Long Unchecked Poems
Long Unchecked Poems. Below are the most popular long Unchecked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unchecked poems by poem length and keyword.
Lazy days meld into one,
summer siestas just begun;
Busy bees morn 'til late,
honeycombs proliferate.
Speckled starlings sing with delight
on July swarms in nuptial flight.
Swallows circle in storm clouds low,
a foraging airshow ,to and fro.
Cricket willow on fields green,
traditional pastimes in England seen.
Gardens parasol bedecked,
where picknicing wasps wander unchecked.
Basil spreading six feet tall
by freshwater trickling small.
Tidelines explored on a rockpool beach,
driftwood ,stranded,bleached.
Hammock sleeping 'neath a halo'ed sun,
a signal of September rain to come.
Far from being empty, silence is full,
bliss pulsating, soma nectar flowing,
as we’re propelled by the magnetic pull
of bliss, that keeps fire of rapture glowing.
Let us reflect on where we are this morn:
the soul star chakra’s throb is dominant,
all other nodes mirroring God’s bliss horn,
with forehead and Bindu point prominent.
The spine as always stands firm and erect,
with orifice at the crown expanding,
that as pace of bliss influx grows unchecked,
in tranquil heart we make a safe landing.
Nose, soles of feet and palms deserve mention ~
Their tingles signalling our ascension
Attached to outcomes, ego opaques light,
radiance of our true Self, veiled by mind,
demons of darkness, shrouding heart’s delight,
thought tentacles gripping us in their bind.
As both tormentor and the tormented,
being both the subject and the object,
we inhaled fragrance of love, bliss scented,
causing boundless rapture to rise unchecked.
Waking up in the dream by slowing thought,
with ego exhumed, bliss beats soon resumed,
whence soul imbibed love and light as it ought,
whereupon at our core, heart lotus bloomed.
Thought cessation, path to heart’s elation ~
In time stretched peace, is our meditation
Your unchecked baggage are lab diamonds you wish they were natural.
Be quick, your next fix for perfection is on the other side of me.
At least that's what you think you see.
At least that's what you project on the screen to me.
Actually, that's what you seem to believe that you are.
So let's both go get lost in another gay bar.
Play the same damn movie over again.
We'll swap each other out for another lead character and see if it builds character.
But what happens when one of us has destroyed the film?
Because I'd rather lose the tape than be forced to potentially retake the darkest scenes of the horror film we made.
I'm glad you found a way to unsee the things I will never not see because you don't grow from the seeds you failed to let free.
I will bloom and you will resume to follow the same patterns that slowly entomb you.
These words have already broken the same platters I serve that you used to define me.
How does it feel watching the revived me?
My future remains breakable like ivory despite missed shots at my recovery.
I remain unshakable even when you used my time like my mind is easily obtainable.
Now you can sit tight and watch me become unrecognizable, 'cause you and I both know my seat was always meant to be cemented at this ing table.
Now I am able to speak freely knowing that I have already lost you due to your lack of accountability in this fable.
Your opinion no longer holds weight in the gymnasium I created around me.
I hang weights on the windows to protect my gates, to ensure the wrong dates will never disrupt my fates again.
Because this always seems to end in let's just be friends.
I choose to be my own damn best friend.
Each year, for seven days, it sat upon the shelf
between the silver candle and the season's elf;
It's once glorious value now a faded red
labeled so with speckled stains from bitter tears shed.
For forty years, more, her ritual has been thus;
a once vivacious thing who's clearly missed the bus.
It was the giver, not the gift, she should enjoy
the god of beauty and desire, Aphrodite's boy.
On promise made, she gave him all, her everything,
then came the hour he sent this red box wrapped with string.
She would walk past the box, occasionally smile;
cradle in her arms, rock like a baby for a while.
Up till the moment that the Gin took its effect,
and then, the bitterness and bile let loose unchecked
wild-eyed anger, spittled lips screaming out profanes.
Doesn't know what's in the box but knows what it contains;
loss of trust, loss of faith, and loss of all desire,
all thrown upon her vanity's funeral pyre.
She'll put away the gift until she needs a fix
of wallowing self-loathing from her box of tricks.
Unrestrained Summer Fun
Unrestrained summer fun. Uninvited Feds frolicking, throwing unarmed people in unmarked vans. Rollers ride, with unchecked power, distributing death to those undeserving of it. Millions sick, from unseen marauders. Poets fueled, by undead spirits.
Unrestrained summer fun.
Under a bridge sleeps the undignified welcome committee for the unjustly unemployed. Unpaid rent leads to under-served sleep on unswept ground. Underneath is an under current, threatening to leave an entire nation undone.
Unrestrained summer fun.
Understanding what it means to be under the undermining influence of unrestrained summer fun is undesirable. Patiently we wait to no longer live under the gun.
A train travels under a bridge. I’ll try not to end up underneath it.
Body and Mind give way to the Heart and Soul.
They let the emotions take over yet remain in control.
Passion and sentiment now replace logic and reason.
Interchanging ever so slightly- as if from season to season.
Feelings flow freely, replacing all thought.
Emotions running wild without fear of being fought.
The Mind sits back and takes no part,
letting all decisions be made by the Heart.
And throughout the Body the Soul can now freely flow.
With the Heart now in control the Body can only follow.
As the Soul controls the actions revealing it's glow.
Every decision now based on "I feel" not "I think" or "I know"
Emotions unchecked by the Mind, the Heart's desires continue to grow,
and with the help of the Soul will continue to do so.
The Heart and Soul move slowly but soon control All.
This is what takes place when, in Love we fall.
In the heart, something ungoverned hums beneath the language of reason.
In the heart, feeling refuses names, slipping past definition like light through unclosed curtains.
In the heart, grief softens into a quiet weight, mistaken for emptiness by those who have not held it.
In the heart, desire grows in secret, wild and unchecked, asking for nothing it can justify.
In the heart, memory rearranges itself, a gallery where nothing hangs where it once did.
In the heart, words arrive too late,
Already inadequate to what they attempt to contain.
In the heart, we learn attachment not as theory, but as ache.
In the heart, pleasure leans too closely to pain, the two speaking in nearly identical voices.
In the heart, thought turns inward, questioning itself until meaning frays.
In the heart, the body remembers what the mind abandons.
In the heart, the self flickers, uncertain, unfinished.
In the heart, shame settles deep, unnamed but always understood.
In the heart, time stretches under sorrow, each moment lingering past its welcome.
In the heart, love becomes too many things at once: devotion, hunger, illusion.
In the heart, fear redraws the world in harsher lines.
In the heart, clarity becomes cold, almost cruel in its honesty.
In the heart, hope remains anyway—small, unreasonable, alive.
In the heart, contradictions make a home beside one another.
In the heart, silence is full, not empty.
In the heart, everything is felt too deeply, until feeling disappears alltogether.
To Spark Interest
More than the
competence
And more than
the form
More than
verbosity
And more than
its charms
More than
acceptance
And more than
the fame
Hoping
to spark interest
Nothing more
— will I claim
********
Surrounding His Heart
In a manner
peculiar
to himself
love was in vain
The standard
that other’s
depended upon
his never to feign
The love of a maiden
the love of a lass
lay broken
to bits
Impaled by the armor
surrounding
his heart
ungiven — remiss
********
But A Memory
Opening
Pandora’s Box
that regret
cannot close
A.I. preys
unchecked
our heads to
our toes
Pandering
to laziness
its gadgets
mislead
And hide
its real purpose
to enslave
and deceive
A little bit
pregnant
the feckless
proclaim
Its baby
a monster
our freedom
to claim
And when it
takes over
to never
depart
Our pasts
but a memory
in a future
— that’s dark
********
Alone & Silent
The water
rushing over the falls
belies its force
A trickle
1000 miles North
contains its source
A poem that’s written
then published
and rewrapped in fame
Hides what moments alone
and silence
— forever sustain
********
A Last Final Act
Using Logic to
explain Divinity ...
a futile endeavor
Love the gift
that keeps on giving
through hate and ill weather
Through spirit alone
we return to the source
of our making
Repledging our souls
in a last final act
— of becoming
(Dreamsleep: June, 2026)
REMEMBER, BUT BE NOT LIKE THEM
I need not wear a rose colored hat of old;
Nor a darkened remnant of today.
The hue of my flesh is evidence enough:
My place in this walled democracy…
Whose water ways are liquid graves
Of generations of my ancestors.
Even within my own ghetto,
It is wearisome to venture around
As the imprisoning guardians
Also stalk and seek here,
The pleasures of the flesh and kill.
The only commodities that we truly own here,
Are the fragile mortal lives we endure;
But they too, are mere entities of damaged collateral…
That the life bankers may tantalize unchecked;
Or lay hold of at the beckoning of their whimsical will.
Though fixed eyes have captured villainous reapers,
Let us hark unto reality and be not deceived
By others who must now grieve. Let’s play this out
With an ever discerning ear…patiently hearing…
Never forgetting what has really happened here.