Long Tuned in Poems
Long Tuned in Poems. Below are the most popular long Tuned in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tuned in poems by poem length and keyword.
What feeling gives you a belt of happiness?
As if you had obtained the key to Paradise
But it settles in the heart of darkness,
And your soul is on the verge of silence
Memories of your heart getting hurt are resurrected,
How life is full of treachery and pain?
A harsh wakeup call can be toxically echoed
With the shiv decorated red is much absurdly covered in plain.
Your mind is tuned in to the shell shock
The demonic screams turns your heart cold,
And your hellish anger is bestowed from the trauma battlefield
As your whole world is turned into black
The higher you get, the lower you'll sink,
With your cowardly face, it pushes you into the brink.
“Time is the thief you cannot banish."
Phyllis McGinley, Writer, 1905 - 1978
Live in the now because the internal clock
will continue until your time runs.
Time is an unfair thief. For coming without
warning at different stages in one's life.
Time can come early when one is oblivious
to the tic tock.
Or at noon when one is tuned in to the
second hand.
By the time one’s twilight hour nears, they
have lived an unfinished life. For paying to
much attention to the CLOCK that they forgot
to live in the moment.
One thing for sure is , Father Time has an
appointment with us.
Live in the now , because the internal clock
will continue until your time runs out.
Time is an unfair thief. For coming without
warning at different stages in one's life.
Time can come early, when one is oblivious
to the tic tock.
Or at noon when one is tuned in to the
second hand.
By the time one’s twilight hour nears, they
have lived an unfinished life. For paying to
much attention to the CLOCK that they forgot
to live in the moment.
One thing for sure is, Father Time has an
appointment with us.
Live in the now , because the internal clock
will continue until your time runs out.
Contest:Quote Inspired
Sponsor: Constance La France
11/11/2020
Home
Songs
Love and nature
92
Period of composition (Bangla): Nineteenth Vadra, 1346
Period of composition (After Christ) September 5, 1939
Place of composition: Shantiniketan
Again and again, looking back to thee, once more,
Days and nights these foamy churns awakened, in parables, mind approached out there, rested on armrest
The verses and the divine bell, awakened on the festive zeal, with the foamy quest on a tempest
The raga-based vibes, orbiting around the tides, ecstatic zeal
From the deepest a sound diphthong, to eloquent most trochaic meandering trail, a hymn
Bhoirobi the three with the sixth, the festive fair of Ramkeli mela, Purvi, armrest, strumming along the whim
Along the foamy tempest through the golden jubilee, joyous, eloquence in ragas through vibes resides in a song, songs among
Floating through the trail of thine, intertwined mine, meandering we
Songs among these will begin a journey to nowhere, in bliss
Trochaic, greenery, forestry, serene, motherland, a yesterday belongs, in tap dance
Along the way the must and the bohemian wind and unbridled they
Tap and tap on and tuned in, around a finely attuned may.
6:13 PM
8-28-2024
Hope you know what a wattle is Miss Wattle
It's a fleshy, wrinkled, fold of skin
Hanging from the throats of chickens and turkeys
You're much prettier and much more trim
I don't see a wattle hanging down from your neck
If fact you have very gorgeous neck
Probably getting myself into a bit of hot water
Oh well, too late now, what the heck
I'm sure you know it's also an Australian shrub
From the genus Acacia family
Now aren't you glad you tuned in, my sweetie
See I know stuff, I'm not just silly
If there's anything else I can help you with my dear
Like Einstein's Theory of Relativity
Be sure to ask, I've got nothing but time
I'll try not to revert to Sillytivity
So you may want to reconsider your screen name
To something a little more charming
Like Sweet Cheeks or Great Bod or Honey Lips
Miss Wattle can be a little disarming
© Jack Ellison 2013
All in fun...
truth imbibed
awaits assimilation
we feel it in our bones
in time dissolved meditation~ Unseeking Seeker
When the sun sleeps and the stars rise, close your eyes,
for there, within the sailing flickers of time,
you’ll feel the electric warmth of cosmic sighs,
caressing the soul chakra with bliss sublime.
We are silken fragments of engraved moonlight,
manifesting miracles from the truth traced,
while flames of dreams reignite colors so bright,
tuned in sync with the magnetic beams embraced.
And here, in the halcyon arms of silence,
I thread faith with thoughts of love, erasing fears,
releasing dimmed sparks from rays of resilience,
as truth breathes sweet elixirs from lotus tears.
In the hushed state of roseate reveries,
I hear songs of solace from the seventh sphere,
quenching greyed petals wilting in miseries,
for I am my zen, cloaked in crystals so clear.
Let faith dissolve blurred lines carved within jinxed art,
follow the softened storms laced with forgiveness,
trust in the sage stillness of the mindful heart,
incensed with peace, veiled in redefined kindness.
O glorious glow of the Almighty’s light,
allow my spirit to bask in the restful
quietude composed in diamond-glazed delight,
embodying luminous lamps, so zestful.
Who’s Texas oil rich, just five-feet-six
and always seems to get out of a fix?
He’s married with four kids, and eyes bright blue -
a guy you love to hate. . . Still need a clue?
He came to CBS a year ago
to play the nineteenth season of the show
"Survivor!" Fans tuned in; there on Samoa
we saw him on a tribe called Foa Foa.
A villain on this game show like no other,
he’s one you’d guess could rat out his own mother.
He’s Russell Hantz, a genuine control freak,
and add to that, he’s quite a little sneak!
To cause a stir, he once burned someone’s socks,
feigned innocence, and then had secret talks
with teammates as he filled their minds with doubt
And made his plans of whom to next throw out.
With not one clue, he found immunity.
a “first” in all "Survivor" history,
then saved himself when there came times to vote
with idols he had found. (He loves to gloat!)
If someone were not “pliable,” he’d thrust
them out, while there were others he would trust.
But by the time the game came to its end,
he’d backstabbed them and didn’t have one friend.
And so he lost that game. We saw him cry
as votes were read, a crazed look in his eye!
A hundred grand he’d give to wear the crown,
but she who rode his coattails turned him down.
Respected by his fans, he’s gone anew
to play this time with villains, none who knew
him from before, and now he’s in a game
with old time favorites who seem really lame!
With blind-sides left and right, they’re falling fast.
I think Hantz might remain there till the last!
He gave an idol up to save a gal
I bet he wishes were more than a pal. . .
His poor wife has to watch him on TV,
all smiles while making eyes at Parvati.
But win or lose this time, he is the slayer
of those "Survivor" All-Stars. What a player!
(Watch for the season finale. It should be coming soon, either Thursday or maybe on a
Sunday)
For Linda-Marie Bariana's TV Tempations contest
~ Self-reflection ~
This is how I feel about me…
I will always be Mom to my two sons
and Nana to my grands.
How do people last without God to rely on?
I start my day with praise for His grace and mercy;
He knows my needs before I ask.
God and my family are what I was made for.
~ Self-improvement ~
I’m eighty-one; that’s not too old
to try new things, to use the skills I’ve learned.
I knit baby blankets / crochet dish cloths
to celebrate expected additions to family,
to welcome returning visitors to our church.
I walk with my phone tuned in to Bible study,
the making of desserts for discerning folks,
These help me realize - God is not through with me, yet.
Yesterday, late in the morning, I entered the empty room
Contemplative, looked at the pictures of your beauty
I saw the love in your eyes, and in the back of the room
I saw the piano in white, the painting of yourself!
*
*
In the time-consuming steps, so close, rested
On the bank of pianist poise, I dreamed
I dreamed the melody with the pulp of the fingers nimble ...
I stroked each key, binary colors .. Fragile!
*
*
When you arrive, engaging smile of tenderness
Melodic feel on the lips "pianette" burning
The touch of your hand, gentle love, hot
The two hands, played the melody bubbly!
*
*
*
*
Then dance to the music imaginary
Elegant, cute: you are kings, without
You invite me, I rise, - secure your hand region
We are one, tuned in love, living in tune!!
te amo my duncan of ceizar with love
FUNGI
You came as a miracle from
universe to earth from
a universe to earth
First:
we called you what?
Whatever until you told us better
was instilled inside our medulla obbligato –
though you favored our brain,
looked like a medulla obbligato.
Mushrooms only communicates with roots tentacles and spores;
Mushroom you bring good news for those whom pay attention.
Fungi spores high fly.
Underneath the ground we are surrounded.
By the communication of energy exchange.
Kai told me of your plans
As she was tuned in to your frequency.
Kai, mushrooms -mushrooms, Kai- synonymous.
That humongous world of Mycelium.
her gift was interpreting their silent message.
I think of you with every mushroom, seen,
mentioned or thought of.
I think of you with every new break through,
“Kai Kachelle now means mushroom intelligence”.
Fungi spore carry a universal messenger.
This Quatrain King is taking a break for a bit
Rhyming has been my thing since day one
Sometimes I talk in riddles I'm told by wifey poo
But you'll be happy to know
This old geezer is multitalented
I'm able to talk and chew gum at the same time
Can even spit nickels while singing Moon River
Okay enough about this talented old soul
I'd like to hear what extraordinary talents you guys have
Let's keep it clean though
Little kiddies or sensitive old nannies
May have stumbled across P-Soup
While searching for a recipe for French Canadian Pea Soup
Raunchy is permitted BUT
Only when describing the love habits
Of the Northern Hairy-Nosed Wombats of Australia
Their nose is very important in their survival
Since this creature has very poor eyesight
And needs its nose to smell food and OTHER THINGS in the dark
I have long since had that ability
Now aren't you glad you tuned in
So let me know what weird and scary talents you guys have
And I'll write a poem about it
May even get published in the quarterly edition of “Poetry Weekly”
Ta-Ta!
© Jack Ellison 2014