Long Visibly Poems
Long Visibly Poems. Below are the most popular long Visibly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Visibly poems by poem length and keyword.
Sacred communion,
taken in by mouth
and nose
and ear
and eye
and touch,
compassionately felt in community,
Becomes left-brain anxious about competitive totalitarian communism
while right-brain celebrating cooperative win/win Green Commons
of ancient reproductive health,
bilaterally twinned,
binomially intertwined,
bicamerally belonging
Yet longing not to become entirely ego-absorbed
without remaining cherished interdependent identity,
Part yet whole;
Whole yet apart
holonic
holy
whole Earth polypathic
polyphonic
polyculturally communal,
Left secularly invincible
either/or powers of resilient thinking
with sacred resonant Right
both cognitive and emotive
pre-visibly invisible,
pre-auditory pregnant silence.
Transparent wombing flexibility
mixed with absorbing love,
together breeding Integrity
Coming of age,
Going of non-change
Viral spirals
downward viciously viscous
and upward
virtuously visionary,
Outwardly
inward,
anxiously
ubiquitous,
competitively
cooperative.
Identity discovered through relationship,
nutrition recovered through nurturing nature,
culture uncovered through history,
theology covered through ecology,
Transcendent revolution through immanent evolution,
communal experience through communication,
secular thoughts through sacred apparitions,
motions through emotions,
Here through now,
Space through time,
Community through communion.
Fingers toy with my nearly worn out bank card.
Not too confident, I hold onto my nerves, hard.
Ahead, petty items in her trolley hold me slowed.
The cashier stops, lengthily examining a bar code.
I glance around at the growing queue, blindly.
I bump into him, behind me, and I apologize kindly.
I let him precede me, my morals climbing high.
He hesitates with three items, as if not sure which to buy.
I tend him a basket which he aloofly ignores.
Disconcerted, my eyes divert to the store's doors.
The cashier waits for the cash, visibly well trained.
He fishes in a pocket then empties another, unrestrained.
Some coins roll and find the cashier’s impatient fingers.
But she waits with smile fixed as he lingers.
At last he finds his notes, all bundled.
His shaking hands proudly tug one crumbled.
He peers at it and slowly returns it back to place.
Another he places, unsure, in hand tended with grace.
Suddenly he pulls it back, deciding it was not the right one!
Now this, he checks carefully; it is a larger one.
He gave it away, not looking very happy.
The cashier’s patience is waning, visibly.
But she amounts the cash and helps him as he packs.
Then he gets annoyed as his long bread roll cracks.
He halts and decides to break it into three; it goes into the bag.
The cashier turns with a bright smile to a queue in lag!
The winds of change blow harsh
in crushing time’s unidirectional course,
waft from an unseen end to another unknown.
The momentum they gather from the ordained power
increases ever with the turn of time’s wheel.
The direction they receive from the message of events
can’t be altered in the pages of history.
Civilizations blew away in the destined gales,
the Indus valley society desiccated in the desert.
Empires collapsed in time’s wasteland in gusty squall,
the Aztec kingdom dissipated despite its strength.
Mankind sheds the unwanted old grime,
like the dry leaves of autumn the winds sweep
and bury under the thick dust of the ageing time.
Indomitable spirit rises from the debris of the wrecked,
new societies with changed belief and value emanate,
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change until they wane to disappear.
The strike of destined wrath the time arrows apply,
transform fast and invisibly the insipid core
of the promising society of integrity and unity
into a degenerated deceptive one that’s steeped
in intolerance and hostility to be lost in oblivion.
The shape and space of minds’ frames alter
with the changing pictures they hold
of the time and the people that are constant movers,
displayed in the kaleidoscopic everlasting show,
the winds of change visibly perform as they blow
across the cauldron of history,
piling up the ruins of the societies lost.
Though we look out about yonder
in the sky, there is no sunshine
but what's not visible is still there
reveals its effect so we can dine
There is such heat to experience
so much is there for surely everyone
if people would just believe this is so
to receive such heat then its done
Everyone is so visibly transfixed
thinks if not seen it cannot be
but these sun effects can be so felt
even when not seen, still you are free
The whole day is completely done
but looking back you feel real hope
on the horizon one senses truth
there you cling to that sure rope
Learn to never ever give up hope
tomorrow could be your expected day
remember that invisible sun up there
by faith look on to find your way
The verse from 'The Invisible Sun'
("There has to be an invisible sun
It gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
That gives us hope when the whole day's done.")
- Gordon Sumner (Sting - The Police)
sensitive awareness
being there
showing concern
in a voice of love
rooted in scripture
oracles
episodic or
infrequent
divine interventions
on His initiative
Spirit inspired
words undistilled
heaven-sent
then spoken
this voice of the Lord
an essence
to take in
dwell upon
assimulate
&
then
remember
a perfect revelation
a simple word
foundations of truth
a process
made manifest
visibly expressed
a continuity
of personhood
in recognisable form
a body remade
transformed
recreated
sealed clothes
washed linen
in
heavenly wear
a perfect robe
in readiness
face-to-face
with passing moments
of loving concern
as wisdom finds a solution
for the flowers
of the seed
i prefer to remember you like this
there was a time when this space was meant only for us
now we created a hole that allowed grief and stress
we are now shades of our former selves living in oblivion within ourselves
i am on a roller coaster ride as i stare endlessly out of the window
the bends reminds me of the nausea of our never ending changes
what i would not give for a sweet dose of organic glory right now
that is what it felt like when we first met
somewhere between fantasy and black paradise, reality and truth tapped us on the shoulder
what died is our merged recognition of reason and our emboldening of The Reason
i guess that is why i turn to isolation as my visibly invisible mistress
in the center of walking the floor over you, i prefer to remember you like this
One flower almost gray
but visibly not
Brushed by a breeze on
concrete wet
Emerged from a crevasse
along the corner
Forced to hold on to its
limited yellow
Open to suggestion
More than several
shapes take hold
On a distant wall of
wind emerged tornadoes
Spun in favor of the
days rotation
Coming in from the west
At a 90 degree
declination
Turns to be determined
left or right
Angles perpendicular to
the east
The eye wall wobbling
uncertain to reason
As gray turns to black
Rises with barometric
pressure
Collapsed on the
moments fragile flight
Palm trees hang
suspended, then animate
Fall like paragraphs
pinned down by wind
News wires bent on
facts lean in to learn
There to understand it
Hurricane begins,
uproots humanity
Removes them like tooth
decay
Electric lines freak
out, burn on orange red desires
Dangle in the wind in
pain without a smile
Touch puddles as
children walk by
Inclement weather does
strange things
Impacts
the storm track still intact
Leaves nothing behind
or to the imagination
Including its name
which is forgotten
Roads clear and are not
there
Traffic, trees,
people... Poof!..all gone
Storm warnings move on,
hunger for warmth
Looking for a tropical
paradise to wrong
I saw you as a sign
A diamond in the sky
Brilliant and beaming
A beacon of hope
While I was entrenched in a battle below
My days were worn like a badge of courage
My thoughts reached out
Like a baby's arms for their mother
My steps careened between stillness and surrender
A story unfolding visibly worn at the pages
The spirit dances circular around the sun
Lifting me up and planting me on a caravan of clouds.
A channel of promise that pain could be relieved
And so it was,
A moment of incredible wonder
Without the weakness
That strapped me to the temporary world
I lived in
When wings fail
When doors close
I called out for mercy
The only way out was in
I entered and believed
Keeping the energy saddled and direct
Point me forever forward
Turn my heart into gold
Spare a dollar for your thoughts,”
her angelic voice murmured.
His callused hands — firm,
visibly burdened.
“My stomach’s in knots, I’m distraught —
when will my heart stop hurtin’?”
She slides over a coffee-stained napkin;
he grabs it without askin’.
Three small words it simply stated:
Own your story.
He grinned and waited.
“What does this mean, young girl?”
She brushed her silk hair,
tightened her bow.
“That’s for you to find out —
only you’ll know.”
A smile at last came across his face.
“Can I at least get a name?
You can’t leave without a trace.”
She looked in his eyes and said,
“You’ll see me again.”
The man thought — if not now, then when?
The girl straightened her white dressing gown,
got up and left the diner downtown.
For if the man sees her again, he will never know —
some stories are best left untold.
My sworn enemy elect, is the constant profusion of illustrative choice,
even though it bestowed to me this shrewd strident voice,
I have unfeigned gratitude aplenty for opulent options but still,
with itemised information excessive without curb I’m ill,
one can sift through a menagerie of bewitching pros and cons,
skewed point of reflection, adopted pose, other folk dons,
diverse argument galore or hairsplitting please beware,
arch devilish trap covert, that sprung sneaky snare, surplus fact monoliths depending on an ultimate decision, shun bogus trendsetting at once with sheer derision, to be visibly cognizant as transparent courses of action, quite vast indeed and mammoth not a minute fraction,
when I commit to redeem there is an element of risk, but unwarranted deferral frowned on, one must be brisk, in the absolute recess of my mind is this constant pressure, to battle with surplus plethora, items novel and fresher,
with such package, pitch, display, slogans and colour,
choice might emerge to boost mood then banish dolour, broad scope “they” unleash, a nod to the downright plausible, the chocolate de luxe editions are they tangibly laudable, it is not for me to magnify an apparent risible matter, pettifogging, quibbling, nitpicking, pointless chatter,
I must insist on venting as a means to a clear path ahead,
yes, to coexist with at many levels trivial confusion instead,
excess products can be such a grandiose glossy term,
whose prevalence a nuisance that makes one often squirm,
but one can perhaps reframe and reconsider a resolute intention,
with the utmost alacrity in the context of apprehension,
drawing up a permanent peace treaty to empower a cessation,
with this fierce opponent choice as permanent extrication