Long Vacillate Poems
Long Vacillate Poems. Below are the most popular long Vacillate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vacillate poems by poem length and keyword.
O to live life in relentless outreach
And still stay put, stagnant, nowhere to reach,
To struggle hard, getting not so in hand,
To feign busy as if a butterfly,
Or a productive bee nevertheless,
O to say thoughtless yes in place of no,
To make hurried choices on onward ho,
And still fail to find meaningful flurry
Amidst meaninglessness of life lived in hurry.
What need be done not so in life to fret
Is slow to say yes, to deliberate,
Not so quick, vacillate nor hesitate,
A secret to live life free from regret.
‘Wish, I’d courage to live life but my own,
‘And not lived per someone’s expectations’,
Some, terminally ill on deathbed, wish.
A firm and deliberate no often
Saves one from a thoughtless and a suicidal yes.
And oftentimes to opt what not to do,
More telling turns out O than what to do.
*****sapiens are we, for, we can think,
And humans, not apes, for, we well can choose.
Why, one wonders, man opts for default mode,
Over a more proactive design mode.
For, less is often more, even better,
Why not that be the choice, a chosen mode,
Mere invitation’s no reason enough to go.
Let’s chase nothing in life nigh meaningless,
Nor forget to pursue the meaningful,
Nor miss out what’s central and essential
In blind pursuit of things peripheral.
In focusing upon the dead knickknacks,
Not to forget what’s alive, very life--
Things ever so meaningful and blissful,
Not deceitful, truthful, nor beautiful,
And say a deliberate no than a quick yes.
________________________
Blank verse |15.02.2025| life
Note: This blank verse in iambic pentameter by and large, each stanza of nine lines, the ninth line being a hexameter.
In the Sea
I’m going to sea in a blueberry boat
sailing in frolic fun aiming no port.
Dear! Will you come with me to give support?
I wish to be close with my sweet – heart.
In a blueberry boat I’m going to sea.
to float in amorous flow not to flee.
to sink in depth of your blue eyes in glee.
I wish your closeness not to be apart.
My blueberry boat to swing, oscillate
With propagating waves oars correlate
Our emotive urge not to vacillate.
Dear! Passion in plenitude to exert.
My blueberry boat will dance up and down
Pearly sea foam to adorn you with crown.
Don’t take as trivial or make frown.
To sea waves our commitment to impart.
09/16/19
"FAKE" assertions unstoppably
bandied with beef,
(sans doughty deeds done dirt cheap)
courtesy of commander in chief
trumpeted as a way to backout,
embarrassment analogous to the thief
of Baghdad, when culpable faux pas
woe philly pops thought balloon of mine
reckons with transparent "good grief"
within mind of yours truly,
who finds himself dumbstruck
aghast, and shaking noggin with disbelief
how people can be so gullible
who would just as lief
eat a pin cushion to deliver strep throat relief.
First amendment teeter totters on brink
of dissolution mainly by the rat fink,
whose defamation against journalists
risking life and limb, yet not shrink
king enlightening liberal minded, who think
similar to myself, imposter
hood drums utter rubbish
while feeling teed off puttering
along Mar a Lago,
or another owned golf link
resorting to silence protesters
whisked off to the klink.
Distortions, (nee outright
blatant lies) saturate
social media platforms,
which followers didst rate
as their numero uno slate
supposedly reliable sources
harkening back to papa retaliate
Tory Bush prez administration,
regarding patrilineal shogunate
where Iraq summarily
targeted for crashing Kuwait
violating, jeopardizing, and
compromising vital oil, literate
folks suspected, that critical
lubricant mandatory to resonate
greasing western civilization
particularly self anointed great
super power USA, hence
alarmists didst exaggerate,
whose military intelligence
industrial leaders got irate
contracting complex projecting
global economy would vacillate
and, perhaps take Kamikaze nosedive
hence procrastination could not wait
demanding based on sketchy accusation
Saddam Hussein, and his ilk ultimate
harbored weapons of mass destruction
despite lack of distilled proof,
would severely truncate
nary a trace sniffed out,
nonetheless damn the torpedoes blitzed
in an effort to triangulate
miscreant running amuck
eventually met demise
with Bush Junior delivering
permanently placating tete a tete,
no matter dispensing top notch
fighting soldiers, whose strong
lifeless bloodied bodies remain prostate.
The void beneath the synaptic cleft
Place of precision warp and weft
Neurons are space ships fired at will
With dying breath then they still
Billions of neurons drive my brain
Trying to understand~it is in vain
Neurons are sparking as I contemplate
What next to write then I vacillate.
Second by second day after day
Neurons are friends as I wend my way
Different at night when deeply asleep
Neurons fire backward ~ we are unique.
Warp and Weft:
The art of weaving is a subtle metaphor for understanding the workings of the universe and our place in it.
The Void
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
Unseeking Seeker
“The known always changes; knowing never changes.”
? BY Rupert Spira
A super brown and fluttery bird greets me.
Tap at my window and ask, "Didn't you see?"
It chimes, drawing my insight into a refrain.
My flesh is older, as the bird flies, drowning my brain.
No fear; free your brain; graze on life—you'll see!
Slip out of jail, for the gate is ajar, and no key?
Avoid fear and relish the lull—realness is love.
Join life's rising stars to view Earth from above.
When you face random bliss, do not vacillate.
Yield in—many lives and towns are desolate.
Not savvy or ardent, yet a few traits are eternal.
Life is still full of hope; Its tilts aren't infernal.
Electing grace over excess is legit mastery.
Oh, adjusting—not merely trend—is the key.
Talk humbly, cherish zeal, and avoid panic.
Life symphony of screen awareness is magic.
Our inner and outer personas are disparity.
I closely track everything that tempts me.
Be the light, and see me from afar with pride.
Until I wear my awareness screen to glide,
Put on a gentle, steady, ever-clinging gaze.
Our blunders are endless in a love maze.
A tide grabs riches and exits with a stare.
Awareness prompts us to love, not scare.
Written: May 6th, 2023
Screen of Awareness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Oh Goddess Moon, you induce painters to paint,
the crazed to rave and poets to praise your grace.
How many love affairs have you helped to consummate?
With a woman’s many wiles, you change your shape.
How you beguile, yet never do you vacillate.
You stay your course and never stray!
Like yin to yang, you are to sun a cool and pallid pool,
changing, yet constant in your rule
as you steadfastly move from New to Quarter To Gibbous to Full,
and then you wane . . .
till in Crescent Balsamic you reign -
there to shortly contemplate the wisdom you have gained.
Your fortnight ended, you journey back again.
We all beneath you are an ocean mystically pulled,
heirs to the gifts you weave at the time we are born.
Like our predecessors who learned to heed
your rhythmic sounds as they planted seed,
it would behoove us, with our vast technology,
to stop and study the sky, your teachings there to see!
"Little Beaks"
A voice in the tumble clouds
deep silver crackles like thunder threads
Clouds of starlings
Blacken the eggshell blue sky
drowns many
A little beak
Heartbeats morph
together murmurate
vacillate their minds to unify
wings that hum like bees
A dance of seduction
envelops Blue Sky
The unseen
Superlunary
shatters the reversing
unrehearsed reverie
The Hidden One
in a forgotten
prophecy
speaks
Come little beaks
and night creatures
Daylight dares
the darkness one last taste
Like true romantics
and dead poets
mandolins their hearts
strummed eternally in seasons
Like words written on the sky
dance to make love of fun
Come starlings
little beaks
come taste
The Golden Sun
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2019)
gvlm
*** OF AND ABOUT IT ALL ***
Life’s so much a-coming or a-going,
With hours of waiting or flowing
From now to next
While we step about, hopefully blessed —
On a quest for things major or minor to cherish
In our sometimes to come. We sojourn thence
From this place over to a rushing creek’s edged cliffs—
To linger, to draw some solace, some rest…
And there, we see suddenly manifest:
The sacred red rose, growing
Near, beautifully on high,
Surrounded by the flames of our worship-full prayers.
Life’s a range of highs and lows waving
Aside the roads that fork and lead ventures
Along moss-lined knowns
Or beneath shaded canopies of unknowns.
Our searching, dawn-to-dawn roamings
Carry life’s tales of getting and giving;
Suffering and forgiving;
Ever grateful for living and breathing.
Life brings mapped ways that vacillate
Over ranges of changes; lessons
And puzzles; ideas, moods and feelings
Immersed in working and dreaming of someday
Realizing true love — wondrous, sweet.
From birth and learning to stand, to speak…On to
Old-age dimming our eyesight as happens…
Even to such gifted artists as
Edgar Degas, Mary Cassatt, and Claude Monet.
Yet, they went on painting masterpieces, nearly blind —
With God’s inspiration helping them to find
A new approach, perceiving and creating
With their Inner Eyes.
Life’s an orbiting
Between reality and imagining;
Between perchance and possibly —
Between the often said, “If-only’s…”
And the magical, “Look there
At what’s already appeared.”
Life’s a calendar of playing and celebrating,
But includes sad times and final wakes…T’is
Somewhat a dizzying dance of circling turns,
Of rounding passes for however long
Until that unknown day of going on beyond…
Taking our storied hours along,
Relating how we stayed
Alligned to God’s willed ways,
For the good of the All and Everlasting,
From our toddling time
To our leaping with starlit promises
To compose a delighting song,
Unfurl wings and fly —
Eternal
————————————————————————-
(c)sally young eslinger 11/8 /2022 - 1/12/2
Written to Bocchenini’s Cello Concerto in B-flat major
Thanks be to God…
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Oh, where are those waves
of bygone days
that caressed and rocked
on hearing you cry?
‘Sleep little ship’ I'd murmur low
while ocean crooned her soft lullaby
Turbulent change wrought by tempestuous winds
Fresh cravings to taste the salted breeze
In foam and spray twixt the now lashing waves
Illusions waft to tempt and tease
Resounding thunder heralds a storm
Streaks of lightning split the skies
Your torch burning bright to take the helm
for selfish reasons my love denies
Indecisions vacillate crucial visions
cavernous chasms far withdrawn
The deeper I think the lower I sink
The wind howls forth a cry forlorn
No delusion with love ~ high the price
In this icy realm my resistance will take
a solicitous change of a Mother’s heart
Look not the shattered glass in your wake
The impulses of the over protective mother and keeping her child sheltered in a bubble away from the real world is just not feasible anymore. The ‘Breaking Point’ is, when she must weigh up her own feelings - either relinquishing her relationship with her offspring by forcing it to stay, or breaking her heart if she lets it go.
Ultimately, as in the ‘Story of Life’…. Love conquers all.
~Happy International Women's Day to those celebrating on Sunday 8th ~
POTD 6 Mar 2020
Our planet is weeping, and faith is at low and vacillate.
A severe risk as a result of the global warming challenge
Concerns have arisen as an outcome of a wavering climate.
It is not due to hairspray or baby oil; it's our fate.
Rapidly melting Arctic glaciers are causing damage.
Our planet is weeping, and faith is at low and vacillate.
Carbon from fossil fuels is the major emission element.
A ferocious shockwave of metabolic blaze stage.
Concerns have arisen as an outcome of a wavering climate.
Concerns around the ozone hole depletion sprout.
Sea level is rising due to melting ice and warmer plage.
Our planet is weeping, and faith is at low and vacillate.
War and turmoil look trivial compared to climate.
Despite that our kids are at risk, newly threats emerge.
Concerns have arisen as an outcome of a wavering climate.
To allow plant life to thrive, we need to alter our zest.
Retain the air safe and car-free with zero carbon discharge.
Our planet is weeping, and faith is at low and vacillate.
Concerns have arisen as an outcome of a wavering climate.
Written April 20, 2021
A MAJOR WORLD PROBLEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS