Long Undoing Poems
Long Undoing Poems. Below are the most popular long Undoing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undoing poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a time fairies had tails, feathers and even scales.
This is the true tale of how and why fairies lost their tails.
Well
It all began in ancient times in the age of the dinosaurs
The first fairies were like mini flimsy and flighty Archaeopteryx
With scales, feathers and a long prehensile tail adorned with scales
Fairies flipped their tails to cast spells
But their tails were heavy and misspells were frequent.
Undoing spells was costly, unsure and tricky.
One day the fairy godmother decreed:
"Fairy Tail spells are Old Hat and Flawed"
"There's too many bad spells from miss-flicked tails"
"Fairies need a wand in hand like me"
"Fairy tails be gone!"
With a 'Hey Presto' flick of godmother wand
All fairy tails were painlessly excised
And converted to hand-held magic wands
So now you know
The fairy tale of how a fairies lost their tails
And stopped their misspells.
Crashing out.
As if by the breeze.
I had enough coffee to survive an ice storm.
When there’s no weather for miles.
Just seems so just…
Like I used to be depressed a minute ago.
Then goosebumps and icicles.
Chattering and nothing is blessed-it’s just goofy, oddball,
Chirping, laughter, undoing.
I was brushing my teeth.
The toothbrush went right through my tongue.
Everything’s enraged.
Nothing’s screaming, it’s just beautiful.
I really used to be depressed.
In that drooling, but no real drool way.
No tears, just the mesh everywhere that does nothing.
That’s what this is, just a room full of spinning dice multiplying.
Looming all over, happy.
I was relaxing by the windowsill.
There’s still no such thing as weather or storms.
Just whatever ice is left over that I’m wielding.
When there’s no weather for miles.
You can just float into the open world.
Be an electric person.
Crashing out.
Have enough space molecules.
Expand the no-storm earth.
Crashing out.
I feel the bite.
And stopped being depressed for a week.
Lost in echoes of darkened time
dampened, dithering, dazed
wet withered witches mime a dime
fearful, I’m mazed or crazed
Calling Divinity, voicebox shut
eyelids glued, nostrils stuffed
lips zipped with copper thread
eardrums worrisome waned
Where are chiming confluent clocks
highways and internet ?
shadows dim whisper, “badly blocked,
pointless you bet, get set !”
Surely I paid every debt
learnt my lessons very well
trusted faith, no futile fracas
rose from every slothful rut ~
LOST, part of adventurous life
to find own lucid laws
undoing inner sceptic strife
opens all barred doors …
I'm not sure how it all began,
When this soothsayer became heroic to some.
As he molded a story of greatness,
Against what our nation has now become.
Those that listened were mesmerized by his fable,
As he wove a tale of conspiracy and doubt.
Then his minions spread the veil of shadows,
To every corner with whispers they could shout.
Almost miraculously, this mirage became a leader,
Beginning a reign that some wish to forget.
But his actions won't be lost to history,
Since the aftermath lives on to regret.
Early on in his term of division, the
Tactics would erode basic trusts once held high.
Such that... we are a nation made up almost entirely of
Non-natives, yet that must stop, & he'll build a wall with lies.
Soon after, attacks were focused on the media,
As 'fake news' ran rampant in the press.
While the mouthpieces, such as, Hannity and Tucker,
Provided his message to the ignorant, more or less.
It wasn't long before this infection on credibility,
Attacked our very own intelligence community next.
Because ol' 45 would disparage the CIA & others,
Preferring Kim Jong and Putin's rhetoric and text.
Now to be fair, he did accomplish something...
A huge tax-cut that the wealthy endorsed.
So while the rich got richer, the melody sang loudly,
While the poverty of others was reinforced.
Throughout this one-term the primary focus,
Seemed to be undoing everything his predecessor had done.
Now while most of these efforts were negated,
The passionate pursuit gave himself, so much fun.
The ongoing hatred towards Obama and Hilary,
Was a constant theme in the Trump-laden White House.
Lending fuel to the fire of partisan politics, while
Staff and contemporaries posed quietly as a mouse.
The end of this pathetic term was filled with failure,
As dual impeachments and the lost election were to blame.
Followed by legal matters that consumed a nation,
As proud followers were jailed in his name.
Yet the MAGA minority spread far & wide to the horizon,
Where vocal women shamelessly sought his favor to gain.
So between Marjorie, Lauren, and Kari...
Their BDE chorus was tuned to deny any pain.
While conducting this orchestra of disaster,
A nation held hostage, sought truth in the wake.
To the point where regardless of convictions or pardons,
Our Constitution and democracy, will not be proven fake.
Values and hues the artists say
We use light and dark in what we portray
As a whole it seems to work
In every piece of music (or clay as it were)
There is a quirk (what to make of this A.I. isn’t sure)
Now apply the metaphor
(Don’t be afraid God is keeping score)
To God’s creative plan
What He intended for every man
Was a paradise etched in time
But we corrupted the narrative with our rhyme
So the redemptive work began
As was originally set in God’s plan
It did not come to God as a surprise
That women and angels would surmise
Their own version of creation they’ve contrived
(Hume said to spread a lie you must first believe a lie)
God said “They are now like Us, knowing good and evil”
Their bedeviled but God can handle the totality disheveled
(God knows all, rest assured,
Nothing to Him is blurred or hasn’t occurred)
He is reversing the curse
Through the interpersonal work
The work of The Word on behalf of mankind
Undoing the knots of time
(The narrative changes through “telephone”
from the front to the back of the line)
Through all kinds of misreading's and misleading’s
Of people who are all well meaning
Walking down the wide path with no cares
To the narrow path (both full of harbingers)
Down the highway to hell or up to heaven on stairs
You drove many species to extinction.
You plundered, thinking all the earth was yours.
You dumped your waste causing gross pollution.
You blatantly broke all of Nature’s Laws.
Just where have these offences now brought you?
Surely you see that you’re in one big mess.
Your arrogance and greed just grew and grew.
Perhaps it’s time to come clean and confess.
But oh, you will not admit wrongdoing.
You got away with it, so you assumed.
From the mess you’ve made there’s no undoing.
Can you not see your species now is doomed?
Your game of greed was but a shabby show.
Now from this precious planet you must go.
Poetic and not lyrical, that's the circle of life and it's not spherical
Round and round and round it goes but the stop is one that no one knows
It's up and down and in and out, self confidence tinged with self doubt
It's fallin' in and fallin' out, line up to see what it's all about
Just to find out that it's not empirical
Now when I set out to plot life's course, I bet on ev'ry pretty horse
And, of course, they bucked and bridled
Til I found the seat of knowledge, intolerance and college
Was where I could not find it with both hands
So I hit the road and pondered and I jumped up and I wandered
Til I found the winding road leads not into the promised land
I sat down to enjoy a meal of humble pie and cock-eyed crow
Stuck my dampened finger in the air to find an ill wind's bound to blow
And show what we all come to know, that when it comes your time to go
You still won't understand
Whether linear or peripatetic, circumspect or sympathetic
Lyrical and/or poetic, your line is fine if it's kinetic
Stasis is a work of art, but what moves in somebody's heart
Is what it took to make the part that got you where you are
That doesn't mean to rest assured, cause what ails you is someone's cure
Your vision's clear, the lines are blurred
So strike out boldly undeterred, knowing that it's just a word
That got you where you are
It's not the end that turns the herd, cause what it is often overheard
Is often under wrought
It's overdone and underthought, underwhelming, overbought
It did catch on but now it's caught up in its own undoing
Spring seems to teeter-totter back and forth,
as Winter counterchecks each move it makes
to wiggle free from the grip of the North.
Winter has its feet firmly on the brakes,
aiming to stay put, whatever it takes.
April rains morph into flurries of snow,
while disappointment fuels frustration.
There are few signs that Spring will ever show;
soon, Hope morphs into a sad sensation,
as Winter extends Her occupation.
Though Winter's overextended Her stay,
some daffodils are beginning to sprout,
and migrating songbirds are on their way.
Spring will arrive; of that, there's little doubt,
yet I miss Her most when it's snowing out.
When the soil thaws, it's Winter's undoing,
as patches of grass embroider the scene.
The snowmen melt, while life starts renewing;
and grey skies slowly turn aquamarine,
as Spring unfurls leaves of emerald green.
“no doing to be done, save undoing
erasing all our past conditioning“
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Born free, in the void of inner silence
Understanding intuitively, truth
Birthing ego for life experience
Blocked is the light, by our own hand forsooth
Lament not, oh hermit, for we are free
Ignite within the heart, the lamp of love
Negating nothing, in our joyful spree
Gods grace present both within and above
Joy, empathy, purity, compassion
Open heart reflects without cessation
Yielding within, throb of bliss elation
(syllabic Acrostic rhyme)
17-December-2020
Imagine in crown, an ethereal hole,
a portal linking us to vastness of space,
wherein formless presence, or what we call soul,
brings back to form the outpourings of God’s grace,
manifest as bliss mists that make us feel whole,
rapture sublime holding us in close embrace.
This is the divine flame, intimate to each,
which dear fellow souls, is well within our reach.
Now that we know this, how may we reclaim bliss,
that unending current of which sages speak,
borne as of folklore by Divine Mother’s kiss,
which manifests on plugging energy leak,
whereupon in peace, feeling nothing amiss,
in childlike joy we dance with love cheek to cheek?
The clue dear hearts, is each of us was born free
but later chose to bind soul to our mind tree.
Given that mind’s an instrument for our use,
befriending silence we can rest thoughts at will,
whence flow of soma nectar begins to ooze,
delighting as it begins to overspill
and then music of the spheres becomes our muse,
where the universe moves but our mind is still.
Though the path is easy, it seems difficult,
conditioned to follow a this or that cult.
Not by doing but in undoing we rise,
since the table is laid for bliss readymade,
if we be receptive to offered surprise
allowing oughts that arise to gently fade,
recognising life’s a dream, a web of lies
and nestle in heart, in God’s heavenly glade.
Fixating focus on both the crown and heart,
let us all dear souls, our true life journey start.