Long Surfing Poems
Long Surfing Poems. Below are the most popular long Surfing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Surfing poems by poem length and keyword.
Our beauty is hidden in our words!
Rumi (M. Mafi, trans.)
Our content in contentment
hides within commitment toward integrity.
Our beauty is hidden in our words
said only toward ourselves.
Barometers of mental health
for how we are and are not feeling
beautiful,
good,
fair,
balanced,
just,
harmonious,
confluent,
content,
graceful,
like good mentors without external hypocrisy,
and sometimes not such good mentors.
Mentors with words redolent of harmonic peace,
or maybe sometimes too much non-violent peace,
passive aggressive surfing, searching back and forth,
or even violently imagining unworded diverse futures
of yourself,
those around you,
generalized economic and sociopathological
and therapeutic
States and Species of thrive or demise,
and planet Earth,
and our Universe,
sometimes a metaphysically closing system,
sometimes more beautifully opening
although with considerable stress
tipping points,
trimming tabs and scissors,
adjusting balance, halves of ecologic,
within our internal voices of environ-mental health
as hope for cultural beauty.
Humaned nature adds economic
and cultural
and psychological freedom to evolve
kindness of mutual subsidiary intention,
an active love of peaceful mind.
Nature is only limited by absence
of regenerative orthopraxis,
caring and nurturing,
economically and politically powerful values
exercised within the classroom of each day.
Ecotherapeutic voices in our nights
and days of reconnecting consciousness
create our daily practice
of natural systemic design,
this song of synergy,
creative universal intelligence.
Cooperative kindness and competitive unkindness
are capacities coincident to all of nature,
a polar range from regeneration through decomposition,
from synergy through negentropy,
Kindness and love self-optimize as "Truths of Beauty"
when we freely choose sufficiency of contentment,
with full will and ecojustice intent.
My words surf my beauty and hope and synergy,
in and out,
back and forth,
listening for my listening gracefilling bicameral heart
and comprehensive consciousness,
discovering contentment within my content,
form within my information,
ecobalancing function within form,
fractal frequencies within bioregenerative
self-optimizing function.
Surfing echo frequencies,
Earth's words of microwaving grace.
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
There are visions roving inside my head
of a time and place where perhaps I once lived.
But how do I know of those worldly things
if I no longer exist? I must question if I ever did.
I am off kilter, as if I'm an invisible entity,
a salty speck of foam floating on a sapphire sea.
Should I feel dire despair, indifference, or jubilant joy
that I am not part of this place that's been laid to waste?
It's as if I'm surfing in shadows over what used to be
an amusement park, but the Ferris Wheel is broken,
and there's no spark of life anywhere to be found.
Only faded pamphlets lying on the ground, sun-bleached
remnants of the way life used to be, once upon a time.
I pity me for having been given this gloomy glimpse,
a vandalized view that no one could misconstrue.
I feel like Alice wandering through a frightening fantasy.
Desperately wanting to go back through the looking glass
and forget the devastation in which the world dwells.
If I ever had an inkling of what living in hell would be,
then in this chaotic clime, this dysfunctional dystopia,
I would seek to escape my existence and set myself free.
I feel the need for fresh air, but who would care
if I should have lived or died? No one cried tears for me.
What future fate have I discovered with thoughts
hovering? Tragic thoughts that haunt me like a cold stare.
What ill winds have swept the world away?
Cursed be!
How can anything exist is this sorrowful sepulcher?
I'd rather be a soulless specter without a home
then live among those in this lamenting land.
This is not Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.
It does no good to imagine a world without me.
Friendships made; children born; none of those would exist.
I can only envision these things. These things that I've given wing.
They roam inside my head, making me wonder if I had a beginning
or an end. I feel repercussions from having a discussion
with myself over the conceptual conundrum of my existence.
Would I have been happy, would I have made others happy,
or brought them grief like the thief who collects the dead?
It's a nightmare of reality, for I am sure it's not a daydream.
Greed played its Trump card and schemed to sit on the throne
in a kingdom I could never contentedly condone.
I've no desire to dally here a moment longer, and
since I don't exist, I am certain I will not be missed.
Quantities of time feel nothing.
Calculating, accumulating and subtracting,
days and weeks,
months and years and decades
roll past our eyes and ears
our growing and shrinking stomachs
to leave their strong and weak-grooved rings
of satiation and emaciation
I only feel and remember qualities of EarthTime
co-arising passions and co-gravitating pleasures
or dissonant dispassionate and painful reactions
of fear about time's future survivable qualities
anger about oppressive time's past conflicts
burning hot bright volcano hatreds
adrenaline flowing flashes
uncontrollable as suppressed bliss
only completely invested, immersed,
passionately engaged within a resiliently timeless
moment of deeply resonant quality
too seldom aware of Earth's intelligent co-present
co-passionate
co-binary sacred/organic fertility
of divinely humane grace
eternally synergetic dancing
through rationally measured quantities
of merely mortal metric times.
Sacred qualities of time's regenerate evolutions
long to feel everything belonging once again together,
beyond a foggy lapse of co-empathic solidarity
ReLigiously re-membering our golden era
co-relational peaceful qualities
richly feeding on Earth's matriarchal placentas
when all felt now-ly timeless
and originally right
feeling healthy
nurturing trusted truths
of loving kindness
feeling qualitatively good
and warm-full beauty filled.
Perhaps here lies our deeper measure
of time's healthiest meaning-full quality,
economically cooperative
and politically synergetic
and ecologically co-relational
EarthMother organically breeding
and sacredly feeding ecotherapy
Deep dancing
while surface surfing
through this timeless now
of polypathic potential win/win consciousness
Qualitative feelings positive through negative
emerging from and for and through and in and on and over each now
submerging into past speciating
branching co-passion's pleasure impressed re-memories
and dispassion's painful suppressed memories
Trees of old strong-rooted felt re-ligion
qualitatively comparing
contrasting
our original embryonic nurturing qualities
for richer eco-political sacred health
and less EarthMother dis-organic pathology
through this eternally regenerating now
quality of TaoTime's feeling peace-full
pronoia
win/win ego/eco-conscious co-passion.
As the gatekeeper of both time and space,
surfing the bardo that lies in between
aether and form, wherefrom radiates grace,
existence reveals its throbbing bliss sheen.
Singular Self has an urge to create
a domain where ascent follows descent,
that by piercing the veil, soul shapes its fate,
requiring simply, to grant love consent.
This choiceless choice to ingrain deep learning,
that emerging from the cocoon of bliss,
soul may ascend by willingly burning,
it opts to plunge into a dark abyss.
The stage is set for the soul to forget,
that love may grow, placing on love a bet.
That love may grow, placing on love a bet,
appears on first glance, there’s nothing to do
but memory erased, caught in fear’s net,
the soul finds it difficult to break through.
Mistaken that it’s merely body-mind,
soul’s awareness becomes externalised
and bemused by illusions, it is blind
and thus truth of Self is not realised.
Having itself set life into motion,
joy of union, pangs of separation,
silence alone ends thought flow commotion,
invoking Spirit for bliss gyration.
In timeless time, the bliss energised form,
swathed in gentle currents, both cool and warm.
Swathed in gentle currents, both cool and warm,
earth life interface, the ego, recedes,
transmuted finally by this love storm,
whereupon it follows and bliss throb leads.
Cessation by kenosis is the way,
softening attention, with touch gentle,
ego cravings no longer holding sway,
that soul effusing love transcendental.
Love being the pure divine elixir,
all opposites dissolve within its womb,
causing nodes within feeble form to stir,
bringing to life thus, a bliss catacomb.
Ego takes a backseat, heart is upbeat,
light dawns when polarities meet and greet.
Light dawns when polarities meet and greet,
melding in the cauldron of agape love,
wherein heeding love’s pure endearing tweet,
head and heart conjoin, acting hand in glove.
On soul seeing that it is living light,
it begins to employ mind of the heart,
feeling bliss pulsations by day and night,
deeming all souls as one and none apart.
Separation ends when egoic will bends
and all beings on earth, with love entwine,
each soul as God’s essence, slowly ascends,
all gathering under the oneness sign.
Self knows that there are no puzzles to lace,
as the gatekeeper of both time and space.
First of all I wish to share my personal experience about my career.
Actually I am working as an educator. After my training, I found a job in one of the reputed colleges. I started working in this industry because one of my aunts worked in this industry. In her point of view, this is a very good field for youngsters to do interesting and satisfying work. Sharing what we know to others is one of the satisfying and godly things we can do to our society. This is why I chose to apply for this.
Now let’s come to the topic. As we all know, 20-30 years ago, Education was based only on teachers, libraries and books. People used to sit for hours in the library looking for the books related to their assignment works or research paper. But nowadays, everything and everyone is connected through Internet. Now we can complete the same work within a minute by surfing through the websites.
One of the great writers, ‘Ernest Agyemang Yeboah’ said - “What shapes the best in us dies when the best education dies! The best in us shall always be undermined when those that are responsible for shaping the best in us are always undermined!”
Whatever may be the skills, surely those skills will help the child later in it’s life to achieve something great.
Here we list some of the important skills which every child needs to incorporate.
Build concentration and self-discipline
Keeping yourself focused on one thing is really important, especially for students. Children grow according to some common schedules, habits, and routines only when their parents teach them. This will also help them learn control and focus on one particular thing.
Communication
It is important to develop interaction and communication between the children in everyday life and exchange ideas to develop their healthy, social and emotional skills. They should understand what to communicate and share with others. Sometimes they will need their parent’s help regarding how to share it most effectively.
Include reading habits
As we all know, reading is the best way to connect with yourself and with the world out there. As they improve their reading habit, they will be aware of words, particular situations, emotions or stories.
d respond to them, and help to solve their questions or confusions.
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In a moment of magic I once gave her a juicy innocent peach
Not yet knowing that she harboured a sweet nascent dream
In which as a youngster she knew that she would marry the one
Who handed such a fleshy gift to the gypsy Queen of Fairy Land
Bestowed upon her by night’s prophesy she carried the vision of
Requited love and blissful peace brought by subconscious longing
And spiritual clarity of a Higher Power submerged in compassion
A passionate fruit with soft skin and one huge seed of togetherness
We eloped together into a new dawn
The doomsayers had a field day as they harvested bitter doubts
‘It will only last a couple of months and the peach will turn rotten’
‘You cannot feed on clairvoyant oracles and meek pagan beliefs’
‘They are deluded insane and caught up in misguided romance’
They called her a witch a seductress and labelled me irresponsible
With so much at stake painted pictures of broomsticks and failure
While we had found the jewel in a haystack without even searching
And set fire to the past as we danced naked around a fire of passion
We knew the truth of intuitive feeling
One can never be sure what lies at the end of paths never taken
Whether road blocks and diversions belittle emotions and faith
But they who ignore heavenly signs forfeit adventure and truth
Stay stuck in spent time and hail its dubious comfort at their peril
We travelled and found a small hut on the beach out of sight
Collected starfish and driftwood and caressed wounded souls
Carved wedding bands out of sea shells and called upon dolphins
To witness our marriage surfing along happily ever since then
A cormorant applauded the feast
Under a star studded canopy on the miraculous shore of belonging
We never strayed from what intuition and feelings offered for free
Meandered on the shoreline and set our sails into a magical ocean
Tasted the salt of a mindful earth and soothed our recovering minds
Never questioned the wisdom of our union shared by hungry souls
Treasure pleasure and joy weathered powerful storms and all tides
The cosmos donates all we ever need once we are willing to navigate
Waves and effervescence sparkling desire and in our case a peach
Leading the universal way
13th May 2020
My muse is a poetic flower garden,
blooming lilacs in barren meadows,
but I still remember
how I heeded haunting heartbeats
in paradise, whilst praying
for your lustrous light,
to descend onto my hazy horizons.
Your eyes like captivating sunsets,
made me dream away,
recalling shells lost in a forgotten
coral reef, castaway upon
an elusive island,
where the paths have no name,
but the oceanic breeze
calls yours so softly.
I was killing time,
scribbling elegies
on distant musical shores,
where spotted eagle rays
and flying fish were my only mentors.
Nocturnal reef sharks unfolded tales
beneath lonesome skies,
illustrating a secretive stairway
that would lead me
to the scintillating stars.
Deep within my heart,
I knew in the darkest
night you are the light
that would illuminate
my breathless sighs
with blazing ballads
rewriting my fate,
reawakening my
need to thrive through these
endless melancholic monsoons;
surfing through vast oceans.
Your cosmic radiance pulled
this chocolate mermaid,
from the bioluminescent
ripples of sorrow,
empathising with
endless streams from
my volcanic mind
and harmonious heart,
which was in dire
need of healing,
from draconian depleted
ideologies imprinted within
a labyrinth of
narcissistic daffodils,
emanating deceptive fragrances
resembling the devil's disciple,
claiming me as nothing,
but a mere self
confessed queen
on a conquest to conquer
the uncontrollable calling
to a land of virtual hypocrisy.
If only they knew
I no longer desired
to rule a kingdom of
tumultuous pretense.
I was waiting for the
return of the butterflies,
tearing apart the fragile
walls of its cocoon.
I knew if Romeo did not die,
I would be living Juliet's desires.
I was a poetess
searching for
a purpose, with no sense
to shelter, watching the
last icicle
of winter melt away.
Truth deserves a narrative
that has no ending,
though I question the universe.
Where do the
lost poets reside?
Is it where the
moon chooses to hide,
disguising dreariness
within dazzling blankets
of dancing moonscapes,
or will this be how
this sleepless soul
seizes its faultless lunar tide?
Oh my goodness!
I was just thinking about Erik Erikson,
psychoanalyst and essayist,
and his social analysis thing
about the U.S.
stuck in perpetual competitive
in-grown
culture-ungrown adolescence.
And Erikson suddenly reminded me of one of my dreams last night.
When The Donald
and a few black-suited security robots
visited AllSouls sanctuary.
I was singing in the choir
to the choir
as white-privileged usual.
But, when he slurped in
our ecofeminist minister
invited him to "Grow up!"
"Stop acting like a junior high
military school bully.
Let go of the golf clubs and take up surfing.
Have more fun
without passing your unpaid bill on
to already unhappy
un-privileged
depreciated ungreat over-populations.
Go back to private life.
Learn how to actively love
and healthily entertain
your own family
with Win/Win non-violent communication games
and organic garden planning
and integral Permaculture Design practices,
and cooperative ownership,
and compassionate self-management.
Try appreciating (not depreciating)
some health/wealth organic farming property."
"Go back to school
and learn some basic Win/Win community health-organizing techniques
for non-violent resilient communicating
with what you say
and what you listen to
and what you do
and what you choose not to do
still matters to EarthTribe's future healthy outcomes."
"Stop pretending to be a Win/Lose adolescent
still trying to remember your Win/Win hopes and dreams
when you were just out of your EarthMother
gasping for your first in and out rebalancing breath."
"I am not your disappointing mother!
We are not your emotionally neglectful and inaccessible parents.
Stop punishing us
for not worshiping the ground
your Win/Lose ZeroSum soul walks on."
"Do something that might make us want to worship the ground
we walk on compassionately together."
Then the security robots started snickering
right there in our Green AllSouls Sanctuary.
And then Donald did too
as he turned around to actually blush
(who knew!)
and a bit less slurpily exit,
just like a teenager
slouching out
almost the way he came in,
Except smiling through his blushing Win/Lose eyes
not just his Loseconomic/Losecologic
health-depreciating
critical-noneventful fake-smile mouth.
" Tortured metaphors
spilling from tequila lips,
t i p t o e on my pulse ~
breaking in an arced smile
of the featherless eclipse,
where I waltz as a secluded steel-shine,
sobered s o f t l y
by the taste of satanic stars..."
I'm the loss of a leaf
from gold-dew aspens,
rippling upon
turquoise typewriters,
where drunk fingertips dance.
Turning to ashes,
my heart m e l t s
as a metallic grenade,
and no philosopher's stone
ever reverberating
in its silver-winged silence.
Seeking shelter from smoldering seas,
I curl up in the womb of a guardian willow ~
she's a weeping angel of n e v e r l a n d,
with an ornamented garland
of guns and roses,
enveloping me in the corpse of sunset.
Plunging from diamond cobwebs
into isles of champagne,
like a dynamite dove bloodthirsty for sun,
I l u r k along reefs
studded with rhinestones, unfurling –
lotus manuscripts
as poetic pearls s l i p and t w i r l,
snorkeling in an obsidian oasis.
I miss being
a purple-whisper prophecy,
threaded in fractured letters,
for now, my ink b l e e d s
in the marrow of moon,
where an alchemy is lost and found...
In the chronicles of carnelian clemency
and supernova sorcery,
I've seen arctic assonances
hibernating
in the throats of those,
holding lethal jewels
as a nightingale's neon noose.
So, if my soul is an opal widow
of your thistle-light affection,
a verse romanticised
will be my crystal coffin,
and in the caricatures
of kohl and karma,
our silent soliloquy
shall delicately be shifted.
Surfing in the splitting s i n s
of a salty saviour,
this whiskey damsel
shall evermore remain
a scentless phrase,
scrapped by pencilled brush-strokes,
i n v i s i b l e
in our paper-cut destiny...