Long Transfuse Poems
Long Transfuse Poems. Below are the most popular long Transfuse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Transfuse poems by poem length and keyword.
Like many comrades and councilors of Moon Knight,
Daredevil, Matt Murdock, was in fight and might, bright;
Reservoir of Herculean power and strength,
He could lift thousands of pounds and punch any length...!
Gymnast! Acrobat! Olympic muscle tissues!
He could suffuse or transfuse perilous issues.
Power, born of self-will experimentation,
Fused in him mercurial mobilization...!
Rat or cat or elephant like sharp hearing sense,
Owls and eagles like radar vision effulgence;
Enabled him antidate his environs clear,
And respond and combat with vehemence severe...!
Lion-like he could fight Captain America
Superman, another puissance replica;
Moon Knight and Daredevil, though, fought a tough battle,
Merged to collaborate with warm tittle-tattle...!!!
31 October 2022
Moon Knight Friend or Foe Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Tales many, O pearl, about your formation have I heard,
Some unbelievable, some doubtable, all luring, yet,
In their cautiousness, your soul, the oysters lovingly gird,
As a child in a mother's womb merrily you get set...!
It is true, for months, within your mother's womb you did starve,
Your birth, to the world of lakes, and oceans, is a delight,
Master craftsmen, as other gems, need not cut you or carve,
Midst precious gems, yet, in the global peddle, you shine bright...!
Crowns of kings and queens and gods and goddesses you adorn,
Profound purity of foam-like gold-whiteness in you ooze;
As though the cosmos and the constellations are reborn,
Dust of the sun and the moon and the stars, in you, transfuse...!
None can renounce their enchantment to you, which is boundless,
Your existence, yet, like pure divine presence, is soundless...!!!
It’s not because I talk to myself –
no, that’s not why I talk to everyone else;
I talk for the human connection
that needs constant amplification.
Friends or strangers - matters not,
a little kindness helps a lot.
Humanity is all the worlds got
and, like me, all struggle with the plot.
A little kindness never hurts
and I am not an unfeeling sort.
We are all our Father’s perfect works
meant to give love our best escort.
I try to leave each moment better honed
for those I meet that feel all alone.
By putting sunshine in our tones
we can witness moods better sown.
To people I meet who are abused
I’ll use kindness to stir an improve
or listen to hurts that so confuse.
Kindhearted acts can love transfuse.
For the struggles of the poor,
I give to help them endure.
We must never turn away
from all kindness can procure.
When we meet someone disabled,
we must not give them a label.
I am part of Special Olympics
that all keep self-value stable.
I need help when I sit with broken bits,
a fall, or sad’s call, but I know I’m part of all.
I can’t keep my heart shy when by and by,
there but for the Grace of God … go I.
... CayCay Jennings
December 7, 2018
You cannot tell someone how to be poetic.
One of the beauty's of God's creation is variety.
Everyone has a different way to view the world. So expression is personal and how they do it,
is how they do it.
You can dislike the well and the pump,
the water may be bitter, but poetry is a pipe.
A pipe is a pipe. (I suppose you can hit
someone in the head with a pipe,
O but this one likes it?!)
Contrite=Clean pipe=poetic hydration= delicious
A garden, apologetics' pardoned.
So many topics of value to water and brighten
in synthesis
Most relatable in at least one way,
some maybe a vantage point yet to be reached.
Poems written, certainly make sense to the Poet,
intent for them
timing of delivery.
The poem vehicle is guiltless and clean.
All non maliced expression is beautiful.
Beauty is there to be seen.
Reaching others is beautiful,
poets know what I mean.
Indeed, a contrite heart's expression cannot be
told how to beat, rhythm or song.
Channel the mind's lifeblood to transfuse
in drops of iv connection.
It is a personal inner working, each
with personality,, a variety, multiplicity, complexity, ingenuity with it's multitude throng of shadows long. ing, to show a cog run
spilling for a dawn ing, kaleiding
with its own gratuity,
with other spring unleashings, seasonings
scent of sprigs sprung reconciling-filing,
suns setting down,
pages aglow with flavors abound for of sight,
sense, touch of taste- of the profound.(a bit much?
No)
A psalm, a palm, a plum, a tongue
(testing, tasting litmus for the truth)
Expression is our spirit animal's instinct.
How can instinct of feeling, "intuition" be wrong?
You may be wrong, but your feelings are always true.
They are a telling of the truth as you know it.
So transpose your interpreter,
3D ink your printer, lube for that ultrasound hum,
seeing reaction, scan for it
and hope for more, so that we can see what
was in you all along.
Then throw up in the bottomless pit,
because you are impregnated with it.
It is squishy, you can feel it in the pit,
under your feat.