Long Undertows Poems
Long Undertows Poems. Below are the most popular long Undertows by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undertows poems by poem length and keyword.
Time's natural spaces,
a universe of footprints in remembered places.
Need kicks me in the ass
and head.
Trauma iafterflows,
undertows,
crashing carnage
with runaway horsepower.
Want is a branching step,
coincidentally left-producing and right-consuming
memory footprints on Earth's beach of time,
some more resiliently resonant
before erasing surf remerges,
and some less formed before washing into history's cultural flow
of confluent wild consciousness.
Time bilaterally steps through
sands of positive place in negative space,
resolving comprehensive consciousness.
Footprints in sands of trauma time
regenerate decomposing memory
within nature's wild chaos
outflowing rhyme.
Earthlings have no time
without sufficient stepping space
We experience rightful yin
without expelling wrongful yang
We co-arise no perfect vacuum
no perfect bad,
no perfect glad
save well-timed balance
in-between surfing appositionals
Bipedal potential
for comprehensive consciousness
in mind's harmonious heart
beating co-empathic lust for trust
informing and exforming lungs
fueled by nature's spirited intelligence.
Our shortages of universal healthy time,
our misconceptions about balancing wealthy walking space,
that
mislead to suicidal
patricidal
fratricidal
matricidal
ecocidal
tidal footprints into quicksand's chaos
Riptide's karmic grace
for recreating tomorrow's spacious beach
awaiting more transgenerative feet
and resonant heads,
bodies with minds
surfing seasoned time's
indigenous wisdom.
Time passionately flows
and enfolds frequent nature's voice
for each to hear with dissonant noise
while listening in keys of confluent choice.
Time's polypathic space,
universal footprints
in memory's unitarian place.
Shadowed memories
intermingle with
childhood dreams of
days long past.
Looking back on
the canon of Time
my dance with youth
filled my heart with
happiness
enveloped by the love
of a caring father and mother.
You danced alongside me
for a time
hand in hand
until you let go
feeling unloved
though you never were.
Black moods pulled you
away into a
turbulent tide of
angry undertows
slapping strongly against
love’s strong currents.
You traded an ocean of love
for a desert of discontent
and walked away
alone and apart
and I know not why
dear sister.
9/6/2019
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
Talking
By Michelle Morris
21/01/2023
People so often don't listen
They don't know how to communicate
Love and misunderstandings
Create complications and undertows
Words and silence cause waters
Deep, dangerous and mystical
We need to choose them with care
Lest we drown before we float
Sometimes all we seem to be doing is...
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the wind
The words blow up
Blow away to the Universe
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the ocean
The words blow up
Blow away good emotions
People so often don't speak
They don't know how to articulate
Egos, agendas and lack of empathy
Can create distance and craziness
Space and speaking cause waters
Deep, dangerous and mystical
We need to embrace the inner work
Lest we are swept away before healing kicks in
Sometimes all we seem to be doing is...
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the wind
The words blow up
Blow away to the Universe
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the ocean
The words blow up
Blow away good emotions
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the wind
The words blow up
Blow away to the Universe
Talk, talk, talk
Talking to the ocean
The words blow up
Blow away good emotions
© Michelle Morris, 2023
As I gaze out upon the blue ocean,
from my perch, on the cliff above .
The incoming storm, hovers close by,
I am watching battering waves, smash
the rugged coastline shore below.
The blue waves blend with the distant blue sky.
The once sapphire ocean now becomes steel blue
As the storm rolls in, the ocean, ever changing hues.
The waves smash, blend and churn creating
Cauldrons of undertows merging with rips
Battering with a powerful gale force.
As lightning zig- zags across the deepened sky
I head for shelter from the incoming rain
Knowing I will return again to look at ocean blue.
Francine's contest- blue on blue on blue
Phyl the ocean
thanks Francine
Each day he felt the distance growing,
separating him from where and who
they thought he should want to be.
Though he was adrift in the currents
of prevailing winds, he felt the pull
of strong undertows -- and he didn't know
to which he should acquiesce
or against which he should struggle.
He neither acquiesced nor struggled.
"Didn't he think he should shave, shower
regularly, get a hair cut, lose weight,
shine his shoes, change clothes,
and show up early?
Shouldn't he set an example?"
He wanted to imagine a "but"
to refute apparent logic,
could do no better than to scribble
description which drifted across
the pad, influenced by other
undertows. He tried to last, having
once believed in the universal
flux, but could no longer. Finally,
he avoided mirrors and others'
eyes, kept to the rooms' darker
corners, and no longer engaged
in conversation -- not even with himself.
you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it
deep inside of me
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift
it's elegant, poignant,
simplistic, bueatful
trucking perfect
its not erotic
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it
a euphoric chorus
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical
if read, it would become universal
a meter tethered in clasical measure
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed
not a single flaw
not a single flaw
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god
me being me i like to tease
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines
blow your mind
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue
"all my cows milk is homogenized
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep
like to stare and creep"
but you'll never see
the rest of my secret poetry
that only exsist inside of me
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah
sheep will always go baah baah baah
and the perfect elagance
of my literary inteligence
will die with me
never being seen
qouted, memorised or plagerized
as i will say with my last gasp
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***
ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam.
Bridge
I whirl through moments etched upon my mind,
Sink through midnight layers where shadows creep,
Hear the rushing floods – no smooth waters find –
Crumbling day light eludes vesper’s sleep.
Solitude’s still waters boil – restless energy -
Rushing waves clog with flotsam discarded
For shores unreached – a rueful elergy -
Undertows of catacombs bombarded.
Shapeless forms from midnight sneer, then arise –
Frantic fear flails seeing in undertows
Vanishing edges but phantoms thin lies
Flee as new shafts of amber light now overflow.
Starshine resurrects from the hopeless night
A bridge between nightmares and true sunlight.
Cotton And White Clouds
Cotton squeezes spongy soft in sanguine undertows
Flows calmly through the gentle fingers slow
Babies feel them caress their tender skin and sigh
Thin fibers rise to weave a dream of pure new white
Through their tiny minds as they recline to nap
Invisible oceans come and wash thoughts clean
Clouds envy them within the realm of reason
Sleeping on blue skies like baby silent whispers
Marshmallow mountains of ghostly fluff move up above
Over the innocent bundles of pure love
Clean and clear, floating ever slowly
Evaporate as they draw close
Tranquil cotton finds white clouds in heavenly repose
Blissful just like Christmas snow
Before they disappear
Silent streams swirl silver shadows deep
Where sorrow's sediment settles, secrets keep
Forgotten fragments of a fractured past
Echoes of emotions that will forever last
Fleeting fingers of fate fan out the sand
As fragile fortunes falter, lost in the land
Unspoken undertows of unfulfilled desire
Yearning for a yesterday that's lost in the fire
Gathering gusts of grief, I grasp the grains
As whispers of what could've been remain in vain
Shifting shores of shattered dreams unfold
A tale of time and tears, forever to be told
In hollowed halls of heartache, I reside
Where shadows of shattered hopes abide
The weight of worn-out words, a heavy heart
A melancholy melody, forever to impart
Through the glassy gates of grief, I gaze
At the grains of time, in a haze of daze
A labyrinth of lost love, a maze of pain
A solitary soul, forever to remain
In the hourglass of existence, I'm confined
A prisoner of pain, forever left behind
The sands of solitude, a slow descent
A lonely journey, without a reprieve or consent
Fractured fragments of a forgotten past
Echoes of emotions that will forever last
In the desolate dunes of a dying heart
A solitary soul, forever to depart
Through the veil of vulnerability, I see
A reflection of regret, a legacy to be
A tale of time and tears, forever to unfold
A story of sorrow, forever to be told
In the shifting sands of solitude, I stand
A monument to melancholy, in this desolate land