Long Unloosed Poems
Long Unloosed Poems. Below are the most popular long Unloosed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unloosed poems by poem length and keyword.
Thrust in the center of the storm
All I could see was You
My deepest fears had been born
My sanity like strings unloosed
Nerves unglued by life events
Perhaps this broke my mind
Strapped to a bed I no longer lament
Refused food or drink of any kind
The drugs they tried made me hide
Inside my paranoia so I didn’t speak
Except for occasionally with my eyes
At this one mental health nurse you see
She would gently hold my bound hand
And offered warm wishes and compassion
Through her empathetic angelic glance
I gained something humane in her passion
She’d offer me food which I refused
But fed my spirit with her kindness
After days my mangled mind improved
God sent her and a divine kiss
Through the eye of a manic storm
Where I lay broken despite grace of God
All I saw was this nurse's form
She grounded me with her heavenly heart
Actor at the Edge of the World
At the end of life the flight ends and the curtain falls without applause,
To the dead you are actor and actress and judge and all the other causes,
Beyond the self there lives another who wanted to punish and to sentence,
And the ink froze inside the pen... and the truth... stopped passing through its presence.
Hate and love switch into one another like two faces of the same coin,
Spring grew green over our wounds and no one sees them anymore to join,
The devil's hairs braid themselves into the unwritten and bitter verses left behind,
And I was your judge... and you my punishment... without borders or a line.
The actor and the actress play on the same stage not knowing the play is done,
The ink frozen in the pen holds the truth that was never spoken to anyone,
The letters stand as a model for a truth that no one dares to write down bare,
And the flight at the end of life... is the only role... played truly... in silence and in air.
Beyond you and me there is the space where hate becomes love and rearranges,
That spring that greened the ink and caused the pen itself to break in changes,
The devil's hairs are our mismatched and real metaphors laid out in the open,
And we played to the very end... our roles... on parallel and empty stages broken.
At the end of life the actor looks into the empty mirror and does not recognize his face,
To the dead and the living alike he was actor and judge without warning or grace,
The ink dried inside the pen and the letters remained a model for a silent truth,
And that flight at the end... was the only moment... in which I was... myself... unloosed.
Parable
I just want to come before you brother
And tell you a story
Expound on a moral glory
Lord let your word fit my mouth
Convey intended meaning
Making it plain
Christ unloosed the chains
That bind me down
Jesus found that He cared for all
Let me re tell the stories parable
The tree went forth and the olive tree said there are now our god and man
And the fig tree saidv reign over us
Sweetness be promoted over these trees
Ahh! Come reign with us
Come thou now and aniont me king
Put trust in my shadow if not let fire come out of the cedars
Have to stop worshipping the creation need to worship the creator
If upon reading this do you understand this the
Parable
2/5/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2010
Crazy 2020
Up side out – downright up –clocks get surly;
Rivers flow north – time faints – Murphy’s Law scores;
Early runs late now late running early –
One and three just don’t make four anymore.
Rosters crow at midnight – moonrise at noon;
Zebras minus stripes – giraffe with short legs;
Cats with trunks – hippos hop like kangaroos –
Cows give green milk – pink hens laying pink eggs.
Natural order all in shambles – spun round –
Winter's wearing flowers – snowflakes confused;
Mother Nature’s psychotic break profound
Normal now anormal – chaos unloosed.
Year “out of order,” just hang the sign out;
Wait for repair – a screwed up year no doubt.
5-23-20
14 Lines
English sonnet
I ponder him who pledged to me his troth.
Our marriage came to shreds with pressure wrought.
He saved each tangled ravel, wove new cloth,
resuming our design with errors naught.
Haphazard doubts occurred which caused some snarls
of jealous hate which anger loves to knot.
Distrust released, his flag of truce unfurls
his calculated plan of love's own plot
Sometimes our banner's hem still comes unloosed
though aging thoughts begrudge, repair we'll find.
Disease destroys and bodies come to roost.
Ere sleep descends, what happens to the mind?
His word has shielded ev'ry other plight.
I have no doubt our God will span that night.
December 4, 2016
contest: Best Friend Sonnet
hostess: Regina Riddle
In an old vineyard
When Jesus was just a lamb
His coat eight years old
Working with the chaste Joseph
His father and guide
As the beloved Mary
Kneeled and prayed to God
In their small and humble home
A visitor came
Golden and shining brightly
Like beams of sunlight
Shooting through the home’s window
Shooting from heaven
Shooting down from the clear heights
Mary beheld him
Thinking he was her young son
Putting off his coat
With gentleness the child said
“Where is dear Jesus
My dear brother and brave twin
I want to meet him”
Mary never responded
In fearful blindness
Thinking he was a phantom
From the lightless depths
Rather than light from the heights
She seized his right arm
And tied his arm to the foot
Of the worn, torn bed
Not wishing to scare her more
He remained at peace
Not saying a single word
During this event
Jesus held an empty branch
Observing the wood
As if it were a mirror
Soon he heard Mary
Jabbering in confusion
With tears raining down
In this dim storm of wailing
Jesus heard the words
Breaking through the whirling clouds
“A phantom has come
Dressed in golden apparel
Dressed in bright lightning
Saying “Where is dear Jesus
My twin and brother
I desire to see him”
Joseph please help me”
Only Jesus saw the light
And heard the thunder
For he had wise eyes to see
And had ears to hear
He proclaimed with holy strength
“Mother, where is he
So that I may see the light
Or should I wait here
Waiting for the bright sunlight
To break through this storm”
Jesus said these words in joy
Joseph was startled
Mary wiped away her tears
They entered the house
And found the spirit at peace
Still bound to the bed
Both the parents looked at him
Then looked at Jesus
And found them to be the same
Mary walked further
And unloosed the child angel
He bowed to Mary
He and Jesus said no words
For they were brothers
They hugged with their gentle arms
Gave a holy kiss
The angel child disappeared
For he and Jesus
Became one white pearl of light
Thus the empty branch
Bloomed with delicious almonds
Bloomed with holy life
Thus this town was sanctified
Crowned with golden, shining grace
Poem based on the account from the ancient apocryphal book The Pistis Sophia, Chapter 61.
I rise, a leaf awakened by autumn’s call,
unloosed at last from summer’s tender keep.
Sunbeams uplift me as I start my fall,
their golden fingers guiding where I sweep.
I wander through the forest’s breathing light,
a pilgrim drifting on a path unknown;
each ray becomes a lantern for my flight,
and shows me truths the rooted trees have grown.
I greet the moss as though it were a friend,
and feel the roots beneath me softly rise;
they teach me how all journeys seek their end
in quiet places held by sacred skies.
So rest I now, a traveler of the bright,
who found my home by trusting in the light.
Inspiration:
Inspired by the “Footprints in the Sand” tradition—the enduring idea that when only one set of footprints remains, it is because the Divine is carrying us through our darkest hour.
—The Weight of Mercy—
I turned my years back down the seaward strand,
where joy had once impressed its double trace;
But when the dark unloosed me from its hand,
one print alone lay solemn in its place.
I deemed that single furrow spoke of doom,
and read Heaven’s silence as a sealed decree;
Yet grief, self-crowned, within my inward gloom,
arraigned the unseen for what mine eyes could see.
Then came one night when one brief sentence fell
through all the citadels I built so strong,
and where my failing breath could scarcely dwell,
I felt a strength that bore my soul along;
till, looking back, the furrows seemed to shine:
My feet were mine—the strength that bore me, Thine.
Sweet Spot
On the ever shifting sands of time
The spectrum of human action balances
On a fulcrum between extremes:
Total government and tyranny on the Left
Zero government and anarchy on the Right,
Two ways that on paper may look good
Until practice proves them otherwise.
And in the course of this rise and fall
Systems are engineered to cope
In waves of thesis, antithesis and synthesis
Unloosed to compete for hearts and votes
In the marketplace of ideas and commerce
Seeking a sweet spot, a middle way, free of extremes
Where the individual’s rights are protected
By a limited government, from an unlimited one
And all other predatory entities.
And when this spot is tasted
Balanced for an instant
The tipping point is reached,
The teeter becomes a totter,
And we ride the cycle of up and down again
Until exhausted, defeated or victorious
And leave the playground to the next generation,
Eyes bright and eager for hope and change.
(12/15/24)
Sand only looked to alight,
find some alone-time in the muck
no fuss was meant, it is only a space
as big as a grain taken, escaping its identical
brethren of billions on the sea floor.
Oyster only opened his rigid
lips to rinse, to breathe the brine,
to move a snack through his labial palps
in private, when a tiny intruder, unwelcome,
unbidden, disturbs the digestion,
initiates the unintended consequence
of oyster's defensive reaction.
Called upon, mitigation arrives over time.
Nacre warriors, layer by layer, smooth
sand's edges to soothe oyster's irritation,
an effort that deafens new pleas from a grain
now only looking to go home.
In the dark-churned slime, desire
emerges as a luster in the mud, a dazzling
monster named Pearl, radiant and angry, hard
with longing to be unloosed from her mucous
roots. She sends dreams as currency of streaming
shimmers, to bolster her chances of freedom
from an endless, watery night.
Lured by the glimmer, human hands pry open
shy bivalve, tongue and lips slurp up the middle
like a salty kiss, until teeth accidental onto eager Pearl
warmed by the breath.
For the indiscretion she now sits pocketed in slacks
belonging to hands with plans to pierce her spine,
string her along, then hang her on another lover's neck—
stranger to sand and pearl, already grown
wayward in closeness, is a new desire that oyster
degrade on ocean's bottom, turn into sand and join them
on the choker.