Long Tangibly Poems
Long Tangibly Poems. Below are the most popular long Tangibly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tangibly poems by poem length and keyword.
Love is alike a whisper among the deaf and a light among the blind. Many have claimed to understand it and many have claim to be apart of it but alike religion, they all seem to fall short of scripture.
Love unites us all is what they say according to the rational of those claiming to be within the grasps of these inauspicious schisms as they are coddled betwixt irony and self indulgence.
Your love is salvaged only by the reluctant anecdote of those accused and in favor of self-actualization.
Their love is not only a topic of mass hysteria brought forth by the fraudulent offspring of timeless arrogance but "love" is also a wedge between free will and the limitations prevailed by hatreds depth.
Love, is beyond the reckoning of dimensional rifts and broken spatial constructs contiguous by the darkness of man born antipathy.
This is the love you idolize and seek victory within.
This is the love you claim as a self redeeming gift.
This is the love you can only grasp tangibly and without rapport.
My love, wasn't
I am being haunted
By these words which I am about to share
They are coming to me nightly
In the still darkness of my sleep...
These words keep haunting me.
I try to rest...
I try to sleep...
They won't let me rest
They won't let me sleep
These words keep haunting me.
I don't know where these words
are coming from
They just won't let me be.
They just keep coming and coming and coming...
These words keep haunting me.
I try to escape these words
Banish them from my mind
But these words will not agree to that
They then show up a greater number of times
Sometimes twice or thrice during my night's sleep.
I just have to keep writing
Writing down all of these words
To get them to stop inhabiting my head
To leave alone my tired mind
I have to get these words to stop haunting me.
Once put down to paper
These words seem to leave me alone
Once someone can tangibly read them
It seems these ghosts have found a home
And then these words do stop haunting me.
(January 26, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Coruscating gravitas
imbibed algebraic
cerebral tranches
to spark
alacrity defiant
material manducation
deployed tangibly
phlegmatic
whilst
begetting manifest
miraculous meteoric
innovative impulses
when
penetrating bailiwicks
of tongue-contortion
cerebrum
eidetic retention
straddling juncture’s
poised gateway
as
baton weaving
catalyst triumphant
for
pumped ensemble
virtuoso visionaries
who
taproot trajectories
cocoon emerging
brainchild unfettered
obsessing
magazine mandarins
artistic
archetypal Monet
lavish lavender
lily pond
with
balsamic brushstrokes
galvanising
similar maven
budding Einsteins
blazing trails
of
original contrivance
boosting beneficial
health domain
of
wellspring weal
integrating impactful
slants
gearshift gargantuan
narcissistic nadir
repetitive
regurgitations rampant
abjured by
polymath prodigious
whose
appalachian peak
of antecedents
an avalanche
tintinnabulation
enunciated showpiece
heralds harvesting
gilt-edged prodigy
in fields
belletrist
nimble-fingered
experiential
(Pema, 2018)
OCD
Working on compiling and editing my latest project
even my dreams become an obsessive loop
of cutting and pasting words and images
mostly just the same few over and over
placeholder symbols for other symbols
that must have some meaning,
or at least the potential for it.
And I see how this in itself is a poem
suggestive of something intangible
yet clearly tangibly connected
to the root idea
the basic framework
the pattern of habitual ways and means
my life is built upon.
….The second night I do this (yep, it continues),
highlighting and clicking ‘return’ for titles
they become grand sweeping ecstatic dances
the characters of my dream
– all my gathered selves, including the pug -
execute without the need of external music
in foot deep powdery snow….
And I see how this adds an element
which the bare bones of a written or spoken poem lacks
yet implicitly holds;
the completion of a circle where the experiences of living
are blended in the crucible of thought and memory
to be embodied again in symbolic form
as Life continues in endless synthesis of everything
that has come before.
And I wake knowing the project is complete
the two sides, conscious and unconscious, fully interpenetrated
reaching a critical mass of creative excitement
a chain reaction of symbols
unleashed in and on and from imaginal space.
(December, 2018)
You, my son, are tall-grown now,
Yet, purity in you is seen, somehow;
You have pals many esteeming you,
Assuring to abide eternally near you;
You feel a vague shyness to face me,
Though, surely, you awfully love me;
I don’t feel hurt for your way, any way,
As I was once just the same way;
You’ve attained your sixteen today,
Your boyhood slowly fading away;
You’ll have, many revels of the same,
That should, surely, be your aim;
I’ve got your room well adorned;
To celebrate this day full-fledged;
Best of clothes, edibles, and cake,
All well-prepared for your sake;
Mom has surprises for you as well,
I know you’ll like them very well;
Though I’m not on the rich-men-list,
I know I can give you my very best;
Many are delightfully gift-packed,
Attractive too as they are purchased;
There is a no-packed unseen thing,
You may not tangibly see or feeling;
That’s the love from my heart, my son,
Hovering over all the gifts finely seen;
That tells you always I’m for you,
I’ve loved; and always will love you…
05 July 2021
A withered and separated flower lay squashed in bent stature.The wind silently erodes the remaining petals sequentially, with each pulse of the air.
A distant nightmare, tangibly manifested, the echoing warning from the past.
A trapped piece of newspaper married to a low-lying hedge branch, concealed from notice, dead from purpose.
An hourglass society, scuttling around in organized vice and engineered hypocrisy with time to dictate and money to distract.
A plague of opinions in this boundless possibility never reaching bedrock. A gash made upon the earth, a slow
puncture untreated in our hourglass existence we believe isn’t moving.
Gentle on My Mind
You play along the edges,
of every memory worth having.
You have been there since,
I care to look back.
I was stupid,
fearful,
distrustful,
and dangerous.
You… ever were patient,
kind, and slow to anger,
walking a measured gait.
Cowboy,
You speak in a voice,
that melts my heart.
but your real words,
more often are unvoiced,
but always felt,
tangibly… changing
the fixed temperament
left behind,
in the wake of users,
defilers of dreams.
You make me look up at the stars.
You make me find new paths…
You are a cold drink,
to my parched journey.
Now I no longer…
walk alone.
Suffering depression, desperate for help.
Found a book on meditation.
It provided useful guidance for one's proceeding.
Try to find a quiet time every afternoon.
Then sit in a chair, alone, in your very own room.
Light a candle, then place it safely on the floor.
Watch the flame for some time to help your concentration.
Then close your eyes and clear your mind of all possible distractions.
In 12 days, a feeling of drifting inward did occur.
Each succeeding day I traveled ever deeper,
moving in a tunnel, a tube with walls of cotton.
Up ahead, a brilliant light appeared.
Suddenly this lumen totally engulfed me,
a deep, eternal love so tangibly uplifting.
Then the notion, I'm out of place.
Go back! You don't belong here.
I quickly receded down the tunnel,
awakening in the chair in my room.
The lighted candle still burning.
Souls arrive on earth compelled to survive dramatic impacts.
Each child of spirit will eventually reach for reasons to be here.
Living finds the soul striving for intangible roots, tangibly real.
Foundations are sought to lead, gift and uplift one’s true self.
Fertile roses grow blind to the forces aligned on their behalf.
Unconscious insistence diminishes man’s resistance to its menu.
Layers of intuitive insight incites and invites us to a spiritual level.
Colors of otherness within us highlight discoveries of all authentic.
Revealing layers of our source may be sought and found in prayer.
Uniting with God grants exciting stances on His supporting plateau.
Mindfulness is the plume of God’s rhythm that rhymes our bloom.
viridescent wrench
adventitious
sparks prompt
yet
cloned camouflage
for psyche
rue’d quandary
withered wisps
nebulous
blind sweep
to bolster
plangent paean
of
helium hinged
extraneous
life sojourn
brazen folly
as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
engulfing
behemoth blemish
post sequence
encrypted kismet
punctual launchpad
to
wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive pluck
sun-dried spiccato
bouncing bow
on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
luxuriant
gazillion gust
oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
an
opulent cascade
ubiquitous umbra
bequeathing
lush serendipity
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
of
lilac lavishness
tangibly material
as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation