Long Strings Poems
Long Strings Poems. Below are the most popular long Strings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strings poems by poem length and keyword.
“Love”
Hearts,
like dice, rolled
across a cold table
into the dark of Chance.
Love,
is a risky business.
A sudden plummet from Grace,
standing on the stable shore of all things,
only to be taken by the undertow of slippery Time,
“farewell to the past of all lost things”, whispers the id
holding firm onto its Pleasure Principle,
sucked in by the tide of the ocean that is Life.
Bare emotions ride pale wild horses far out into the deep;
where control is lost, the Sun kisses the soul naked every day,
golden highs are strummed and plucked like strings.
Love,
saves the lows,
for other lessons, to deliver better things.
Crowded thoughts like credits, rolled,
and the jazz joint smoked, Palo santo, Rosemary
and Juniper, smudge sharp corners phantasmagorically,
to eradicate sad stalking ghosts and tired voiceless dybbuks,
where the Sage-blue curls find their way around the room
fed to those far removed, yet present soundless poets,
like an addiction slipping under the skin.
Love,
rolls role calls, unannounced.
Like a beautiful thief in the night,
hungry for more than less,
it wants much higher things –
reaching ever upwards for its infinite twin.
Love,
like a grand maestro,
will always have its own way,
with what it takes,
and eventually brings,
with the cards it deals, and the keys it plays.
Love,
like an ancient mystic,
will always have its final say.
Love,
in one way or another, remains
haunting -
Sovereign,
Love rules, each
and every day.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
“When I'm feeling high or I'm feeling low
Or there is no change
Somehow days keep melting into the night
And there's always light on the cosmic range
I am always high I am always low
There is always change…
Hear the strings are bending in harmony
Not so far from the breaking on the cosmic range…
In my life the piano sings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings
Fiery rain and ruby's cooling sun
Now I see that my world has only just begun
Notes that roll on winds with swirling wings
Brings me words that are not the strength of strings…”
(excerpt lyrics, “Strength of Strings”, Gene Clark)
7
You think you’re teaching me a lesson
By what you say….or alternately by your silence
You think you are teaching me how to behave
Or what to think
Or what to say
Teacher, I don’t want to learn
The lessons that you teach
You have imbued them
With your own philosophy
Of life
The lessons are biased
Tainted
Jaded
Full of mind control techniques
And propaganda
The hidden agenda is clear
You want me in subjugation
To your wishes
And whims
Not a person in my own right
With a thinking, reasoning ability
Teacher, I can teach you a lesson or two
About true love
And life
About mystery
and fantasy
About passion
And satisfaction
About superiority
And mediocraty
About domination
and submission
About the “live and let live” policy
Teacher, most of all
I want to teach you
TO LOVE...
To love with no strings attached
To love without constraint
To love without demanding obeisance
To love without conditions
To love because of love
Teacher….you need to learn
A lesson or two
About love, life, and sacrifice
Desire, Need, and Paradise
Tell me, Teacher, are you willing...
To let me teach?
Eileen Manassian Ghali
I have seen the polished mask—
how it fits without a seam,
how it gleams in borrowed light
and calls itself a face.
There is no tremor in the voice,
no fracture in the gaze—
only a stillness
where a human storm should live.
He speaks of greatness as of air,
something owed, not earned;
the world, a tilted mirror
forever meant to hold him upright.
And yet—
beneath the architecture of charm,
beneath the fluent, measured grace,
there is no audience but hunger.
No echo answers when he calls
into the hollow of himself.
Others are instruments—
strings to be tightened,
hands to be broken,
notes to be spent and discarded
when silence is more convenient.
Remorse is a language he learned
only to counterfeit.
He knows its grammar,
not its weight.
I have watched him describe ruin
as though recounting weather—
unmoved, precise,
untouched by consequence.
And I, who am trained to listen,
find only absence speaking:
a careful, curated void
dressed in human cadence.
There is no villain here
in the story that he tells—
only a hero without limits,
and a world that fails him daily.
But in the quiet after he leaves,
in the space where truth settles slowly,
I write what he cannot perceive:
A life without others
is not power—
it is an empire
built entirely
of reflective glass.
Woeful wandering wayward soul
Hither-thither you go to a place
so lonely and cold
Dwelling and sometimes reveling in
a sunken place
Hither you go, leaving
a dark trace
Wandering and wavering, so capricious
Aimless and shift less, so pernicious
Traveling this plane
in search or maybe not
But during this course what
surely can be seen is pain
Rest wayward, soul, won't you?
Salient feeble eyes speak so much
longing for a moment to see anew
On the nature of daylight
So entropic!
The crushing blows of thunderous
midnight
O, somber cello playing as the
piercing violin harpoons the heart
In search of refuge and a new start
Strings of melancholy so dark and cold
Void of light, what 'was' remains old
No rest now ends and begins to fold
A vessel of unrest, old, weary wayward soul
I hear the squelch of sorrow nearing me once again,
pummelling with the purple pulsation in the frail vein.
Sadness encloses the mind-soul-body trinity,
the sound of its footfall trails the echo of eternity.
In the dwindling day at the edge of tarnished twilight,
the halcyon horizon sighs in air of demolished delight.
As the sunset colors spin the astral strands thin,
the formless fleet of cloud in breeze turns to violin.
After the sky-scan it’s time for my bird to return
to the nest, and ride the radiant rays it fails to yearn.
It glides my heart on the outspread worn out wings
over the cadenced clouds of the sonorous strings.
At the edge of tinged dusk after the flight of the day,
the crimson sun sips the sea before slipping away,
and dissolves its colors in the water tossing weary,
gloom from horizon to the wet shore tides of tears carry.
With sparkling streaks the waves rise and fall sadly,
after they break the pearls from moist eyes roll calmly.
Quiet empathy arms of still embrace they fling,
the violin tune of sunset melody in the air I hear ring.
Our locked lips interweave with the calypso of night,
when the seductive song of silence the stars write.
Oscillating yearning serenades the barcarole of heart,
transforms the tenor of music for the requiem to start.
When beyond the broken sky the nightingale flies away,
from the whispering debris arises the aria of dismay,
as the shards of my shattered heart get strewn
in the torrent of tears on violin strings resonating sad tune.
14 eggs
2 1/2 tsp. of salt
2 1/2 tbsp. of vinegar
8 cloves of garlic
2 korean green peppers
1 redli
4 green peppers
1 1/2 tbsp of sesame seeds
1 cup of soy sauce
4 tablespoons of crown royal
1/2 cup of honey
2 tbsp. of sesame see oil
2 tsp of chopped ginger root
Hard boil eggs 20 minutes. Peel after ice bath.
Peel eggs in a bowl.
in a sauce pan add all ingredients except eggs.
bring to a simmer, remove from heat
in a tupperware bowl add marinade and eggs. cover and
let sit for one day.
10 cups of cooked ramen noodles
4 cups of shredded roasted pork or chicken
4 cups of shredded carrots sauteed in olive oil
4 cups of sliced ake mushroom and
sliced button mushrooms (sauteed in olive oil)
1 cup of steamed green onion julienned (sauteed in
olive oil)
mix veggies
top noodles
sprinkle on pork or chicken ( or both)
add both egg and egg broth
serve warm!!
Life in the nocturnal glow
The ethereal haze of street light days
Paves the way
For those who cannot sleep
And for those awake before the sun
A sweet kiss
Melting lips like chocolate
Stray not from the path
Illuminated by owl eyes
Life in the panoramic window pane
The eternal way of bleeding together days
Paves the way
For those who cannot sleep
Awake long after the sun went to sleep
A sweet kiss
Stirring heart strings like a guitar solo
Stray not from the path
Illuminated by eagle eyes
Dance forever
In this cosmic supernova symphony
The struggle that leads to better days
Paves the way
For those who cross paths at odd hours
A rare moment when the sun embraces both
And a sweet kiss
Shared by lovers who feel like strangers
But know not to stray from the path
Illuminated by soulmate eyes
Trickles of joy sliver down ruby candy apple traces
Slope innocent cheeks and naive exuberant faces
Round in circles and up and down goes the delight
Spinning laughter and giggling all through the night
Tinker bells chime on feathered dreams and foot hold
Letting go off the reigns Lucy has become rather bold
The carousel has come into town with glitter and joy
A belly full of swirling and the horse is not from Troy
One year of waiting is over and the party proceeds
Smiles all around is what the whole planet needs
Adults don’t know a thing about life in sweet bubbles
If they did it would be safer and fewer in troubles
Dad is through with being an adult and hops aboard
Grabs the stallion’s mane and soon receives his reward
Circus fairground rollercoaster and rotating motion
Combine into yearning poured from a pot of love potion
Why do we refuse to learn from our wondrous offspring
Who drift on meaningful dreams on tender fairy angel wings
Call it back to basics sustainability or overdue rejuvenation
Join the club and hail our children who deserve our ovation
Meanwhile most pleasant dizziness has reached the crowd
Who abandon masters of gloom and for once have allowed
Emotions to win over hard feelings and misguided reason
At the next election I’ll vote for a child at risk of high treason
No more wars unicorn in place of tanks and fanciful dress
Everything to untangle the shreds of global and personal mess
Kids simply know better to enjoy so much infinite beauty
Sweeten blows whereas grownups seek plunder and booty
Circles have no sharp edges and spheres are hard to eclipse
Taking nipper’s advice after all might prevent the apocalypse
A jester who removes puppeteer strings unleashes true stride
And only a fool would choose not to hop onto one more ride
22nd March 2020
Written March 29, 2013
mother. father. always you wrestle inside me
When I was 8 years old
I got a model train set for Christmas
Not a slingshot or BB gun
Instead of going around in circles
I moved it right off the tracks
How it crashed and burned
When I was 12 years old
My father told me "son,
Don't you lose my best rod and reel
Or bend the strings that I strung"
So I jumped in the ocean
Setting these wheels in motion
This could be such a simple song
But how we were wrong
When I hit the big 2-0
I found a delicate flower
In the old junkyard field
I thought I'd give it to momma
But when I brought home that flower
The petals fell off in the shower
Adam's tale ended tragic
And so does this song
When I breathed in the chemicals
And felt so alone
Such a precious regret that they own
That I never had friends in my own home
Life is a horror story
Without a plot twist
My life was a mystery
Where everyone did it
Now were stuck on the precipice
Without a third wish
This could be such a simple song
But how we were wrong
His days were hard, his nights were long
The Psalmist woke, six hours 'fore dawn
Awakened by a breeze so slight
His chamber still bereft of light
Some scoff he rose the lyre to play
The record shows he stood and prayed
**********
Notes:
The Psalmist is King David
The record is the Babylonian Talmud:
Tractate Brochos (Blessings), pages 3a & 3b
The lyre functioned as David's alarm clock, its strings
stirred by the breeze that arises in Israel at midnight
David formulated a long prayer service, known as Tikkun Chatzos,
loosely translated as 'Midnight Prayers,' which pious Jews still perform today