Long Visualised Poems
Long Visualised Poems. Below are the most popular long Visualised by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Visualised poems by poem length and keyword.
I wish I had something important to tell you
than hoping to see your face once more
again
I do recall the moment theft that left us by
just to go through most of the day without
shredding in missing you
Should note down for the both of us we had
the best of the untested dress code of our
love
The time we spent, each moment we could
share made sense to my entire existence
Honey remember the day you rubbed my
chin just to grasp my thinking
Or between that day we couldn’t express
words as a writer does we ended up having
our own love language that had the
most inside jokes just to communicate in
understanding in meanings that could easily
visualised in animated by that we both
banged in watching it
At some point it kept us glue as if it were a
glue trap of our relationship
A feeding scheme in our conversational
content of our crazy laughter
I remember the first time I saw you
The nerves of shaking of interest to talk to
you
The moment I said “Hey “ and you said
“Hey”
It felt like it was our thing for sure ain’t no
other person could understand that
To break the freeze I complimented your
music taste as crazy it sounds it was the
exact taste that my intestine danced for it
daily
The very first hug that left me with all my
questions answered by smearing the most
paralysing smile you gave me
I’m not sure if I ever express my emotions
deeply how your being order an existence
soldiers within my heart creating a town of
Rising Diane’s movement
The feelings of your attentive specifics how
you invented a better version of me
How you stressed dearly for communication
effectively just to make the distance
between us bearably
We weren’t even near to each other
That was the actual fear that you erased
everyday
We became each other’s daily routine
We became each other’s mission in seeing
each other from time to time
It never crossed my nightmare that we will
just be erased like a drawing in a fabricated
story that is unfinished worthy to be started
all over again just like that
Ashleigh Ngoqo
Shafts of light pierce the gloom inspiration speak Those pictures in the mind paint my private space A well within-images, in the mind dreams and visions and things not known. in visualised expression rivers,rivers stream from my mind spring forth images,to find Within the soul of my experience Unconscious seeds of tomorrow's joy, waiting the warmth of encouragement lay dormant, seeking inspiration's light From this confusion, the mosaic of ideas harmonizes, First an outline,then in silhouette,each unique line,a perceptible signature, and more personal than diary.This spontaneity releases the extrovert squeezed out as rain in an arid world Artistic inspiration paints itself., .A confusion then evolves into the particular scattered here and there,colours everywhere. succinct,complete of itself, never to be reproduced it stays unique,of me,for all to see
WARMTH
In your eyes visualised my immersion.
My wobbled heart pulsated: ‘Please do respond.’
Your glow of eyes reflected my passion.
At last we were tied in social bond.
Desired delighted days on unison.
Thought emotion to flow like stream endless.
But initiation, evolution
and extinction! That’s natural process.
Days passed ! Couple stepped to higher status.
Parents give family,priority.
Rearing children, life turned abloom lotus.
First and foremost ! Responsibility.
Compromise and adjustment in each step.
Only WARMTH I need ! Passion to escape.
A chilly early 1987 morning, 7th March,
five booze cruise boys crammed in a car.
From overnight ferry, just disembarked
when told of the Zebrugge ferry disaster.
Hands freeze on the steering wheel,
as the driver recalls what we now all see.
In a queue, a last minute change he did feel.
All had agreed to travel on The Herald of Free.
"Let's go from Dover for a change", I suggest
All agreed they wanted to see Zebrugge
In the travel shop, our driver felt his unrest
"Portsmouth is a shorter drive back" thought the daft bugger.
And so yet again to Le Havre we went.
Oh on the trip, he got some stick all right.
But in the car I pat him on the back, "mate, you were heaven sent,
we all should have died last night!"
Reflections for Contest
hungover, in car tinkling with duty free bottles. It didn't really sink in (pun intended). Had he stuck to the plan we would have been on the Herald of Free Enterprise departing Zebrugge on the night of March 6, 1987.
His later recollection was that in queuing in the travel agent shop, (no internet or smartphones back then) he visualised extra driving from Dover, instead of Portsmouth, back to Taunton. And so "sod them, I've got to put up with these piss artists, so they'll have to put up with Le Havre again."
We never really appreciated the significance at the time, nor did the friendships last as we drifted apart thereafter.
When we communicate with another
Via verbal or written correspondence alone
We have no idea what that person looks like
So we form an image of our own
Sometimes that image is close
Other times completely incorrect
Always so interesting to see
If they look like we suspect
Hypothetically ,wouldn’t it be an intriguing experiment
To gather a group of faceless P.S poets we have connected to
Without speech or interaction
Ask each person to guess just…who is who?
I wonder if anyone would choose correctly
If there were similarities in what they had visualised
Or if they are polar opposites to our minds image
The way they look a complete and utter surprise!
It was...
If only it had been!
Immersed in abstract reality
Conversation
Laughter
Loving
Wanting to reach out and confirm tangible expectations
But instinctively knowing it is an exercise in futility
Because by reaching out,
The spell would be broken
The magic would be gone
Dispersed like smoke in the wind
Leaving be-hind
The bitter-sweet after-taste
Of what is; but is not
If only....
It can be seen with-out the sub-conscious being a catalyst
For a projection that can-not be visualised
With the naked eye
So the windows to the soul with the curtains drawn
Kept imploring to the sub-conscious
To tarry, nay
If only....
For a little while
So some-thing so puritanical
Can be revelled in
But reality...
Oh, in-evitable reality!
Tore in and shattered any illusion of nirvana
Leaving behind poignant memories
To ferry a battered soul over to the shores of dawn
Form:
I read in solitude, I found peace.
I read with love, I felt exulted.
I read when I was lonely, I got a companion.
I read when I felt sick at heart, I embraced ecstasy.
I read histories and spoke to the people of the past.
I read biographies and met my mentors.
I read fantasies and widened my jaws at the magic lamps.
I read poetry to master vocabulary.
I read war tales and realised the value of peace
I visualised orphan kids and felt the pain behind hunger pangs
I read love stories and learnt the best life lessons.
I skimmed through adventures and learnt embracing fears.
While I read,
I became a sailor and traversed on salt waters greeting the storms,
I turned into a detective and loosened the knots of unsolved mysteries
I sang with the cuckoos, danced with the dragons and merried with the magic mats
I felt pain, I felt love, I endured every emotion of my unknown friend.
Read to explore,
Read to exercise your brain,
Read to travel,
Read to know another world,
Read to socialize,
Read to boost your morale.
Read children read, for it makes you what you thought you could never be.
"The Colour Guards"
Heaven
came close to me today
I flirted with the idea of it
outrageously
The Colour Guard
kept changing
The metaphysical poet
spoke automatic its message through me
it visualised some kind of new Nirvana
shining through electric spectral colours
held aloft
by the containment emeralds
the ghost writer
enticing me to tear from the limb
most high the gilded eye of mind
ignites through crystalline
from the lowest of low born dreams
the sweetest green apple of its eye
so I took a bite and full-bodied
what was living inside the skin of me
metamorphasized
I came close to heaven today
it flirted with the idea of me outrageously
it spoke to me in cloudy colours
class not out yet for long lost fellows
more lessons coming in
each room by door behind all numbers
the answers
found within
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"The metaphysical poets were men of learning, and, to show their learning was their whole endeavour; but, unluckily resolving to show it in rhyme, instead of writing poetry, they only wrote verses, and, very often, such verses as stood the trial of the finger better than of the ear; for the modulation was so imperfect, that they were only found to be verses by counting the syllables... The most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together; nature and art are ransacked for illustrations, comparisons, and allusions; their learning instructs, and their subtilty surprises; but the reader commonly thinks his improvement dearly bought, and, though he sometimes admires, is seldom pleased."
nirvana
noun
(in Buddhism)
a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism.
"Listening is all well and good", she said.
"Watch and learn, read between the lines;
Morse Code, a gift of Love - for you," she said.
The Laws of Attraction
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you believe in the laws of manifestation
When I started writing poetry
I visualised being the best version of:
John Duffy Poet
I could be
So
Look up
John Duffy Poet
On your search engine
Of choice
Will you be surprised if I'm the first name you'll see?
The question is:
Did I manifest a top ranking via Poemhunter
Or do people like you, still like and explore poetry, and use it as your own regular form
Of self-psychiatry?
And sometimes enjoy
sitting under my supernatural vocabulary tree
And reading these strands and whispers
I conjure out of The Great In-Between
And label them as my version of inspired
Poetry
(C) Copyright John Duffy