Long Wormholes Poems
Long Wormholes Poems. Below are the most popular long Wormholes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wormholes poems by poem length and keyword.
Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are creatures in wonder and uncertainty.
We make all our heavens and hells.
This edge of possibility, where we search
uncharted interstellar dimensions,
the wormholes and blackholes
beyond our comprehension.
Intelligent maker of such things,
If it is evident anywhere,
then, we are surely too small to know.
Does it drift through space like
an unmoored ghostship or
is it the confluence of
universal consciousness,
the essence of intention?
Is this universe alone, or
just a branch of many on a tree?
Are we here by blueprint or
merely coincidental?
Are we a rough draft, or
Are we an objective?
It is hidden in the rain,
hidden in the particles of pebbles.
Standing on the precipice of fear and awe,
We are actualities in stupefaction on ambiguities.
We fill our voids with heavens and hells.
Yes, we are tireless seekers
poised on the precipice of the unknowable.
SUM OF ALL POSSIBLE
A TWIST OF TIME
Quantum, a direct window into the heart of Reality
More of a philosophy than a rigorous morality
Electron fired through Double-slit experiment
Physicists and mathematicians make each other queasy in continuity
Sum of all ripple amplitudes in gravity
Twist time as an imaginary-number (i2 = -1) to trick congeniality
Feynman path integral entanglement
Our Reality is a sum of all possible locality
Timeless quantum leap sought immortality
Scientists throw Swiss-cheese space-time into hospitality
Mirror mirror on the wall, what is the fairest one of all?
wormholes, doughnuts, topology flighting for identity
All roads lead to one melody
Cope with teetering tower of infinity
Quantum quantum in the field, who is the spookiest one of all?
Einstein general relativity, Schrodinger cat’s vitality
Quantum, a direct window into the heart of Reality
More of a philosophy than a rigorous morality
Dying black holes predicament
Physicists and mathematicians sum up random walks in brutality
Rosie Hammond went to a convention held in the town of Gig Harbor
With vacuum salesmen she would wine and dine while worrying about her daughter.
She was suffering from pain caused by the medicine she took for her insomnia disorder
Drifting off to sleep before the meal was complete she dreamt a UFO took her to the boarder.
Being in such dire straits to stay awake she sniffed a Listerine soaked tissue
Loosing their wits watching these tid-bits her friends asked, “What’s been bothering you?”
“Don’t get your spandex boxer shorts all out of sorts making lunar craters from wormholes,
You’re daughter will be fine just give her some time,” are the things that Rosie was told.
So they continued to taste the nuclear waste sent from the restaurant’s kitchen
And Rosie’s mind was free to let her be a contributor to the convention.
Heaven’s to Mergetroid, what dire straights had the moon men gotten themselves into this time? Lunar craters were filling with nuclear waste and there was not a friend to be found at the convention. The UFO (Unified Foreign Oscillators) team was too busy singing itself silly in the far corner around the Hammond organ. It was a regular wine and dine of vacuum salesmen with dozens of oxygen masks, slamming traditional medicine and promoting laughter, pushing the sucking of gas vapors through a straw! Each new sale brought forth new tid-bits of bad breath and gafaws. The Listerine soaked tissues drifting in on silver trays from the kitchen were bound to quell the stench! Rosie the robotic maid yanked the club Presidents spandex boxer shorts up so high he squealed with pleasure! The robot bouncers had to launch wormholes into the raucous crowd to thin them out. Those still standing after that gig would have the dislocated jaws from laughing after having taken their medicine.
Wormholes.
Punching all the stars as if they-
Taste like dinner in heaven.
Shouldn’t be filled with zombies.
But they are on the loose.
Drastic.
Churning without sickness.
Just glass patterns all about.
Grasshoppers leap out of the way.
Wormholes begin again.
Connect like tornados.
Laugh like laughter with no mouth or eyes.
Cut up blades of grass.
Without me.
Trees caving in.
Shouldn’t be filled with zombies.
They actually aren’t.
Feed the wormholes like empty caskets.
Begging for the scraps.
Grasp less than a zombie hand with only a pinky finger left.
Empty caskets…
They are not.
ROCKS IN OUR HEADS
On the precipice of reality, a golden boulder came to rest
Refusing to go over the top, just teetering upon the edge
People gather from all around, spellbound by such a sight
Believing it's a sign from god, build a temple atop in delight
A random event one of many, across our universe every day
Inexplicable, undeniable moments of happenstance at play?
Thought provoking, prayer invoking, indeed god evoking life
Why does nature stop marbles dead, on the edge of a knife
A proposition to intelligence, logic doesn't stand a chance
Every problem thought solved, merely one human glance
Scratching away at the surface, scratching away our heads
Eventually exposes brain tissue, more often gravel beds
Spacetime curves in on itself, wormholes let through light
Photons can traverse Indian file, singularities have no size
Infinity never even started, now it's here, refusing to end
Looking closer at that golden boulder, it's really quite a gem
KYAIKTIYO PAGODA MIRAMAR
Boulder Weighs approx 450 tons
How long it's there is anyone's guess
Unseen seekers
Vibrant inward feelings contest
24/02/22
She slid into a chapter
bound in the volume of life,
a single stanza in effortless grace
she dwelt,
among this paper kingdom
becoming a lady
rounded with words
and ripely shining
in a court of stars,
feted for beauty
searched out by curious
seekers, from all over
all, asking the same question
but all she saw
were visions of dawns
piped through wormholes
from every galaxy,
she was allowed entry
to stroll the gallery of time
then life flickered
in her peripheral
from the farthest reach,
her little blue planet
blinked out her name
as this phantom of red dust
heard the call of home
she fell through a wormhole,
confusing the whole universe,
all over again,
with the echoes
forever singing,
who ! are ! you ?
Dark and dangerous like a secret
The evolution of Human beings
Did we come from apes
Or were they Adam and Eve
Dark and Dangerous like a secret
The existence of God
Did He create us or is it just a myth
If yes then which religion to follow
Dark and dangerous like a secret
The promise of heaven
A place of gardens and happiness
With rivers, food and equality
The darkness and vastness of universe
Black holes, wormholes the galaxies, planets
aliens,how big it is, dark an dangerous like a secret
After my death, will I be resurrected
Will I go to heaven or hell
Or will there be darkness
All this, shh, is dark and dangerous like a secret
3 June 2018
20 lines, for the contest " Free Verse Only, Pick a theme "
Sponsor " Laura Loo "
Rosie played the Hammond Organ at the church
This week she left us in a real lurch
For Rosie went off with one of those vaccum salesmen
Who turned her eye wearing Spandex boxer shorts on tight skin
The choir director will be in dire straits
Because a mouse built his house in the organ with his mate
We placed a listern soaked tissue in there
Hoping it will stink those meese away __that pair
Now Rosie's husband is one medicine for insomnia and emotional pain
He's drifting in and out of being nearly insane
I heard some tid bits the other day
At the convention for women only what can I say
Well this is it, "Rosie's now playing gigs
At the "Wormholes" all night club where truckers park their own rig."
It's right next to those lunar craters
Where in their kitchen at night the vacuum salesman peels potatoes
That night they saw a UFO land and steal nuclear waste
And this was beyond half-past eight
When Rosie wined and dined her friends
She told them the whole weird story..The End..
Believe it or not your choice....
Wither-all to compensate for bending neurons break
I can sometimes see from close or far
the ashes of an endless burning stake
Cosmos shape reflected in my jar.
Arise once more the Phoenix of crucible spent
arrest the tide of sentimental farce
amid the clamoring eardrum, joy’s repent
relativity speaking, either side the bars.
My accent unfamiliar, entertains the moth.
My face defends no banner or display.
Continuing epiphany or sloth,
The choice remains alas to pay or pray.
The ribbon, the scarf, the tunnel, the true
we choose the parable meant to assist
if for one moment un-tighten the screw
unmake not a single list.
DO NOT DOT THE I
DO NOT CROSS THE T
walk on the grass and kick the dog
the cat will provide sympathy.
Raw unfiltered unabashed and relieved
no fire hydrant for dog ever grieved.
You sit there or here or stand or yawn
the worms still cover your nighttime lawn.
For you are, you are not, you lay in-between;
times’ ordinary moments - sometimes unseen
shadows will replicate, suns divide
answers to questions are but tears angels cried
Wormholes and musings and dreams and debunk
make light of our lives and un-clutter our junk
make way for the day and the cleanest of clean
provide us the means for everything seen.
I laugh at the topless trees in the wind
I laugh at the drain of the sewers grin
We laugh at the jokes that we’ve heard twice before
we laugh from our throats till our bellies are sore
and when the laughing stops we die
the ash of our bones laid bare
thin lives stripped of edificial poem
extinguished over here and reborn over there