Long Unsettles Poems
Long Unsettles Poems. Below are the most popular long Unsettles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unsettles poems by poem length and keyword.
The sunset whispers get together in the bowl
The electricity hands them over the momentum
The oranges in the soul a bit out of control
The golden darkness stirs the dormant venom
My horizons crumble in the pink petals
As you let all the birds fly into ...
My balance the toxic touch unsettles
In the inflamed heart beat just me and you
See dear how the red corpuscles crowd
In the crazy chocolate wafers in delight
Our ionised charges unleash aloud
The sparks as the prelude to the night
Tonight we will set free all chains
In compliance with the scarlet gravity
Perfumed storm must precede the rains
Following the deluge of the insanity
Beat by beat the pulls defeat all the dams
The water is in a purple rebellion
The universe tonight into our hands
The splattered sun calls for the stallion
The black and orange mingling in the two sounds
The million sparks bloom out from the two fires
The dance of the fire with the two heats unwound
The twilight music of the two tidal lyres
___________________________________________________
March 27, 2018
For Picture This - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Based on Image 3
Why are so many Scientists—
Falling—without a Sound—
As if the Mind—once kindled—
Were Treason—when unbound—
They walked among Equations—
Like Gardeners of the Truth—
Yet Something in the Silence—
Has marked their Passage—through—
No Thunder—announces Ruin—
No Banner—bears the Blame—
But Ash collects on Notebooks—
And Dust forgets each Name—
Perhaps—’tis not their Bodies—
But what they dared to See—
A Lantern—held to Darkness—
Invites—Hostility—
Or Knowledge—like a Fever—
Unsettles those at Ease—
And so the Cure—is Quiet—
Administered—by Degrees—
Yet still—amid the Vanishing—
A stubborn Spark remains—
For Thought—cannot be buried—
It blossoms—in their Brain’s —
Self-seeking combined with appetite
unsettles our global foundations.
Arrogant malice yields agony
as volatile as dynamite.
Diplomats dream up celebrations
portraying worldwide euphony.
Dazzling garlands line the street
winking past the gluttony.
Roses from all nations
scintillate, incomplete
harmony.
March 9, 2020
The last three lines are a quote: 'Roses from all nations scintillate in complete harmony' from A Rose by any other Name - by Maria Williams. My apologies, Maria, for altering the essence of your line. Scintillate may also mean a flickering, wavering, bewitching light.
The form is new to me, the curtal sonnet, created by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Many moons ago the island was born
spewed up in a volcanic eruption
it was perfectly formed out of rock
five nautical miles from the mainland
A barren isle with no life on it
visited sometimes by birds and seals
over time the dung from them all
provided a base for tender shoots
There was but one stream here
which flowed from the towering rocks
cascading joyfully down into a pool
a stunning splash of viberant blue
Around it started to appear flora
the seeds carried in by the birds
were now taking root and tranforming
life now has a grip which in time flourishes
The barren island soon attracted life
first the birds who started nesting
in the newly grown lushious trees,
their songs bringing musical sounds
Then came the many different insects
most importantly the honey bees
fertilising starting new species
covering the land with lush greenery
Gradually the animals swam over
getting busy finding homes
now the island was flourishing
gay sounds breaking the long silence
Here nature has triumphed over all
transforming a bare rocky isle
life has been yet again reaffirmed
from nothing comes a veritable paradise
Man attracted visits collecting eggs
fishing the shores and lakes
Yet none set down roots here
there is a strangeness that unsettles
Instead they use it for worship
and for their native burials
for they had knowledge of nature
this was not for man to spoil
All was well in our island paradise
until white men found this little gem
desecrating the graves and plundering
the island until it was almost bare
Furious witch doctors set a curse
that night screams could be heard
the natives huddled together shaking
by morning, deep silence reigned
Looking out to the island
they saw new razor sharp reefs
completely surrounding the island
Nature had reclaimed her masterpiece
Seldom pleasure I receive in my mind.
Probably due to severe bad weather?
Rather! My serotonin’s left behind.
Enough of the freezing stone cold weather!
Admit that life’s not always beautiful.
Do something bout it and make your utmost.
Instead of saying “It’s empty not full.”
Never pretend of loving your white ghost
Go and spread joy to a marvelous crowd.
Hear those soft wintry kisses in the air.
Amidst the lingering yellow petals
Playing with thy feet while the wind unsettles
Playing with thy dreams in the breezing cold
Ice breaking chats are the stories untold
Nullifying the pain is love you’ll gain.
Embracing peace is the truce you’ll maintain.
Spreading happiness robs your main duty.
Spreading happiness robs your affair.
half light on the page
words spill yet swallow their truth
a moon veiled in clouds —
I read between the shadows
for the part you did not write
half a tear is mine
half I give to other hands
to carry its weight
shared grief breaks into pieces
small enough for hearts to hold
half my breath holds on
half my breath has wandered free
seeking other paths
in this hovering between
I glimpse the soul's bright outline
half cream, half bitter —
the coffee swirls like my grief
clouds folding through black
each sip both soothes unsettles
like truth disguised in sugar
glass shows half my face
the other drowns in shadow
back towards the past
what I see and what I am
trade places without warning
horizon's hard line
splits the blue from burning gold
dusk drinking the day
I stand between both the realms
unsure which beckons me home
I am not responsible
for the ache that blooms in others
when I place my name
above their expectations.
I have spent lifetimes
softening my voice,
shrinking my needs,
turning myself into a bridge
everyone could cross
while I remained unseen.
No more.
I refuse to apologize
for setting boundaries
where I once offered blood.
I refuse to carry guilt
that was never mine to hold.
My choosing myself
is not cruelty—
it is survival.
It is the long-delayed breath
of a woman who learned
that love without self-respect
is only a slow disappearance.
If my growth unsettles you,
let it.
If my no feels heavy,
place it down—
it was never meant to live in my hands.
I am allowed
to protect my peace,
to bloom without permission,
to walk away from rooms
where my silence was preferred
over my truth.
I choose myself
not to wound the world,
but to finally heal
the woman I abandoned
for far too long.
And that—
that is not selfishness.
That is coming home.
I teeter on the brink of possibility.
The sun on the new horizon glistens
its rays on the undulating sea of change.
I gaze a while, drifting with a squawking gull,
or diving with a hunting cormorant -
lost in my imagination, caught in plausibility.
Sometimes a gust of wind unsettles my balance;
I totter into uncertainty, struggling to stand,
but you take my hand and steady me.
Now I only look ahead; no way back.
The chasm is inviting me to jump;
to take a leap of faith and ditch the doubt.
I place my baggage at my feet;
packages of responsibility and confusion
tucked in neatly and nestling with the past.
One last tug at the sleeve of my coat
as they make a last ditch attempt to restrain me,
and I have jumped - flying through the air, free.
As I land I see you there smiling and safe,
arms outreaching. The promise of the future beckons,
and looks inviting, exciting and full of hope.
Once I teetered on the brink of possibility
now it is a glistening reality. The sea is calm now.
And, as the sun sets on the horizon, I am home.
(note: to all my lovely friends who thought I was literally considering leaping into a chasm to
my death, I can assure that I am most certainly not!!! It is merely a metaphorocal chasm,
and I intend to stick around for quite a while yet. Heavens, I am just about to have a book
published, life is very good! Thanks so much for your concern though)
If we humans were to create the vast nature in a dream life,
A sky like a sponge would absorb the pollution spreading around,
Each day heavy with clouds that hide the divine brilliance,
The vastness of the sky would pale before our weary minds.
Perhaps we wouldn't invent birds, but silent drones for purposes
That wouldn't know the morning song, the free and unbounded flight,
Our preference for straight and uniform paths would flourish,
Where stops are already fixed, and the unknown becomes fear.
A monotonous gray sky would reflect our ashen thoughts,
And diversity would be a forgotten dream in the corners of closed minds,
For uncertainty is an unannounced storm that unsettles us,
And humanized nature would wear a veil of dark fog.
Perhaps Mother Nature would no longer wear rivers in her gentle hair,
Without the greenery that envelops her like a gentle cloak, without flowers,
Without the textures of mountains and valleys on her sun-kissed skin,
Only a robot would remain, functioning for our benefit.
In place of her warm smile, a cold plastic mask would reign,
And the ultimate goal would be serving a humanity lost in itself,
A mechanical world, devoid of the mystery and beauty of life,
Where nature would be just a tool, not a source of miracles.
Thus, in this world created by us, the magic would disappear,
Leaving behind only a melancholic longing for what we've lost,
In a stream of consciousness flowing like a river forgotten by time,
For we have forgotten to see beauty in divine imperfection.
I am walking in the garden
of an ancient city
The walls are covered
with climbing ivy of a delicate hue
The dews are thick after the warm rains
There in the middle, the stately statue
withstands the stains
Covered in ivy of a intricate green
Blooms of unknown life glowing red
I trace the path of last foot falls
The age is broken and anew
Stone is cracked crazy filigreed
In the ancient courtyard
I follow it down a foreign history
The sun splashing though over growth
Over head the winds unsettles monolithic trees
Exotic birds sing songs to creation
The gold, ambler, crimson leaves take flight
Dripping on the weedy ground
Puddling in the warm sparkling rays of a dying sun
Leting it spill over me
The fading green bright fresh
In this ancient city of Avalon
This lost garden of Eve
The last empire of Adam
Mans only memory
Walking this spiraling path
This Helix of Eden