Best Promised Land Poems
She told it this way.....
He said...San Francisco......
Then up to Mendocino
I said...can I go
He said...I guess you can
'Cause, long since Albuquerque
That's when he first hurt me
My heart's dying to divert me
To the promised land
And...oh, the nights are long
When you're playing tag along
And this old heartache..hanging on
Is getting out of hand
'Wish he would turn this car around
California...feels like shaky ground,
Why is it always one more town
To the promised land
Silence speaks behind the wheel
A change of plans....to Bakersfield
Where Merle Haggard got the feel
Of the lonesome legend man
"Can't say I'm having fun
In this California sun
But,I'm praying for another run
To the promised land
And...oh, the days are cold
When empty's all you've got to hold
And chase love down another road
'So hard to understand
This oak just ain't gonna bend
Maybe, as the story ends
I'll catch another poet's pen
To the promised land
Protected by Copyright All rights are my rights!
I look forward to that rising tide
The current has never been so low
That we sail in style so calm
Rest deepens without panic
The tweets sweeter than never
The sun brighter than ever
Mr sailor how did you stir on course?
Because i still see us within the radar
The arrow precisely points our destination
It has disproved our dissolution
And reproved our evaluation
Could we have crossed over the red sea
Because what i see now seems magical
Falcons hover randomly above with joy they sing
I thought it was a myth what they told us
If we keep course, we'll get to that promised land
We'll bath in milk,roost in honey and bask under the hot supplies
This i saw so real
So sad it's only a dream.
We search for it ceaselessly
each in his own way
Exertion, exhaustion
day after day
For all we fall short
we press weary on
A Promised Land
such striving
depends upon
February 6, 2021
All Yours (Feb 9) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The promised land
The promised land
Look for me in the rainbow; I am always there.
Dancing with your music, no time to spare.
I am always a drunken and dancing with your songs.
I am living within you; you do always care.
I will be the sunlight, moonlight when it’s night.
Nightingales sing all night since you are always bright.
I am always drinking, drinking of your dew.
Drunken like a swallow dancing in your light.
I have long been waiting, hoping to know you,
I can hear your music, loving it through and through.
Me and all the flowers are always trying hard,
Hoping you can teach us more than we can do.
Watching you at sunset underneath a tree,
Seeking to find wisdom, learning how to see.
My eyes are so blinded that they see only gray.
Gray is always sorrow; free me in your glee.
I am always lonely; nature is my friend.
Talking, smiling, and dancing, I always do pretend.
Your sounds to me are music, music to my soul,
tell me, hold me, teach me how all this will end.
8/6/2022 Haloo
This is a Persian-style poem called the Rubaiyat. If you want to learn more, read my book called " The Edge of the Prairie, A glance into the Persian-Style poetry" by me on the Amazon platform.
Forty years is a pretty long time to be out on a camping trip,
And when you’re living on a mountainside you can start to lose your grip.
So God called his people together to tell them about his plan,
“Folks I just wanted to say, I’m sending you to the Promised Land.”
He talked to them of a land that was flowing with milk and honey,
And told them that to own it all wouldn’t cost them any money.
God divided them up into tribes and then into armies and finally squads,
They thought that their vision of milk and honey must be different than God’s.
When they marched into the land they found people who were very big,
They thought that this land of giants would snap them like a twig.
The walls of the cities in this land were tall and they towered to the sky,
They thought that God must be mad at them so they went to ask him why.
“Lord, it’s going to be tough to attack walls made strong with mortar and bricks,
When we are all only tiny little people running around with pointy sticks.”
God railed at them for having so little faith and told them to attack,
They sort of looked at each other and then told God that he could have it back.
But the Lord told them all to hunker down and do their very best to be brave,
After all the time that Moses had invested God was certainly going to save.
And so they were delivered and the land became their home to keep,
They just never would have guessed that the rent would be so steep.
The Promised Land
poem
Lionel Derbyshire
In the dark I glance a silhouette I see..
A formation in arrangement from neck to toe I see.
A face creation in mask I cannot makeout constructed with neck and toe.
Like a whispering it politely comes to fetching me.
A silhouette so devine I fully see.
In neck and toe and stretched out arms.
It is white and lights up the dark.
Moving close to me..
Floating on neck and toe.
The angel arch bending over me
Starts to pamper me.
I am divine goods to be returned to my heaven's master.
In a precious life I have lived...
There was no pre-arrangement deal and
No longevity guaranteed.
A silhouette whispers me ..
God is calling thee.
Woe I verve with bitterness and trouble I foresee.
I see a angel's gleaming face in radiant animation.
Coming from a land in all it's enduring eternity ..
It rapture's with elation.
It is Elysium.
Without protest and to glee I see the guarantee ..
My act on earth is done.
Aboard I obtain a place
Just before breakfast I go
And see..
The Promised Land.
It was then in awe
I saw GOD
And wordless
Understood all my fears
In the presence of
LORD JESUS CHRIST
my saviour ...
Shouts of jubilation as
They drink the sour milk,
Milked from dead cows.
Dancers moving
Gracefully with cups of
Vinegar at hand.
Belching out foul odour,
Remaining unaware and
Unperturbed.
Children with protruded
Eyes and stomachs
Screaming wildly out of
Excitement?
At a corner,sits one with
Supple body on golden
Throne with choiced
Ladies.
He bellowed
Instructions,as meat of
Sorrow and wine of tears
Are shared.
"This is the promised-land
Merry!"
Indeed they merry,for
A norm it has become.
Some danced with mixed
Feelings,hoping the
Pregnant tomorrow will
Birth a brighter future.
Fingers crossed,if the
Actualization of their
Dream will be reality or an
Illusion.
I have taken so far a long walk,
I have listened and let them talk.
They think it is simple as scattering a flock
Or like eating food with a folk.
Yet! They forget this is a marathon,
It's not a Bolt's kind of champion.
It's keeping going on, and on and on
Letting the critics and so pundits into confabulation.
Desire keeps me going,
Vision keeps me dreaming,
Hope keeps me toiling,
Faith keeps me not whining.
I will not grumble,
I will not bellow,
Yahweh is taking the lead,
I will reach the Promised Land.
Edson Mwebesa (2013)
Promised Land: A Psalm of Faith
There is a kind of strength comes to a wanting land
(Where six inches of unfavored soil must withstand
A chance for rain), when rooted in the Word
That brings hope through faith.
---And a roadside sign proclaims, "Jesus is Lord"
Expand and retreat, germinate and scatter
Rhythms of nature play out no matter
How the seemingly perpetual estates of man defy.
---And an ancient Ojibwa cried, "Sometimes I go about in pity
For myself, and all the while, a great wind carries me across the sky"
I knew of a man broken by this land
Who remains unbreakable in his stand
That he and the grange are one.
When asked why he stays on in this now dead sea,
—-Says only,"This is God's country and I am his son"
Copyright Paul Thomson 2013.
The view of a green meadow, aspirations undisturbed
Twisting turning junctions lead to provinces returned
The sound of faraway church bells ring in my ears
A mournful lullaby they sing for true believers
This congregation is heard in a songbird cadence
No wings are needed to find heaven’s entrance
Forever is the gatekeeper
no passage for the spectator of prayer
Redemption plays for both sides, with a Grimm following
Another Gangster for the wheel of fortune’s calling
Destiny versus chaos
And I am all in, life’s devoted gamble
Shooting for an Angel
Misguided and fooled, another trap door to the heartland
Dreaming of a fall with grace’s undergrowth, a soft place that is mine
Lightning strikes with demented points from the skyline
shattering glass across my path, a sight for brilliance
Capture my Present existence
God smacked and faithful to Bloody feet
I Choose again, walking among the saved concrete
The Privileged Dark wings of my Brothers, fall across my face as reverence defined
This deity in time leads to the trail of old and blind
Righteous and divine another possession left behind
Embrace my brothers here on hell’s frontier
blessed bells still ring in the distance, a precious navigator
Delivered, Damned, and falling on the promise land
Terry D'Arcy-Ryan
The promised land,land of sweet honeycomb,
chocolate fountains,the land of green pastures
paradise it is,were jinnee's make their own wishes
fairie's make dreams come true.
Toddlers depart on a journey of a thousand miles,
forbidden path, through the valley of darkness destination
the promised land,Evil roam among the living,phantoms
zombies present in the absence of sight.the choosen once
pleasure the sweetness of Hot chilli pepper,faith conquers
fate,the mist have gone the light shines from the promised land
Ahead lies the river of Jordan,those who arrived on Oxen
travelled on paved path of roses and butterflies,enjoyed the singing
of birds, embraced by the ocean of stars and crystal moon
shall feel their hearts ripped from their bodies,dreams shattered
not all shall cross the river Jordan,they will be consumed, punishment
awaits them for they have sinned.they will set foot on the land of hope
as slaves,living of the sweat of their mates.bitter consequences of
deception and Ignorance.
Again and again, I scrape through the sand encrusted
macadam pavement, avoiding patches of sunken sorrows,
embossed in tv jingles, uttered from the lips of politicians,
grinning, toothless, at the wandering
immigrants, eager to find no home.
Against the soundtrack of minimum wage, scores
of campesinos work double shifts, avoiding traffic
tickets, the long dark hallway that leers at happiness,
trembling in freedom.
Only Sundays promise solace, playing soccer
with friends, the air biting with the coming winter,
warmed by bowls of steaming menudo.
Once more, the crows, perched on highway lights,
mock the empty alleyways, where crushed beer cans,
and broken tequila bottles litter the sunrise,
unwilling to quench my thirst,
…..unwilling
To quench
my thirst
© All Rights Reserved
In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.
In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound for Boulder.
"Mariah," the bus played as they rolled along,
He remembered Mount Moriah and mistook it in the song.
He told us the U.S. had been great, yet he was sad,
Perhaps because we didn't know what we once had.
He worked his way through the U of C,
Studying the holistic subject of geography.
Dad became a professor; I watched the applause,
At conferences, everyone knew who he was.
A geographer who explored every field,
Endless books in his study, a vast horizon revealed.
Our summers in New England and the West,
The mile-square farm on Black Hill Road was the best.
Swimming holes, blackberry bushes, mountain hikes,
Exploring dirt roads on three-speed bikes.
But time went by, good came, but so did pain
People seemed so plastic, no anchor kept them sane
The sixties began the process, self-image changed,
A once-great country now became deranged.
Geography was deemed passé, no longer in fashion,
Radical winds swept through college halls, a destructive passion.
A compass spinning wild, the intellectuals sinned,
He wondered if Mariah still named the wind.
In older lands one friend had fought Nazis and Communists too
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it was true.
Dad joined with him and others to stem an intolerant tide,
A battle of course doomed, but at least they tried.
While we're still standing here, memories endure,
A young man's arrival, his heart remaining pure.
He's gone now, but he didn't cave, he made his stand,
In the old and then in a new Promised Land.
Zionists have been hunted in High School halls,
Jews huddle in fright as mobs bang on the walls.
What would he have felt, to see democracy’s shame?
Though I know he lost I’m proud he ran the race all the same.
The battle raged on
taking its toll on the brave
the numbers grew
who was there knew how much they gave.
A tormented soldier
looked over the broken land
as his shadow was defined by the sand.
He thought to himself
did we make a bid to save a man
or was we bidding for a far away land.
The tormented soldier
could do but only stand
as his comrades blood filled the sand
for he had seen the price of the promised land.
I have to be patient, and not too concerned
About the things I can’t manage
If some of the stones I left lying unturned
For this I cannot be disparaged
The island is so overcrowded and small
New comers arrive by the boats
They want to steal space, so the natives can fall
Into the sea full of ghosts
But what was Mayflower by modern esteem?
No politics here, just a fact:
A boat full of immigrants, led by a team
Of Jesus freaks with legal act
To establish an ownership far, far away
They claimed it “the promised land”
How can you deny others doing the same?
For jobs you won't do they're godsend.