Long Synchronous Poems
Long Synchronous Poems. Below are the most popular long Synchronous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Synchronous poems by poem length and keyword.
Deepening Dusk
by Odin Roark
How might this relentless approach of final darkness
present its final moments before curtain?
The acts have been rewarding,
even as the protagonist and antagonist
missed some cues,
made a few false entrances,
and at times confused the audience
of only me.
Thankfully…
My catwalk view
where having long ago embraced
Gordon Craig’s Uber-Marionette concept,
his self-aware-life-enactment
being simultaneously puppet and puppeteer,
prepared me well for the Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations:
“All of us are creatures of a day;
the rememberer and the remembered alike.
The time is at hand when you will have forgotten everything,
And the time is at hand when all will have forgotten you.”
Such is the synchronous epiphany
with a drama’s final curtain
allowing a moment’s pause
before one’s inner-house lights
illumine yet another transition,
from “what if” to “what is” to “what might be”.
Hopefully the staging of one’s mirrored life
becomes companionable for the journey back home,
that place in one’s mind
where comforts remain tenuous
by often reluctant acceptance,
when overcoming challenges
is beyond one’s ability.
Yet…
To prepare for the final unpredictable,
when one’s deepening dusk
no longer finds the stage lit,
when illusion and delusion applaud together
the finished performance of one’s choices,
one’s experiences delineated into one’s
inner-monologue of truth.
“Pass, then, through this little space of time
in harmony with nature and end thy journey in contentment,
just as an olive falls off when it is ripe,
blessing nature who produced it,
and thanking the tree on which it grew.”
Marcus Aurelius
A wizened little old man hunkered over his bench.
Gnarled hands wielded screwdriver, hammer and wrench.
Hung on the walls of his shop, all types of clocks were arrayed.
He'd been a clock maker for decades - he was master of his trade.
His quaint little shop was set in the Black Forest of Bavaria.
For his horology craft he was renowned in all the area.
Always smoking a pipe, the smoke forming a wreath about his head;
On his cluttered workbench, springs, gears and wheels were spread!
He could repair any old clock in a trice,
And have it back up and running for a reasonable price.
He could make you a fine clock from oak or cherry wood,
That would make you the envy of the neighborhood!
He adjusted pendulums to ensure a synchronous tick and tock.
Grandfather, cuckoo and mantel clocks he made from stock.
He took pride in his guild and his clocks are antiques today,
And in antique stores and museums, you'll find them on display.
To make his clocks he used no fancy lathes or tools,
Nor did he learn his craft in one of those elitist schools.
He dear old Father taught him everything he knew,
Telling him, "Son, be accurate and "timely" in all you do!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Dice in Outer Space
A dice occupied a part of space o'er three weeks ago,
I saw it reside without rockiness, roll or drift to weigh,
Only debris floating in the hollowed terrific atmosphere,
Could steal that cubic regality of it’s dignity in cruel slay.
But it did not! Or when present, it did not in blissful glee,
For in that sharp moment a splendid skiff fell from above -
I saw the dice in all its semiotics of multifaceted identity,
Embellish yet echo the presumed emptiness of the glove.
Beside me greeted stars, moon, whetted Mars, quasars,
But the giant in sweet surprise moved and claimed a grin;
Its semantics hit in semiotic spread binomially distributed,
All in me found a meaning amid that societal shriek din.
Random but creating the rational: humans, animals, plants,
One roll of the silent, saline dice rained waterfalls in power;
A slight of hand tilted destiny’s child peeking and glimpsing,
For the swift air to cuddle its sheerly innocent bent tower.
Somatic development bloomed a phenotype in rich display,
Social evolution scooped that prize secured before a trace,
Vocalising tribal calls cut the beholder’s hope to denounce,
Their drive for the female dressed in ovum for sperm case.
But this family - me, you, cherish still moments of freedom,
When ecstasy rolls the waterfalls of two bodies harmonising,
Into one synchronous whole pounding with the life-pulse bold,
Transforming individuality to join with the mesh globalising.
The die, cradling the social with quickening consistent tie,
Files economic highs for tomorrow’s feed, pleading to know,
The happiness of the CEO reigning down joyous bonuses,
Enabling restaurants to serve sumptuous cuisine aglow.
And to medicine wherein the random nests, hiding its kin,
Academia and pharmaceuticals search spare but by step:
Postured algorithms fibre the genetic code, the cell division,
Discovering blazing makeup to aperture the random footstep.
Walk in woods enriching and serene
Draws gratitude quieting garrulous mind
Tranquil forests of breathtaking peaks
Whisper softly building profound links
Soaring trees of Oaks, Conifers and Ponderosa Pines
Form deep rooted networks in robust mountain brims
Sweet bonding and affection of charming mallard pair
Teaches true admiration and persistent care
Meandering streams of small dazzling cascades
Hum cheery tunes flowing through rocky beds
Fallen scattered countless pine needles
Form soft, cushioned carpet for elated ramblers
Cool breezes of fresh whistling wind
Blow newness carrying soothing feeling
Tumbled trees and twigs of many kinds
Show synchronous blending of death and life
Piles of shrunken crinkly dropped leaves
Feed trees and shrubs nourishing meals
Tapping of Acorn woodpecker on oak tree
Breaks silence showing power of tenacity
Dancing butterflies in wild flower fields
Propagate growth of new survives
Playful dog’s innocent, bouncy frisks
Bring harmony to body, soul and mind
In mysteries of mountains, woods, and water
Mind gets lost and soul is awaken
Enchanting landscape of loving Mother Earth
Breeds profound grace showing interdependent world…
Home is where . . .
The heart and reason mould into one and the same mirror of harmony
. . . the Golden Mean and centre of gravity as long as life’s turns spin around
. . . where dents in the mind do not mind but care kindly about gaping gaps
. . . when time juggles dis-synchronous consolation in the face of chaos
Memories and anticipation caress the wayward traveller into the harbour
. . . the ancient light house guides pirates of doom into tender submission
. . . where hidden treasures are felt beneath a dented compass’ rusty needle
. . . when jubilation overwhelms caved in darkness at the point of confusion
Vision and hindsight blend ambiguity and opposites of fragile consonance
. . . the myopic lenses lead the way from afar towards what can be touched
. . . where shattered glass causes new puzzles and chards for luminous mosaics
. . . when an empty canvas is shredded but gives way to a collage of dreams
Deafness and laughter combine to a symphony of understandable voices
. . . the auricles are pierced and adorned with truths and rings of delight
. . . where an ear for an ear is not an empty promise but sharing the way
. . . when the few want to listen to an old man’s attempt of feeble wisdom
Bones creak on the spiral staircase and master the voyage downwards and up
. . . the attic hold enough trinkets and memorabilia for a flea market or two
. . . where moths in the cellar feed happily in symbiosis with trodden dust
. . . when paradise is being in love and sharing glow worms and outlooks
Home is when the Self is good enough and life’s companion is gratitude
A Golden Mean happy to eat from enamel plates one spoon and a tin whistle
Light shines through cataracts of wild water and cascades of living surprise
Nostalgia is a way forward on the path one step at a future step in the making
Shades of eye sight observe perceive reflect condense highlighting the soul
A child’s whisper registers more deeply than cacophony of ubiquitous hatred
And the bones of one’s hands can still read a book and write the odd poem . . .
17th April 2019
The sea of boundless Oneness
Cognised by ascending consciousness
Transitioning to pure awareness
We are as such in stark aloneness
Within deep meditational stillness
Our form blending with our formlessness
The beginning is non thought presence
In humble innocence
With no memory linked remembrance
Our innate magnetisation
Divine harmonious vibration
Is our intuitive orientation
The third eye active
Funnels energy to the crown receptive
Dispersing the flow into space enigmatic
Our consciousness pauses momentarily
Has to choicelessly choose here voluntarily
To dissolve in the stream unhesitatingly
A soft pinkish white light does shine
From a multi-petaled lotus divine
Partly shielded by violet clouds as a sign
We are then in the sea of formless oneness
Vibrant, aglow, complete be-ness
Consciousness is now pure indivisible awareness
We are absolute awareness all encompassing
Within & without form, linear time vanishing
Separateness dissolved, singularity resonating
We are here in the ocean of bliss
Where nothing is amiss
We know that WE ARE IT & IT IS THIS
By choiceless choice we descend into matter gross
All nodes, chakras within in a dance synchronous
With pure awareness replacing delusion anomalous
05-November-2020
Flashback to 17-December-2018
Soundscape Strata
Did Bach know to what end
his harvest of melodies-in-parallel would become?
Scholars agonize
Was creation of counterpoint
musical destiny
a hybrid fruit of beauty
knowing no boundary
bewildering those of first look
given musical staffs
voicings and manuscripts
always conformed to traditional confinement?
What spurred his palette of sound
to become one with the elusive rainbow
providing independence through marriage of numbers
allowing prolonged courtship
sanctioning destinies to verge
converge
separate
return to coalesce?
And so
From guitar
to clavichord
string quartets
to symphonies
counterpart airs were discovered
became melodious architecture
challenging new musical frontiers
voiding tundra's boundary rules
reducing history's brass survey monuments
to mere reflections of past memory
Popularization of Bach's invention
soared beyond the artistic elite
for in '55 "Picnic" graced movie screens
initiating the unsuspecting
elevating emotion with layered melodies
Moonglow playing under the love theme
Bach's kaleidascope of synchronous colors
reached the century's romantics
keyed into a music major
minored ala Brubeck
scat-a-tized via Ella and Mel
and
made unity of opposites a given
Thus
From Bach's synthesis of two dimensions
musical ironies evolved
influencing writers' language
line upon line
stanza to stanza
chapter to chapter
making magical
the double entendre
metaphor
subtext
contrapuntal imaginings
all translated into
infinite language-in-progress
With applause knowing nowhere to go
except to acknowledge the roots of prodigy
a high five to the man
who pioneered so much of our soundscape
taught us all the numbers of romance
ironically created attraction to opposites
arpeggios with many colors
intimacy amidst chaos
Encore Mr. Bach
Encore
Owen is Welsh as he comes from Rhuddian,
Lives there but trains in Stoke Mandeville,
In Buckinghamshire, the Aylesbury stadium:
He was born on 30 November 1975, will.
In December 2012 after the Paras, London,
He went to a ParalympicsGB Sports Fest,
Where he discovered that his fiery ambition,
Was shooting, so joined a club in a quest.
He’s competed an many IPC World Cups,
His best finish is 5th spot, a fine placement,
Which happened at Fort Benning, run-ups,
An army training base in the USA cogent.
Through this qualified for Rio’s Games,
And enjoys photography, wood carving,
Quad biking, badminton and he names,
Archery, it’s synchronous with shooting.
Written: December 29, 2023
___________________________________________
Mahogany motionless shadows
cast by deceitful sun,
a caterwaul unravels,
coeval betrayal
voice beckons glimpses
—of anguish
within the heart loci,
once pure and corpulent,
now rapt by crestfallen darkness,
bereavement blight.
synchronous with aquifers
Interfluve ferri-crete...
desultory.
A love so tender,
akin to a fragile bloom,
now withered and wilted,
lost in the gloom,
a vow is broken
trust shattered in shards
of diaphanous slogans
leaving behind, disconsolate
heartbreak—real misery abounds.
In magenta shadows
cast by a deceitful sun,
whispers of deceit,
waltzed in the wind,
saffron sun rays
masked the spuriousness
in perfidy of truth,
as a venomous snake—slither
exposing whopper &
taradiddle
causing hearts to wither
In depths of darkness,
truth did reside,
unveiling deceit,
where love once thrived,
a web of lies spun
entangling hearts
in a web of
perfidiousness
deviousness
guilefulness
& flimflam
how the heart weeps,
its innocence lost,
It once held love's warmth
betrayal wound is effusive.
A turbulent ocean
of bereavement
overwhelms this heart
eviscerate...
& in egregious pain
no relief in sight
only an aching hole
despite sorrow
mercilessly embraces
a glimpse
of grace and hope,
yet, darkness...
holds strength
empyreal resilience.
Swing by my season, where rosy colors bloom
Dreary storms have left dissipating the gloom
Spring made its debut charming every reason
Where rosy colors bloom, swing by my season
Admire cosmic view when the sky is still blue
Peek deep into horizon where soft winds blew
Looking for a clue searching kaleidoscopic hue
When the sky is still blue, admire cosmic view
Flow with the ocean when winds ride the tide
Floating on horizon where the Swallows glide
Rotating with the earth's synchronous motion
When winds ride the tide, flow with the ocean
Smiling regally you arrive, hearing fervor speak
Leaving behind sad memories aching to peek
Caressing emotions granting love a test drive
Hearing fervor speak, smiling regally you arrive
April 27, 2018