Long Unsullied Poems

Long Unsullied Poems. Below are the most popular long Unsullied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unsullied poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Whereas

Savvy scientists scoff at the soul:
Can't poke it, prod it, pinch it, probe it
  ~ and clearly can't claim to contemplate...

an empirical, egg-headed, experimental
all-enveloping ecstasy of erudite exactitude
elegantly and eloquently embossed, embedded
  ~ in its entropy of effervescing exegesis.
 
Whereas  

I know of no one -- nowhere -- nasty or normal
knock-kneed, neck-naped, nose-gnarled
neuron-nitpicked or nucleic-acid-nested

Who

denies indubitably or dubiously, definitely
or deafeningly--deranged, demented, 
debauched or denatured -- the sacred
sanctuary unsullied, where sits, serene and
silent, the small, still sound of said soul

swilling, swelling, seeking, sailing, soaring--- 
sensitively, sensorily, yea sentimentally---

til he sees, then sighs, then seizes
so surreptitiously the serum of sentience

Within!


 Entry in "An Inner Knowing, an Absolute Feeling, My Mystical Soul
              Self Poetry Contest," sponsored by Caren Krutsinger


Premium Member What Will We Teach Them

36 pencils
only 4 with erasers
they belong to the smart kids
you know....the one's
who take no chances.

Scattered crayons
mostly broken by those
who claim the color as their own
pressing it deeply
into a lonely corner
of the page.

Rulers
most commonly used as drumsticks
or to resolve a pirates fate.

Maps of a world
outside the Ghetto gates
faraway places
to tantalize a waking mind
taunt adventurous feet.

Classroom windows
streaked with city soot
the creak of floors
long past arthritic pain.

New hands holding
the hope of old books.
Children - blank slates
unsullied minds
awaiting the beauty
of knowledge.

What Will We Teach Them?



1/28/2021

Premium Member Naivety

Nature so unsullied and pristine
in God’s own land so divine,
in a child born with psyche empty, 
beautiful is the mindscape naughty,
encased in a frame of innocence,
of the real world it has no sense.

Flower blooms in a child’s smile,
reflected in flawless mirror so fragile,
can’t survive unbroken very long,
for it bears harsh time’s impact strong.
His gullible simplicity may last
while his world changes fast.

As the impish child becomes adult, 
the loss of innocent mind may not result,
with his naivety he is happy, not upset,
for the child in him hasn’t grown up yet.

__________________

March 2, 2022
Contest : Naughty Yet Innoscent
Sponsored by : Mohan Chutani
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I Wish I Had


I wish I had...
      the power to change
      a broken man's circumstances. 
      I'd flip his dim world 
      back downside up, 
      add colors and rays of sunshine to it, 
      and keep Lady Luck 
      smiling at him. I'd erase 
      his misfortune and pull him back up 
      by his bootstraps.

I wish I had... 
      the unsullied innocence 
      of a child;
      wide-eyed curiosity,
      a complete absence of guile,
      unblemished 
      by transgression,
      brimming 
      with vernal exuberance;
      oh, it's like being reborn!

I wish I had... 
      the ability to resurrect the dead.
      I'd bring back my father 
      and say to him ONE thing 
      I wish I've said in his living years,
      and that is..."Dad, I love you!"
      He knew I loved him,  you see. 
      I showed him so many times 
      and in so many different ways,
      but alas, I never told him so.

Dreams On a Tabloid

I dream to wake up in a new world,
A world that is balanced and healthy,
A world where love, peace and togetherness thrive,
A world where war is not a resolution to disputes.
A world where no one is indigent.

My dream is, 
To have my thoughts on a slate before me,
To be able to shut the door to the deluge of my mind,
To be able to permute my thoughts in a serene flow,
To have my sky clear from sombre clouds.

My dream is to wake up in a sculptor's world,
Where defects are easily chiselled out,
My dream is to have the world on a canvas, 
Painted with colours of laughter, joy and hope,
Bringing daylight into the midnight train.

My dream is to always yield to the Potter,
To have Him mould me to His choice vessel,
My dream is to wake up in a different world,
A world adorned in its pristine beauty,
A world unsullied by the innovations of time.




August 12, 2022.


Premium Member New Vision

Love laps at the shore of my heart. 
Kinetically connected to kindness 
my soul basks sumptuously in the 
sunshine of creation. 

All thoughts of bitterness dissolved 
and washed away down the drainpipe 
of despondency, mingling with misery 
and disappearing from view. 

All is as new.  Blank page uncluttered 
with the disarray of disillusionment. 
Clean slate unsullied by the sullenness 
of sulky solemnity. 

Tradition tempered with tantalizing 
innovation.  History harmonized 
with modish originality. 
Awash with adoration of the sentient 

I make a new vow of vociferous 
worship to the universal source 
of our invention - for the grace 
of a God who loves unconditionally. 

The architect of my soul. 
The author of existence and the great 
writer of this infinite infinity 
called Life. 

Let love always lap at the shores 
of my heart.  Make me part of 
this new inception.  Make me an instrument 
of a new resounding peace - 

a piece in the jig-saw of perpetuity; 
A herald of an innovative message 
of hopeful anticipation; a bearer 
of the torch of tranquility. 

To all the world - truce, treaty, 
an armistice in Armageddon - Amen

The Pilgrim's Maskil

Over the distant horizon where unsullied love
Quietly calls in her yet unconsummated calm, 
There daft hate has not sown its haughty gall; 
There void's vitriols make no sweet airs numb.

In great ecstatic joys do merry lips there rejoice, 
And forever sing happy songs themed on hope; 
Where lie purest lands spiteful feet never tread, 
Past farthest skies where jollities sing full voice. 

We've there each saint in finer whitened gowns, 
Under bliss-filled wings free from earth's frowns; 
Where witch-hunting enmities oppress no more, 
Where our mudslinging detractors wage no war. 

Sublime carols heavy with unceasing peace
Pipe rest to every battle-battered soul there; 
Where brotherhood keeps all on their knees, 
Where no tempting sights weak victims dare. 

There's a sprawling refuge all green and pure, 
In a most pristine state past our highest azure.
Form: Ode

Premium Member Soul Battle

Written: October 05, 2023
___________________________________________________________

Where the paradisiacal angels reside.
A myriad of creatures, ebony and betide
A dinkum dissolute and a discreet divine,
A degree of dexterity, a denizen decline

Amidst the mahatmas and zeitgeist calls,
An indweller quests for lyricism thrall.
A martyrdom route, an incubus chase,
Eristic battles in the realm of grace

A proponent of verity, a wraith of anile,
Sought to indwell the hearts of enamel.
A sip of soma, a savor of seraglio supine,
Agnostic beyond, for the geist did shine.

Destructive metempsychosis, a mortal plight,
Internal battles, seeking inspirational light.
In the realm of the departed, desolate cries
A crybaby tears, but awe-inspiring skies

Departed souls, once heartsick and heartsore,
Find solace in the trust they restore.
For in the internal depths, a spark ignites.
And as the decedents rise, their souls bear flight.

Absolve afreets, the anxiousness abides,
Embrace the beatitude; sublimity resides.
Rawness of a sentimentalist, troubadour song,
The immanence of duende is pantywaist wrong.

In the realm of the spiritual, the snarl of sin,
Is replaced by beatitude, the soul's win.
Spotless and unsullied, cleansed of all pain,
The spiritual journey is the ultimate gain.

They sully the cosmic force with opulence.
Yet, the sunny glow of bliss starts radiance.
A troll in the netherworld, forlornness abounds,
In the cognition of theosophy, the soul rebounds.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mr Mought Is a Goner

She was an old-fashioned kitty, and he was unsure he wanted to date her.
She will have you running down the aisle said his cousin Gator.
She was a pretty little thing, he saw that from across a large ball room.
Don’t think of her his mother said. You do not want to be a groom.

Her green eyes delighted, enticed, and said come hither, Mr. Mought.
I am scared of this gorgeous unsullied feline, he very often thought.
His heart said buy some smothered catnip cookies and ask if we can call.
He noted when Miss Vee was around, he felt more masculine and tall.

Mr. Mought, you cannot be serious! I thought you were a bachelor to the end.
He rolled his eyes at his neighbor. Maybe he was not a kind or loving friend.
He took her out for a picnic to share herring and some tuna marmalade.
She was not only beautiful but kind, and he ended up proposing in the glade.
cat
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Utopia Untrodden

Have seen an utopian lane, amidst the thicket, latent In the abode of the clouds, in the lap of  the tranquil wilderness, far far away from the mundane mist! 
A  wheezing sparsely inhabited hamlet, Khonoma, a centuries- old settlement, so green, so serene!
 Its' pristine unsullied views, lush wilderness, verdant bushes, aromatic wild blooms, resplendent orchids, rippling rills, are untouched and sacred! 

The Angami tribes, the thorpes' dwellers lead an uncustomary simple life, crammed with ancient, timeless traditions and practices, with nature's absolute accord! 

The unique panaromic cultivation practice, terrace farming, sprawling on the slopes makes the very sight elating! 
Look, the remote richest biodiversity region is twirling with the endemic scented native flora and fauna, the boscage are cramming with untamed wild colourful fruits! 

The revered cultural bird, the grey-billed Tragpon, is intoning from the bushes, making the milieu frolic! 
Myriads of colourful birds are migrating to nestle in the sacred bushes of the mystic rills! 
The  pellucid drops from the misty mesas of  nearby cascades are playing with the colourful pebbles! 

Far from the pandemic, the cherubic hilly terrain is bustling with cerulean rills, shrouded by tropical rain forests and stepped paddy fields! 

How finite are the rustic folks' wants and needs, the primitive shanties to dwell, the crystal cascades to quench, the crops of the golden fields to feed the mouths, the vibrant fiestas with nature's changing seasons to celebrate! 

A paragon of men and nature in absolute  harmony, is lying placidly, the transcendental picturesque tableland, Khonoma, the wheezing green hamlet, an utopia untrodden to bless the naive natives of the far flung highland! 

" Sometimes in quest of no man's Utopia, we may miss the existing unleashed Utopia in proximity, yet untrodden " Quote by poet

 November 11th 2021
Contest: " U"  contest, New Poems Only
Sponsored by: Constane La France
Form: Pastoral

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