Long Vapor Poems

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


Tragedy of Waiting

Wait,
is to stretch the moment now
beyond its curvature
dimensional...
Now is synonymous of absence,
 wait is presence symptom
even if water passed, river running
melting snow, molten metal
to make a future not belonging...
tô the prime dreamer !
Wait is voidness of life,
unqualified aftermath
of the great tragedy...
Wait is search
of partnership for personal pain,
and summoning spirits
so that they suffer together
with the sufferer...
Waiting is a delusion
endless of the ethereal
that will never be concrete...
Is vapor of memories,
is source fulcrum
nonexistent,
is the sanity of madness
and the dreadful dream
of the unfortunate...!


Salitation

Creating nuclear fusion from a proton and a boron-11 (p-¹¹B) reaction requires extreme ion temperatures of roughly 1.4 billion to 3 billion Kelvin (120 keV to 300+ keV), or about 5 billion degrees Celsius in thermal Maxwellian plasmas.Tungsten: Used as a primary plasma-facing armor because it has the highest melting point of any metal (over 3,400°C.

Boron-11 (¹¹B) is a highly stable, non-radioactive isotope of boron, making up approximately 80% of all naturally occurring boron on Earth. Composed of 5 protons and 6 neutrons, it is a crucial material in advanced chemistry, mate boron-11 is the basis for aneutronic proton-boron fusion (p-¹¹Brials science, and next-generation clean energy research.
Elemental boron is extracted from borax through a multi-step chemical process: first converting borax into boric acid using an acid, next heating the boric acid to form boron trioxide, and finally reducing the oxide with magnesium. 
For a clear, step-by-step visual guide
 on transforming household
 borax into elemental boron
Boron from Borax 
Conversion to Boric Acid
Dissolve borax in hot water.
Add a strong acid like hydrochloric acid or sulfuric acid.
Cool the mixture to precipitate and filter out pure boric acid crystals. 
Dehydration to Boron Trioxide
Heat the isolated boric acid above 530°C.
The heat drives off water vapor, decomposing the acid into boron trioxide (
).
Grind the resulting boron trioxide into a fine powder. 
Reduction to Elemental Boron
The final phase involves a chemical reduction where the oxygen is removed from the boron trioxide to isolate the elemental boron. In laboratory settings, a reducing agent like magnesium is often used because of its high reactivity. 
This specific stage involves significant physical and chemical hazards: 
High-Temperature Reactions: The reduction is highly exothermic (releasing intense heat) and is often described as a thermite-type reaction. These reactions can reach temperatures that cause standard containers to fail or shatter.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Brooding Nimbus

I have an aura of a purple ambience. . . 
           a woebegone . . . forlorn essence and perfume 
        my painful past is a heavy dark cloak
     I am subdued and solitary
             memories haunt
my days and nights

          my brooding nimbus is who I am and
I accept this cloud of sadness that is me
        it surrounds me like a vapor 

      like a vampire who thirsts for blood
        I thirst for my grief and for all those I loved
so I never forget what love is
and that I was truly loved by many once
            upon a time

sometimes the vapor of sadness that surrounds me
          is like a hued purple gauzy cloud quite beautiful 
others have seen it and remarked and I have seen it too 

you may think me a lonely and unhappy girl
        but I am not really though admit I am quite moody
          I tend to brood, and ponder too much
      getting hurt easily is my history
        but it is the incense of my character
                   I thirst for silence like a need
    oh, without this brooding feeling could I write . . .  poetry
for to write . . .  I must reach deep into the darkness
              deep into my soul . . .  for the words

Premium Member Poetry Prize

"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"
 ~ Anton Chekhov

She brightens the skies with her twinkling eyes
As they fall on the pages presented to her
Offering her the honor of a poetry prize
To cause her to smile with satisfaction as she will purr

Poetry and prose lift up like she can sometimes
With emotions so pure they bring conviction
Whether they’re about romance, history or crimes
Addressing the affections with nonfiction

Either by poetic vise or prose that materialize
In dreamy lives who welcome our pen and paper
We will find the inspiration to always idealize
The ones we discover behind a life filled vapor

If it be my wife or the love of my life
The novel, the noun, the verb and the pronoun
I find ways to work through all my strife
With the delight discovered when we write down

Our love for the words we read
As well as the wife we heed

Together, they are a masterpiece indeed!











Reveal your other muse poetry contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
March 17, 2021
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wagg

W.A.G.G.
By: Tom Wright
1998  

We were once but a thought,
but then a reality we became.
Then we needed care,
God, gave us parents and name.

In seeking companionship,
God, gave us a spouse.
When asking for shelter,
God, provided a house.

While man sought friendship,
God, saw our need for love.
We sought a parole,
God, pardoned from above.

Communication we needed,
to, God's, throne in the air.
Of this too He was mindful,
and provided us prayer.

To point us the way,
of a map we had need.
God's, word came forth,
in a Bible to read.

As our last days approach,
some fear the worst.
God, gives living water,
that our soul's not thirst.

When a sacrifice was needed,
God, indeed furnished one.
For his plan of salvation,
it took, Jesus, His Son.

Our life, but a vapor,
from that One supernal.
He then gave us a choice,
whereby it might be eternal.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric


Premium Member The Love Rose

The Love Rose

Love like a red rose bloomed in our hearts
It grew in time but was disguised
Hidden thorns prick and stings in our souls
Until there is no more to unfold

It’s season’s change and love now grows cold
Our lives circled out of control
Sweet smelling scent of love has vanished
Broken hearts with gloom are banished
Nectar of love vapor

Crimson petals fall in the glistening rain
Lapse of time between us has refrain
Thinking our destiny was love bound
Captivating passions spellbound

The wilting desert rose cannot survive
If not rekindled with the sky’s
Raining tears of restoration
Memories in admiration
Can we again fall in love?

Love like petals falling to the ground
Parting wasn’t in the foreground
Essence of love renews our romance 
Alive our hearts still dance

Your ear to my breast hear it bellow
My words in my being echo
Waiting for your riposte
My beating remains innermost
I’m still in love with you

For our love never really grows cold
Unless you want to let it go
So like the rose lets try a new bloom
Take in all joys and refresh anew 

Love like a red rose blooms in our hearts
Its thorns now guards and not disguised
Our souls were never disconnected
We are bound forevermore
 I’m still in love with you

As we walk among our flowers
We feel the scent of love again!

Margaret Franceschini   September 26, 2014
Form: Verse

Only If I Allow You How

If only I could figure out how,
all of this has come…?

Only if I allow you how.

Only if I all you could.
How should we be good?
Only if he who, only if me too.
If only I could figure out you,
how all of this is see through.

Only if I allow you how.

Only if I all you could.
How should we be good?
Only if he who, only if me too.
Only if I could figure you,
how all of this is see-through.

Only if I allow you how.

I think this is plastic . . .
Looking through you vapor barrier mastic.
But I,
I'm looking for action.
But the,
the dead bodies are horrendous.
How can we fix this?

Only if I allow you how.

I really don't mean to offend you.
Only if,
only if you . . .
allow me how—

5-28-17

Premium Member Mirror

Mirror

Oh, I don’t like the mirror in the bathroom – every morning
Every morning I see my decadent face – every morning
Who is this guy? Red eyes, night-style face, but likable

But, I don’t know who is this guy – in the mirror is an evil shadow
I see the eyes, but those are not mine, an unknown person 
He is grinning and saying, I am your fate, you will go to hell

I know it, I answered. Hmm, this is true, but the hell is heaven
for me, I have a ticket and a personal entry card. My new home
So, I am always safe. Heaven? Earth? Hell? All of them!

Wandering in life is an amazing feeling, no boards, just air
But my mirror! I am wanna destroy it! I am gonna do destruction!
I hate this mirror! Lie! This mirror is a lie! This is not mine! Lie!
The face from the mirror saying: You are the lie, I just show your life

No, I am not a liar. I just see you. You are the mirror. Distorted
I am not that person, you, the mirror are deliberately distorting.
Hmm, my shadow person is angry, because my life is a ghetto

Hmm, I clean the mirror, off vapor, off memory. Emotions gone
Dear mirror, give the right, answer to my life, not alike
The mirror said, there is no answer, drop me, and change me

New mirror said
I will follow you
No chance
Enjoy your fate

Premium Member I Am An Autumn Dew

I'm water, though I'm like a pearl.
Hung on a crown of thorns, I swirl
My form and shape slowly alter.
Though I'm like a pearl, I'm water.

I'm born, like a crystal, tonight.
Tomorrow's sunbeams I've to fight
From my throne of thorns, I'll be gone.
Like a crystal, tonight I'm born.

The vapor! Then cold wave chills
Though I dry fast, my quest thrill-fills.
Sometimes I am a breeze-breaker.
Then cold wave chills the vapor.

Like a leaf, I float in the breeze.
Gradually, my movements seize
To nature, my life I devout
In the breeze, like a leaf, I float.

Eternity, I find, at last
The ocean I mix in is vast.
Amidst every absurdity
I find, at last, eternity.
Form: Quatrain

Truth, Thoughts, Dots, and Things

the middle of this paper plate is greasy like my heart
nine hours of cleaning did not matter in the later end
the dining room table is cold and seems to be crying for me
i listen to the air express blankness to my wax-filled ears
i am wishing that i had some chalk and an eraser right now
maybe i could formulate and rough blueprint to right the wrongs
maybe i could try to write the same lame poem a hundred times until it feels 
good to me
no matter what, words are burnt water in the scalding pot of reality's nucleus
all i did was make it a poisonous vapor until it became a monster in the room
i am no carpenter that can fix life and love to be the way that i want it in 
articulate perfection
all i know is the reason why God nodded His head when our eyes met
in the all and all of honesty, i would still choose you and defy the possibility of an 
inevitable fate
real life must be lived without the unhealthy sport of avoidance 
knowing this, i am alway willing to try simply because you're worth it....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

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