of my college associate; one from France and the other from Uganda sitting on a rock next to a dried-up stream. It was just like yesterday when courage hangs on the wall and the days continue to wrestle with my dignity and I fight with all that I have to set my spirit free, but the temperature keeps pulling the energy out of me. The days continues to slip through my finger and I could feel the tension burning in my feet and my heart racing down the street .The wind twirl silently around my waist whispering strange words in my ears, and my morning and my evenings become one and I struggle to compose the fictitious song. I love to break away from forms and be true to my emotions, the world is not just as it seems there are dozens of people wrapped up in my dream, they just won’t come forward and speak, they keep following me around and the last time I’ve heard of them, they and the sharks became bosom and bonafied friends.The sharks had a big celebration on the ocean floor and they were all invited to join feast at the bottom of the ocean. My Saturday suddenly comes alive and I am walking with courage in my feet and this part of the journey is complete. I glanced at another picture lying on the wall and every time I looked at it, it makes me feel tall , it is the photo on me and my New Zealand friend sitting side by side in a Japanese museum chair wearing the same brown Japanese slippers we picked up at the entrance before we enter the room. The moment was quiet and serene and she kept staring into her dreams but I looked the other way and watch the clouds as it slowly fades away and daylight smiles gentle at me and the universe has finally made history.
Wait,
what is that?
Quite a strange
bewildering sound,
I initially thought
my car alarm
was going off.
How can that be?
I sauntered outside
to investigate.
It turns out I was
pleasantly fooled.
It was just...
a canary
perched on a tree
nearby,
rattling off
a dulcet fury
of songs.
So charmed
and entertained
was I!
I stayed out,
actively listening...
until it flew
away!
Dates written and posted: 02/24/2019
There’s a path I don’t yet know,
The day hasn’t revealed it to me,
The night has its rhythm,
Flowing along its hidden route.
I’m digging deep,
Finding that the strange may be the way,
I look out of the window, wondering if I might run into Dawn's embrace,
Can I trust its awakening light to guide my path?
Oh, Light of lights, show me the way through the stygian night,
Guide me to the blossoming meadow,
Fill my gloomy chamber with brightness,
Help my boat find the river that brings joyful moments.
I won’t stop believing in the best days ahead,
Even though I’m held back by stubborn shadows,
My beloved awaits me miles ahead,
I am fighting to unlock the door that separates us.
I’m weary from the struggle,
I plead with the Radiant Light to aid me.
November 13, 2024.
Out on the heated tarmac
Sounds of multiple aircraft engines
Fumes from the planes
Lung clogging matter inhaling
Sporadic glow from the sun
Through skies filled with clouds
Dancing beside and around each other
Like a great spread of grazing sheep
Happy passengers boarding their on-time-flight
Security alert!
Be extra vigilant
Man your post, observe all things strange
Who are they kidding?
It’s me, not them, if I have any say in the matter
Certainly not them and I
Since I would have long been gone
They say in a security emergency
Stand at your post
I say, run, run, run
The first life you save should be your own
Think I am selfish
Try standing before someone
Who does not value their own life
With chest filled with organic matter
Wires attached to a timer
They say stand at your post
I say you would better, run, run, run