Long Unweave Poems
Long Unweave Poems. Below are the most popular long Unweave by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unweave poems by poem length and keyword.
"As dead as leaves" I'd taken leave
of any sense for life’s new lease.
My wish - to be the centerpiece.
How very reckless to perceive
my charms like magic could unweave
tight-woven strands, pursuit's pet peeve.
Desire was merely whim’s caprice -
"as dead as leaves".
Three friends had learned that friends believe
distrust just dares one to deceive.
As kids we’d worked out jealousy
now three’s a crowd - two’s company.
Alas, as number three, I grieve
"as dead as leaves."
April 4, 2022
As Dead as Leaves is from the English band, Radiohead, an alternate title for Scatterbrain from their album Hail to the Thief.
When a Man Loves a Woman
He awoke, unaware of what ailed him,
lay blissfully stupid upon the bed.
They had exchanged numbers. “Perhaps?” “We’ll see?”
yet now, by trailing scent of her, he's led.
“Twas but the fleeting brush of flaxen hair
filaments of gold this spidery maze
soft pouty kiss left hanging on the air
stunned prey held motionless ‘mid moonlit gaze.
Yet deep within the urge to run, to flee
deny the heated blood within his veins
escape the tentacles of what might be
while on the wind the rapture slowly wanes.
And yet he'll search each night those depthless eyes
arrayed within the nuance of disguise.
12/15/2016
When a Woman Loves a Man
She awakens cognizant of love’s start
rolls lazily on pillowed fantasy
longing to hear the thunder of their hearts
walking the silent rim of ecstasy.
All else is but a dreamy Princess theme
cold rain become the dripping tears of joy
cavorting in the mist of passion’s scheme
short dalliance with longing’s clever ploy.
Retreat, defend the castle, lest it fall
become but subjugate to passion’s King
live in the shadow of love’s passing thrall
wander in search of windblown scented spring.
Yet does the fervor of her heart conceive
a love no doubtful passion can unweave.
12/16/2016
Author Dana Redricks
September 22, 2024
God has a plan for me, His arms wide open, He greets me each day, in His embrace, I find my way.
Each moment crafted, every glance, a chance to live, to love, to dance.
His whispers echo, soft and clear, fear not, my child, for I am near. In joyful laughter, in silent prayer, His presence wraps me, everywhere.
Though storms may rage and shadows creep, my soul's anchored, forever deep. For I am His, eternally, in this grand narrative, I am free.
So let me shine, with heart ablaze, reflecting love in countless ways. For in my story, etched with glee, pain, pressures that way on my brain. Each chapter unfolds His glory.
With every breath, my spirit sings, of mercy, hope, and wondrous things. God has a plan, a tale to yet unweave, a beautiful journey, in which I believe.
Death has released your soul upon this sad eve,
and there is nothing that I can do but grieve.
As a dying sun sets.
A trickle of tears has morphed into a flood,
and my heart shrivels, as though drained of its blood.
As painful as it gets.
And the fabric of my life starts to unweave,
confronting a truth I don't want to believe.
As chills turn into sweats.
I have not come to grips with the pain I feel,
clinging to the belief your death isn't real.
Life has no safety nets.
Slipping into dreams that you frequently haunt,
I can cuddle with you as long as I want.
My dreams hold no regrets.
Without you, a scarlet sunset seems mundane,
Nature's spectacle has been reduced to plain.
Brokenhearted sunsets.
I am your inked inamorata,
enamored and heaven-drunk,
sipping courtly creed
from the chrysalis chalice
of what love could unleash ~
as the heart heeds what’s unsaid
when stellar heat waves
thunder in sync with lightning,
still musing with
the monotony of muted music…
It was never the radiant rhythm
of romanticized rhymes
that pulled me,
but the arcane gaze
of your trip-uh-licious alchemy,
the ice-flame blues of
a draconian dreamer,
still intriguing this
intuitive incandescence
like a dangerous desperado
sailing me to an ocean of devotion.
O primal paramour,
purify this pained pulse,
heal the hurting nocturnal Helios
amidst your eyes that roam,
reaching for the rhinestone flickers,
blind to this burn.
While your hallowed hands
unknot the sky, wedded
to the thrilling threads
of my mourning moon,
calm your vagabond psyche
and listen to the evocative voice
of my unwavering verses ~
veiled in vermilion,
within the purged pages
enveloped in sand-soaked silk.
There you will hear
the black-cat moan
footprints of faithful fervency,
the lifelines of loyal luminescence,
clawed to compassion
generously giving,
serving the aromatic air
that carries your mystical musk ~
So let the ghost awake,
let the forgotten rise again.
Watch the wickedness unweave
the faults of an untamable warrior.
Are you satisfied being
vehemently investigated
by an emotionally intense telescope,
holding you viciously
to the lethal lens of feral ferocity?
Here comes the grace-giver.
I am born to dominantly bestow…
Sometimes dreams come true
And sometimes plans fall through
You can’t always tell just when it will become
A reality that is like a huge breakthrough
Like the answer to a prayer is the outcome
Sometimes fantasies become reality
Still, there is never any guarantee
You don’t always know what to believe
But hope that the wish is going to foresee
The opportunity of a dream to unweave
Sometimes dreams happen as they should
Coming to life like only a great vision could
Enlightening and encouraging, giving great security
To the one who listens to their heart’s good
And finds their hopes brought to sweet maturity
Sometimes a fantasy is left to prayers
Petitions for a moment of grace with cares
For hope, faith and love that is alive
Breathing inspiration to the one who shares
A part of their dreams that will thrive
Sometimes dreams whisper through a life
Cutting away all worry and strife
With a feeling of joy that ignites a fire
Of happiness and motivation that is like a wife
Who loves beyond what marriage might require
This or That, Vol 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
TITLE chosen: Chimera
March 31, 2021
"For we are his workmanship (poiema), created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared in advance that we should do them." Ephesians 2:10. "
I read these words in the whole context
of the book of Ecclesiastes.
When “all is vanity”, what comes next?
“Excess” say some enthusiast-ees.
“Eat, drink, and be merry.” - Don't we lose
the goal - when pleasure's all we achieve.
"Work" is that prepared gift from God we use
for outcomes which man cannot unweave.
Even Solomon ends, this thought in mind
“Fear God and keep all His commandments.”
Ponder, if God is the judge, we'll find
in the final grave, rightful recompense.
Where the Lord's wisdom and strength are compromised,
labor loses when self is lionized.
Good News Trinities:
ReFold
Fold
UnFold
+1
(-)0
(-,-)binomial/double-binary 0
Positron, function of restorative reaction, informating
Neutron, function of bilateral mid-way action
Neutrino, function of result, exforming, intrinsic/implicate binomial
Trust
MisTrust
AntiTrust
Uracil
Adenine/Guanine midway balance
Cytosine
Brahman
God
Allah
Brahman, function of ReGeneration
Vishnu, function of ReStoring Primal Relationship
Shiva, anti-function of DeGeneration-Retribution-Loss-Jihad
Yagna, function of ecological relationship
Tapas, spiritual function of nature/spirit primal relationship
Dana, function of cooperative relationship--ego/eco positive health trends
Father, Creator/Way
HolySpirit, Humane-Divine Life of Relationship
Son, Patriarchal-Messianic TruthMentor-Teacher,
with Virgin Womb EarthMatriarchal Original Intent
Goodness of Natural Ethics
Truth of EquiValent Symmetry
Beauty of Nurturing Aesthetic Spirits
Happiness of Yang-Way function, external
Life of Healthy Balance
Liberty of Yin-Truth function, internal
Fraternity of Humane Nature
Equality of Nature/Nurturing Spirit
Liberty for Sacred Nurture
Ego, Left hemisphere, language
Id-entity Womb, Matriarchal/Patriarchal
Environmental Eco, Right hemisphere, function of SuperEgo
+ thru (-,-)
Body of YangEgo, patriotic
Spirit of Ego-Eco BiLateral Consciousness
Mind of Yin EcoLogos matriotic
Soil, function of Sacred MotherEarth-external
Soul, function of Ego/EcoLogical CoOperative Balance, Win-Win
Society, function of Brahman-internal restorative regeneration
Bad News Trinity:
Commodification of Goodness, myths and power and religion and nutrition...
Capitalization of Truth, merit, values, investments, aesthetics, attrition...
Secularization of Beauty, logos, ecologos, Earth, Eden, restoration,
health, reforesting, purpose, justice, vocation
relationship, synergy, gardening, reversion...
UnWeave
Weave
UnUnWeave
Earth sciences
spill through LeftBrain spaces
and consciences
As artistic time-travel images
back through sight and sound
and more deeply into fragrance
and taste of sweet v sour and bitter, even worse
and touch of good v bad mistrusted,
sometimes even mutually distrusting
Feeling fractals
and sensing double-bound mysterious octaves
of wondrous color and music
spiraling fertile seasons,
operas,
operations,
designs.
Iconically captured in DNA and RNA
regenerating fold
and unfold
and refold,
weave
and unweave
and reweave time's holonic structures,
sacred ThreePoint Vectors
And, sadly, histories of degenerative violence
against sacred polycultural solidarity
with all Earth's LifeTribes.
These two appositions,
YangSpace and YinTime,
are a powerfully flowing combination,
fluently affluent when held together,
with sublime integrity
restoratively pre-generational,
enthymematic
toward diastatic
polypathic
sacredly re-creolic
fully invested commitment
to healthiest wealth of EgoYang
as wealthiest health of EcoYin.
Privacy's a luxury of the past;
ubiquitous cell phones took it away,
it was far too fragile ever to last.
We record everything the neighbors say,
though we once spoke civilly face-to-face;
ubiquitous cell phones took that away.
The internet is a chaotic place
where likes are competing to be your friend;
though we once spoke civilly face-to-face.
People shun reality, for pretend:
life morphs into fantasy on the net,
where trolls and bullies feel free to offend.
A.I. poses an even greater threat,
humanity's cloth begins to unweave;
life morphs into fantasy on the net.
In the internet world of make-believe,
privacy's a luxury of the past.
Humanity's cloth begins to unweave;
it was far too fragile ever to last.