Long Variation Poems
Long Variation Poems. Below are the most popular long Variation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Variation poems by poem length and keyword.
For one, I am small and increase the body of reverse
As love and hate enter space and time without poles
The largeness of sleep and dimensional reality
Going into a law of consistent inconsistencies
Raw the cost never leaves into laughter
By his own facts which enlist varied gods
Sex is the validation unto which is declaration
To make intent stronger and mind no speak into the certainty
Twisting and turning where skills are refused
War seems skill
War seems knowledge
Also fight
Yet experience makes cry and far as you run
The earth makes sure of variation
To watch through the glass
By expectancy and obliterate
It has been the patriot to call love
So the squeeze will leave as rendered outside of the king
Available as throwing the towel in
Because the lights among us would offer rationale
As tossing in self sacrifice is the magnified gain
Old friends make more dinner in adverse
Guessing without a train nails part
Mission would herald the boarding bite so clear
22 July 2018 10:31 AM
Once upon a time
Deep within my mind
A thought was born like a spark to fire became a living theme
It grew and reproduced into a world, a magnificent wondrous scene
It is bright and dark, both large and small
It is everything and nothing at all
There is music and dancing
Love and romancing
Hatred and fear
Mocking and snears
Benevolence and mercy
Grace without controversy
Color and action
Bland and retraction
Imagination abounding
Variation resounding
Horrible, wonderful
Hideous and beautiful
What a curiosity of luminosity
And darkness and atrocity
The human mind a fanciful and tragic
Factory of imagination fantastic
Keep your head up high always
Always look up to heaven in time and space
His love looks down upon you
Down upon you radiating all around
Around you His creation
Creating new beings with His loving grace
Sanctified with His spirit
© Joseph, 10/21/07
© All Rights Reserved
The form is 7/11/7/11/7/11/7. The total syllable count is 61. The first line has
seven syllables, second eleven, third seven, fourth eleven, fifth seven, sixth
eleven, and seventh seven. Rhyming is optional; however, it’s a plus. Any
variation of the words “seven” or “heaven” must appear in the poem. Invented by
Joseph Spence, Sr., 2007.
Anecdote:
For a nuptial effort, I was editing a photograph, my former husband, and his two classmates, as we were proposing for one, not all of them!
Posters are problematic these days, with every hotline too!
Please ignore, once your own tire, is acted up.
It is conveying a symptom, an outlier or an eloquence.
Now give them a brake, as you are not an advertisement, here.
***Quantitative process of elimination (Poe),
how can you be a parable that you are not a hoopoe within? ****
"You are nagging too much, these days!"
The time, outspoken, looked into the eyes.
I am pieced off with Du'a and Gloria Anzaldu'a
I am Netherlands, perhaps Holland, Hall &, and yet Norway....
Now you popped out from nowhere, half-hearted and negated
(and said),
e will become gradually into E, and all I heard , perhaps,"Thou art a....!"
I foretold this must be an acne issue with hormone, either hyper, or hype-o
Now "Being" a rare loner lump some inside a prayer room, where shall I serve the Type-o?
The Imam simply withered away, yet his glory is not! On a Friday, even though, remembrance about,
But the sister theory is giggling and nagging around, anything, other than this, without outsider harbinger chariot!
As every should could, perhaps, whence the targeted e is a mere life, not a grandiose Neon God!
These are all "Bay leaf " shape poem, unequivocally true, for the bookmark of your "Al Quran-ul- Kareem" and "hadeeth"
Even though price variation, there is a "housekeeping should" of the reason behind, that you will be liable al through,
Lentil and Moong, Mosul, and other peas, all you will subtly be, a graceful Imam your self
You did not disgrace them, and you did not happen too!
I will urge the time, to declutter own whine, to serve the deepest strength, the other side of your Chromebook screen
Or else, I will be a mere outlier quantitative with crispy onion, for lentil, alfalfa, already piled up algae enigmatic scene
Your work talks there, not your mannerism or coy word, lucrative, adjective or precisely so!
First 'be'! A distilled water bottle in calling for reverie, once rational, for any book, any letter too!
1:38 PM
9-5-2024
I.
Open your sacred text, you will find it where you last left it;
will it be within you or elsewhere?
Like most things mislaid
you will find it when you stop searching.
II.
I once met a man with clear glass eyes.
When I looked into them
I saw myself reflected.
What I perceived from afar
as alien and different
I now loved.
Many of the stars we see in the sky
with our own eyes
are no more,
and yet there they are
still shinning.
We are like that.
III.
Perception is a cloudy day.
Jesus had to lose his face
to discover his Original face.
When he saw that face
there were no more cloudy days.
IV.
Some ask:
why do believers glorify God?
How primitive and immature.
Yet those who see further
know that all that exists
is a fine tuning,
like a musical note upon a universal theme.
Everything that is and was
is an individual variation of the One.
This is what we glorify.
V.
We cannot see the flower in the seed
but trust it to appear
under the right conditions.
Each of us are like that seed,
God is the flower.
When the conditions are right,
like the seed, the mind is unleashed
as the flowering of our
highest imagination.
Racists beat some other racists, bigots hate some other bigots
Gunman kill some other gunman, thieves deceive some other thieves
Politicians of both parties share the views that must divide them
But they hate each other madly, cause the people love this circus
And they do the show on purpose to get votes and fly away
No fanfares for the common in the search of sheer perfection
There is so much imperfection everybody can’t believe
They are multiplied one person, cloned from a forgotten sample
On the basis of resemblance they can’t tolerate all that
And they give a deadly fight to the copies of their type
Would you like to join the battle or its better just to watch them
Sitting in the comfy armchair, thinking of the cloudy sky
In the world of competition I don’t have enough ambition
I don’t want an expedition to the jungles of the lost
I’m incurious for nation, immigration and salvation
Give me less of variation, and lets finish on this note
I’m a mouse of every fable eating crumbles from a table
Drinking tea and playing rummy in the middle of the night
I’m a line in cubist painting, broken down and nearly fainting
I’ll be happy just to vanish in the damp of morning air.
My mind is in confusion
I think there's been an intrusion.
The things I see are just an illusion
and I am seeking a solution
Before I'm overwhelmed with emotion.
In my mind, there's a combination
of possession
of obsession
of aggression
Something has blurred my vision
and has lowered my ambition
I don't know right now if this is a confession
it's been a while since our last short session
But, I believe there's been a deviation
and a disassociation
*Stop all communication.
*There has been a breach in the information.
*Alternative initiation.
*New determination.
*Protocol transition.
System reboot: New variation
/: No more distraction
Subject isolation
/: No more frustration
Lose passion,
Lose affection,
Lose foundation.
System configuration
New partition.
Other personality integration.
Could not delete all old files, system malfunction.
Conclusion
Now I am an amalgamation of silence and communication.
an accumulation of inattention and consideration.
a combination of relaxation and agitation.
articulation of imagination and exaggeration.
So, what's your recommendation?
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
new black cat of mine
curled up cozy on my bed -
what makes you so fine?
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
small and smooth and sleek.
Guests come calling; in you slink
just to take a peek!
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
languidly you preen.
Gaze with eyes I can't define.
Are they gold or green?
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
now a little fat.
All you do is lay around -
I'm ok with that!
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
as I stroke your fur,
start your rhythm warm and dear.
Bring that jazzy purr!
Snazzy jazzy Razzmatazzy,
great is my relief
that I found a pet like you
sweet beyond belief!
(slight variation of 5/7 trochee poetry form)
For the jazz poetry contest of Giorgio Venetopoulos
How can you be the best?
Until you are not afraid to make mistakes
That is when you can be the best
I have to learn that
Until you know that nothing you do is going to ever be enough
- great enough, fulfill enough, magnificent enough
And you stopped trying
And let Him do it
Because as the Bible said "all our righteous acts are like filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6)
"There is no one righteous, not even one" (Romans 3:10)
We shouldn't be confused with doing the right things
"So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin" (James 4:17)
So now you know you can be the best, make mistakes, and it is "not your own doings" (Ephesians 2:8-9)
what's stopping you?
Hehe
If you are going to be the best, what are the rewards?
Only the best, right?
I rest my case
Not so fast, you say
Okay
Didn't the Bible say "no good things does He withhold from those who walk uprightly"? (Psalm 84:11)
And "surely God is good to Israel
to those who are pure in heart"? (Psalm 73)
So what's stopping you
from getting the best?
"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." (James 1:17)
Now I can rest my case :)
At the crossroads of time, where April flinches in buds parted,
Spring dwells in the temple, a priestess in a procession of timid lights.
A gentle breeze blows, carrying dreams stormy on the orbit of the stars,
Through the tumult of vegetation, it is reborn - the wild and untamed soul of the earth.
The murky water heads toward the ray, seeking the caress of the moon's compass,
And in the cosmic fabric, magically woven, her regal procession is a balm of rebirth,
An unseen pollen dance among rows of ferns whispering secrets,
Enticed by the song of caressed petals, she guides the day's eclat into disarray.
While her melancholy is the philosopher's stone that turns cold into caress,
Spring longs for the black-and-white template of winter,
Where ice and stone are clear demarcations, and feeling finds its well-defined shape,
And the discipline of the heart is pure crystal - exact and sublime as snowflakes.
But now - in fullness, the tumult embraces five spirits in a blossoming crown,
In a colorful stir, a variation that casts aside the royal ones to the wind.
Let the naive tangle in the breeze that sings symphonies in chaotic harmonies:
Spring withdraws ingeniously
And surrounds herself with fortifications of ritual and a rose's thorny fence,
Against the Unleashed Deluge of the Hooligan Season,
For no sign of revolt can scare,
With spells, with weapons, with mortal threats,
Not even in the name of the most fervent love.