Long Teleport Poems
Long Teleport Poems. Below are the most popular long Teleport by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Teleport poems by poem length and keyword.
Soupgenie from ongie planet, nice soul aids poetrysoup
He and his team can teleport in seconds with swoop
Helping soup member's is their task
Just think of them, they'll come, just ask
Soupgenies go to every contest winner and inform him
They greet premier contest winner by giving a bouquet to him
Now no need to write your wishes and hugs
They will teleport you to meet, talk and hug,
Whenever a soup member is in need
Others can help, do a noble deed
Whenever someone is in grief
Others can go, provide relief
Soup family members meet, hold parties and have fun
Soupgenies are helpful, everyone's heart they have won
Date: 12/26/2020
Words : 112
I loved to draw stick figures and also,
Nightmares eating up the page, and
Disintegrating emotions, and also
A willingness.
Dancing is one of those disgraceful emotions.
I eat it like sandpaper.
With no ending, grasping.
There is a presence, calculating.
He is like a phone call, all haunting and hovering.
And like a shower, it disrupts my power lines.
I have to escape, like wires, alive.
I tried again and accumulated more gold in me.
When I lost my mind, it wasn’t just blades.
It was cold-waiting, and electricity in my teeth.
Nothing of the phone made sense to me.
Because it’s all stick figures on the other side of nothing.
When I lost my mind, it was midnight.
And more, pouring, sensations, non-sensations,
Just caressing like a snowy figure.
When it was midnight, I was really supposed to sleep!
Which is the most important thing: sleep, sleepiness,
The jungle, the tundra.
Other places where I could teleport to.
And still, no sleep.
Galacticly heavenly, imagine Jupiter, kryptonite lunar moons
Sliding between celestial blue and dark moody skies
Wherein lived a Dragon who incredibly, loved snow
Fell in love with a fairy, millenniums ago!
Began courting daring Evelyn fairy gorgeous,
She was, declared his love thunderously, universe knew,
Of his eternal love for this immortal being,
Who toyed with snowflakes, flirting, but never ageing.
Stupendously, Translucently, universally, vigilantly, willingly,
Love zoomed towards a forlorn dragon and fairy,
How and where would they find constant snow,
Obvious, teleport to Antarctica did this damsel and beau.
Entering Competition : Alpha Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
02/08/2021
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
It has been there for ages,
perhaps older than anybody alive.
Radiating dignified peace, it stands
enveloping everything under it in a cocoon
of soothing shade. A patient listener whom I
consider my companion. On lazy noon, I'd weave
uncharted territories on paper to bury in parched trunk.
With numerous thoughts I couldn't share with others,
I had bubbles of exuberant stories to be narrated. It
swayed lush green branches and dropped a few leaves in
appreciation. A young thinker humming to serene tunes
of cooing wind on starry nights would teleport me to
a sphere of leaves sparkling with coloured dreams.
Over the years, the pile of buried pages from my
memories, fears, experiences, years simmered
into the roots of that old tree. It stayed
patient witnessing my journey, shedding
agony with withered leaves in autumn,
buried under layers of winter snow,
reborn every spring.
From crumbles of
my old struggles,
figments of my
journey, drops
of patience
nurtured it
to my essence.
The tree now
lives as my
legend, hope
rising from
legacy of
showers
that drench spirit
in soaring ecstasy. The
leaves fly afar, spreading
through blue rivulets, blooming
orchards and sing of a lonely tree
that grew in a barren land with courage,
turning struggles into elixir for leaves,
a newfound freedom for memories to live on.
August 30, 2020
All The Little Pieces Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
In the still of the night,
I become intoxicated with the moon's soft light,
the view of Roxy Anne, City Lights.
Whispers of the wind caress my lampogen,
I let her back into my skin.
as I let my thoughts unravel, within I am drunk in;
each breath
Petraglyphs a dance, each sigh a song prepping for romance.
In this moment, I truly belong
where Time stands still, in this tranquil space,
my cup I fill-
as I lose myself in her gentle embrace,
distilled amoress.
Life draws me onto her milky page
as the night slowly slips away,
I carry this feeling into the light of day.
For in the fill of the night,
I find my soul laying upon her canvas spotlight,
may she never dry up or fade,
or cease being my muse-ment park and
sight seeing eighties and nineties Valley Girl babe. Perhaps she can romantically teleport us back to lovers/memory lane.
Were forgotten until Harry Potter came on the
Scene. Let me tell you his world rocks.
They have an excellent school, fantastic
Magical beasts, time turner travel, magical
Wands, house elves, extraordinary clocks,
Wear regular clothes under their robes,
As they travel the globe,
In huge ships that travel under the seas, in the
Air being pulled by beautiful winged horses,
A hippogriff, or on a broom
With plenty of elbow room.
They receive magical exploding and talking
Envelopes
As they travel the globe.
They use ordinary things for teleport keys
With no fees.
These people live in magnificent abodes
As they travel the globe.
Mystical mist, mythical bliss, lucid liquid luster.
Subatomic cluster, episodic quantum structure.
Nonlocal consciousness independent of
our renderings in the space-time continuum,
in our speed-of-light, four-dimensional conundrum.
Every transcendental transfiguration transforms,
every preternatural permutation performs,
every episodic state of matter conforms.
Pebbles conceive and receive because they perceive.
Forests rest still and quiet because they intuit.
Waking, dreaming, deep sleep, and pure consciousness
are the four conscious states recorded in the Upanishads.
Waking awareness moves the photons of existence.
The observer effect is created by intention.
Omnipresent sentience breathes free of biology.
Within our telepathic telestic teleport we find
the mindful immersive virtual augmented macrocosm,
the beatific rapturous dynamism, the natural algorithm
animating all things. Monistic awareness composes
the particles of matter and light in panpsychist insight.
Anxiety, hate, confusion and suffering are squalls
of clutter in the body, energy and intellect.
Turbulence has no home in the conscious Pacific.
Individual minds are waves in the vast tide.
Carved in timeless rock are conceptual bridges,
Lotus flowers of Anahata, the fourth primary chakra,
Primordial, untainted perfection, heart-centered, and
cosmic sound, free from karmic physical wounds,
free from craving defilements to attain the luminous mind.
Free to sacrifice all, for Buddhahood in each sentient being.
Free to offer great love, compassion, and empathetic joy.
And how similar is such a bodhisattva
to a Christian Savior and a God?
ARTISTIC RHYTHM OF LIFE
Days painted in lavender,
dancing to the rhythm of life,
the staged sphere is my canvas,
the feet is the double-egded pen
as steps rave in blurred tones,
see the moon-walk in my sunset
like MJ sliding on to stardom
gliding with each stroke.
Dancing to the rhythm of life,
shoes tangle around different angle,
breakdancing to break forlonity & my gloom
falsified by the brightness of light joy brings,
Table turns as the fire in me burns
and inspire in me a lyric;
Arts, music, dance...my cave and clinic.
Therein lies a universe of joy & power,
a kingdom that surpasses imaginations.
Dancing to the rhythm of life,
though challenges welcome you in,
but in victory you exit through doors:
We enter as humans but left as gods.
Dance as the edge of brush glides through canvas,
tirelessly moving in rhythmic spirals.
Though your labour may endure for the night,
your joy will come in the morning
and brings fearless living not careless dealing.
Dancing to the rhythm of life,
sharing love and not telling-off,
dance like lillies in the woods;
visions will come, inspiration beckons...
Powers expand & comes understanding
to teleport from battles to the throne of heaven,
where Judah Himself fights for you
then you become a mere spectator
in your own earthen Battles.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © July, 2020.
On Christmas eve
high up in the sky
on a secret mission
they do fly
they do come
from that special star
here to earth
the teddy bears
in starships sleek
cloaked from sight
with very high tech
their job they do
they travel so fast
to visit every home
where boys and girls
wait for Christmas time
their agents do live
in every home
see everything
and hear every word
on Christmas Eve
they teleport up
give their report
and get the gifts
then back down they go
into every home
with all the presents
to go under the tree
then back they sneak
to where they stay
to watch us all
till next Christmas time
Open now your mindful murmured undertones,
Your whispered washing watery whisking words,
Your sensitive sensory sensual sentient moonstones,
Your rippling roving river rapid songbirds.
Open now your stargaze spectral drifting dreams,
Your view of the darkest soundless vacuum space,
Your fleeting teleport outside of space-time streams,
Your clearest atoms, the first angels with no trace.
Open now your earliest breaths from the start,
Your trajectory then across the heaven’s girth,
Your recorded path shapes and sizes your heart,
Your sublunary gushing leaves behind your dearth.
You’re unsure what lurks beyond this flash of seeing.
Karmic lessons might await you for your next being.