Long Transitory Poems
Long Transitory Poems. Below are the most popular long Transitory by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Transitory poems by poem length and keyword.
Examining love from all different angles, one can come to appreciate the connection
how it is so often used as the vehicle, by which we share with others our deepest
affection
and this love no matter how much we have, never do we seem able to get enough
yet had we been forced to live without it, we would find living in starvation just too
tough
This constant need to possess a measure of love in our life, must be part of that
divine plan
enabling us to maintain our emotional health, and affording us a way to become a
better man
perhaps an additional reason might also be, to share a little of our love with those
in need
we can become so lost in our materialistic world, easily forgetting to pursue this
noble deed
The greatness of man’s creation exists from within, and lies dormant for us to find
accepting the fact that we are spiritual beings, and the most unique of our kind
innate potential to reach the highest of heights, in the service of our Creator
choosing wisely to do good, while rejecting evil, and thus becoming even greater
Fooling yourself with alluring transitory pleasures, this world leads you astray
fleeting momentary happiness, causes you to believe you are here to stay
furthest from the truth you could never be, because ultimately all will see
when the end of that long road arrives, you too, will be just another deportee
Only with constant toil and unremitting effort, could we think it possible to overcome
to successfully subdue evil that is now a part of you, would be nothing short of
awesome
better to consider the end, when your immortal soul will be in need of an abode of
its own
what a tremendous loss it would be indeed, for your soul to be left in the dark and
all alone
I despised, even in the time of playing with all my writing passion!
As I felt, the elegant and pure touch of your tune is invincible, then.
In all my meaningless trivial writing,within my abode of imagination
Words and sounds are walking as long lost friends, with a bonding, unbroken.
I see, a thin slice of light in my verandah , surrealistic, bright
A melancholic tune aged a decade old under the mystic moonlight.
O embracing sea of my sadness!
My verses of deepest realisation!
I could not touch you deep enough there, though
In deepest sorrow and pain of the transitory time!
I am tempered in tender triggers
of transitory ticking tunes,
as the air feels heavy ~
with withered whispers
of waning reveries,
a mercurial mirror to
my burning skin...
I've nurtured the nature
nestled between
nuances of nostalgia
feeling the nudge
from wistful noons
freezing my thoughts
to follow the fleeting ebb and flow
of slipping silence,
swerving through
curtained homesickness…
but why must the salt
of sea-breeze melt into memories
hope knows how the heart
heals with hurt
whilst you see not the
pained palpitations
amidst light of life liquefying
into unmerciful minutes ~ of time…
O time ~ the tricking tamer
restricting inner resilience
straining the summer softness
retrospective recurrence
rewinding on repeat,
leaving me searching for
the falling familiarity ~
rays of wavering warmth
to feel the pulse of pleasure
closer to
the confined corners
within my conscious thoughts...
for grey is throttled in grievance
heeding not the restless rhythm
of wind and waves
ferrying the ocean-highs
speaking to my skies
~ catching catharsis ~
as heat unbuttons
the soul of azure
alliterating the alienation
of breathing blistered bliss
aching across the shifting
shadows of unmoved fields
and I waltz… a wanderer ...
sleeplessly swirling
through the love-phased
lace of longing
replaying the comforting touch
from yesterday’s dawn
the sun and
moon that soothed whirlwinds
of weathered
wild-jasmines ~
He flipped the delicate Lotus Flower from one palm into the other
Wondering about a world of meaning for petals in transitory circles
Painted a moon and sun giving birth to all life and death just the same
One hand cannot clap on its own and he firmly gave thanks to nature
A long war had left him intact and the red petals painted over blood
He preferred the Buddha’s gentle plants over grave yard poppies
Although even a soldiers’ grief erodes over spaces of impermanence
When autumn fell upon prayer and crimson hope of togetherness
He dried his sorrows and awaited the wind to blow away sad tears
Settled in memories of harvest and lit a lantern made from parchment
As seeds succumbed to hibernation he tightened his ruby loin cloth
For it was winter and a snow storm loomed behind magical mountains
Clouds gathered at the edge of a hillside where he sought shelter and peace
Safe in a cradle of comfort and finite belonging he tasted the new season
And held the picturesque flower in his mind to weather its benevolent change
29th October 2019
Writing Challenge, October, 2019 - Flower or Flowers -
Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them
the sands of demolished dreams in the desert of life,
settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure
of the disorganized dunes of their desolate existence.
The sequestered moments of distressed awareness,
drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being.
The truth of trustful conviction sinks under suffering
made with mirage on the ruffled ripples of disorder.
In lonesome languished life’s impoverished landscape,
sorrow-paved pathways contour convoluted uncertainty,
wind to nowhere at the fading fringe of the time future,
beyond the befuddled perception of toiling time present.
In their murky manifestation drugs promise barred freedom,
tender transitory escape from reality, as they crawl under skin,
strengthen grip on pain that silently subsides for a while
in bodies slumped in smoky alleys, eyes unclosed but not seeing.
With the faceless faces smeared by the shadows of scorn
they walk on the slimy illusive streets of hollow dreams.
Life trampled by insolent wavering footsteps in journey
under the stupor of opoids that never ends their pain.
They seek caring understanding of the society to help them
in search of the lighted path away from lone domain of despair
for their suffering souls to discern the abode of empathy,
as they strive to find the way out of the tunnel of dark time.
”Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;” —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
We met in business class
Me the window, she the aisle
After introductions, silence
Eventually conversing awhile
She had come for extra training
Me a weekday conference stay
Learned we’d reserved the same hotel
Deplaned each our separate way
Serendipity in baggage claim area
Riding the hotel shuttle bus
She asked, “Care to go Dutch treat for lunch?
Or not … No need to make a fuss”
After ordering she asked, “Are you married?”
Happily flashed ring finger as yes
Added we also have two sons
She replied, “You are truly blessed”
Since she had shown genuine interest
I was happy to further respond
Offering details of my family life
Then, now, and beyond
Our discussion turned to things deeper
Current events … are we doing what we can
to help alleviate pain and suffering?
Does God really care about man?
Within a short time lunch was over
She thanked me for taking the time
Offering she was divorced and lonely
Making each day an uphill climb
Being lonely seeking transitory workarounds
But this had gone better than planned
Further sustaining her confident optimism
there are still many good, decent men
We said our goodbyes and best wishes
Smiled and then she offered her hand
Two ships passing in the light of day
Never would I see her again
”So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Haute Desiderata"
things of beauty
drip off bodies
transitory
le rêve privé
vague veil
reveals desiderata
transparent
magical
pomp
exotique
automaton
idle idol walk
robotic
sensuous
cool and vacant
such beauty
drips off bodies
transitory desiderata
elusive
illusory
birds of paradise
haughty
haute
pomp desiderata
gilded
graceful
incomplete
desiderata drifting
dwindling
desideratum
elusive
statues idyll
idle idol walk
numbing
comfortable
birds of paradise
les grand faux apparat
ad infinitum
mute Belle Époque
bardot bardo
comfortably numb
on repeat
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Schiaparelli
Haute Couture/ Fall-Winter 2022/2023
https://youtu.be/wiYtuhyj83s
“Comfortably Numb”/ Pink Floyd
https://youtu.be/_FrOQC-zEog
Desiderata
latin, meaning.
https://recollections.biz/blog/la-belle-epoque-beautiful-era/
"Desiderata" - meaning of the word; history of the poem
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desiderata
https://www.desiderata.com/desiderata-history.html
https://www.desiderata.com/desiderata.html
Max Ehrmann, Poet, American - "Desiderata"
Terre Haute, Indiana
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Max_Ehrmann
LYRICS/ "Comfortably Numb", Pink Floyd
https://genius.com/Pink-floyd-comfortably-numb-lyrics
Away from the fever and fret of life
In absolute stillness, in abject surrender
Looking into the core of my being
In deep silence and solitude
In an ardent gesture of adoration
I was in dialogic communion with God.
In that divine setting, I heard the spirit whisper,
“Shear off the cumbersome, get down to the essentials.
Petty fears and petty pleasures are just shadows.
Search not for the transitory but seek the eternal.”
A rare quiet flooded in and engulfed me
The window of my soul opened to light,
And the hidden well springs were revealed to me.
I became part of the silence, merged with the harmony.
In my nothingness, I found my all.
‘Heard the harvest song of inward peace.’
Never was a moment more perfect!
Under the ‘Bodhi’ tree, that moment stood alone!
Losing the belonging in debris of broken heart
to the silent shore of sorrow I had sauntered.
My emotions swirled like dislodged moist sands
in the tide of remote time when you were mine.
On the rolling sea made of billion drops of tear
descended somber shadow of night’s slate sky,
split unseen by the flying flash of a shooting star,
dissolving like memory on the horizon of oblivion.
Transient flame of trajectory of consumed desire
furrowed in my mind a blazing trail of yearning,
that I wished I could follow with the shooting star,
even if it was transitory like the flicker of my love.
I slept on the desolate edge of the lonely night,
you became in my dreaming sky a shining star,
briefly sparkling so far away, yet adoringly so near,
but you disappeared, for I didn’t dream enough.
Written : August 14, 2019
February 23, 2020
Contest : Strand Select Y, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
The fuel, fury and addiction,
stupendous depiction.
I’m magnetized; my nose buried
in vellum sheets. Varied,
the construct of complicated
simpletons located
on cliffs, near harbors, with their ghosts;
misdirecting guideposts.
The injection of crafty twists;
flying ink insists
you sink deeper into its thick.
The turn of pages, a joystick.
Wanting to finish the story;
feeling’s transitory.
Compose a series, Author, please!
Your book ended with tease.
I’ll have eyes on antagonist,
tea with protagonist,
follow breadcrumbs and red herring,
and choose to be daring.
T h e E n d