Long Unfolding Poems
Long Unfolding Poems. Below are the most popular long Unfolding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unfolding poems by poem length and keyword.
Reflecting wonder, hope and joy
Peace that rises…
From the flames of her heart,
Silencing the fears, the tears, the years…
Before she was certain –
He could gentle even these,
So more than anything, she would agree
Reflected in her heart…
Were dreams that others sought,
Dreams of lasting peace,
Dreams of sweetest grace,
Dreams of sincere faith,
Dreams that were meant to last,
Dreams that were built on light.
Reflected in her tears, like dewdrops,
Were heaven’s lingering roses,
Tender and blushing away the shyness,
Creating a music that never dies,
Songs, like psalms, so alive – so wise,
Coloring the night in brave and bold,
The light – in compassion so warm,
Kindness that could never leave well enough alone,
Kindness that trembles in the soul,
Sighing light through the evidence, the musing,
Falling soft against the melody of yesterday.
Reflecting the wonder, the kindness
A life unfolding, in pieces,
Layers of gold, God blessed…
Arranged in rhythms,
Tempting the songs, the refrain,
Silent and soothing,
Tender as the colors of hope,
Blushing soft against the smiles,
Beautiful, melodious as the moments
Before she first expressed her heart,
The light reflecting all the silence,
The soothing, the sensitivity and surety,
The tones of love that caress the dreams,
Abide inside the spirit who believes,
Yes, she believes and she sees…
Her light is the challenge for each of us,
Each of us can see – the light that agrees,
Love is the answer to everything.
Yes, love is the answer reflected by grace.
Love is the answer, the light that reflects…
The Savior, the King, the reason
Each of us celebrate this season!
Christmas is a reflection of that reason!
May you find the light in the season!
Splitting straws reveal tears of unfair truth
long and short of it bugs with ugly voices swear
Finding you are under the carpet
hiding inside echoes disturbing peace
The breaking point makes a stand rightly silence
shattering glass on the surface breaks code
Mirrored reflection flashbacks past repeating sins
Playing the same old downer breaking feelings
Rewinding backwards sorry does not get it anymore
That shows a moon's face upside down frowning
Thanking the lucky stars above
in destinies quest unfolding
We all know our soul purpose love remains true
there we see the snake that holds chains hurt
Legion of cold icy rain runs down the cheeks
demon your breath touches deep a fired memory
Torturing a body heart and mind aches with grief
Loveless my eyes just swam away lost direction
Caught drifting on cloud nine of your breath
frozen particles remain completely cold
spawning new direction forward and out
When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one EarthTribe
with integrity's richest bilateral potential.
When the last competing retributive jurist and counselor
and parent and ecopolitical leader
sees past his WinLose ecopolitical assumptions and theories
to find sufficient WinWin cooperative mercy
for bilateral yin-squared equals yang-fractal enculturation,
then
(0)-Soul restorative bilateral justice,
for both propogandist perp
and pedagogist victim,
reweaving 4D RealTime peace,
as Tranquility already repletes our deep democratic team learning
through village reforesting designs
for short-deductive through long sacred-inductive
non-violent and yet resilient terms
of and for ecopolitical re-education
restitution,
love's restoration
as also grace
as also karma
reweaving (0)-Sum educational synergy
convexly co-arising secular space-here
with sacred time-now's concaving bilateral co-gravitation
back through Yang/Yin co-listening bicameral strength
erupting notnot Yin's timeless present double-binding flow,
you can't go back again
nor forth
without ego's eco-geo-bio-imaging whims
of reverse-RealTime 4D polypathic imagination,
polycultural folding/unfolding/refolding/prefolding instructions,
regenerative forward,
degenerative back through space as time's co-gravitational balance.
When WinLose learning competitions end
endless reiterative notnot polynomial repetitions,
WinWin education cooperatives can,
will,
already do ecopolitically restore climate regenerative health trends'
our left with right-full place in WinYang-WinYin Gaian Principles
for your/our Department of Education's
ReVolutionary ReForestation.
When the last remaining Yang propagandist
against deeply yin-suppressed holistic pedagogists
falls back in love with cooperative secular/sacred educational love,
we will learn to live forever
as one PolyPathic EarthTribe
with integrity's richest bicameral potential.
Old river-thought murmurs
—I slip—
not away, but into the hush between
what holds and what lets go—
a spine of light bending softly
from mist to depth.
I remember stillness:
cupped hands at morning prayer,
a silence shaped like longing
filling with the cool of grace.
Listen—
I dwell in every pause you mistook for end.
Your name—rippled
through me, again and again,
a hymn undone by echo.
Yet I am no hymn.
I am the silence after—
unclinging—
and the weightless reach.
See how the lily leans, not in sorrow
but surrender—
a slow bow to sky-drip,
a soft
unfolding.
Where I flow is not escape
but return.
The fall is not forsaking.
The fall is
how I carry
you home.
Immortal and undecaying these poems, I know, shall die one day;
one day all fame and immortality shall fall flat among the debris.
The Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China
shall be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions.
The eyes of Newton and Einstein shall be upturned;
upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars
shall be falling down ceaselessly.
Alas! where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature,
music and paintings earned through thousand years?
When these poems will die one day;
when all fame and immortality shall fall flat one day among the debris;
when the Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China
will be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions;
when the eyes of Newton and Einstein will be upturned;
when upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars
will be falling down ceaselessly;
alas, when where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature,
music and paintings earned through thousand years; that day, o God,
pour down those poems into my soul, listening to which, all the nymphs
and inhabitants of Paradise will start dancing in joy.
I walk bearing such a soul which plays like a flute,
sings like a cuckoo,
runs stirring murmuring sounds like a spring
and dances unfolding its feathers like a pea-cock.
If I were not submerged utterly into the darkness of the worldy life,
my soul would play such a way, your sky would start trembling;
it would sing such a way, the passers-by would remain standing by speechless;
it would run stirring murmuring sound such a way, poems after poems
would fall down into the souls of the poets;
and it would dance unfolding its feathers such a way, the eyes of the beauty-lovers
would be dazzled in wonder.
My soul is, as it were, a cuckoo who has mistakenly entered a city;
he sings songs but the outcry of the machine-monsters does not let them enter
the ears of lords and ladies.
I rise with snow covered mountains that surround me
Knowing I will be viewing so much more soon
As my voice carries from here to there, everywhere
Music also carries me from the keyboard at my window
To the distant hills and beyond
While I wait for things to unfold before me
One day at a time, one note at a time, a breath at a time
The power of speech will be like flowing songs and a rhyme
The woods are not too thick and the snow is not too deep
To reach the inevitable destination from a journey
For I have traveled far through many, many storms
Leaving footprints all the way, yes, all the way here
To this plateau with faith bound courage and vision
It is a purpose unfolding, each and every day
As so much will be revealed with melting of the snow
I will be standing here, I will be heard
Heidi Sands
One winter eve I walked out with my dog,
The way was dark, unlit by moon and stars,
My flickering torchlight failing in the fog,
To pick out tree roots,crevices and rocks,
To cause a stumble, and a muffled curse.
Whatever else was lurking in the trees,
Silent and still, in my mind grew worse,
As an unfolding midnight dream turned sour.
I knew the the path. We trod it every day,
So filled with pleasure and delight 'til now.
My step quickened. I could not shrug away
A feeling of disquiet and unease,
Palpable amidst the encircling gloom.
Nocturnal creatures scarcely made a sound
But it was magnified, a crack of doom,
A falling twig, or rustling dried-up leaves,
Predators unseen, darkly eyeing prey,
Their evil presence almost within touch,
Waiting the chance to carry me away,
To drag me to some foul and putrid nest,
Never again to see the light of day.
With tensions high and senses all alert,
Out of the dark, a touch upon my leg.
Startled and fearing, a step back I lurched,
And then relief. It had been but a nudge
From Ross. Perhaps he sensed and shared
My fright, but then, from out the stillness of the night,
A fearsome roar. My feet turned into stone.
Blood curdling, heart stopping, the monstrous sound
Echoed around us. Frozen to the spot,
My breathing stopped. I could not turn around
To flee. And then again it came, so close, it seemed
To set the very trees a-quivering.
What beast was this, what wild and hellish fiend ?
More furious bellowing, on and on
And on, and still I could not see the source.
Turning to run, the path had disappeared.
Crashing through entangled briars, ditches,
Fallen trees, scratched and bleeding, soon I feared,
Mud-soaked and stumbling now, that i was lost.
Still I heard the creature, somewhere behind,
Roaring, bellowing, angry with the night.
I fell into a muddy ditch, half blind,
And scrambled through the slime, hoping I might
Emerge at the wood's edge, so close to home
But, helpless, I was sucked into the mire,
Down,down and deeper down, now filled with fear,
Breathing in mud, heart pounding, lungs on fire.
No hope, no light ahead, my end was near.
I reached the bottom. Now let truth be said.
What did I find? I'd fallen out of bed !
And that, dear reader, though I am not one to brag,
Was my encounter with the rutting Lyth Hill stag !
When night casts shadows on the ground
The robin, distant, croons
Avian tones, enthralled by dreams
While stars glaze like festoons.
Ringlets of clouds, like puffs on flight
The silhouette of trees,
Nocturnal sighs and murmurings
Are caught up in the breeze.
Then, the new moon appears above
Her white face shyly peeps,
Light breaks so softly, glows the wings
As nest of duskfall sleeps.
Yet birdland rustles through the leaves
Jays trill on bush and thorn;
Where cardinal's imprints pass
Across the dappled lawn.
Soon these plumed wonders of the dark
Close down for daytime's rest,
To gather strength for next eve's rites
Unfolding at their best.
For The Birds Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
11/2/2015
Miraji translations into modern English
I'm obsessed with this thought:
does God possess mercy?
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch
Come, see this dance, the immaculate dance of the devadasi!
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch
Excerpts from “Going, Going ...”
by Miraji
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Each unfolding vista,
each companion’s kindnesses,
every woman’s subtle sorceries,
everything that transiently lies within our power
quickly dissolves
and we are left with only a cupped flame, flickering ...
Should we call that “passion”?
The moon scrapes the horizon
and who can measure a star’s breadth?
The time allotted a life, if we calculate it,
is really only a fleeting breath ...
1.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
on the breeze of some future spring
will chase after my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch
2.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
through some distant future spring
will pluck my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch
3.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
when my life has come and gone,
and when I’m dead and done,
perhaps someone
hearing me sing
in a distant spring
will echo my songs
the whole world over.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch
If I understand things correctly, Miraji wrote the lines above after translating a verse by Sappho in which she said that her poems would be remembered in the future. I suspect both poets and both prophecies were correct!
The fern unfurls its fronds into bright daylight,
Upwelling, unfolding, into its green birthright.
Each turn widening out, from what came before.
Uncoiling upon its splayed and flattened mentor.
A shell remembers the squeeze of an ebb tide,
to fill its cramped space from that wise guide.
Expanding its shell's spiral wider to enclose
and encircle, its whorl with more space as it grows.
A hawk ascends to an invisible higher place
upwelling on warm air lifts high into space.
Ever widening its circle and point of view,
As Earth unscrews; its thread now askew.
Circling round a spiral coiled staircase,
each step is quarter, or half, about face.
Entwined by the central core to twist away
from the straight step into light of day.
Wild vine tendrils learn from whirlpools,
which way to script their upward spools.
Responding to the wire's touch and feel
to coil in spirals, around cold hard steel.
High above the spiral galaxies unwind their arms
like silver brittle starfish on bracelet charms.
They're frozen in space and time to not display
the way they twist, coil and spin in foreplay.