Long Structure Poems
Long Structure Poems. Below are the most popular long Structure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Structure poems by poem length and keyword.
Where the temple of books stood still,
Library of Jaffna kept ancient history in Tamil.
1933, is where it was all built by cement and wood.
The pure, white colour of the library was seen beyond good.
Ancient texts, ancient books, were read,
Books of ancient history would rarely been unread.
The library was like a sacred temple of books.
Archaeologists would admire its heavenly and sacred looks.
1981, where chaos was going to start,
Where flames consumed the library's heart.
Mobs of the Sinhalese burnt down Tamil's memories of history,
Whether the ancient books or texts are going to survive, is a mystery?
97,000 books burnt in one single night,
The structure had been ripped off from its tall height.
The pain of losing our history in writing is great loss,
Not a single book or an ancient text or single word couldn't be recovered from this burning loss.
Struggling to get out of bed.
The mind racing in and out of thoughts of what needs to be looked after,
Animals feeding,
Dogs walking,
Garden pruning,
Pond cleaning,
Hedge cutting,
Wood sawing,
The list goes on…
But my heart feels held still in bed.
God whispering “Stay here with me. There is time to be moved to the list. Now is time to be with me and marinate in my love. Crumble the walls around your heart. Empty the muddy mind of anything that is saying …
Maybe this is it…”
Discomfort.
Restlessness.
Searching for an answer, understanding, googling new moons, Chinese new year, anything to bring relief….
This is not it.
“Be still.
Stay with me my love.
Let my love steady you here.
The love you seek is right here.
Be still.”
Thoughts of unworthiness, guilt, shame, unlovableness continue to try and suck me into their depths…
But they don't stick anymore.
I don’t want to go there anymore.
I don’t know where to go anymore.
And I hear in my heart God calling,
“Be still. Stay with me here. Let me dissolve all untruths. All illusion. It is happening. You are being emptied and filled. “
And so I stay still, in bed,
Unwashed,
Ungroomed,
Uncertain,
Suspended in nothingness,
Hanging in not knowing,
Waiting to be moved,
Feeling the experience of energy radiating in my heart
Praying at this altar, on my knees at the pew of Gods church in my heart.
Empty me. Take it all. Fill me with only your love. I am lost without you.
Forwards, backwards, round and round.
I am tired of the wash cycle.
The ever unfolding of Gods unveiling.
There is nowhere to get to.
There is nowhere to go.
All that I am is right here in my heart.
“Take your hands off the wheel and let go of all structure, routine, rituals and perfomances.
Moment by moment,
Listen.
I am here. I am guiding you into heaven…right here….right now.
Shhhhh….be quiet.
Let our secret anchor and radiate from your heart.”
It's late, lo. I knew that the water I saw was mirage.
This is a world where, often, facts and fancies camouflage
Depths that seem unfathomable are shallow when measured.
Within wombs of tombs that seem empty, riches are treasured.
The structure that looked like a passage was, in truth, a wall.
Doesn’t my crammed glance make the earth resemble a ball?
How could crows dine guavas at night? Lo, they were mega-bats.
Waiting under guava trees, I didn't know, were black cats.
Peeping through the brick holes of Kutab Minar, I feel giddy.
While I could reach the top, are the stairs now playing kiddy?
Each move of being is filled with likes, dislikes, dreads, and fears.
Equally in joys and sadness, as though raindrops flow tears
Running shoes, highway lanes, sleepless sleep, and suppressing thoughts
Each act, as though steering sailboats, becomes threads full of knots.
Is this shop I find between this and this bush mere confusion?
Aren't facts of truth tested in hot furnaces of illusion?
Life re-winds the rush of entropy to disorder,
using energy to build and sustain
structure and order for a lifetime.
Plants ensnare solar energy
to entwine form into structure
and sugar molecule stores,
which plants respire to release the energy
they need to fight constantly
against decay and entropy's tug of war.
Animals feed on the negentropy in plant and animal molecules
to respire and release the energy they need to sustain them.
Life is mortal, as the re-wind of entropy
cannot be sustained.
In time death, disorder and decay are inevitable.
Life is exquisite, just for a collection of life-time moments,
when entropy is suspended and upended.
The contributions of women are sometimes overlooked
But where would we be without the contributions of Katherine Johnson
In the 60's she did finely tune
The mathematical calculations that sent men to the moon
Marie Curie was excellent in physics and chemistry
She discovered two new elements
And won the Nobel price twice
For her brilliance and sacrifice
Elizabeth G. Anderson was the first female doctor in England
A historic feat in any land
She paved the way for the women that followed
And was also England's first female mayor
The molecular structure of DNA, RNA, and viruses
was discovered by British chemist Rosalind Franklin
She made great contributions in the science
Her vital contributions can never be denied
We honor all these women for the contributions they made
And they deserve the highest accolades
3-29-2022
TRIBUTE TO WOMEN Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
I awake from a distant dream....
Thinking of all I'd seen
Remembering what was in my mind's eye
Sad thoughts of a time gone by
I remember the heat of the desert and dangers of camouflage men
of small remote villages.......and the people within
I recall a child.......I can still see her smile
Black was her hair, her hands they were oh so small
I can still see her face.........I remember it all
Erelah, yes that was her name
ever since I met her, my life's not been the same
She'd come to our station almost everyday
coming for her hunger, always to play
running round and round, hiding from us all
I still hear her laughter........ I remember it all
Such a small girl, born into a ruthless world
A world where men prey upon men, and life is simply discarded like sand to the wind
Sunlight and shadows
One illuminates while the other falls
Days become weeks, as distant voices call............
Messages of distress come over the wire
speaking of death, fire
of a small village, of evil men who rape, murder, and pillage
Cloaked with the tools of Azreal, the tarmac erupts
Awash in wind and sand, we are lifted into the air
Nap-of-the-earth quickly, mountains, valleys pass by fast
Distant souls burning, as we come upon the village at last
Pyre smoke engulfs the senses, swirling around and round
Hovering high above, we swiftly descend to the ground
Toils of men are soon revealed in the dawn's light
The departed are scattered about as we scour for life
One burnt structure to another
We find nothing but hopelessness and despair
Only the dead and the dying, Iblis has been here
I peer into a doorway, and to my sadness I see
Little Erelah laying by her mother, still deep in a dream
But from this dream she'll not awake, nor shall she ever play
for her innocence and life were taken, both on this day
Never to learn to read, never to learn to write
Never to run and sing again, due to man's mindless strife
I promised to protect the children ever since that day
And always defend them against man's evil ways
And never ever forget her
That angel from above, or her simple message
LOVE.........
To me she was a moment of Spring, in a lifetime of endless Winter
She is but a dream..........
When the mind is intransigent,
it sees what it perceives to be true;
and only believes what it sees.
This skepticism is human nature:
yet all is possible with God.
Some people hesitate
to explicitly define their beliefs:
for fear of being mocked or shunned.
Our personal experiences
enable us to define good and evil.
But when we pray to God,
we are spiritually comforted.
Friends and family are integral
to a healthy spiritual life.
Our egos are fragile:
we need a sound support structure,
should self-doubts attack us:
over failed dreams, low expectations,
and meager accomplishments.
Do not forget: you are a soul,
don't allow doubt to be
your tormentor and destroyer.
The thwart and the lie, the rumor and the lane, the love so drastic like fruits in the seam of the glass. Borders of fragmented revenge. The dreams were not fantastic, the light full, fire blazing. Rejection and denial end hand in hand with reveling. To fall on one small structure. The minor equivalent of the shimmering pole of gore. They fray and side and the sedge way hexes the bountiful distances of bridges and yellow moons. The tears inhaled, the smiles crashing, no mother, no mother, no. In the hills I will be alone, but the day surrounds every shadow. Mocking chariot where I reach the eyes of menacing jokes. He is the coat of walls and the sort of hit you peel down so carelessly rising war in a thinking tomb. No more, and there are forms filled. He is large, looming like a lion. I am the dry petals of a ceiling rose. Wait. Weary figure, to ward the inches of ministration. No one is in this yield then they sail like ships of planet Ukase. Sheilds to armor to the fine raging town of a timbering forest. To the house. I would hope when the stir everts, once the box becomes a visible fall. Like a storm buried with my bones in a birch tree. An apology veers yesterday, tomorrow and the second the walls open into the next hexagram. Because doom unties the passion in a faithful poison and the bars, freights employ the hatred of the massive expectations on the smallest form of tired fate. Toward the unknown parallels the hours that stretched the instigator.
Lifted lightly from familiarity
Sleep's gesture caresses cells
Taken to nearby bewilderment
Where stagnancy busily dwells
Liquid lambent shooting star forms fragment
Vapid vexations vanquished in fantasy's fire
Mist masked span transcends measurement
Vision's fusion surpasses language quagmire
Imprisoned waking cognition
held in category's secure structure
Dispelled impediments crash cascade
preceding sleep's redeeming tenure
Ignited sizzling spiral whimsical continuum
Themes undulate with kiss and chase thrill
Trauma's feather sinks, treasure 's stone floats
Detached components reconcile at will
Dream chariot leaps easily
Obliges unassuming passenger
uncover unique anecdote
Intriguing as a stranger
Driven chivalrously soaring splendidly, lured enticingly
Revelling in brain' s carried captivation sole function
Travelling happens spontaneously without momentum
Contented centre offers converging clock hands junction
Revelations ripple, expanding truth
Roller coaster riding outside reality
Symbol's eventual meaningful messages
rise as a halo, impartial to gravity
Reason's region, sensible staid evades taboo
Indetectibly dilating pineal stillness vibrates
Untouched pastures in sleep domain permit oblivious
From fences of accepted, dream's newborn liberates
Catapulted!
Conscious corners sent as envelope ratified
deliver obvious, wafting surreal's torment
Clumsy clambering of mind identified
hankers for hibernation's brief dormant
Greys, Part VI
Each day we wake a little changed,
But the Force that rests Unmoving
At the center of our turbulent souls
Remains, as ever, the sane,
In the end, love for one another,
For our kind
Must become the final, only Sacrament
We offer for salvation from ourselves
Love, such as we feel for our children
For its own sake, no other.
We must come to feel this,
Or be content to perish.
Meantime the world awaits the outcome
Of our slow deliberations.
Turns and turns
Biding time, progressing as ever
In its neverending fermentation of the dead,
Its transfiguration of form into non-form
Then back again
Biding time, awaiting the fruition of our thoughts.
To be alive is to have desires
To be aware is to be confused
As to the best way to obtain desire and confusion
Know that to be human is to embrace the uncertain,
To stare boldly into the fields of grey
And try to discern the shapes, the subtleties
The Substance and the Structure
That lay the foundations of our dreams.
So we look back into ourselves in reflective moments
To see all the parts of our souls
That lay nearest the naked Truth
Immersed in the mist of the Shade not hopeless,
But somber,
Floating part by disjointed part,
Drifting in fragmentary association
Suspended in the rainsky color
The color of doubt.
In the end, all will be well,
In the end we will all learn to listen
To voices in the rain and windy sighings,
To the language that the Earth speaks to its children,
The tones vague and soothing, that address the spirit,
The susurrus of life in decay and generation,
Balanced like daylight and nightdark
On the edges of space
When we listen like children to the song of their Mother:
All will be well, deep in the midst of the grey.