Long Thrashing Poems
Long Thrashing Poems. Below are the most popular long Thrashing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thrashing poems by poem length and keyword.
I hope we can help ourselves
and each other
become quieter,
more leisurely,
generous,
grateful,
graceful dancers of sound
rhythm
pattern
voices of color
to see and hear these quieter vibrations
of wildness.
Wildness
wilderness
relatively untouched forests of mountains
and oceans,
rivers
lakes
ponds
swamps of wildness
for quiet forms of song and Earth dance.
Dance
moving to louder voices of climate pathology
and landscape erosion
decomposition of home and safety,
but also quieter dance
of witness
stalking visual prey
we would not violate with unwanted harming touch,
turning and swirling whorls of joy
quiet
yet also loud tornadoes
hurricanes
tsunamis whirling wildly loud.
Loud dance thrashing
climates of disarray
for smaller subclimates within
remaining wildness of species memory.
Memory of meadow walks
and naked tree climbing
swinging dances with polyphonic gendered nature
nurturing quieter wilderness
teaching slowing leisurely dance
through each day
returning to healthy full moon wealth
of wildness,
ecodancing movement to sound
and pause for silent graced lines
of sight.
Sights of quieter fragrance
and pungent distant fear
remembering mountain
ocean
water and air
fire and Earth's Wildness
dancing loud pathologies
of Her majesty and awful wonder
reminding me and us
to respect our wise gratitude
for quieter voices and movements of nature
teaching grace as gratitude
for wilderness within
as wisely without you and I.
I hope I can help
grow quieter listeners
of wildness songs sung together
with dancing graceful pause,
wish for wilderness witnessing partners,
mutually stalking copresence
within Earth's cooperative quiet majesty,
ecodancing drums
too anthro-discentering loud,
yet sometimes refreshingly polypathic quieter journeys
dancing softly hummed,
paused within echoing forests
of bounding binding wonder.
Divided under the cities
streams mapping decisive
endings while toiling about
the beginning boldness
reaching for braising
characters galloping
amidst a certain angst
we’ve devoured nothingness
and opened the sky
with truth thrashing
tempers meaningful tools
craving an emptiness
above the continuous
Bayshore a quiet offering
pelicans landings sinking
yet surrounding the
jaded light house that
withered to soon exposing
only the dim lantern leaning
to one side still brightening
the rippling waves
Written by Yolanda Nicholsen
April 7th 2014
getting injections
for traumatic brain injury
I am flowered in the shade of bird wings
neath patch of deep sadness absent of clouds
beholden to loosen memories mist filtered
cell charged energies their liberal release
bars that separate the spirited guardians
of fortitude held till dawn gilded rays shone
on the levy's shoreline thrashing waves
tethering the oceanic breezes crowning the
curling tops of surf swirling foams that
champion a sandy blackened shorelines
surging and receding in merciful coiling
of rejuvenating wetness where beached
life shoots to recapture folds of a fragile
domain as the briny seawater air loops
loosely stretch o'er the isles beckoning
the suds of waves and coconut thuds fall.
Horizon beyond perception conjoining contour of sea with sky.
Simmering setting Sun scattering squashy rays on sea,
flashing golden glow on cerulean sky to blush,
pasting soft crimson patches in zest with brush of zephyr.
Glistening spangles on rolling waves thrashing on shore.
Tranquil twilight dwindling turning pale periwinkle.
Weary albatross to fly towards nest for rest in slow moving dusk
Whimsy torn clouds worn in droplets welcome eve on dusty mask.
Stars still dithering to twinkle delaying dark.
Serene Sun sinking in sea bidding bye to sky
Supreme sublime soul slipping settling in ethereal ecstasy.
04/24/20
Second Place
'Slipping soul Sunsets in the Sea' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke
The things I feel, I struggle to express.
The frustration that grows within me as if I was thrashing in the water trying to gain air. I just can't breach the surface. I can't reach but I keep fighting.
It's like I'm wrapped in heavy wet blankets and my arms and legs are tied together. The more I struggle the worse it gets til my whole body is exhausted and the fatigue makes my body weak and tremble.
I look at others and their fake life and how they put on Aires and act like everything is wonderful and great, and I wish more than anything I could be like them. That I could just act like or maybe even really feel like nothing was or is wrong.
This heart of mine has never been cared for or taken care of, It's been beat bruised and broken over and over and used. Yet I stay the way I am. And beg for love like a dog begging for table scraps. Just hoping for attention and love I'm a good boy.
Looking every where for acceptance and care. Only finding lies and distrust. Blame and non accountability for others own actions.
Never will I feel safe or truly cared for.
Heard a quote said we don't get mad at kids for being scared of the dark but then we surprised by men that are scared of the light. None of my hurt my pain or scars came from a monster in the dark, every single one came from the people I knew, loved and cared for.
so the monster aren't ugly dark hiding gross things. They are and forever will always be the smiling faces that speak as a friend and confidant. The real monsters hide in the ones closest to you. Smiling faces turn to evil whispers and speak your name to drag you down to their level. They smile and even say they love you but then turn around and giggle and laugh and talk behind your back. Just sharpening the blades they will use to slowly cut at you as they watch the red slowly leaks out and drips onto their shoes and then get mad at you for bleeding on them.
Prince Harry bared his bottom
So that all the world could see;
He didn’t seem embarrassed
By his lack of modesty.
Cavorting in a Vegas suite,
This soldier, on a leave,
Allowed himself the freedom
That Prince Charles could not believe.
So, summoned to the royal digs,
Did Harry get a thrashing?
If so, his dad’s a hypocrite,
With follies worth rehashing.
For I remember Charles confessing,
On the phone, with amp on,
That his desire was to be
His dear Camilla’s tampon.
He didn’t know the phone was tapped
And clueless, too, was Harry;
Such antics merely feed the press
With royal commentary.
Before we blame the wayward prince
For stripping on his spree,
We should acknowledge apples
Falling not far from their tree.
For Job…
Feeling like loss
Was simply a part of him,
His very nature, existence, being
Dependent on the whims of One
Far greater than he could appreciate,
So great, in fact, that no one
Not him, not me….
Could describe this wonder, the wonderful
The serenity or sincerity, the soothing
That trembles in the distance where there is
The Light, silencing the darkness, breaking
Through every doubt – destroying every fear
Wiping away the trembling tears, stirring
Breathless memories of all that is pure,
All the joy and peace, the winds of grace
Feeling like loss
Would never leave his presence,
Never let him be – without injury,
Without the thrashing sounds…
Slaughtering peace and gentleness,
Erasing the promise of serenity
Could there ever be light
In the darkness of such black night?
Could the One who created him
Ever find a way for him to know victory?
Could this be the end for him…
Who had always prayed for His blessings,
His forever peace, mercy and grace…
The chance to be filled with true faith?
Feeling like he would forever bring…
Shadows to the dreams, blackness to the light,
Dejection to the hope and depression to the belief
Feeling like he would always be the one
To know the reverse midas touch, the dreadful
Knowing that anything he touched would soon
Turn to dust, darkness and despair – left him silent
On the edge of each prayer, erased by the fate…
That seemed to him a curse,
an affliction from hell
This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
December 23, 2022
“ Vast Boundless Ocean is always Great Grand Gorgeous Glamorous Glorious Gracious
overwhelming and charming humans piercing solemn sublime soul. “….Poet
My reverence to Indian Ocean,
as proud to born in India.
Have feeling : Indian Ocean is ours.
Brilliant bright charming cheerful.
Endless energy in free foamy flow.
Gracious glamorous, dynamic thrust.
Gorgeous mysterious vigorous.
Sometimes quiet, sometimes restless roaring
Sometimes turbulent in turmoil
Unique lovely loud in thrill, yet lonely.
Wonderful youthful in zeal.
Inspirational glorious joyous.
Boundless ocean kissing sky at horizon.
Wide vast wonderful inspirational.
Aqua in opulence marvels us.
Vibrant violent waves thrashing on sea shore.
Sandy sea beach holding clams, crawling crabs,
mollusks, lots of scalps, and alive sea creatures,
whelming exciting visitors.
Dreams and nightmares come and go
I've found something you ought to know
These night terrors can cause distress
Reading below could rid this mess
If you wake due to thrashing around
Tiredness and lethargy will be found
You can control your mind in sleep
Don't worry now , this isn't too deep
Management of subconscious mind
The answer to this I hope you find
Dreams are like a washing machine
When it's working , life is serene
When the machine breaks and overspills
Nightmares play and mayhem shrills
We need to fix this and stop it fast
Or decent sleep is a thing of the past
Common in trauma nightmares are
Disressing thoughts from lands afar
You're not alone this is for sure
Hopefully I can give you the cure
Don't try to analyse whats making you wake
It's only a nightmare for goodness sake
Too you I know its causes alarm
I'm just saying, it can't cause you any harm
It doesn't have to be logical or real
Along as you sleep that's the appeal
Keep this ending on an imaginary shelf
As you sleep it will assist in your health
When you wake If you can remember it
Think of an ending that will benefit
The ending can be anything you like
The nightmare will get on its bike
If this ending does not work
Whatever you do, don't go berserk
Try it again on the next night
Eventually you'll sleep without fright
If you don't remember when you wake
All is not lost use your feelings intake
You wake with fear and sweating hard
Change ending to a picturesque postcard
Keep practicing this changing technique
Then the nightmares will become weak
Persevere and see the light
All I can now, say is "SLEEP TIGHT, GOODNIGHT"
Oceans' august waves, born when time began,
peaceful, serene as they whisper to land.
Caressing sand, a gift of starfish shells,
their music heard, a concerto of swells.
Stormy, jet black seascapes, blustery nights;
Ships and storms eclipsing in epic fights.
Neptune roused to lead his bold, thrashing tide,
lives on the line, nightmares riding astride.
Oceans' ebb and flow present in our lives.
Emotions spill like angry, disturbed hives.
When skies meditate with warm, gentled sun,
passions are softened, Ocean's songs are sung.
September 23, 2021
Constance La France
"O" CONTEST, NEW POEMS
FIRST PLACE, September 24, 2021