Long Weightlessly Poems
Long Weightlessly Poems. Below are the most popular long Weightlessly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Weightlessly poems by poem length and keyword.
Hidden
I am the wind whistling in your ears, chilling you to the bone,
I am the heart tearing you to pieces,
I am the path leading you home.
I am the mind that compels,
And the arms carrying you.
Hidden from prying eyes.
I am the voice, comforting the saddened,
And the anger that is conjured,
In our blackened soul.
Hidden.
The soul that’s tarnished by pain, hostility,
Envy, and greed.
Smeared with grease and coated with dust,
Rusting, somewhere, in our broken body.
Barren of love, hope, or mercy.
You are the soloist in the orchestra,
The lone flutist
Who can only be heard by the dead.
You are the legs that walk weightlessly on wintry ground,
And the wings that fly.
Hidden from those who seek.
We control.
Everything.
Unintentionally.
With purpose.
We are the lungs that breathe life,
Into all existence,
And yet,
We are dead.
Our minds are full to bursting,
But our hearts,
Are more empty than a dish,
Scraped bare by the starved.
They are the songs that drive us to do better,
And the cement that holds us here.
Unable to escape.
Free to leave.
They are the light that beckons,
And the dark that pushes you away.
They are the nurturers that let us keep our roots,
And the breeze that sails us forth,
Into our own sunset.
Intended for mercy and freedom,
Only invoking fear.
I am the confusion that comes with breaking away,
I am the love of change.
I am the ever present hatred,
And the love that was always there.
Hidden.
I am death,
And the crippling grief it brings.
And life,
In all it’s splendour.
I am the last, wheezing breath of a dying man,
I am the piercing cry of a newborn.
I am the despair that uplifts,
And the hope
That kills.
I am a giver,
I am honest,
I am selfless,
Victim to paradoxes.
I am the powerful will that heals,
The horror that divides.
The reality that shatters every fantasy,
The fantasy that shuts out reality.
Hidden from all.
The fable, weaved through
The tapestry of life.
Colours wavering,
Patterns ongulating.
Alluring poor,
And ensnaring rich,
With the life,
Pulsing within.
I am you,
And you are me.
We are one...
We are the ever present love,
And the hate that was always there.
Hidden.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!
Sigh (Infinity symbol)
Your damage leaves a scent like the way gun powder smells
I’m the only store where your hurtful ammunition sells
I'm the ground that carries the weight of your bullet shells
The fireworks fall and rest like confetti
And I know you’ve shot someone already
In the fields where our quenchable love comes first
And the flowers ceaselessly bloom, then burst
When the cravings of earth exhume your thirst
How do we stay here in this hydrating state
Of mind? How can we forever emancipate
Our time? When my world casts me strange,
Will you care that it’s clothes will change?
When the night caressingly undresses space
And the things that made us one tear apart,
When you catch the dreams that you chase
Through the endless corridors of your heart,
Will you remember my phantasmal face?
Or will you forget the words of my sighing art?
When your facing the darkening mirrors of the estuary
And your closest friends revolt the reign that you carry,
When you become an adapting smolt
And you struggle to swim in exult,
Will you still keep the fear of death?
Or will you leave it to your last breath?
When there’s nothing left for my heart to conceal,
Will you return to me, the life that you steal?
Will you still be here in my need?
When all I’ve got are troubles to bleed?
When the sea pulls me from the deck
And all I’ve got is a ship wreck,
Will you pull me from the waves like the moon?
Or will you slowly fade away like morning fades to noon?
As you weave the woven waters of the ocean
And everything is washed in the breath of the tide
As you adapt to this chameleon society
And every color you feel is hard to confide
As you weightlessly wade your way
Through calamitous days of time
May the iridescent rays of your heart
Forever reside in a love as boundless as the sky
Through static and steam
We shatter
Through sleep and dream
We scatter
Through the infinite sighs…
We breathe
I hate robocalls!
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
I turn off damn ringer,
nonetheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
oh... , yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living persons
purely coincidental!
Earth is but a tiny speck of color, spinning round and round
orbiting the sun in the ebon universe without making a sound.
Come and lay beside me in a meadow and let's pretend
we're floating in space where dreams never have to end
Let's visit the constellations in the depth of celestial skies
Dance from star to star, amazed at how they mesmerize
But we dare not try to catch one when it falls from its place
Stardust does not belong in an hourglass on a bookcase
A meteor shower in the distance, lights our way for a time
I have questions, like 'why' or 'how' to write in poetic rhyme
On we go to distant planets, harboring in the universe so vast
I wonder when it had its beginning, and how long will it last
Planets with moons and galaxies are yet to be unconcealed
What astronomic marvels will then be wondrously revealed
Be careful of that magnetic black hole, trying to pull us in
helped by a strong stellar wind that's tossed us in a tailspin!
There's danger from a solar eclipse when we couldn't see
we were headed for Mars and not the moon's Sea of Tranquility
Being extraterrestrials was a chance we were willing to take
but traveling weightlessly in the cosmos is not a piece of cake
Unlike Buzz Lightyear, who can navigate 'Infinity and beyond'
we have to find our way back home without a magic wand
There's no USS Enterprise and Captain James Kirk in command
Our attempt to explore deep space was not very well planned
We wouldn't want our astral journey to disrupt a galactic zone
and like ET, it will be impossible to call home without a phone
Amid the pendants of planets, hanging on a black velvet drape
we'll have to pretend we're on a spaceship to make our escape
15th of January, 2021
Musings on space contest
Sponsor ~ Unseeking Seeker
celestial moons celestial suns celestial stars and black holes
reflected in our vessels windows
all rainbow colours that seemed to bleed into the velvet inkiness of
the planet's atmosphere
not much was growing on aJAX I could tell
as Ij umped from our vessel- jumped high
for miles I could see cactus by rivers
and the heat was almost palpable
sweat was pouring down inside my spacesuit
as I jumped I jumped I jumped
weightlessly from rock to rock to rock to rock
to stone to stone to stone to stone
I was alone amongst the cactus and rocks and stones-
my cohorts were exploring on the other side of this planet
I saw another vessal land
gently
doors opened and lights whirrd out
and a funny noise unfurled itself in my ears
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I was mesmerized and held in a sort of fearless moment and
found myself calling for my fellow spacetravelers
they appeared and
in a split second a profound connection was made
these bubbles of energy
consumed us in an embrace
filling our organs and our minds with a kind of white light that
smacked of Nirvana
and suddenly the planet revealed itself to be a garden of eden
with air we were able to breathe with our human lungs
and many different hued fruit
simply dropping from green and white bushes that crawled along the edges of the
streams
and the bursts of energy were able to assimilate themselves into humans
as we discovered we were able to assimilate ourselves into these bursts of energy
and we discovered
we were one
in the same underneath it all -
even the planet that gave birth to us out here...............
Form:
The young boy woke up floating, effortlessly above
his own little, living, breathing, body
that could be clearly seen below
with his own intangible eyes,
drifting…
as if he were a concealed cloud or Zephyr wind
suspended within
the borders of his bedroom walls.
A sky full of galaxies and stars
were luminously enticing and inviting him
beyond the curtains and outskirts of his window
as he wondered what it might be like
to let go of his attachments to
the familiar, sleeping boy in bed,
his mother, father, family, friends,
and plastic airplane models he had
recently assembled, painted and placed on cluttered shelves
along with Mark Twain story books and seashells
around his azure blue painted
boyhood bedroom cocoon.
It was all he could do to keep from drifting through
the beckoning window, the ceiling or watchful walls
leading upwards and outwards toward some place
he thought he knew well enough
to call "Home Sweet Home" and yet,
something akin to nothingness suddenly surrounded
this new-found phantom, ghost-like, being
curiously whispering and causing him to realize
it was not yet time for him to fly and instead,
decided to surrender and reenter
that other boy's body, brain, and mind
still lying there in bed.
Before awaking to the warming glow of glorious,
Sunday morning sunlight beams and wondering,
if floating weightlessly above himself
was as real as chocolate ice cream
or nothing more than another delirious dream.
Sleep is a deception, a ghost wearing the garment of rest,
a bloody truth hidden beneath our eyelids, an escape from the labyrinth of the mind,
where light dances in the darkness, a forbidden beacon sought by dying souls,
and our outstretched hands tremble, trying to grasp ephemeral illusions.
At the touch of that light, repulsion flickers like silent lightning,
and you are thrown back, thousands of miles into the past, to the beginning of the road,
wandering in the radio silence of your loneliness, contemplating the abyss within,
stretching again and again, caught in the dance of an endless cycle, a carousel of shadows.
You spin in spirals until you collapse into a black hole that swallows you,
traversing galaxies and spitting you into a nebula, suffocating you with stardust,
floating weightlessly, like a dream's feather in the hands of night, calling it rest,
but your bones whisper it's just a rehearsal for the grave waiting to embrace you.
Then, a comet bursts through the sky of the dream and you startle, gasping,
for it has already carved a crater in your fragile heart,
your eyes, once suns of your universe, look at the ceiling as at a fallen sky,
invoking collapse, wishing to release the comet, to unburden you from the weight of the day,
and you feel like a burdened spinning top, turning slowly under the weight of time,
until that hour of illusory rest returns, a ritual under the moonlight.
Her shadow pierces the verdant threads
Secluded within the expanse of changing seasons
Existing within the swaying breeze that trickles
Crimson sparks flicker like fireflies along the winding ripple
Notes of bright bergamot and dark berries intoxicate her senses
Along the path of foliage and bowed willows
A bursting beam awakens her eyes that shimmer
Energy flowing as her arms weightlessly wither
A harmony of birds chirping and broken twigs
Whistling gently within the gusty evening wind
A rustling crunch of presence echoes a world of wonder
A wild vine cascades, a lush waterfall of green
Among the oak trees of widened arcs and drooping limbs
Beneath the speckles of sun seared warmth that drizzle her being
Fistfuls of rain glisten the depths of the forest, just before twilight
Quenching the thirst of her sun worn skin
The sun dips along the horizon, scattering a pale lemon vision
Casting a brilliance of blushed coral magic and weaved pink ribbons
Silent hills vanish into the starriest of nights
A solitude envelopes as the red orange moonbeam casts its radiant light
The path once dwelled into the darkness of natures silent shadows
Now the guiding spotlight, flowing like a tidal wave that flourishes
A place unknown where stillness majestically flows
A solitude that wraps her tightly within the serene midnight glow