Profundity Poems | Examples

exciting 
     remarkable
the
immaculate 
    
insightful
   assessment 
interpretations

elevate
  criteria 
    objectively

originality 
  contemporary
&colourful
within
   a
       discipline 
of
    virtuosity
made
     manifest 

perfectionism
    engineered
claims
attention

So... today I begin my journal.
Where do I begin?
How do I begin?
Without, within... the confines of a page, like a prison wall the surrounds my thoughts.
"You must color within the lines" I recall my kindergarten teacher instructing us, otherwise we won't graduate and move on to first grade.  
And at 58, that merciless and foreboding warning I would for anything trade.
So here, in the ether of my thoughts and the confines of ruled paper all is transformed from lined prison bars to the revelation of an inmate who upon receiving his baptism by the Holy Spirit proclaiming... "thank God for prison... for now, I am truly free!"
And as I stare deep into the fragments of this modern papyrus the lines and spaces that confine me begin to escape and I enter through pupil of the "Magic Eye".  
It reveals a new world where I have communion with God... and receive the wisdom I desire. 
To journal... is to pray...

     The pursuit of profundity
         prior to simplicity 
            educes sterility

      Mere simplicity
         sans profundity
           precludes fecundity

Because I could not escape from Life –  
It rudely dragged me forth –  
The chaos swirled, consuming all –  
And Oblivion, my worth.

We raced through days – no time to rest –  
And I, a frantic pawn –  
My dreams and hopes, discarded, lost –  
For Life's relentless dawn.

We passed the cubicles, where souls toiled  
In fluorescent-lit despair –  
We passed the screens of endless tasks –  
We passed the coffee-stained chair.

Or rather – Life passed me –  
Its deadlines, like a storm –  
For only memos, spreadsheets, strife –  
My soul, a uniform.

We paused before a desk that seemed  
A prison of the mind –  
The keyboard barely visible –  
The mouse, a chain that binds.

Since then – 'tis eons – and yet  
Feels shorter than a breath –  
I first surmised the ticking clock  
Led me toward my death.

Three men sit in a room.

One is incredibly smart.

Another has common sense.

The third has only a pen, a mirror, and the irksome desire to be profound.

He, I am sure, is the poet.

My hands will glow,
rising higher, ebbing
and flowing
with the gold-glass sea.
Herald of angels in our midst
as we kiss the feet of Christ.
For the earth is His hassock. 

My soles will rejoice
as they crush
sweet-scented petals.
Invisible to the naked
eye. Good news spreads fast.
A whirlwind of death to life.

My arms will reach
the pinnacles of
pearly gates. There’s healing
in each touch, a cure

to empathize with hurts,
not lording over, but 
holding on, catching
each tear.

There is profundity
in togetherness,
in what we share.
Strength of mine
delivered to the weak
and the next time
I am the weak.

             A tongue can lick
             And a foot can kick ~
               Whence cometh yon vapors

Profundity


            It is not the size of the brain that constitutes high intelligence

            It is the profundity of the essence within that exudes radiance

a plum, a peach, a song, a beach
  a bend, a curvy straightaway
a bob, a dip, a dunk, a screech
  a hair-breadth turn took your future away

you nerveless nock, how dare you rock
  this sanctimonious cerebrum with poppycock
it behooves you to hoof it to Timbuktu ~
  haunting howls from the bowels of Montezu

I am mad.
The question is not yet settled
whether all that is profound 
is compassless in the vast ocean of lucid reason
I loved, unguided,
Among many millions of fragrant flowers
Knowing nothing of the world
Without mentor to govern
My tideful mind

I find people often worship at the feet of those

With great literary abilities

These people who posses amazing verbal dexterity

And are advanced in profundity

And speak with a verbosity

That makes others convinced that they are academically and worldly intelligent

But I read between the lines and hear every word they say

And find myself amazed that despite all of this

They still have the capacity to chat utter garbage.

(Sorry verbal diarrhea, but that didn't rhyme lol)

A BIRD TO THE GUYS

My neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Horatio Hornblower had a lawn mower that broke on them
And if you smoke pot and your mouth gets dry don’t eat crackers or you’ll choke on them
                                © 2012…..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.