Long Untouchable Poems
Long Untouchable Poems. Below are the most popular long Untouchable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Untouchable poems by poem length and keyword.
My muse,
a sea of weeping roses,
free-flowing in tune with
smoky frequencies,
as storms of fear
rest in the heart of a sunken canvas.
I ponder~
why does the blue of the ocean
roar like wrathful thunder?
Why does the sun bleed searing sins?
Perhaps it is in the way
the earth rests in untouchable s i l e n c e,
watching the trembling twigs of
tormented trees,
tasting the toxic tints of life,
while ink still questions…
Can you hear my heartbeat?
I am the fragrant feather
of an untamed spirit,
still sprinkling stars in metallic gold
across fading colors of hope,
for I still see unlocked gardens
above fogs of melancholy,
to walk above
clouds of velvety wishes.
I care not for a remedy
to seal these screaming s c a r s
within callous crevices of narcissistic cliffs.
I long to be the moon
amidst the horizon that refuses to unveil
the majestic
crown of crystalline compassion.
But what if I am an echo of
a forgotten dream?
Would you still love me when
confused by the moving minutes,
as the last petal falls~
tangled in thistles of time?
Tired is this heart that aches
but refuses to break,
as I am more than a fleeting thought,
a breathing souvenir
of yesterday’s twilight…
Now…
I am your s k y
a cradle of immortal l o v e....
surfing against the lachrymose gusts~
I dived into the cauldron of magic potion
and curated a eucalyptus elixir
to calm the sorrows you home,
when dusk
collides with doleful dawn,
allowing my quill to collaborate
with crimson cues
of frankincense clarity.
The longer you run, the more they chase.
At least, that’s what they told me.
And I complied.
Because that’s what women like me do.
When your own heart seems to fade, you run.
You run, so the heart remembers its own existence.
You run, so the heart remembers to beat.
And I ran.
I ran until my lungs threatened to ghost me.
How ironic.
I ran until my limbs dragged on like lead in the ruins of my own angst.
I ran until my bones shook with the force of my sheer will to outrun my very own shadow.
And suddenly,
Attention.
The men piled up like bedsheets on a laundry day.
Each one treating me like a conquest for their own egos.
But I seem to have forgotten how to stop.
I run and I push.
I run and I slam doors.
I run and I’m labelled.
Untouchable.
Yet at the end of the day, all I am is untranslatable.
Unreachable.
Unattainable.
I was told the more you run, the more they chase.
When all it does is amplify your bone-rotting solitude.
The Covidlike phrase slithered into my consciousness,
coiled itself around unprotected prudence
and constricted.
Its bifurcated tongue touched the untouchable,
testing whisps of thought with darts of anger,
selecting venom’s next victim.
Overlapping scales pressed against prudence’s mouth,
squelching her response.
Logic attempted rescue--
came from all directions
seeking this unexpected foe,
while normal dissipated
like mist on a summer morn.
Each time I repeated the phrase
coils tightened,
making venom drip from fangs of desperation.
Confusion overflowed its cauldron,
spilling into and flooding the chamber of id.
I looked for escape--
a response to entice normal to return,
but found no words.
Change forced himself upon me,
overthrowing bastions of prejudice and privilege,
making me repeat his words,
“Silence is violence and civility, complicity.”
Far beyond the center of my thoughts,, like an untouchable realm I can see
Pieces and facts merging like salt water and sand at the sea
Turbulent waves keep rolling, before the sand at shore is wet and dries
My heart breaks for so many, watching as the mind slowly dies
It's easy to say that all will be fine, enhanced by days of prayer
But the truth is people are suffering, many not speaking , they don't dare
Deep inside the people, what is happening is known to be wrong
Just like in timing sound in the playing of an off-tune song
Although I write of seeds from atrocity, in words that are sad
We must have courage to stay strong , to overcome what is bad
So much has become twisted and now things are upside-down
To level all this out, we must unite so that we do not drown
An ocean filled with wisdom, that is created together
To face the biting storms in different types of weather
So swim with courage and strength, reach hands to another
- The barren desert is nothing but the other -
Heidi Sands
4/28/22
Pouring into night
heat and cool rest
to blend
A smell
abstruing sense,
wearing of day,
sliding into an envelope
sent to shadow-lands,
I submerge to rest
in jasmine,
glimmered to dream
slung in a hammock,
bedazzled in the fire of illusion,
I lay in wonder of the cross
A lone cicada
trilled,
a twilight anthem settling
to a cadence of love,
drifting and distracted
by darken descendants,
phantoms of Grey
with no light’s knife,
they twix the mix
of palate,
Ocher hues spread,
merging to black
swallowed,upended,
in the soft line
of the horizons dome,
mixing paradise
with the stars
A spruce air seduces taste,
to find,
this voids seduction
is to breath in heaven,
teasing to gasp
in this beauty,
and suckling to taste
in the delectable Grey,
becoming a twin to moon,
I am struck,
as half-light bewitches me
and swings my hammock,
to the milky way,
the southern cross
cradles my head,
and jasmine visions
are overcome,
listing in an untouchable bliss
I lay down,
abed of light
embraced by a universe
of my own making,
dream knitting
fibrils of saffron time
"Glossolalia"
I closed the external noise out,
and upon entry to that strange place
the colour of Love,
silence broke the heart open
like trumpets penetrate the heavens
revelations were opening in my mind,
and the invisible surrounding me
emerged visible making their presence
fully and clearly known,
and their whispers became beautiful very loud songs,
and glossolalia tripped off those strange messengers’ tongues
like poets, to me, they spoke and sung
another language, entirely foreign
yet totally understood,
and It and They, lifted myself higher,
and all those strange spirits
surrounding me rose en masse
like an ocean wave overcomes
and carries unprepared swimmers
back into a distant shore, drenched,
and like a child frolics in the ocean,
I was not afraid to turn around,
and swim out deeper, wanting more;
like a magnet their tides danced around me
and pulled me in and along with them,
emerging from the mist of the colour of that place
bathed in synethesia from the auras, of all,
such astonishment, the heart was crying with joy,
the strange sensation of tasting the scent of feeling
in all the beautiful glaringly loud colours of that place,
like an infant born again, pushing its way out
into something odd, a new world, emerging novel,
unhackneyed original shining piercing light
from the body like an orb that cracked open
the old darkness and drew in the new creation,
the Light glowing like armour naked untouchable, merkabah,
yet touching and reaching, ascending higher plains
with divine Xenoglossy beings, We are, paranormal phenomena
now sometimes seen as pareidolia in the clouds
writing, singing, speaking supernature to the ordinary natural,
understanding all, not just one over the other, we understand All
The Xenolalia singing Glossolalia
enrapturing all, on their way home
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Welcome.
Come into the Garden. Come, look, feel, see for soul speak is here; gather our spices; this time they shall blow upon the garden green, anticipated trees, breeze kissing natural scene, blowing in the wind, waving as the winds blow, the birds are singing; come be found souls' natural sound again and again.
Bring forth and receive goodness good, bring forth the good treasures of the heart for love springs forth good fruit as the garden grows side by side across from the living waters waterfalls sprouts emotions love walks this through the door the door was open across the fields and rest is given.
Come unto me for our souls are one; hearts bind together this time of year. No fear, no torment, asking the Lord that these spirits steal, kill, and destroy be erased, for if we ask it shall be given. Come forth my soul music, so be the dance, sing the joy of peace and surrender. Touch the untouchable
the love within the torn soul the shattered tears abused and misunderstood the secret place of life where no one knows but God in the soul of winter's cold yet a still small voice calls and whispers from afar: come you come unto me; even the breeze does come with energy. You that labor and are heavy laden, he will give you rest. Take his yoke upon you and learn of him, for he is meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest for your soul. For our hearts bind together as one soul, one heart, to explore a still small voice, for his yoke is easy and his burdens are light. Now let us make a Covenant
with Peace that shall not be broken, saith the Lord. Resting love always to win our battlefront balance and woes
We decree your words written and complete, my Lord, the covenant promise to us, the people, and we will live to receive it always, never ever to be broken, for your words stand. A promise from the Lord himself. More love, less fear, fewer tears, less doubt, fewer cries from within the Peaceful Soul
All of my words are spent
It was words who rent…my soul
I have used them to bleed, need, plead
My case before those who judge, forcefully nudge, but never budge in the presence of
undying LOVE
No more…NO….MORE….
I will not take one more step, I will not move beyond
My humiliation
Is there no one to lift my head
A Prince, perhaps…
Stupid little girl, get a grip, take a tasty sip, maybe pooch your lip…
Faith, love, and hope
I have lifted my sword before
I have escaped darkness and know bondage no more
But live, to actually breathe in those three
Take hold of those powerful sources inside me
Requires great courage…of which…I have none
I thought I was a woman of light
A ray of hope piercing evil
I find myself lost in the mesh
Of all that is unbelievable
Wild, untouchable, undesirable
My heart is HIS
And I smile as I know what that means
I am not my own
And so, His blood has washed me clean
And I will know this sorrow NO MORE….
Written by Trudy Schrader 2010
Note: It is a hard lesson to learn...those who hold the power to love us to freedom also
has the power to destroy us. It's all in who you chose to give your power of choice to.
Sometimes the rain never falls , drowning in the overflow that falls from above
Speaking a word or two , something to do about love
Why do you even care , about all there is that you couldn't even hear
The world rushes madly on by, emerged so deeply in their own private made fear
Oh dear
One enormous mouth just flew by
On a ship built by ego alone did he fly
Sooner or later apart it always falls
They are those who choose unseen, untouchable prison walls
Hiding forever from who know what
Long as that invisible door remains shut
The mask they all seem to forever wear
Always pushing that same blank stare
Always different but then again always the same
Who is next that we shall lay the blame
this happened two hundred years ago
Today the seeds we now sow
Living now in that same fires glow
Nothing different nothing the same
Seeking the way to their own little piece of fame
Same old unfeeling bull game
Dreams dreams dreams flowing like the mountain streams
Soon to be gone with the ending winter snow
Always rushing with no where to go
Pain written on their faces.
Lost to human graces
But then we sludge so dreary on
where the night goes forever ,
forever and then we are gone.
Now that didn't that very long
In the misty realm of being, where thought finds rest,
There lies an ancient corridor winding with longing,
Concealing at its end the door to an unexplored, mystical room,
Upon whose walls echo the secretive chant of a spring's source.
This door, untraveled, scorned by the rust of time,
Stands still, guarding over a garden of quiet wanderings,
It finely discriminates between the thicket of sorrowful delirium
And the fervent self-discovery that beckons from restless hearts.
Mystical keeper of the porch where light and shadow play,
It whispers a call to set aside the masks deeply embraced,
The metaphor of the door remains poised to unlock the temple's dare,
When the bolt is broken, the chain of fear shattered, falling aside, distanced.
It, a gate without locks, splits the two worlds, stretching as a bridge,
Beyond which dwells that silence, mute, untouchable, eternal,
A mirror devoid of silver, reflecting only those who've learned to heed themselves,
And to traverse fearlessly, through mysterious lands, with only the soul external.
O, seeker amidst the soul's arcades, through paths hidden among leaves,
Lift your gaze towards the door that's been closed to you daily, yet ever open,
Gentle eternity awaits beyond your wall of dreams and excuses,
Where everything begins and ends, in your hand, the key is unseen but promised.
In passing through the shadow of this world of shifting facades,
The door swings wide, effortlessly, silently, threshold-free,
And within you, in the summer of the soul, where time is but a fluttering leaf,
There lies the sanctuary, the chambers of silence, where you are everything and nothing, a droplet and an entire ocean on the brink.