Long Thumbprint Poems
Long Thumbprint Poems. Below are the most popular long Thumbprint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thumbprint poems by poem length and keyword.
Take life for an escalator
Go both through its ups
and downs
Ride it like on an elevator
Expect both smiles and
frowns.
Take life for a suspense
novel
you and I unaware what
the next day will hold
Meditate and muse, or
this book of life just
peruse
Pore over it to watch
life's mysteries unfold.
Take life for the open sea
But pray drown not
yourself in it
lest you lose sight of
God's shore
and thereby lose all
spiritual wit.
Take life for a candle,
let its glow illumine
others too
and in each and every of
its flicker
Try finding a hint or clue
Each soul's life unique as
mazes of one's
thumbprint
And usually for many
life's quite an uphill battle
At times sweet as
molasses, at times bitter
as mint
and life's roller coaster
shakes you like a rattle.
If you let yourself be intoxicated by life
Be prepared for the hangovers
Better taste of the goblet of life
making right choices like wine conneisseurs
Life tis like the rise and
fall of notes
Consoling to find people
in the same boats
Ah on life you can find a
zillion quotes.
Thus ponder over your
life and reflect
how good you've been
to it
and not just how it's
been treating you
Veer around the pit, and
keep your path lit
for darkness of the soul
is for you unfit.
Navigate life's seas with trust in God's plan
Without trust you'll be stuck
too long in earthly ties and clan...
"You can never cross the ocean until you have
the courage to lose sight of the shore." ~ Christopher Columbus
Each one of us is special
Each one of us is different
From the capacity of our mental realm
To our very thumbprint
The differences never cease to amaze me
Superficial and profound
Each one of us has a talent
Each one of us has a gift
The most difficult task to perform is finding out what it is
That makes us different from the next
That gives us a sense of self-respect
That tells the world that I am like no other
Can you imagine if we were all the same way?
How could we properly function without going insane?
Can you imagine if we looked the same and answered to the same name?
Can you imagine the confusion, frustration, and pain?
If you were similar to the next
Living life would be so complex
My every waking hour would be so dismal
I would lack ingenuity, creativity and charisma
What if we were all geniuses?
How could you tell who was gifted?
If our lives were monotonous,
How could one tell the difference?
Be elated that you are unique
From the things you do to the way you speak
The very dreams you will achieve
Thank God for variety and individuality
---------------------
Images grace the page like velvet over skin,
caressing the senses fine as red wine…
And we all take a sip of poetic lines,
connecting people from varied time frames,
while through heartfelt exchanges, the site
becomes a family that bridges rails of pain,
love, or anger . Oh how messages
fill our souped-up boxes with personal notes,
to express simple or complex views on a
glassy leaf of a screen.
Our need to relate deeply among so many
whose voices and faces are neither heard
nor seen , marks the thumbprint of friendship :
reaching out daily to light up
each others' moment, enduring someone’s brief
absence while affection blooms through a
warm nourishment of the soul, drinking
in the flavor brewed by the fusion of affinity
as soup-minstrels gather around
the circle’s bonfire… refreshed, enriched, re-affirmed.
The book is red, bright red, that’s plain to me.
Okay, it’s black, but that’s just years of grime.
It is the office dictionary, see?
And when it is consulted – every time –
a new thumbprint is left to join the rest.
Across the years it’s been consulted – ooh,
let’s see now – several thousand times at least;
collects detritus from the desktop, too.
Sometimes we check reality, exact;
illusion is a well-thumbed word as well.
Oh, yes, the book’s bright red and that’s a fact;
you only have to look and you can tell.
And yet we’re startled when that colour’s seen
so brightly where my coffee cup has been.
Remember how you used to skip a Stone and watch the rings appear,
to follow the sun.
Smooth as silk, that an Angel has spun.
Makes for fluid thinking when
the mind thirsts in it's ilk.
For Mother's milk.
For the Father's tidings
Binder rings
A novel read
Of your mind
Nature's Novelty
Binds you to it's juicy mystery in kind
Conjoined concentric rings following after each other.
Like thing
to
like thing.
Rings that bind to your imagination.
They capture your memory,
leaving the residue thumbprint of
the moment, there forever.
It pairs you with wisdom as you reflect in it's sightings,
Angelic visitation, moonlightings,
and transformation, solicitation.
You are your own destiny.
Your own princess or Queen. Infallible.
The lawyer of
The laws of the Urban Jungle.
It's all just science and chance,
Incident of
happenstance
accidents' technicality-
that appears and gives in your hands
nothing for nothing.
But empty plans.
But where is your place and your reason, to be.
Your body, your choice, your current, and your grand design.
Need not be
under scrutiny. Right?
The fittest survive.
Power cables to the throne.
Empowered electricity, let the bodies hit the flow. Right?
But never ask why.
You have an emptiness. You have a
reservation in your soul to an abyss. Planting dark seeds.
RSVP,
R.I.P.
the lips of Deaths kiss,
planting its spiritual AIDS,
Viral- non binary STD ( binaural beats )
Whispers of freedom from PP.
No responsibility glitters like diamonds empty and cold.
Glitters freedom
like the panning of fool's gold.
So.
Prospect those stairway caverns to the Pipers Magic Kingdom For Sale. Sold.
Sole property. Soully under, sovereign autonomy. No vacancy. No vagrancy. NoCosign. Usery. Counterfeit.
Deeds. Auction. Double blind.
Rinse. Repeat. Rewind.
I jump, but can not leap:
entreating you is like two parallel streets
that do not meet.
My lips, employ straightforward plain words as hidden clues.
Note: I am not a man of eloquent, noble elevated upper schools.
I keep it simple, yet I am very honest and true and also blue.
This is all that I know how and all that I can do.
My words now stolen from a thesaurus and
a scrabble game match I did fuse.
This just to say, may I get to know
all that is truly you.
Please, view that love postcard sent
and the thumbprint impression that was left.
Allow me to press my thumb and do print on it again.
Then see that mark, a match. This the enduring proof
of a love-struck hard man and a very shy personality that is me.
(Now a Kiss!)
GRAVIDAS EARTH
the turntable in a whorl, my thumbprint
distinct on 45’s and 78’s and the cover
near the door, spewed upon - i forgive
you my roommate-sister, it’s only cardboard.
afterall, how’d we know, the future would auction
our records, flatsie and dawn dolls, past 2000 —
we couldn’t even imagine. i’m way off track,
follow the grooves behind me, the moves
that define me, the hairstyle without mousse,
cut and blown as i run, always run for the bus.
i’m still running but I’m never late. out the door,
down a couple steps of baked cement — i
think there is a porch now — i could sled the snowy
drive, steep but the road’s at my feet so i walk
with a heavy plaid coat and snazzy boots to
the stop. one highschooler didn’t stay long —
he caught the bus to another place, no time to wave.
the road named after his kin. the bus arrives,
don’t miss it a bit — so loud with its popular crowd.
the school had a fountain, where we’d wash our hands
where the restrooms were still for boys and girls.
our physics teacher gave us speed, well the formula, as
we hoisted ourselves out the window with ticker tape —
did i say i, no - not i, I wasn’t brave enough, not
ready to die. but a boy whose daddy taught biology
drowned in the clouds of a lake. i mixed his tears
with my own. why cherry pick
the incidents of the oldest kid — she lurks in shadows
remembering the haunts of others. Lexie C gallops
with her friend the horse through the valley of our hearts.
she’s the queen that sat beside me in French class.
she deserted us after graduation, taking a one way road
to her heavenly destination.
she will always be young with Scarlet’s hair
and dark glasses, missing what the rest of us learned
in our education on this gravidas earth.
7/2/2019
*Scarlet refers to Scarlet O’Hara of Gone With the Wind fame