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Long God Poems | Long God Poetry

Long God Poems. Below are the most popular long God by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long God poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details |

God's Return Ticket

God's Return Ticket

Did you ever wonder about the Almighty’s criteria or selection process for reincarnation of souls back on Earth? Just think some famous politician, movie star, sports figure,criminal, dictator, and so on could use “God’s Return Ticket” to appear once again on our earthly plane one day as another person in body and spirit. Yet, how would you react as a transient soul in God’s Kingdom if you found out that your return options would be perhaps as an elephant, a gorilla, a lion, a toad, a snake, a bird, a dog, a cat, a fish, a whale, a snail, an octopus, a flower, a tree, an insect or even some type of inanimate object. The possibilities when one thinks about these options could be practically unlimited!
Now that I’ve maybe captured or at least heightened your attention to this spiritual possibility (even if just for the sake of conversation), imagine for a moment in the reveries of your mind and imagination of what it might be like to return to Earth as one the following:

A Former Man as a Woman: This time around you might have a definite edge since you subconsciously know how men think.

A Former Dictator as a Peacemaker: Historical first-hand knowledge of having been a brutal leader may enhance your efforts in negotiating peace in the world. (One can only hope!)  

A Former Hobo as a Wealthy Person: You’ve got a man now who may be respectful of those who are less fortunate. Such a wealth person may become a budding philanthropist. 

A Former Criminal as a Man of God (priest/rabbi/minister): Well this would be a turn-around whereby a former criminal now has the advantage of being a Man of God and has a direct connection to what he perpetrated and experienced when he was on the other side of the law. This experience may make him a better priest, rabbi or minister in the end. 

An Elephant: A quite stately and wonderful mammal indeed whose presence certainly enhances the Animal-Mammal Kingdom on Earth. Elephants are vegetarians and by their nature are not a threat to anyone. Returning as one today could be problematic given the mindless decimation of their herds worldwide by merciless poachers and criminals who represent one of the most sadistic and despicable parts of the “human race” today. (Let us all hope these individuals go straight to “Hell” when they die one day for what they’re doing to our elephants!)

A Gorilla: This could be viewed as a step back from whence you came as a human being, that is, depending on your views and belief system concerning evolution. I would think though it would be better to come back as a Gorilla in the wild than being one in a zoo. At least you would have your freedom, but then the challenge to this would be doing your best to survive the many poachers who would be trying to capture or kill you and your Gorilla loved ones!

A Lion: This choice might not be so bad. Just think, you could return as the “King of the Jungle.” A word of caution is in order though: stay in the wild and avoid being captured and put in a zoo or your “King of the Jungle” days will be past tense.														
A Toad: Just think, you’d acquire the unusual ability to hop around on “all-fours,” eating your favorite insects, and making croaking sounds all through the night.

A Snake: These reptiles are scary and are probably not the first reincarnation of choice. The real question might be what type of snake would one come back as. Good Luck! 

A Bird: Coming back as a bird would give you a chance to switch over to a diet of worms and help you to develop and hone your skills chirping and whistling all day long. Enchanting!

A Dog: This could be an interesting return to the mortal world. The question would be what size and type of dog you would come back as, and would you be the “quite type” or a “barker.” At least you’ll be man’s best friend.

A Cat: Being reincarnated as a cat would make you very popular with cat lovers and just think—you may end up inheriting the complete gene set for the nine lives’ gift of regeneration. Not bad at all! 

A Fish: Returning as a fish may give you satisfaction in knowing that you are a vital part of the world’s food consumption. If you come back as a specialty fish this might not be the case. Beware of returning as a Piranha, unless you plan revenge on someone who wronged you in a previous life. But as a Piranha—you won’t have many friends.

A Whale: Returning as one of these majestic mammals might indeed be a quite fabulous experience. Size matters in this instance and commands respect, but beware of poachers—another courtesy of mankind—at its very worst.

A Snail: This existence back on planet Earth may not be the most pleasant for you’ll be subjected to possibly being eaten or squashed by an inattentive passerby. Your very slow self-mode of movement will be challenging too.

An Octopus: Imagine your ready mobility in the sea and the newfound extent of your manual dexterity as you move under the water. You could be the new found hit of the underwater sea party!

A Flower: This could a wonderful experience especially if you were to be a radiantly beautiful flower. You would be a welcome addition to the plant world and could be the focus of people who seek out your beauty or perhaps want to pick you as a symbol of love and emotions. Think Red Rose!

A Tree: Well a tree may give a reincarnated soul a chance at a much longer finite life on Earth before dying or being destroyed by man. At least one would have the satisfaction of knowing that their presence as a tree would help improve the carbon dioxide imbalance on our planet. 

An Insect: A lot of insects are really nasty, but if you can make it back as a Honey Bee or Butterfly that would be grand.

An Inanimate Object: Just think you could come back as a plain old rock or stone or a seashell.

Enjoy these possibilities! 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – February 7, 2015

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

But Just Where Is God

(Musings of a poet with huge doubts and a fragile faith)

Introduction: Is God A Joke Or Human Vanity?

When close friends die and other’s thoughts are suicidal,
When mankind’s soup du jour is loneliness with anguish	
When mental illness, homelessness, more war, and child death
Swarm down and then attack us like a plague on Egypt,
Our tainted bread, a leavened loss, seems heaven’s judgment
And death the only path we see that seems to stop our pain.

When ministers rape children trusted to their keeping
When prideful Christians stand to mock that ‘men are brothers’
A joke if atheist, or black, but lie if foreign
When men of faith can hate both Catholics and Mormons
Deny as well that we are all our brother’s keepers
Our unwed pregnant daughters also miss protection.

As human politics and compromise are mortal sin now
No virtue left in give and take for either party,
And suddenly our finite views are God’s own wisdom
All other men with different takes on Bible’s leading
Are traitors, infidels, untouchables, satanic,
If you’re not me then you must be an earthly demon.
And am I wrong to think that God is missing somehow?
Or is it just our god who is exsanguinated
For human vanity seems now the modern flavor.
But even if the Bible is God’s truth unvarnished
How dare men claim their take on it is also faultless?
The blasphemy of this should leave the soulless cringing!

Is God then Friend or fiend? The question still is hanging!
Respect for Him obscene? Disgust His just deserving?
The judgment that awaits if we deny Christ’s coming
Is meant for human shame? Or is it there for saving?
Perhaps instead of blaming God for what life brings us
We’d profit more by working on the faults we proffered.

I. Consider: Where might God not be revealed!

I’d swear that God’s not in my parlor sipping Merlot,
And no, He’s not the tenor singing in my shower,
No burning bush or stone tablets, no writing over transom,
My house not chosen over yours because I live there,
My saint filled church less sinful than your congregation,
All human effort does not bring man God’s protection.

Injustice can’t survive his Grace or sin his Mercy,
And Sun can never set on any of God’s anger,
No evidence THAT church can pull upon His heart strings.
Do feelings have the power then to steal God from His children
Can hating God ensure you’re in a God free haven?
The things He’s not, not proof that He may not be present!

So what’s the logic linking God to man’s disasters?
Is 'free will' really such a black mark on creation?
If sin is ours alone how is it God is sullied?
Will you forgive yourself for harm you do in growing?
This God that you resist, His Heart tuned to your wavelength,
This parent that you’ve longed for, always has been loving.

II. Consider: Where might God be found!

What force could be so strong to steal Christ from His duties
Green pastures sure to mark the path with Shepherd leading
Cacophony of day cannot divert His focus.
The Shepherd loath to leave His flock if they’re in danger
Though He will not forget or leave the one that’s missing
All sheep accounted for before He sets His staff down.

The Psalmist also swears that ‘goodness and His mercy’
Are always Hallmarks of the house that God is found in,
So shouldn’t the reverse of this be God attractor
And God find rest where ‘goodness and His mercy’ flourish?
Grace pointed to by tables laden high with plenty
For even those who’ve pledged themselves to our destruction?

Then too, the Bible states that God is mankind’s suitor
His church to be Christ’s Bride (if God’s plan is not dreaming,)
His wooing us shows us Love, reveals the sacred pathways,
That guide us to our place in heaven’s verdant valleys
The wedding feast and guests, the wedding preparations,
The order of the hour in hallowed halls of heaven.

If God exists He certainly must be a part of
(Reflected without compromise in) His creation
(While holy in His eye, perhaps not more than twinkle.)
How is it then He promises His loving presence
Wherever in His name that two or more are gathered
Who seek to honor Him with works and with their praises.

III. Consider: What do we know of what He is like?

If God exists He must have been there from beginning,
And what men thought they knew, earth still, the stars revolving,
Were foibles of mere men, creation more demanding
Complexity makes newest findings too seem shaky
Reality may not exist (though models serve us!)
The truth that is revealed, the poetry of science.

A God that is complex is not new understanding
But Friend that finds us precious fires imagination
But what if our creation never was outside Him
With mankind really just existing in His daydreams?
If this were true and God were not enamored of  us
A simple nap might mean the end of all creation.

IV. So where then is He now!?

If poetry can bless the models science offers,
Perhaps I’m right to think that it serves spirit also,
Imagination holy at angelic level.
To seek God’s heart in man, a path that might be chosen,
Our God revealed in works where man has left no imprint
The mystery of God perplexes as it pleases.

Perhaps you will respond to other new perspectives
A metaphor perhaps would be a fish in water.
How can an immersed fish , who’s never been without it
Imagine, ever guess its impact on life’s workings
The water gives him life, his food, and air for breathing
Is God’s Love then like air for every man to swim in?

That every man will die cannot disprove God’s Loving
Indeed how can you prove that death can even happen?
And if we all have souls then has your death true meaning?
If spirit’s flight still soars, can life be more than dreaming?
If you are still with me, I give you final issue,
If soul cannot be preached, then death is equal fiction.

Brian Johnston
March 24, 2015

Copyright © Brian Johnston

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |


Know Thyself
(one of the two Delphic commands of Apollo)

For years before the narrow windows of my senses
                                                                       I stood,
Trying to pierce the nebulous world of outer reality,
                                                                   Hoping to find GOD,
One year was following the other but I was: 
                                                                 Still wondering,
                                                                          Still inquiring,
                                                                               Still demanding.

I was lost in the tenebrous world of materiality’s
While the true essence of things, evasive 
                                                           As ever,
Persistently escaped the grasp of my confused

Unable to see behind the impenetrable veil
                                                             Of Isis,
And disappointed with reason’s constant 
My impatient voice towards the starry heavens I lifted,
                                                                   Asking aloud:

              Where are Thee, oh LORD?

For I have been seeking for Thee so many years now,
But I have found Thee not!

I have kept my eyes wide-open in order to see,
As many colors of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a moment have I shut them, 
For fear I missed Thy resplendent light,
But I saw Thee not!

I have kept my ears wide-open in order to hear
As many sounds of Thy creation as possible,
And not even for a second have I covered them up
For fear I missed Thy sacred voice,
But I heard Thee not!

I have kept my hands extended in order to touch
As many things of Thy creation as possible
And not even for a minute have I held them back,
For fear I missed Thy spiritual touch
But I touched Thee not!

I have kept my nostrils wide-open in order to scent
As many perfumes of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an instant have I held my breath
For fear I missed Thy holy aroma
But I scent Thee not!

I have become a famed gourmet in order to taste
As many delicacies of Thy creation as possible
And not even for an hour have I withheld my appetite
For fear I missed Thy heavenly feast
But I tasted Thee not! 


Then, the thunderous voice of the Lord, 
Coming deep down from the twilight of time,
Tearing the eternal heavens apart
Answered me and said:

Dear innocent child of Mine; hasn’t time taught you,
That I am neither to be seen by eyes
Nor to be heard by ears?
That I am not to be touched by hands
Nor to be scent by nostrils?
That I am not to be tasted by palates
But I am only to be felt by enraptured hearts?

Trembling and puzzled, in a shaky timid voice,
                                                          I dared ask:

How could this be done, oh Lord?
For I am so weak and ignorant, I do not know
                                                               The way

And the compassionate voice of the Lord answered me
                                                                    And said:

Don’t call yourself weak and ignorant for
I have endowed you with power and knowledge
                                                                     So great,
You have only to unearth this incalculable treasure
Hidden deep down in your soul and you will be 
In touch with Me, with eternity, with the universal law,
With the light, with the truth and every single existence,
But first you have to listen carefully to what I command:

Close your eyes for they cannot see Me
And cover your ears for they cannot hear Me 

Pull back your hands for they cannot touch Me
And hold your breath for it cannot scent Me

Shut your mouth for it cannot taste me
And stand completely still in order for you 
To sense Me 

At once I rushed to Obey His divine command, so:

I closed my eyes and saw no more
And covered my ears and heard no more

I pull back my hands and touched no more
And held my breath and scent no more

I shut my mouth and tasted no more
And stood dead still for a moment,
                                  Just for a moment alone!


I felt His ethereal presence enveloping my heart
And I saw His celestial light caressing my mind
And I heard His heavenly voice calling to my spirit
And I touched His angelic essence with my elated thought
And I scent His seraphic aroma with my sacred, now, breath
And I tasted His rapturous divinity with my blissful soul. 

Then, immendiatly, the gates of revelation opened their 
                                                                               Passages wide
And in a magnificent lofty parade, in front of my soul’s 
                                                                               Dazzled eyes
The mysteries of life, one by one, were unveiled to the last
                                                                   Thus making everything known.

And now my enraptured self, jubilant before the eternal truth,
                                                                          In ecstasy exclaims:

Thank you, oh Lord for showing me Thy blessed Essence,
                                                      Thank Thee, for I know Thee now!

And the Lord enigmatically smiled at me and with His 
                                                           Divine thought tenderly declared: 

No my loving child, you only know YOURSELF!

                           © Demetrios Trifiatis

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis

Long poem by Dorine R Spruill | Details |

Mommy Why

 Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on.  So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me  to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on  in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother.  The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
    Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial  she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother.  She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat.  I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
    I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met  more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
 After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole  family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.

Copyright © Dorine R Spruill

Long poem by Laura Urbaniak | Details |

The Divine Messenger-Christmas With Christ poem Story contest

Christmas With Christ Poem/Story Contest
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst

Way before Jesus Christ was born, I was one of a chosen few,
to be a spiritual Being attending to God. 
I thought I was really nobody special, 
but He thought I was.
He thought I was a beautiful benevolent being,
Bright and celestial acting as a courier for Him 
between Heaven and earth.
See there are different types of angels, 
I happen to be the only "Divine Messenger". 
And there I stood in paradise, praising, 
dancing and singing with Him, 
The Almighty glowed with all colors of the rainbow, 
With prisms shining out of his hands,
with the maximum of whiteness,
Reflecting His loving arms. 
One evening He came to me and expressed
His deep passion for mankind, 
I noticed He was excited.
He said, "Soon there shall be a Man, made out of my blood, 
a living sacrifice of  My word and actions on earth. He shall be
the Savior of all people, and those who believe in Him shall see the Kingdom of Heaven." 
When I heard this news I stood there in awe. 
For the first time I saw God proclaiming that His
miracles would be performed by a man, His one true Son. 
After that, he took me aside and gave me a very 
special duty to perform. I was to be the messenger to proclaim to the world that born unto them would be a Savior. He said, "Shout to the world, Heaven and earth that a Son shall be born and 
He Shall be named Jesus Christ of Nazareth." 
I had strict directions from God. 
He told me to prepare myself for my significance was great. 
On the day of Christ's birth I was very busy. 
I had to gather all the other angels. 
The cherubs, archangels, celestial hierarchy's, 
the searph's and lastly the guardian Angels. 
I was His one and only Divine Messenger, 
and what an important duty I had to fulfill! 
All day I waited in anticipation of the night that would soon come,
The night our Lord was to be born unto the earth.
As I looked down and watched the sun slowly setting,
I knew it was almost time for me to fly below.
On my way down to Bethlehem,
I saw this star, so vivid the whole sky lit up and it radiated all 
Throughout the world. 
Following that star were three wise men
and I could see that they had many gifts for Jesus's mother and father, Mary and Joseph. 
They were riding on donkey's so slow,
but they wouldn't let that star out of their sight. 
When I arrived at the poor little manger, 
I saw Mary and Joseph almost where Christ was to be born.  
As they rode up I was pained to see how 
much anguish Mary was going through. For she was special. 
She was a virgin chosen to carry and deliver the one and only Son of God. 
My halo was radiating the brightest colors of white's
and yellow's, with a tiny hue of pink. 
For I was the angel created to watch and protect this crisp and magnificent Christmas night. 
I said, "I have a message from the Almighty Father, 
you two shall inherit the earth In thanksgiving for bringing
Jesus into this world. For because of you, all mankind Shall be saved and those who follow Him shall see the 
Glory of God and enter the Kingdom of Heaven." 
Mary just looked so exhausted and fatigued. 
I knew she had but one more push. And then there was one last cry in agony and there He was, Jesus Christ! 
I played my trumpet and violin in volumes so intense. 
All the pain, suffering and sacrifice was worth it. 
Shepherds starting walking up and bringing their 
flocks to witness the biggest Miracle that has ever 
been performed. Three wise men came up, knelt down while
bowing, bearing gifts of frankincense and myrrh.
I saw Joseph crying in joy and Mary smiling in amazement
 at what had taken Place. 
As she gazed down at her little boy she was overwhelmed with a feeling of wonder And admiration. 
She looked at her loyal husband and he kissed her on her forehead as if it was the First time he kissed her. 
I could just feel the glory in their hearts.
They have been waiting months for this day and it is finally here. 
I have never seen something more spiritually awoken than
The souls of those two Proud parents. 
Then we all looked up to the sky and that star 
shined brighter and emitted all colors of the rainbow.
I am an angel, and I have never seen something
so spectacular in all my time revering God. 
As the night carried on, more people from 
Bethlehem noticed the star of wonder And you 
should've seen all of them praising baby Jesus, 
the newborn King....
I've been up here a very long time, in fact for eternity, 
And I know in my heart nothing will ever compare. 
Although, I did hear a little rumor that Jesus Christ
is coming back to earth real Soon.
I can't wait until all His followers meet with me a
and we can all glorify Him in Heaven forever...
Merry Christmas everyone... 

Written: November 7, 2015

Copyright © Laura Urbaniak

Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

God's Kind Of Poetry

The finite contemplating the infinite
The stardust male and female still flush with light
From exploding stars, seeding new possibilities, our true progenitors.
So that even God Himself must take note of our passing (in its season),
Such elemental purity of spirit, such shining stock do we hail from.

Thinkers cannot grasp the number of galaxies the universe holds
Let alone name them or divine their future, human brains too slow,
More galaxies than all the grains of sand from every beach on the planet.
Where once this metaphor was applied loosely to stars alone,
Now galaxies are what might be counted, counting stars unimaginable.

Oh we are clever and have our tricks to make us look wise,
Like when we prove that one kind of infinity is bigger than another,
But all infinities are truly beyond our ken, mere children who count
‘One, two, three, many,’ and think we have accomplished something.

In our childish wonder we are only newly aware of galactic reach,
Theoretically sure now that our universe does have a furthest edge,
But totally unaware of its dimensions or of its actual shape.
New maps of different galaxy locations in space surprise us too
As the distribution of galaxies follows an unimagined ribbon like pattern.
Galaxies are NOT evenly distributed throughout the mapped universe
But shoot off in flares like star shells on the 4th of July!

We are dreamers who woke one day to discover that once fixed stars
Are now time machines to those with eyes to see, revealing our past,
And to those with ears to hear comes the certain knowledge of the Big Bang.

Now, vision enhanced by scientific revelation, we can share with God,
‘Seek and you shall find,’ being the foundational faith of Science,
The wonders of this creation, several billion years past, naked before us,
As if we were there, reveling in its wonders (though now a cosmic rerun),
Sharing a nice glass of Merlot with God in front of His Big Screen,
(The miracle of buttered popcorn always tender, hot, and fresh! Yum!),
Looking back to times when even laws of physics had not matured yet,
Laws, which, perhaps, like human beings, still evolve, biding their time.

But tantalizingly fresh is the QUESTION of other universes
Which now skips across the surface of human thought horizon like a stone
Every bounce suggesting another universe’s possibility, 
And every impact seemingly perfectly elastic, with no loss of energy,
Leaving another new universe in its wake,
Rippling outward like concentric waves from a whale’s breach,
On a salt sea/air interface that reflects our astonishment like a mirror!

God’s kind of Poetry, a window into infinity, 
A scaled down version of Divinity, almost human in fact,
The footprints of God’s Son along a sea curving with the earth’s surface,
Distant realities always just out of sight, but there still.
Calling us into service, calling us too to be Fishers of human souls,
To love to heights and depths beyond our understanding,
And in so doing, to in fact become God’s Children,
Trusting Love, knowing Love, feeling Love, giving Love…
Millions of Prophets, Buddhas, Saints, Poets, all siblings of the Christ,
A living poem, universally true, surfeit of God’s imagination,
Novice initiates of a Grace that fills every nook and cranny,
Penetrates all flesh, all bone, and saturates soul like a sponge.

Brian Johnston
September 19, 2014

Poet's Note: 
Although this poem was originally intended to be entered into my 'God's Kind Of Poetry' contests both on and (yes I am running a similar contest on both sites), its length takes it out of the running as does Diane Hine's remarkable poem (also on by the same name. I proudly proclaim the value of her poem, however, as a remarkable example of where a Poet's imagination can take them and strongly recommend it to readers on PoetrySoup as well. And of course it makes no sense for me to judge my own poem here on PoetrySoup.

I also invite members of to compare the differences between the two contests. Although my contest on is the first one I have heard of and I got the idea for it from PoetrySoups.coms Member Contests, I think it is quite a remarkable improvement to the contests on PoetrySoup because members, not contest sponsors determine the winners and because voters are asked to justify their votes. These justifications are also published (along with every poem entered) and can be very amusing as well.

Copyright © Brian Johnston

Long poem by Magnus Nwagu Amudi Esq | Details |

i celebrate you my friend

The year that is about to make its last appearance 
before it dies and is buried to be only given a place 
in the history of our existence has brought  ?e joy, 
l° shall therefore, out of obligation rather than 
leisure acknowledge its fairness and generosity. It 
began on a high as l° aimed to make it through the 
Bar exams and to be successfully called to the 
Nigerian Bar. This singular goal, controlled all 
others and made them seem less important. In the 
end, the story ended greatly, we all do love happy 
endings, l° am a Barrister and Solicitor of the 
Supreme Court of Nigeria. To God be the glory. 

Yet, the most important aspect of the year wasn't 
the fact that l° became a Barrister, rather, it is the 
fact that through the demanding and rough 
journey of reaching and achieving that goal, along 
came people of great personality, people l° knew 
had the character to spur you on and literally uplift 
you both psychologically and in every other positive 
way possible. For the first time in my life, l° was 
opened to the richness of the earth's diversity, both 
in religion as well as in culture. l° even spoke new 
languages and danced to new tunes. l° was given a 
new eyes, l° did see the world from another 
perspective, it was thrilling and l° came to see the 
blessing in the cultural and ethnic differences. But, 
the crux of the essay being friendship. 
The year 2012, gave  ?e the most supportive, 
reliable and cheerful individuals to work and also 
relax with. These people not withstanding their 
different social, religious and academic background 
did with ease find a common ground and built a 
strong fold for friendship. There were moments no 
doubt during the year when it would have been 
quite impossible to move ahead without the 
support and undying motivation of these 
individuals, as l° do stand at this bridge, about to 
cross to the other end of the journey, l° would take 
a few minutes to say a very hearty thank you to all 
of you. From my parents, without whom there will 
be no Barrister attached to my name, words fail  
?e. l° do say a big thank you. To my siblings who 
went out of their own financial obligations to 
support  ?e through the difficult but productive 
year, l° am ever indebted to all of you jointly and 
severally. For a friend like no other, master 
Chinasa Orji, let your heart desires become reality 
unto you bro and the same gratitude goes to the 
entire Orji family. l° will now try as much as l° can, 
to mention a few of those whose friendship, 
alleviated the burden of the journey through 2012, 
and l° say the list is not quite chronological, l° just 
add to it as l° do remember, these persons include 
but not restricted to:
1. Mazi Ezegamba Esq. 
2. Mr. Frank Somto Esq. (Ajo anu)
3. Okpara Chinedu Esq. 
4. Mallam Abubakar Lawal EsQ
5. Mr. Yage Bamiyi Esq. 
6. Adesola Adelusi Esq. (Miss)
7. Amarachi Esq. 
8. Tony Amaechi Ojukwu (Esq. )
9. Sir Nnanna JOJ Oketa (Esq). 
10. Richard Bassey Iyaha (Esq.) - God bless you 
11. Chinelo Ogbozor Esq. 
12. Churchill Udedibor Esq. 
13. Henry Onugwu Esq. 
14. Forster Eneh Esq. 
15. Kingsley Chime Esq. 
16. Mr Magnus Akabueze
17. Emmanuela Oraegbu Esq. 
18. Nonso Nzedebe Esq. 
19. Orji Ukah Agwu Esq. 
20. Chinedu Ezeokoronkwo Esq. 
21. Emmanuel Okoroji Esq. 
22. Peterson 
23. Onyinye Nnorom Esq. 
24. John Daramola Esq. 
25. Chisom Nnabuife Esq. 
26. Ebikaboere Abiri Esq. 
27. Tobi Esq. - Mi consigliere
28. Michael Dokpesi. Esq. 
29. Mr Idowu
30. Mr.  Majemite Emoubonovie Esq. - very 
31. Mr. Samson Itodo Esq
32. Muna Nweke 
33. Da silva Joy
34. Kingsley Uwakwe Esq. 
35. Nneoma
36. Kaobi Esq. 
37. Chinwe Ozobu Esq. 
38. Ifesi Udeh Esq. 
39. Ihezi Okeafor 
40. Ezekiel Egbo
41. Chima obiEze Esq. 
42. ID Kabasa - my esteemed barber
43. Mary Alice Simms
44. Victor Mok Esq. 
45. Bukky Esq. 
46. Josh Olomo Esq. 
47. Edosa Esq. 
48. Detola Esq. 
49. Bassey Bassey Esq. 
50. Sammy Udoh. Esq. 
51. Sabastine Udoh Esq. 
52. Iyke Ananuba Esq. 
53. Kingston Esq. 
55. Victor Idiong Esq.
56. Mariam Ekenimoh Esq.  
These and many more people that l° can't put all 
here for the lack of time and to make it less boring 
to read really and honestly contributed to my 
success in making this year count and l° pray that 
the year we are about to witness and explore will 
bring us more reasons to celebrate, love and 
Do have a great NEW YEAR.

Copyright © Magnus Nwagu Amudi Esq

Long poem by Joe Flach | Details |

My Conversation With God

I have been praying to God ever since I first understood the concept of a deity.  Although I have struggled through life with my acceptance of and belief in the religion I was force fed as a child, the praying has always stayed with me – on an almost every day basis.  In some way or some form or for some reason, it seems, I find myself praying to a God I am not sure I believe in.

Over the years, some of the things I have prayed for or prayed against have worked out in my favor.  Other things didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped.  So, I wondered, was this proof that my prayers are sometimes answered or simply the law of averages?  It really didn’t matter, I was programed to pray and so pray I do.

This has been going on pretty routinely for over 50 years; so, imagine my surprise when, for the first time last night, God talked back to me!

I may not get this exactly right, but, in essence, this is what He had to say:

(I am not sure what font to type God’s words in, so I will just keep on with the default.)

“Joe, Joe, Joe.  I have been listening to you for all your life.  And, whereas I do enjoy your thoughts; your words; and your sentiments; I find it is time for me to respond.

You really do pray a lot for lots of things.  Mostly good and humane things.  Mostly with a pure and caring heart.  But, son, you need to stop doing so much praying and start doing more stuff on your own.  I am not up here to make your life easier and to do things for you.

When you were young, instead of praying for that bicycle, you should have been doing chores to earn money towards buying it.  You could have cut more lawns, washed more cars, got a paper route, sold lemonade, or many other things other young boys were doing to earn money for the things that they wanted.

When you were in high school and prayed to me to help you do well in your wrestling matches, you should have, instead, been working harder at practice; spent more time on your conditioning; spent more time in the weight room; and studied harder on the art of wrestling.

In college, when you prayed for help on your mid-terms and finals, you should have, instead, spent more time studying and less time partying – I think that is something you already know.

Even when you pray on behalf of others – you should be doing more.

Instead of praying I would help old Mrs. Conner at the end of your street, you should have gotten up off your butt and walked down to the end of the street and looked in on her yourself.  You could have offered to go to the store for her, pick up her prescriptions or simply keep her company in her final years.

When you prayed for me to care for the starving children around the world, you should have been volunteering to help out yourself or donating more money towards this cause.  If you funneled all the money you spent on unnecessary junk food and extra meals you consumed throughout the years towards charities that help feed and clothe the poor, you could have saved many of the children you prayed that I would save.

Instead of praying that I cure your family, friends and acquaintances that you knew were ill or dying, you should have been visiting them in the hospital or writing them letters or providing assistance to their loved ones to help ease their pain.

Prayer is not the vehicle for you to be lazy and yet gain the rewards.  Prayer is not a means to have me do for others what you have the power and ability to do yourself.

I am glad that you talk to me, but you have been granted the ability and means to do so much more by yourself and yet you choose to take the easy way out and pray to me – the God that I know you are confused about.  Please, do me a favor, and before you pray, ask yourself, ‘Have I exhausted all avenues available to me to achieve the result I want God to perform?’ 

If, after you have done everything you can possibly do, then I may be more willing to consider what it is you ask for.

And now, my son, you can wake up.”

I sat up quickly in my bed, sweating and confused.  Was I just dreaming?  Was that really God talking to me?  Then, somewhere from deep inside, either from my conscious or a left-over message from the Almighty Himself, I thought (or heard): “What does it matter?  Whether it was God or not – the message is valid and something I probably already knew.”

“Well,” I said to myself, in prayer, “I will give it my best.  But, is it okay if we still talk?  It kind of helps to give me strength?”


I will take that as a, “Yes”.

Copyright © Joe Flach

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Conversational Ecstasy

I believe SuperEgo bicameral comprehension
functions, forms, and flows organic
ecotherapeutic integrity;
I believe balanced Left-Right consciousness
orbits toward ecstatic psychology.

I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it just that way
'til my mean old SuperEgo
lets me go outside to play.

Imagine with me for a moment,
if you would be so generous,
god as not only love
but also the most joyful joy we could be,
cooperatively networked together.

And why do I want to play this imagination game
with you
or even without you?
What is this joy of which you speak?
I know peace in silent music
and wind and surf,
but is therapy of sound this joy?

Perhaps not quite enough,
maybe only halfway here.
We grow toward pregnant Now becoming being joy
with you.

While I assume this will not be news
I need to remind you
that your presence does not always feel like gift,
source of joy,
not so much really,
sometimes more painful to my drift.

Yes, I know.
But, it brings me joy to recall
in our more dissonant crash
that I feel precisely the same suffering way
about your sorry ass.

Perhaps you should find a different therapist.
One who evolves less sure of god as graced-love
and much more joy,
one not so sure your God is humor,
Eco-ing DNA's RNA CommonSense.

If I understand your cynicism
I might write your song,
"I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it just that way
'til my mean Ol' Dad
lets me go outside to play."

Your issues with remembering who I am
rather than who you thought I would be
seem not too distant clarity
or even acceptance,
but your troubling habit of editing my opera
into your joyful musical comedy,
this tangles our melodic frequencies
and harmonic function.

"How can I reach heavenly you
when all day through
you bind me to 
your flight toward unEarthy game wars,
your fear of losing rich rewards,
blockade toward joy,
your life your toy
to blindly scream away?"

How could I throw away this toy
you never game me?
My defeats,
static surrenders to right-now desire,
or lack thereof,
steer me far clear of your enchantment
with ecstatic joy.

What is your purpose
when Earth's becoming
is your wise Being,
if your Being
is not also Earth's meaningful becoming?
If you are not part of Earth's mindful nature
then Humane Being cannot naturally co-arise,
Your becoming cannot be not Our becoming,
my Being fades when we are not We

What is this to me
your wilting Earth
and flat-line monopolistic dark comedy?
My joy turns tragedy to operatic outcomes.
What you label Oppositional Disorder
I hear as contending Cognitive Dissonance,
hoping for a Draw someday,
someplace away.

What you find unnaturally cacophonous
confuses my spirited silence.
Your values are not Ours
on my side of your Oppositional Divide,
my values are my own,
and I am free of Win, Lose, or Draw cultures
and economic gamesmanship,
Our Truth as Consequence game
contains our Tug of War.
Imagine with me
in this Eternal Moment
your Ego filled with endless joyful joy
as you pull all Earth toward finish line
and you are confidently winning
your Boddhisatva Interdependent Challenge.
Even should you not choose releasing survival's course rope,
you have full faith that We are winning
and this joy will never end.
Your Being has become,
your response fulfills your stimulus of birth,
your effect regenerates your course's cause,
your What Ifs? echo and mirror your What Are We?,
all Earth recreates your joy.

I've got nothin' to say
And I'm gonna keep it that way
'til my mean ol' life pilgrimage
through dissonant pathology
let's me go outside to play.

That does indeed sound operatic.

Right, and not so much joyful joy
this side of my playground.
See ya.
Wouldn't wanna be ya.

Oh, but you are,
except your opera damns divine divas,
weeping and shrieking  in off-stage wings
of perpetually-coming purgatory,
while Earth's musical comedy,
reenacts all that drama on your Win-Lose playground,
where Her Sun ain't bringin' no bad news
all eternal day.

Why do you always need to have the last word,
the last line?

We have a shared last line.

No, you just did it again,
with the We thing.

Yes We did.

I'm closing the door now.

Yes We are.



Can I maul your head?

Our head.

My head.

Imagining with We 
brings joy.


Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Translation of Oothukkadu Venkata Subba Iyer's poem Thaye Yashoda by T Wignesan

Translation of Oothukkadu Venkata Subba Iyer (circa 1700-1765)’s « THAYE YASHODA » by T. Wignesan

This devotional song and poem in Tamil (the principal Dravidian language which has spawned over twenty languages in the southern Indian sub-continent) is –unlike
Western poetical traditions – strictly composed to accord with
set musical rules and conventions, melodies and rhythms/beats (ragas and taalams), much as Tamil poems are required to adhere to complex and elaborate classical Tamil prosody and conventions (ethugai and monai, initial rhymes and alliteration). This poem is a plaint by Gopi cowherdesses who are « molested » by the mischievous Krishna.

The Tamil language which has a continuous and prolific literary corpus on record dating from centuries before our common era  is – on a par with Sanskrit – an officially-recognised classical language of India.

The transliteration cannot however convey to the non-Tamil ear the euphonic qualities of the poem, so I give here a link to a rendition of the song/poem by Sudha Ragunathan for those who may be interested – the Carnatic ensemble here being made up of the mridangam (drum), the tambura (stringed-instrument which keeps time in the background), the flutes (both in bamboo and brass).

There are, of course, many notable versions of this song, such as, by Karthik or by K. S. Chitra, among others, but, I’m sure, none will grudge Sudha Ragunathan her very inspiring execution, sustained by the faithful mridangist.

From a Hindu-and-Tamil point of view, the Brahmin poet here (born at Needamangalam, near Mathurai, the ancient cultural centre of Tamil culture) cannot easily be excelled by any of his compatriots, even after three centuries.

Pallavi (refrain): 

O ! Mother Yashoda* ! – in whose cowherd caste Mayan*
GopalaKrishnan* incarnates
Listen to this plaint of pranks he plays 

Anupallavi (refrain) :
Oye ! the novelty ! O ! Mother ! What ethereal goings-on !
Listen ! No child – ammamma* ! like yours in this wide world
Have I ever laid eyes on !

Caranam (stanza) One :

Anklets jingling – bangles clinking – pearl necklaces rustling
He descended on the street entrance

Heavenly bodies rejoicing – Earthly beings eulogising
Feet and hands rhythmically moving to the beat
He, the blue-hued Kannan*, He came dancing* entranced

« Balan* » I called leaping to welcome Him - O! Yashoda!
(And) taking me for the host who garlanded Him 
Planted He a kiss on my lips

Is not He ? Krishnan* ? who plays these many pranks
Your son ? Even in the presence of four eavesdroppers
O ! what shyness overwhelms me ! while this plaint I lisp

Caranam (stanza) Seven :

As dusk fell the day before yesterday feigning familiarity
He came close and performed many magical feats

Even if the butter were a mere glob in size, says He would leave
If I could let him have it (then) He touched my frontal knot 
(Or sari's end-knot) and undid it - defiant in spirits

Yes, that indeed was the Vasudevan* ! O ! Yashoda !
Yet mistaking Him for a human child 
I cradled Him in my lap, there to nurse
(And) while watching bewitched His glorious face
He revealed to me in his mouth all the vastness* of the Universe !


* « Yashoda » : the baby Krishna’s foster-mother, belonging to the cowherders’ caste.
* « Mayan » : another word for God
* »GopalaKrishnan » : Krishna’s full-name, the most adored deity in the Hindu pantheon..
* « Krishna » : supposed to be the eighth Avatar of Vishnu, the preserver of the Universe in the Hindu Trinity of the Godhead Brahma.
* »ammamma » : « amma » is the formal address by children to their mother, but, here,  the repetition can invoke both astonishment and disbelief.
* « Kannan » : the familiar pet-name for Krishna.
* « Balan » : yet another pet-name for Krishna.
* « narttya » : the art of classical dance, referring most probably to the southern Indian
style, known as Bharatha Natyam, in which Krishna is featured dancing with his wives Radha and Rukmini, according to legend, of course..
* « Vasudevan » : another name for Krishna.
* "vastness" : by this one word I have tried to convey what in Tamil is an elaborate image of "God (Indra) having created the two-times-seven worlds"

Copyright © T Wignesan

Long Poems