Long Subconsciousness Poems
Long Subconsciousness Poems. Below are the most popular long Subconsciousness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Subconsciousness poems by poem length and keyword.
Outside my window,
the leaves are in a frenzy~
twirling, shaking and flying about
the wind just sending them off
in a scattered dance...
so similar to the
thoughts
chaotic in my mind
Sleep comes around,
but the dreams do not.
Or do they?
And I've forgotten them yet again.
They are but fleeting wisps for me...
iridescent ribbons of subconsciousness
winding through me,
teasing,
then eluding me
When I try to touch them,
my fingers ripple through a smoky haze
So real to me, yet intangible
Sometimes I wonder
whether I could pour something
over these dreams,
Splash! And they crackle,
crystallizing them, finally captured
Smooth, sharp, tangible
and then I change my mind,
since it doesn't feel right...
Like caging something
to admire its beauty
Somehow, even the word dream
seems so ethereal to me,
they are but soft whispers
weaving through my slumbering self
My dreams,
they have a voice
so melodic, yet incomparable
so beautiful, yet unrecoverable
My dreams,
they come in color
so alive, yet muted
so alive, yet unreal
My head touches the pillow,
and I sink into slumber,
a myriad of thoughts finally settling down,
as undulating curls of dreams rise up around me
Come to think of it,
this creates for me such a
fascinating image...
Myself enveloped in darkness,
with wispy colorful ribbons
floating by all around me
as I dream on...
a quick reprieve from reality
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I hang on the small
umbrella, but I fail;
a whirlwind snatches it away,
it's more violent than a hungry eagle
swooping down to catch its prey...
all is in shambles, it scares the beagle
that finds shelter in a hallway
of a decayed building nearby:
he is afraid and shakes terribly!
Melancholy was felt when misty rain
made the maples cry as wailing mothers
do for the loss of their infant child;
no eyes looked drearier, their faces
were marked by a pain hard to explain...
they were finally consoled by God
who ordered rainy clouds to unwind,
giving them the comfort they needed.
Moms take care of their kids, doing all they can
and they sacrifice much, they don't buy a dress
to fill their needs; such angels deserve admiration,
walk with them: they've walked with you always!
The melancholy of this misty rain
can never erase anything too precious to us;
all remains intact in our subconsciousness:
sorrows and joys they reawaken! we reawaken
Everything said, everything thought and done
is stored in the subconsciousness of a memorable tune;
a whole life was spent in search of gratification,
of that sweetheart to convert this restless dreamer
to love, to show his amorous and changeless affection
in ways that eloquently expressed the exquisite art of lover!
Does love surpass all miracles doubtingly conceived
in the credulous mind, expecting thrills and kisses
in form of heavenly bliss, or a fulfillment of greed?
The wisher of resonant allusions was entirely convinced
to succeed with his cunning by offering petty gifts
to entrap the feeblest heart used to sweet whispers!
Who loves the drama of a tragic end in any somber narrative?
Of course, the joker with a hilarious and derisive laughter!
Does he care that what he says is no offense to provoke anger
in the jeering crowd that mocks him for being insensitive?
My honor was fairly, amply given and adamantly received,
I have left no murmuring lips in suspense; dear Heaven: my honesty
wasn't derided but perceived well and sealed in their endeared memory!
Precious inamorata, love surpasses all miracles as mine did!
Since childhood my vivid and alluring aspirations
painted my rainbows with different colors,
not the ones I was after and truly adored...
who has ever heard of a teenager being bored?
Anytime I saw a train leave the station with its smooth rhythm,
I wanted to be that conductor who could never fall asleep,
and at every stop he would look carefully before closing the doors...
then, laid-back, watch the changing landscape and whistle his tunes!
If imagination had not been there to tackle my reflective tendencies
that were, indeed, rooted in all aspects of the present wilderness,
I wouldn't have cultivated this passion and turn it into a realistic dream...
which allowed inspiration to enter the subconsciousness of this thinker's realm!
The fast-paced postman delivering mail to mailboxes seldom locked, thrilled me;
he looked so sharp and handsome greeting folks, and it would have been an honor
to chat with them, listening to their suggestions and helping them thoroughly...
I visualized myself as such, and even practiced it daily in front of large mirror!
If tons of ideas hadn't fed the urge to jot down details with ebullient imagery,
unless I wasn't aware of their poignant meaning and powerful message,
I wouldn't have let fantasy create an extraordinary dreamer out of someone so ordinary...
to adorn dullness with my cheerfulness and change winter to spring!
So why clinical psychology?
What does that mean, anyway?
What is non-clinical psychology?
Does it mean analytical psychology,
which might mean analogical?
Which would mean ecological?
Which is really just plain logical?
So is it logical psycho-logic,
and wouldn't that be sort of redundant
because doesn't psycho-logy mean psycho-logic
and dissonant dislogic
neurosystemic win/win gratitude
through lose/lose despairing attitude?
So maybe clinical psychology is neuro consciousness
and unconsciousness
and subconsciousness
psycho-logic?
Which might mean the psychologics of healthy wokeness?
But, if this is a science
then the logic of a psychic paradigm
can be no better or worse,
I suppose,
than the rationality of the scientist?
So, does clinical psychology refer to a logical neuro-science
of positive consciousness
and negative unconsciousness?
And, if so, then why would anyone assume this could be systemically dissonant with ecological healthy
and economically unhealthy Earth-consciousness?
Why not ecological dynamics of our Interior Landscape?
Clinical psychology as deep listening
for ecological compassion
and inhumane capitalistic dispassion.
*Image of Cave, Stars, Sky, Tunnel by Pixabay.
Of Infinity
Source and aim is ... vast consequence,
Wherefore controls ... take prominence,
Greek's Alpha meant ... primal ascends,
Omega states ... constants transcends,
Cause steadfast edge ... oppositeness,
Expansiveness ... span conscienceless,
Space an abstract ... not concreteness,
Wander spirits ... lodged comprehends,
Source and aim is,
Between the two ... points wantonness,
License demands ... subconsciousness,
Omnipresent ... joined broad bookends,
Christ's the answer ... prize providence,
Infinity ... stretched mixed strengthens,
Source and aim is,
2021 November 07
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 8
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 December 05
*HMS & RZ
It stops
As soon as I get up
It starts again
As I lie down,
The nerves falling out
Eyes crying
Heart sinking,
Mind losing sync
World spinning.
I do not understand,
I do not know,
The room around making a go,
And suddenly then,
My imaginations,
Taking control.
There’s something high,
In my blood,
There’s something low,
On the floor below,
A natural disaster,
Is an explanation?
But, where did,
My powers to rhyme go.
One step at a time,
I tell myself,
Don’t fall of the bed,
Just yet,
‘Love the feeling that you’re in’
Do I?
Subconsciousness, weariness,
Dormant, concealed,
Do I love this?
Quite yes.
The feeling so sublime,
Of my equilibrium,
Vanishing completely,
‘I’m okay’ I tell myself,
‘I will be okay’ corrected.
In this perpetual night,
With dogs singing in unison,
My head trembling like an earthquake,
And I,
In a peaceful state,
Human body,
Starts to make sense.
Five years have passed since last I saw that smile,
When childhood left the beauteous ground of life,
A mellow change walked on the body's aisle,
A boulevard with blossomed cherries rife.
With growing eld first-ever joys are gone,
No more I see you often as before,
Yet somehow I have learnt to carry on,
If faint hope fails, nonchalance can restore.
No shades even peeped on my woeful cheek,
I am ensconced in claustrophobic rooms,
Here memories flashing by appear so bleak,
That in subconsciousness frail pleasure dooms.
Now patiently I'll wait for your rebirth,
From relics old I glean both grief and mirth.
28th Feb, 2021
White Room
In this space, transcends reality of all thought
Where your subconsciousness lay fraught
Somewhere within the dimensions of your mind
Where your inner minds eye leaves you blind
In this space, there is no door to be found
Seemingly a profound emptiness abound
No windows to allow light to shine through
To shimmer that brilliant luminosity on you
In this space, no walls to separate a place
Nothing to reach out to touch or embrace
No roof, no floor, no corners of any kind
Only this white emptiness of some kind
In this space, which is yours and yours alone
Where all of you reside, in this solemn unknown
With your eyes closed to the world out of view
Is this white room filled with nothing but you
Cobwebs of the impossible
It was a clear day…too lucid, perhaps.
Mother sat in the kitchen; the sunlight made her white hair into a halo.
I asked how old she was?
Ninety-two, she said I knew this was not true she didn´t live that long.
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting along,
brother said people living downstream went upstream to buy furniture
to save on transport costs they dumped the furniture in the river
and picked up when they came floating by.
Sometimes they lost a table or a commode, a risk we all have to take.
Walking along a soft road in the forest, but something was wrong
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian painter,
Where trees emitted light of wonder, and my mother was 101 years old
I had a knife, cut the painting in half and walked out.
Sometimes the line between reality and subconsciousness merges
perhaps yesterday is today.