Long Throttling Poems
Long Throttling Poems. Below are the most popular long Throttling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Throttling poems by poem length and keyword.
finding ourselves here
awareness self-aware
ensouling form feeble
sensory touch external
our lower mind stirring
found ego urges rising
oft against conscience
throttling our innocence
reinforcing this torture
veiling love hues subtler
until we became dead
going where desires led
in cyclic joy and sorrow
fearful of the morrow
anchored in narrowness
living in stuporousness
over time we did realise
that love never does size
playful non-judgmental
ever vibrant and amiable
aglow moment to moment
in joy without abatement
continuum heart centric
imbibing currents eclectic
simply flowing like breeze
we embrace and release
when thoughts disappear
as waves of bliss spear
magically and osmotically
vivifying form beauteously
representing flow of life
devoid of ego borne strife
getting to this recognition
we opt for polarity rotation
resting thought fragmented
identity driven and limited
releasing flow of attention
in vibrant void of cessation
wherein in childlike trust go
wherever winds of love blow
with no trace of expectation
as also sense of anticipation
welcoming offered surprise
there being no ego to apprise
whereupon one with universe
aligned with the divine verse
thus in but not of this world
innate blissfulness unfurled
choosing to abide in silence
we rekindle loving innocence
as Gods essence boundless
ever entwined with oneness
this earth is our play centre
where in joy we may canter
mind body but an interface
being breathed by His grace
thus no doing need be done
save exiting ego stagnation
fixated not at any coordinate
tranquil in stillness sedate
melding head with our heart
with all one and none apart
is-ness of being-ness bliss
Gods hand continues to bless
05-March-2021
I was pulled out of the school; doomed into hard labor,
To my home, at budding age, I became a life-saver...!
When kids of my age, with stylish satchels, proceed to school,
I, in cracker-workshops noxious, chemicals heat and cool...!
With my tender hands, I shape cute beautiful fire-works,
When I see, you crack them, my wish to do so, within sparks...!
The fumes and toxins I breath, I know, are deadly harmful,
I cannot just shun them, as life toward me is scornful...!
I am squeezed in often, into damp, cramped throttling spaces,
Where, doctors say, children catch incurable diseases...!
My fingers and hands get blisters; they often itch and bleed,
I cry loud within often, who could, my soundless noise, heed...?
When I, owing extreme aches, from mounting duties relax,
Manhandling me, my master, like a galled gory goose, quacks...!
Rules and laws, they say, made for our benefits, are, many,
They remain in books, and for us, never earn a penny...!
I have just one request, to you, dear friend, who's of my age,
When you meet one shabby like me, do not flare-up in rage...!
18 March 2022
Wish all my friends on Poetry Soup a joyful, peace filled and prosperous New Year!
As the glow of 2022 has died out
When a new dawn’s halo is round the arc
Best wishes and prayers from all hearts sprout
‘Let a new world of light emerge from the dark’
Let us wait to see new hopes blooming
Grab the little joys the mind can contain
Dismiss all defeatist thoughts surfacing
Warmly greet the New Year about to begin
The stream of life glides gurgling
Listen to its dulcet rhythmic refrain
Put down smothering blues brewing
Cast away all sad and throttling pain
Inhale the salubrious air and begin again
Hope for happier times, day after day
With enormous appetite, life’s zest, regain
Newer vistas will open up and come to stay
* * * * *
Jan.1.2023
Whose psyche has come to my physique? Do I ever know?
I accept it as a stream accepts the fresh rain and flow.
In Ram, Rahim, and Robert, Rajeet this soul might have been
Did this dwell in Buddha and Jesus in a form unseen?
How many bodies had merged with the dust like earthen pots?
How, like feeble flies, has it passed through many throttling knots?
Did I get through any fragrant flowers and fleshy fruit?
Did I breathe through violin, guitar, sitar, flute, and lute?
Entwined amidst meaninglessness are wisdom and reason
Amidst winter, fall, monsoon, and summer, there's the spring season.
When absurd ends put a pause on flawlessly flowing streams
As though after dreams, before me dawn rays of rainbow beams
Peace, bliss, Nirvana, liberation, or transformation
New life, new hope, resurrection, or resuscitation
Concepts, caprices, conceits, and convictions could continue
Life, yet, like a fountain in flux, would secrete nectar new
The thug’s greedy plan was ill-fated.
“Beware of the dog!” the sign stated.
Sharp teeth pierced his butt.
He screamed, “Get off, mutt!”
Desire to steal quickly abated.
For Samson, fame was just beginning.
This brave dog would set the world spinning
with such doughty deeds,
supplying the needs
of many while great kudos winning.
He quickly developed the power
to fly. There exists not ONE tower
inhabited by
trapped ladies who sigh.
Now all the bad guys hide and cower.
This thug-throttling canine has muscle.
He comes out on top in a tussle,
but he’s brilliant too.
To Mensa* he’s new.
Competing with him, humans hustle.
This grand rise to fame was engendered
when Samson so actively hindered
an evil guy's plan.
Now many a fan
admires him for services rendered.
howmanysyllables.com 9--9--5--5--9 per stanza
He-dog--canine version of "he-man"
*Mensa is the largest and oldest high IQ society in the world.
In an annual Mensa competition, usually held in April, Mensa teams from around the U.S. and Canada compete within their local geographic area.
March 16, 2022
On the banks of river folks gathered solemnly
Where in repose lay the body of his father;
Dry dead-wood was stacked in layers they built,
Fire was crackling, burning, heads were bowing,
Memorializing deeds in voices of the elders--
That is how cremation was done in his village.
He recalls now how they walked river’s edge
Where wildflowers bloomed, animals grazed
As farmers tilled rice fields in dawn’s silence,
Much as his father did until he died that day.
Frozen he stood there, thousand burns unseen,
Inflamed in veins as he looked to his mother
Gasping for words choking youthful innocence
As tearfully they hugged fearful of the burden
Bewildering his mother into stilled unknown.
Look at him, for a glimpse of child-subjugated
Who parted in hopes of altering course of fate,
Grateful to those who made room for his stay,
In a city where wealth was sign of intelligence,
Poverty denigrated~ tantamount to ignorance,
And class defined by the ancestry of bigoted;
There he found shelter, offered only as a loan,
Love not included in covenant of sustenance,
And mighty price required to learn existence:
Humiliated endurance, humbled-subservience…
That even in freedom-won, never sets one free,
Suffocating still in those embers carbon-fumed,
Life robbed of childhood throttling pitied tears,
Adulthood festering wounds of acrid memories
Spurned by summers and dejected by autumns,
Parching his life’s springs, stunting his seasons,
Caging his heart where his father’s ashes burn.
March 14, 2022
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand 1096
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 29 – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Festering Wound
1942
She snapped her static line
onto the anchor cable
and listened for the sound of the engines throttling back.
One other before her had nodded
and jumped into the dark night.
She felt the bag on her leg,
put her hands on either side of the opening.
She looked straight out to the invisible horizon,
even though it was dark.
And pushed herself out the door.
A night jump.
Before she counted to three
she floated and felt the cool air all around her.
She felt her heart beat
strong
and free,
her body a weightless toy.
She even hoped she could use the safety chute-
just this once-
but she was jerked hard,
upwards.
Her mission below
depended on a safe landing fall in a farmer’s field.
She howled into the air.
At the enemies anywhere.
For her camarades de compagne below.
Je suis libre! Je viens!
I am free! I am coming!
The air.
It has freed me!
Again.
She dropped her supply bag to her boot,
touched the pouch with her mission papers,
saw the few fires below marking landing space
and felt for the rushing ground
to meet her.
1966
She jumped off the dock,
her yellow sun suit pressing against her,
the air cool,
the kids in the pond laughing, playing.
She would join them!
She floated and turned,
weightless, nothing,
arms out like wings.
Turning, turning.
Then,
something grabbed her suit
and suspended her,
and brought her back.
Even after the scolding-
You can’t swim, you’re too young, don’t ever-
-she still floated and turned
and turned
and dreamt of jumping
again and again
into air.
I wonder how it whips the zephyrs that flee
In a churlish yet blissful den
Throttling though the gushing of glee
And seized a million mirth like a wee ben?
I wonder how the flowers bloom
In a precise moment of a single day
Glaring it's beauty to the groom
Whom she pleased all the way?
I wonder how a tyke titillating
In a shallow way of enjoyment
As nobody could cling
Even for just a moment?
And how I wonder to a damsel in distress
Who trapped into peril
But a knight in shinin' armour caress
Rescuing decisively with a thrill?
I feel the zippy breeze of cold December
Creeping up to my veins the sensation
Why thee to remember,
Yuletide season with applause fascination?
Aristocrat, oh my dearly!
Amending my appetite of love
Trampled my primitive sanctuary
And animate me like a dove?
My glistening eyes on you
Gnawing the fear deep within
My coy heart sough,
You're my inspiration in this domain.
Amid the abyss that divides us
With your finicky type,
And vile manner you showed
I grope but a love without gyp.
As a college student I'm old enough
To spill out one word as I vow
You build me authentically tough
Tossing the allurements that sow.
Murmur of my voice you listen!
Come to my dale words of word
In my studies you are my inspiration
The Romeo that dispense my world.
Written 2 December 2023
A Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Do`s and Don`ts
Avoid thirteenth of Fridays
for any new ventures
for any new businesses
Skip number 13 in buildings
in hotel rooms
In private hospitals
Be careful when driving
walking or moving
after seeing
a black cat crossing
the street
Sanctify all food
during an eclipse
before consuming them
Don`t sweep one`s home
nor clip one`s nails
after 6 p.m.
nor on Thursdays
Don`t start new projects
undertake new initiatives
or construct new buildings
Don`t start new love affairs
or wedding proposals
during Kharmas months*
These become asphyxiating
choking
irritating
stifling
strangling
throttling
Yet these are observed
to avoid agony
anguish
anxiety
regrets
remorse
repentance
distress
restlessness
sadness
unhappiness
sorrows
worries and woes
in favour of
calmness
cohesion
peacefulness
quietness
quietude
in personal life
family surrounds
or official transactions
with apathy
indifference
insouciance
nonchalance,
mindlessness
imperviousness
These become
a way of surviving
a way of living
a way of life.
my grandfather
died from black
lung working in
a mine that wasn't
his and now all this
time cautious of the
dark and the damp i
can't seem to find my
own mine so turning
silently i become a
mime and ask you
to understand
my gestures as if
a jester in your
court am trying
to court you by
holding my breath
while holding my
throat throttling
in hopes you
will guess and then
i'll be able to gasp
but your yours
is not mine
and as the batteries
of the sun dim not
sinking just being
less of a beam for
me to follow i stop
and swallow that
last gasp of air
as my ears
clearly hear
the song
dark as a
dungeon
down
in the
mine
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