Long Baptism Poems
Long Baptism Poems. Below are the most popular long Baptism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baptism poems by poem length and keyword.
THE CONCERT
The members of the orchestra had each gone to his chair;
The audience was waiting now for the conductor there.
And when he stepped on to the stand, applause was heard, and then
He lifted up his white baton and music soon began.
It started out quite beautiful, each person played his part,
But soon some went on their own way; they thought they were
more smart.
Some put their music on the floor and stopped playing at all,
While others stared around the room at all the lights and walls.
Some started playing other tunes, some played too sharp or flat,
Some even talked among themselves, some even got in spats!
The leader was beside himself, not knowing what went wrong,
For he had planned this concert night for oh, so very long.
And now he was embarrassed by the actions of the band;
He tried to calm confusion there by raising up his hand.
The members of the orchestra just went their separate ways
Each thinking they were doing right with music they did play.
The audience was quite disturbed, for what they came to see
Was surely not a show like this confusing, sad melee!
This story is a parable of Christendom today:
We started out as one in Christ, but each went his own way.
Denominations, sects, and cults, all claiming to be right,
But all they do is disagree on everything and fight.
We can’t agree which Bible is God’s word for us today;
We can’t agree on how to sing and sometimes how to pray.
We can’t agree on baptism, security, or gifts;
It’s sad to see how very far from early truths we drift!
And some have even now denied the basic gospel truth
That many died for in those days of the church’s early youth.
They say that Jesus was not God, the blood was not required,
Or say that there are other books that God has now inspired.
They say that hell is just the grave, that Mary is the way,
That purgatory is a place where we could go someday.
Yes, many doctrines have crept in; just like that concert hall,
It’s hard for many to believe there’s any truth at all!
Yet our Conductor wants us back! We have a job to do!
If we would follow as He leads, what impact we could view!
It’s time we got back to the Lord, Conductor of our life,
And put away these selfish ways and arguments and strife!
It’s time to come back to God’s word, not ideas of man,
And follow our Conductor, Christ, and trust His guiding hand!
Two certificates
The first certificate that you will receive in life is a birth certificate. This certificate is to prove who you are a time to celebrate new beginnings and the start of your life journey a head.
The second certificate you may receive in life maybe a religious one from your baptism
to a christening or even a name ceremony.
The third certificate you may receive is one of a achievement for your education and the qualifications you have achieved throughout your time during school for your path of life’s journey.
The fourth certificate you may receive in life is a marriage certificate, but not everyone will receive this one. To some the idea of marriage is not of importance, to some people they choose not to marriage as they have been chosen to follow a vocation in life in a religious way,
to Some people don’t generally believe in marriage full stop.
The fifth certificate you may receive is a birth certificate if you have been gifted with a child.
This is truly a blessing and one to be treasured.
The sixth certificate you may receive could be divorce the end or the start of something new.
The seventh certificate that you will receive but not officially is a death certificate.
The end to your life and your existence, meaning everything has stopped,
your body battery has ended and done it’s time.
Why is it that a certificate means achievement, a status of who and what you were.
Everything in life is on paper, from the start to the end.
So when your loved ones receive your death certificate and start to arrange your funeral which is a sad time, were families make rash decisions and they fall out with each other over money, material things and personal belongings from the loved ones whom have just passed.
Remember the first 3 words of funeral are FUN so this is time to celebrate and remember them.
F: fond memories to share and laugh about
U: unique & unforgettable memories to share
N: never forget to live, life is to short.
Don’t feel guilty that your life is carrying on.
In life there are a lot more certificates you can achieve than the ones listed above.
But remember in this world we are all the same, no matter what colour you are, what religion you believe in, what sex you are, how rich or poor you are,
we all will have them 2 certificates in common and
that’s Life and Death.
By Tina Mitchell
let every old woman with a wrinkled face,
she should be aware,she lives in disgrace,
a furrowed brow,hairy lip and single tooth,
know me well,i'll get the truth.
a squinty eye and scolding tongue,
the squeaky voice she's had from very young,
you will never hide from me,
i'm the witch hunter general you see.
my name shall be feared throughout this land,
my hunting of witches will go as planned,
first you'll be tossed into a cell,
stripped naked and starved,until you tell.
i'll start to prick to cause you pain,
and i'll do it over and over again,
then you'll be bound to stool or table,
cross legged of course,even if you're not able.
after twenty four hours the cramps will set in,
again poked and prodded,but i'll use a new pin,
you'll then walk the stones til your feet bleed,
still i reckon you don't get to feed.
then you're taken for a swim in the lake,
your baptism water you didn't take,
if you're innocent you will drowned,
but if you sink a true witch i've found.
this cruelty wasn't enough,mathew got no kicks,
a new style was developed,it only took two ticks,
he bent victims double,tied thumb to big toe,
a rope round the waist,in the water they'd go.
these people were worn down by his torturous way,
but hopkins was going to have his say,
one question he used in the brow beating session,
you're aquainted with the devil,i want a confession.
a nod or monosyllabic reply will do the trick,
or my man will beat you again with the stick,
then poor john lowes,a suffolk minister of note,
was told you're a witch,i can tell by your coat,
a quarrelsome gent of seventy was poor john,
disliked by many,they wanted him gone,
hopkins took the task to prove he was right,
john was kept awake for many a day and a night.
they ran him till he was out of breath,
he was weary, and scared half to death,
so he confessed to get some peace,
then the torturous pain would cease.
hopkins said"another one i didn't let survive",
john went to the scaffold august 1645,
no cleargy would read for him at his grave,
a villager said"to the devil john was no slave".
who knows how many poor sould were lost,
letting hopkins rule,had it's own cost,
more than 200 people this way met their fate,
by the time hopkins hit norfolk,it was too late.
his trials of blood passed through our countryside,
in his work mathew hopkins took great pride.
All rise for the Honorable D.O.J. is now presiding, Guilty was all that I was embracing, everyone knew that I had done it, yet God had a different decree that He was making, Gun shots ringing out as my pointer finger pressed down, releasing the rage and self hatred within me, screaming within I ain't gonna be afraid no more, remanded 3 years up state, white supremacist ideology like a cancer destroying all the antibodies inside of me, sieg heil-white power was a river of ignorance, that wouldn't be contained inside of me, getting my veins pumped full of poison once again, as I held out my arms willingly, a dad three times over, and all I knew was insanity, afraid of everything within and outside of me, PLEASE GOD DON'T LET THIS BE THE END OF ME!!! Thank You for allowing that man to die Lord, and coming Holy Spirit to Live inside of me, you allowed the rope to break at 12, and the pills to not complete their objective at 19, flagrant and consuming alcohol and drug abuse, from an early age and for so long, self destruction came so naturally, the cult I called Faith spoke a hatred to everything inside of me, unless I evolved to the watchtower doppelganger that greedily beckoned me, it seemed ingrained within my genetic makeup and biology, You revealed the Lies I had consumed blindly and so happily, Instead of Mystery You chose a Face to Face, instead of Hatred and condemnation, You gave me a New Name, New Life, New Identity, To Love the Unlovable, Reach the unreachable, teach the unteachable, Heal the Sick Raise the Dead Cast out demons, You've called me into all these Possibilities, changing the path of the outcast the broken the marginalized, the poor the rich the known and the unknown, Alpha and Omega, You've Always been and will Always be, You said Mercy Triumphs Over Judgment, I will take Your Punishment upon me Nailed to that Cross unrecognizable, because of the wrath that Has Been brought upon Me, So Your Honor I will stand in the Gap and take the sentence of Death and Wrath that is rightfully His, all I can think is what scandalous Grace is this, what do I do now is the all consuming unanswered epiphany, He then Looks at me, make it known what I'VE done for you, and come and Have Intimacy with me, I will share with you True Freedom you've longed for yet never known, New Life my son, now hold my hand and Let's go
I am scrolling down hill,
folding the pills,
elongating the tree's
and simplifying the breeze,
I am a song to be played-
earlier than you might say
in the day,
when hearing is a complaint
and danger is delayed,
but you are a spade,
to be wondered and craved,
you are your own way,
with the sing of the slave-
underground-
above the haze,
glazed with the betrayed,
honed in on like waves,
so stubborn your gay-
holding on to the page!
Don't you walk that way!
Troubled little weaver-
always weavin' in and out of the days,
with your face,
and two others that may show you the way.
So...Whenever there is game,
whenever you are just being insane,
two others can ring your ping-
scratch at your lawn,
ease your bickering fawn,
who is ages old-
cranky and yet cold,
shines like the rivers of silver soles,
wasted and bold.
...Blanketing and broad like the system of the slots,
put in a coin so you can jog-
with your eye's,
and with your pogs,
fall to the floor,
while dude ranchers await cry's out the doors,
become single and slower,
dangerous like snow blowers,
manned by cats
with fake joints hangin' in their lips crowin,'
as they are growin,' croppin,'
and sowing,
the stage is set to start goin,'
but you stay all knowin'-
with the people out there- asses a blowin'!
Like the sound of the tick was that on it-
like the leaper out of time was so subordinate,
you know you could have grabbed mine,
you know about other ways to shine,
but still you sit and grind-
sleep and unwind,
base your catches on other famous people's finds...
I don't confide,
I really don't try,
I just hear god and ask about the water in the sky,
why doesn't it come down on African pride?
When they need it most?
When we know 911 proved evil the most...
But sit here and boast
and you'll hear gods jokes-
he's got what a man needs,
he's got you underneath a sheet,
so don't breathe!
Just start running,
got the mustard?
Pray for a plead,
because random people leave
while friends try and greet,
an acre of land with animals and plants couldn't please,
even if they spoke the language, and cured the disease,
sorry if I sound meek-
but pride comes when I'm done writing these...
From the trenches of the dark underground into the sewers of the slumworld, a place terrified with the pain of fear, gripped from their minds unto their souls, they are afraid of the outside world, afraid that death could be their bane at least there was a sorcerer to tell Merlin what Arthur's bane would look like, I lived among these people, the only survivor of my family who were captured and butchered like pieces of meat. For me, the attitude of fear was untraceable in my soul like pieces of heroine, vengeance was the objective I seeked for like the legend of the seeker I sought my own path, my own journey to the outside world to avenge my family but the spirit of assistance was crying out to me like the voices of the hummingbird echoing across the dark forest. In our world, almost everyonelacked the determination and courage to stand up for one another, fear had tortured them for so long, a leader was missing but now found like the prodigal son because I availed myself. I supplied to them the spirit of bravery and confidence, everyone would gather to lend me their listening ears and watch me, both old and young, for a long time we lived in fear, but the time to stand together like the walls of Jericho had arrived. The spirit of guts over fear was very essential at that moment, if only Julio Caesar was still alive, I would hsve learnt more from him, we were seen by the outside world as aliens but that narrative was about to change, the tides of the tsunami were about to turn like a compass, a new wave of strong blood run through our veins like a fountain, we were on a mission, like soldiers we marched like army worms into the outside world seeking redemption of our identity, at least the idea of the silo was wrong because there was life outside, it was a different atmosphere compared to the environment in our world. The citizens were afraid of us, we had worn masks due to our fear then, but no more they were off our faces like the unveiling of a secret, the people saw us for who we were, we scarred but that was the representation of our people, a war could have ensued, my vengeance would be successful, but I remembered what my late father told me, "Every human being, be it tribe, language, ethnicity are all one and so we united with the people, after all were all made from the same creator.
I use to drink to kill the pain, I'd overeat to kill the pain.
But I couldn't explain why I couldn't maintain, outta my mainframe
And I couldn't reboot at the push of a button for nothin'
I kept trying but my mind was holding back from somethin'
Heart was stuntin' a million miles, but where was it going.
Like becoming blind at the end of a book, I was never knowing.
The end of my story, my destiny and no glory, God before me
Screaming from dusk till morning but the world ignored me.
Poor me, sorely being muted without my tale being told.
Feeling so old had a bitter heart gone Cold, mouth didn't hold.
Outta Control, but yo, now I'm ready to spit this venom.
I'm betting the world will go silent when I speak his lessons
This blessin' that he gave me, a talent to twist up my speech
In a way that each with blasphemy can hear me teach
I don't preach, I hope I reach, cause this real talk should be heard
His word is the truest literature we can put to work.
For what it's worth I ain't never been a Bible thumper
But it's saved me from going crazy in the midst of a slumber
Now I know my number, where it is that he's got me headed,
In debted, he's prepared a room for me and I won't forget it.
I get it, that times get hard, but oh my Lord I'm holding on.
Keep me moving along when my mind is gone keep me strong.
Cause along I'll come amongst those vipers and serpents
Not deservent to be his servants, I'm a move with the currents
Move with a purpose cause I'm hurtin' to be what he made me
Thanks be for me to be a child of God, call me his baby.
It's Biblical safety that he gave me, to be walking on gold
And oh, the gates made of a single pearl as he told,
So behold the glory that nonbelievers can't comprehend
For all of them, trust in science that changes without end
Amen. God's words consistent and science can't disprove it.
Call us dumb cause they don't understand how to use it.
They refuse it, the power of the Holy Spirit when it thrives.
They can say that we're fake but my faith won't be denied
Catching vapors off this paper, high off the Holy Scriptures
Painting a vivid picture, you'll feel his gospel when it hits Ya.
Did it getcha, I pray that it did, there's reason behind it
Cause it's not for the pure at heart, but those in sin.
And let the church say "Amen"
Padraig's Fire
Hurry!
Hurry through the night
With windstorms
Breathing at your back
Before the shadows know
You pass their doors -
Their darkened, dusty, empty hearths -
Before the dawn ascends -
Before the pipes awaken;
Carry close
Precious flint and tinder
Next to the wildly beating
Warmth -
Beneath your flowing cape.
Hurry!
Hurry down the rolling path,
Rising up to meet your feet,
Sweetly caressing your rushing steps,
Passing sentinels
Of ancient oaks,
Graveyards
Where primeval elms once stood,
That guard a narrow door
Of the river Boyne
Watching over Tara's keep
In a valley of wild rushing eddies
Shedding superstitions
Restraining deep planted longings.
Hurry!
No faire voices invitation;
Only life, held out in promises,
Beckons pilgrims here -
Pass through the numbing chill
Going down to rise up
Past myths
Into inviting aires and covenants;
Pass through the chill of seperation;
Pass through the swirling current
Gripping to release sandaled feet;
Hold high the flint and tinder
Then rest within the hollows of a hand
In quiet glens of grace.
Listen!
Listen for the kerry drums
Pounding welcome in swirling reels -
Ancient dances -
Reawakened from Adam's time
Released from sleep to circle round and round
While sparks from glowing tinder,
Brought to life from sharpened flint,
Battle winds of haunted years
That lived in isolation
Pulling up from fiery spindles flaming whorls -
New and paschal fire returning;
Circles meeting circles thunder
In death's shattering death.
Listen!
Listen as the moan of banshees
Banishes forever winter's touch
To see the sleeping hills
Shake off an exiled life
And hear the harps - uilleann pipes,
Newborn visions
Watch the wind dance of the kells begin
With towering fireworks
Shooting up from the valley floor
In rhythm to the bohdran and the tiompan
To seek completeness
In the hotly glow of dawning -
Vernal offerings in emerald fire.
Arise!
Arise to cradle emerald fire
Dreaming ever softly
In fields of clover
And timeworn stones,
Witnesses
To the arrival of winnowing flames
When centuries embraced
Again
Until the days remembering
Final meals and crosses - a waiting tomb -
Blesses once again
The quest of hard flint and soft tender
Before a cross - life within a circle.
The letter of law condemned,
Let the Word enfleshed bring redemption,
My guide and I could now see,
Dancing curtains of luminescence,
As we started our ascent,
Climbing from perdition to penance,
This locus of light and shade,
Tells of hands that wind the springs of time,
Celestial harmony,
Counterpoint of our woeful journey,
A chance to listen, to learn,
The childlike heart deeper knows its love,
My guide sustained by virtue,
So far as it alone could progress,
Even his words of renown,
Fall short of the leap that is required,
Knowing his jurisdiction,
Must acquiesce to that of my muse,
Ascending the fallen rocks,
Like fish fighting the river’s torrent,
Praying for New Jerusalem,
To send its envoys as we draw near,
Struggle to straighten my back,
As the links I forged are purged, unchained,
There were no marks to follow,
But the passage trodden and sanguine,
First we heard voices only,
And were envisaged as we lent ear,
Then their eyes shown upon us,
As the first warmth of the rising sun,
Buried by their burning coals,
I shrank at the weight of their glory,
Leaning on my companion,
While sight slowly returned to my eyes,
Born to lead was he that spoke,
The fair mind that carried my faint heart,
Stumbling over her words,
Discolored and deformed by gossip,
Empathetic eyes enjoining,
Weeping forth a baptism unseen,
A light shines without warning,
Voice of the sacrifice thundering,
Each of us sensing the pull,
The opaque dominion obsolete,
My dereliction relieved,
Standing where only the eagle dared,
In parting Virgil taught me,
The humbling way of the servant,
Breaking trail I led the line,
Bouldering through chasms to the spine,
Those who followed stopped to gaze,
At the crimson flames as I passed through,
Striding atop the wave’s crest,
Came the words of one who calmed the storm,
Borne upon the silent wind,
The touch of hands upon my tired eyes,
It was then that I noticed,
The footsteps of the love I thought lost,
Her train following in file,
The martyred witnesses making way,
Mesmerized thought held enslaved,
I was searching, grasping for guidance,
Then said she, “now cease to strive”,
As she showed me past the edge of time,
To the realm of the Helmsman,
Keeper of compass and covenant
The rain---sounds like catapults fired on our roof
drops like palm kernels---splash on the back cover
of our black pots, Stamping the roof like horse
galloping on a narrow bridge. Is it war ? we ask
ourselves. And its comes along with Jealous wind
beating trees to pulps. The plantain treesare no more
standing with their toes but lying belly faced to the
ground, the palm trees in razzmatazz dance to the
calypsos Of the wind their hips fixed but their hairs
swirls
The sound of the wind
plays the tune of an invincible piper who was well
paid and skillfully trained. The African rain Is like
a tornado sent by a weird mate to greet a foe his,
competitor So as to end the play of his dancers stop
the beat of his drums and gongs. On his feasting day
as he refuses to settle the ground
We in groups
of seven, eight, nine ten---at the heart of the town,
nooks and crannies and front of our compounds
with belly flashed open unto the maker chanting
poems in unison to tell how beautiful we love it
when it pours.
With sandy coloured panties,
we dance In ecstasies to the unrhythmic beat of
the rain drops, splashing dirty waters on each
other body parts a sign to depict our new happy
days ahead whoever misses out this fun is a loser
we dance dance!! dance!! and dance the winner
the best dancer Is carry on the shoulders with
awards of applauds and joyous loud wailing
calling loud his name in repetition.
At times we catch little fishes In the frontage
of our homes as the nearby rivers, and
streams overflow into the dirty clean streets
with drainages stock by polythene nylons---
and our joyful mothers, who sing songs of
melody In their heart for a heavenly pour
to greet their water pots for a cool drink,
are seated in poetic manner l while some
stand at akimbo thinks the disasters it
might cause them their roof to cure.
Usually at nights mother goes around
Our beautiful clayed hutmaking little
amendments to our brown blistered
basket
mouthed roof and the drops it had
sneaks through. And the prayers our
hearts we pray its rains no more---lets
little ocean is our comfort.
https://youtu.be/hdZqDP0vMfk