Long Uncertainty Poems
Long Uncertainty Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncertainty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncertainty poems by poem length and keyword.
Remember when that flash of insight
last self-ignited in your expectant thoughts
blasting away the fog of uncertainty, complexity and doubt.
A sudden aha Eureka answer, pure, simple, so succinct, beautiful.
To some this flash of aha is called duration, or a blink. insight, acumen, Eureka!
But, my friend, how, why, when, where, do these Aha moments arise?
Can we conger up more for ourselves, fill a treasure cheat with insights?
Or is this quest a waste of time, as no treasure map exits. But does it?
Can we ever know with what, and how, and when to cast the magic wand?
Does our search for meaning, inquiries lay the foundation?
Can we prepare the way ahead in some way or other?
Think back, my friend, did these gems
always spring up unexpectedly, and what occurred beforehand?
These aha Euekas cannot be scheduled or delayed,
cannot be snuck-up on, snared nor detected,
cannot be forced out nor guaranteed to appear.
Euekas are not rewards for hard work, perhaps the opposite is true.
How often does lazy and shallow wader get the creative rewards.
Chance is never fair in its rewards for hard work.
Often, an Aha taps us on the shoulder, we are least expecting it,
out of the blue, saying: "Look at Me. Look at Me".
When gobbled up with glee, it washes over and transforms us.
We are never be the same. It makes our day.
Does begging the question, ignoring the answers laid out
make it pop up from the soup into an inquiring mind?
Or does it appear when we raise questions to that have already been answered well?
Does it appear when we thin-slice the book to separate the leaves?
Often mistakes and errors have led to great breakthroughs
like penicillin, radioactivity, the color mauve and plastics.
What does this mean to you and your Aha Eureka pot of gold?
Should we be less careful, more observant for the unusual?
The Aha Eureka is a fleeting feeling, easily lost in the blink of an eye,
rampant, capricious, imperceptible, unbounded, elusive
like seeing something in the corner of the eye at dusk,
if you look straight at it, it's gone, look back again, it's there again.
For me it can be a matter of serendipity.
The more I see, the more I do, the more I explore, the more hits are triggered.
Many total restarts from scratch, often helps.
But, for me the one simple things
that works is lay me down to rest,
and to sleep on it!
The poem "VANTABLACK" exhibits a profound exploration of emotions and existential themes. As a poet, one would appreciate the nuanced use of language and the depth of introspection conveyed through the verses.
The title, "VANTABLACK," immediately draws attention to the darkest substance known, emphasizing a profound sense of darkness or void that permeates the poem. The tumultuous street and the notion in flight evoke a sense of chaos and uncertainty, setting the stage for the emotional journey that follows.
The poet skillfully employs imagery and metaphor to convey the complex emotions experienced. The notion that "hastens in haste" and then "averts its gaze" suggests a fleeting and elusive quality, mirroring the transient nature of emotions. The descent of the heart's echo into a "crimson abyss" hints at the depth of emotional turmoil, perhaps symbolizing pain or longing.
The lines "Your name, I called, yet emptiness replied" and "A bloom of yours, I drew, withering away" express a sense of loss and unfulfilled connection. The act of calling a name and drawing a bloom implies a desire for presence and beauty, but the responses are characterized by emptiness and withering, adding a layer of melancholy.
The exploration of choices in the lines "Life's lines extend before me, To choose, where your love resides" delves into the existential theme of navigating through life's possibilities and seeking love. The word "resides" suggests a search for a meaningful connection within the vastness of life.
The recurring ritual mentioned in "This ritual unfolds each day" implies a cyclical nature of introspection and perhaps a daily struggle with emotions. The poet peers within, describing it as a "melancholy abode," suggesting that the internal landscape is characterized by sadness.
The concluding lines, "Where my heart, a vantablack canvas, remains," encapsulate the essence of the poem. The heart being a "vantablack canvas" signifies an emotional void, absorbing and reflecting no light, emphasizing the depth of emotional darkness or emptiness.
As a poet, one might commend the poet for the rich tapestry of emotions woven through carefully chosen words and metaphors. The poem invites readers to contemplate the complexities of human emotions, the ephemeral nature of connections, and the existential quest for meaning in the face of emotional voids.
Inspired by one of my favorite bands, Rise Against, and the song is called,
“Ever-changing” (Acoustic). Please listen to this song if you don’t know of it. It’s raw &
powerful.
“Have you ever been a part of something? That you thought would never end. But then, of
course, it did.” –Rise Against
“I fell in ‘Like’ with you”
With her smile
I melted unto oblivion’s redemption
Candy coated perceptions, windows’ gap
Seeping brilliance refreshment
Uncertainty resolution, polished
Absorbed into closeness sun
Yet these eyes still…see
Butterflies taking notice, missing you…as you stood in front of me
Strong, yet soft legs
Foundation of my face to rest upon
Scars…fading
A cremated sin
Yet, elongated moments of silence
Created abruption’s new face
The face of change
When she turned to me and said
“I’m not sure, anymore”
Emotional lullaby, rocking me to sleep
New battles with spectral flashback
Trying to get under my skin, a drunken tick facing demise
Phoenix’s sunrise, rejuvenating my recycled defenses
Yet, today, these rays just aren’t bright enough to burn sadness away
And with these sounds of storm clouds & Fall on horizon’s breath
These grounds are so familiar, yet bittersweet
This heart doesn’t want to be enlightened by karma today
It wants to be held for how it shines now
Denied…distance wins again today
Slavery whipped punishments in miles and blocks
This must end
Because I try to keep lines open to get a call from you
Yet all I hear are booty calls with busy signals
And yet something has kept me here too long
But can they leave me, if I’m already gone?
Something has kept me here too long
Karma’s laughter
But, through it all, I will shine
…
How I wish my mere presence can bring joy’s tear to her eye
Sadly though, now, the lines are drawn
Yet I wonder if this feeling is gone
Have the best parts of this…come and gone?
…
Maybe I’ll never know the truth
Perhaps she was misguided by jealousy’s deprivation
Deteriorating heart’s splendor
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps “Better Man 2.0” appeared from Cloud 9’s fallacy
While I fell in “like” with her
Perhaps
She held onto the past
As I, drawn to waterfall’s edge
Allowed myself
To let go…and F
A
L
L
© Drake J. Eszes
“We adore those who hurt us. Yet, we hurt those who adore us.” -Anonymous
I'm a simple guy,
I like video games, music and succeeding without trying,
So when a man comes up to me and tell me he can save my life,
Who am I to turn down a free book from a generous passerby,
Strange how after hundreds of Reddit articles I find these red words the most astounding,
Each verse saturated with a truth beyond my understanding,
I embraced the scripture in my new-found belief,
Ditching skeptics and scientific contention for a biblical motif,
So with my newfangled faith I embarked on a holy endeavor,
To sift through a lifetime of personal uncertainty to uncover the answer,
I found myself under bottomless pizza boxes,
Buying time stocks from the evolutionary clock,
Discovering purpose through glimmering game discs,
Fashioning polygonal personalities into personable obelisks,
Uncovering the depths of my psyche excavating mountains of dirty laundry,
Rinse on, dry off, purging both physical filth and emotional quandaries,
Sharing walkways with speeding cars enslaved to a monetary duty I can't shirk
A journey of a thousand steps every pilgrimage to work,
My blood a bubbling brew of ambition and potential,
Yet required to surpass insurmountable credentials,
Ignoring the marked symbols in newspapers they seek to brand on my forehead,
Subjective opinions of civility and idealism dropped on me like warheads,
Cryptic predictions of personality and fate,
You think I need a dice roll to determine if I'm straight?
Countless evaluations to rationalize the psyche and soul combined,
What makes their opinion more viable than mine?
I'm taking buoyant steps upon the swamp to reach my destination,
Swapping carnality for divinity to achieve the ultimate self-preservation,
Cremating my mortality I seek to ascend,
Past primitive understanding of a purpose I cannot comprehend,
This road we walk is coated with trip-wire and paved with scorching coals,
Watch out for those flaming hours in your 5-day forecast so find the nearest foxhole,
The burden on our shoulders has already been lifted so there's no reason for us to be aching,
We're on the path to eternal salvation why aren't we skipping?
So why don't you tag along with me on this self-realization odyssey,
I can't promise explosions or tentacle-headed aliens but I know it'll at least be interesting,
Just you, yourself, me and I,
The most dynamic duo to ever breach the sky.
A Poem for You
By Michael J. Falotico & Dinda Minardi
(Finished in August 14, 2011)
~Dinda~
Same like yesterday of yesterdays,
I sit under this three
He sits on the woodenbench
Before, he just him in the same ways
Then unique him set free
Tastes like dewy meets thirsty to drenched
I’ve sighted his eyes, down to nose, slide onto his lips
How come a stranger makes me beat my heart faster?
I can’t imagine if he talks to me, can I bear the shock waves?
I wonder, when will I get that eager to see his face closer?
My underestimation has been impressed wider
I used to be a talker.
With him around, I’m only an observer
What can I say, I am now an admirer
Atleast this park provides me air that's clearer
So I can still be sober
~Michael~
A day in the park seems to take a change..
I try to write words but they spill out strange..
This blank page is being played with by the sun..
Shadows crawl up and down but none with fun..
My eyes travel past the wishing well to a tree..
A smile that shines but I only wonder is it for me..
All these words I write she can't see or hear...
My legs are frozen from this beauty I fear...
~Dinda~
Who is he? He robbed my breath and blocked my sanity
Could he be? The one who’ll keep me from uncertainty
Or it’s just my brain mutiny because I want him too badly?
How should I know?
My self-esteem suddenly low
Should I start it first, or would it only make out worse?
What a perfection he has, I can only gasp
By his all I sigh, while my hands sweating on my lap
~ Michael~
Well she is moving closer, what should I say?
I will tell her I'm drawing a picture of today..
When she see's there is no paint only words and letters..
I answer "I have drawn a poem of you" which I feel is better..
With no words we kissed and smiled for hours..
I flipped the page over and drew you a flower...
*I had fun in this collaboration. It was my first collaboration and I feel honored to collaborate with such sweet poet like Mr. Falotico.
I hope you enjoy! :)
After a solid decade of what can only be described as the worst of luck.
I've grown accustomed to living a life of pain and misery.
Fearful of this new uncertainty, again left helpless and unaware
Although uncomfortable and confused, I continued onward with my life.
The diagnosis is only the first painful and stunning blow.
Amazed at the unbelievable power of something microscopic in nature.
Specialists in the field call it a virus, I call it being condemned.
Now likely sentenced to a treacherous and pre-mature death.
The full extent of this revelation leaves me struggling to understand.
In one invasive procedure, they pluck away a piece of my liver.
While countless needles drain my tainted crimson blood.
Both attempts at deciphering the enormity of my affliction.
After the final drop of my blood is finally collected, The doctors hold an answer.
They give me their assurance of a definitive and timely explanation.
The phone rings, the doctor is ready to reveal his final prognosis.
It seems treatment is possible, and success may be achievable.
Astonished, I wonder if I have dreamed the entire conversation.
But, unbelievably his spoken words are determined to be truth.
Many human beings, not so lucky, to receive this rare gift of life.
The feeling is strange, following so many years of horrific nature.
Reluctant to savor the moment, fearing that it may suddenly disappear.
Death has taken me three times prior, at birth, and twice before thirty.
All three instance came without prior warning, unannounced occurrences.
Left this fourth time, to ponder death's arrival, this time, not so lucky.
I dreadfully contemplate what, if anything, exists after crossing over.
A fear that has plagued mankind since Eve took that first fateful bite.
The reaper achieved his goal, but I was unwilling to cross Phlegethon.
inexplicably, each time my soul has been revived, prior to complete loss.
Mind and body replenished with life, but some part of me remained deceased.
Returning some what less than, what was my previous state of being.
Losing only it seems, what I held onto so dearly in my life.
Small pieces of hope, faith, and joy. Now left absent from my soul.
Only time will tell if this virus, will undue death's losing streak.
Or, if the Doctors confidence will be proven true, allowing me to survive.
Yet, Again.
Times were hard – that is what they said
When they told me about their early years -
before I was there, their son
Filled with the hunger of youth, the lust
For life, passion – the truth
Times were not easy – and I could tell
Life had been a journey
Through fears, tears and years
Between rocks and hard places, through
Darkness and dread, doubts
That left them with questions
And uncertainty that bled through the
Joy that longed to give them hope
Wipe the slate clean, so they might see
What love reveals when it stills
The beating of heart who is living
With a past that is so unforgiving
Times were hard – and their souls bled
From the wounds they’d acquired
Damage that couldn’t be settled
With bandages or dressings that might
Seem like the thing to do
When pain erases all the good
Times were hard – but they never let go
The blessings that comforted, the ones
That soothed and uplifted,
Blessings of love that came from believing
Despite the worries that erases hope
Despite the struggles that bring mistrust
Despite all the differences that came along
To destroy their faith, their joy, their peace
They found a way to believe in their hearts
That His love would see them through
Cleaning the slate so that they could find
The beautiful secreted
Beneath the darkest of nights
Times might have been hard, but they knew
With love, they could travel
This world with one assurance –
Light and love comes alive inside those
Who know that the struggle
Is actually a blessing in disguise
Because when He decides to erase the pain,
Hearts have so much to gain –
As He wipes away the past, there is a promise
That, with time – these will only become
Memories of hard times, memories
That assure hearts – they can survive
They have what it takes to face their hurt
And, despite the damage, venture
Into the future with assurance that,
With love – anything is possible,
And everything, surely, will be made good again
He cleans the slate every morning
When we wake to the new dawn
Lift our eyes to the fresh thoughts
Delight in the beauty of our hopes
He is love and as long as we live, we know
His love is the truth that reassures
In spite of hard times, there is so much good!
This or That, Vol 16 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Blank Slate
February 7, 2023
PROLOGUE
Biographies are for men who have a need to cry
To spell out what we remember is to subtract all
We forget, for knowing then nothing knew, a lie
Conjured by history, there's no a priori here at all
If you will not abuse my love
I will dive for you deeper forgotten things, bring
Up from bottom hate to prove
To be a better god we gladly, boldly took the sting
And could not have merely comprehended joy until
Our serpent made the safe-God to repent of his will
Here is my life strands of sands upon your windy palm
I'm the syllables of every gospel, beginning at the Psalm
Proverbs skinned like rice from the shaft, seeking balm.
History immaculate pristine in no myth ever shall sleep
Introspection vigils struggle between words and memory
Philosophy is a dream, not I, who numbers days urgently,
The sleeping dog will sleep, but my promise let me keep.
i
IDENTITY
I do not even know how it began, night or day
Rain or shine - nor what season they had interplay
I only know that nine must have been too long since
I overstayed my time and made her grimaced, grunt
And groaned to push me out. So of course, I wince
Privy to so much uncertainty. I have a given month
A date, but what is time alone for anyone's beginning
I want to remember the pool I paddled in the flesh
The long rope that called my navel a primal mouth
The red tide of mud from her veins which so much clout
I was hooked on it, around the perimeter where I thresh
So much more can come from a real truth of beginning.
I mean, how comes we have no control over our beginning
And you expect me in the middle to give you meaning
I will not buy the lie, I choose allegiance but know not how
The end shall fufill its promises of me. The air burns still
Like an acrid vapor on the lungs, and not yet I shall spill
The anger from the fumes of air, nor low ever can I bow
Before the hand that slapped my butt and told me scream.
You say indecent, I say unjust, for he proved no love so
Soon nor knew of me any wrong. The conspirators team
Around a common cause: a man must cry so they know
He has life; my kicking legs were not enough. The water
Suddenly left me swaddled in air and just a little laughter.
I do not take kindly to being whipped, nor did I protest then
About my eviction, and the sudden weight of many things.
Above ,
sitting atop a crested hill
solitary , but nary lonely
Agemo is what he answer's too
but question is alway's on his mind
His twin , Ahpla , calls him a dreamer
Agemo has grown to expect this
considering Ahpla's domineering demeanor
alway's suggestive to take without quarter
not understanding his brother's nature
how Agemo recieves more satisfaction giving
being there for the rest of the pack
helping to create a pleasant atmosphere
Ahpla's role as a tough , no-nonsense
protector , can show no weakness
he love's his brother Agemo
but at time's detest his obvious softness
But the pair with it's conflicting opposites
has found a way to oversee
those dependent on their intelligence
stern at times , yet comforting
Right now though ,
Agemo continues to watch
the rise of the moon's daily journey
wondering what tomorrow will bring.....
Ahpla and his twin brother Agemo
are the proud protector's
of a land called " Laskrizon "
a lush mountainous valley
nestled northwest by southwest
in the western hemisphere
Hidden to most , known only to few
legend tell's it , that Laskrizon
is a famed combination , called so
considering it's the last lacrimal horizon
the final portal , the last vestibule
where Nature hope's , and other's wait
uncertainty weigh's heavy here
The pack are guardian's of a secret
holders , protector's of a treasured jewel
only knowing , a time will come
the unknowing stirs an unease
but the honor bestowed keeps steady
Alway's a watchful eye to the sky
never was told what to look for
they believe they'll know ,
when the time arrives
anxiously awaiting
fortitude a definite calling here
The jewel is a stone
more so , a rough corpus
a veiny mass ,
crystalized in time from space
some have called it a seed from heaven
in the land of the two-legged
it's been called many names
grail stone , philosophers stone
even the water stone of the wise
All the pack knows
is to protect at all cost's
lest it falls into dire grips
The stone's purpose is unknown
easily overlooked at first glance
closer inspection reveals it's uniqueness
only under the light of the sun
distinct golden specks and threads
glorious in it's smallness , yet
simulating a galaxy of stars
with the spiral wynd of veins
a frozen beauty...........
( to be continued....)
Horoscopes defy what the mind already knows
Sagittarius categorized, Catholically inclined
Religion forces Signed eyes to reconsider deliverance
Archer status on the dance floor
Lips poised clothing crunk'd
High heels dipped in ghetto couture
Street loved, Sirens seem to posess me with Hip-Hop streaming
Cold blue steel pressed against my thigh
He makes me forget Good Girl analogies
Marxist ideologies and paying the water bill
Electric cars and global warming
Catholic tendencies clash with knee-jerk leftist remarks
Minorities have a propensity to be Democratically oriented
Shall I take it to the highest point of disregard
And let Disneyland dreams give way to worldly needs
Oh God
May we philosophize before his muscles take me over
Smiles reconcile what was once sober
Drunk off uncertainty
"I live for the moment" lies
We all need a little healing
I forget my repented chants to forgive sins
The more educated I become the harder it is to blindly believe
Faith is a tired charade that I must play
Center stage, bright eye'd and readily paid
I believe but must I rely on what the homily says
The bank notes the eagerness in charity of diluted masses
I trust in the Lord
Everyone needs a mentor
To relinquish safety in the face of uncertainty
Is something revolutionary
Am I to fall in love with guilt as my ancestors before me
Will Jesus still love me if i'm not sorry for smiling
I'm not sorry at all for being
Lividly in love with living
But was it T.S Elliot who was so declined to meet
The basic devotion in his poetry
Or was it me who denies faith everlastingly
I'm already twisted with these bottles of opiated, over the counter conviction
Priests who color me darker then I was before I dipped my hand
Into sanctified waters
Questions procede answers that are left for dying
The Vatican with daily mantras force me to facilitate fate
Is this the right religion for me
Why isn't faith enough, destiny binds me to unforgiving roots
Relatives in Zoot-suits trying to mix it up
The fine lines between being revolutionary and being impious
Are fading so slightly from the clear cut minds
Or is it mine whose mind is cut from something similar to sacrilede profanity
Surely we shall see
With prayer in my hand
the devil at my feet