Best Ransomed Poems
I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I?
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown
There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me
What I will never be
Dear Lucifer,
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to our risen Lord.
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feather prides himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam Mcdaid
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Jesus you are my saving grace
My coach preparing me for life’s race
My refuge through life’s raging storm
Mending all that is tattered and torn
You are my forever guiding light
When my way grows dark as the night
My anchor in truth, who keeps me grounded
Through trials and tribulations I am surrounded
You are contentment of all my days
Among a world that has lost its way
My joy where everlasting peace abides
In times of trouble, my shelter my fear abides
You are the constant and steady beat of my heart
My shield from the enemy’s fiery darts
You are the melody my spirit sings
Praise and worship to you I bring
You are my strength when I become weak
The answer to the question that I seek
The solid rock on which I stand
Protected from life’s sinking sands
You are the wisdom that prepares my mind
My eyes can see that once was blind
My redeemer who ransomed my soul
Freed from the chains of Satan’s control
You are my courage to face the battle
In victory you leave my enemies rattled
My constant hope in days of doubt
In distress, an escape, my way out
You are my comforter collecting my tears
Relieving my mind of constant fear
Living water to my dying soul
A friend forever while ages roll
You are my intercessor to God carrying my pleas
You are all that I will ever need
In your name, I do pray
Jesus you are more to me than words can say
You found me and loved me first
Even at my very worst
Your death, my salvation, I can never repay
Through my failures you choose to stay
On the cross my eternal home was gained
Because your love for me was greater than your pain
With all that is within me, I shout your praise
Jesus, you are and always will be, my Amazing Grace
It never seems to amaze me
How stupid some people are
Whenever I am out
And take along my guitar.
''Is it a guitar'' people say
''No an ironing board''
I reply with dismay.
''Can you play it?''
''No I just carry it about for fun''
Even though it's a heavy one.
''Are they your dogs''
When out in town
''No'' I reply
''their someone else's
And I'm taking them back to get the ransomed money honey.''
After a while i's an annoyance and not that funny.
Peter Dome.copyright.2015. Oct.
As it unfolds, labeled cold, a wall confines the innocent
It looms of iron, bricks, where stones
are thrown and rifles aimed
to claim the hopes of those intent
to breech the sniper's scope
Risks are grave, if they should fail
and graves mound high, among the brave
Outrage cries, games commence - incident or accident
the game of spies, U know why-- a U-2 flies
against the grain of do or die
A chessboard filled with stakes so high,
they may enrage a fist to rise in wars against democracy
Labeled cold, …but hot as hell
pawns are played, and deals are made
Men sit alone within a cell, restrained, until a deal is tossed
Lines are crossed, a bridge is crossed, and breaths are held
for lives of men. Like ransomed gold
they are played, and waged as if a game of chess,
where consequence is life or death
and peace depends on games of chance
.............................................................................................
2/25/16 Inspired by Contest: "Pick a Theme: Bridge of Spies"
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Resubmitted For PD's contest:
100 in a ROW contest -- 11 PREMIERE number 2Poetry Contest
A battlefront benefactress,
She has her fortress, a fortified Princess, inside the dungeon of distress,
Tiled with the bone chips of ingratitude colored in pigments of black bright & rugid red,
An arrowhead chandelier illuminated by wicked tears, wet with woe,
Everybody saw her wedding dress, they all knew the warfield wardrobe,
But how many cared to touch her sorrow gown, how it hung on those exhausted shoulders,
The lilac one piece she wore for private pain,
Gain gauged by perseverence of self defense, vengence on Victory's tombstone,
How many visit that ceremony, where love is isolated amidst jealousy's cackle,
Do any of them frown with sympathy for the debt of her crown,
For every jewel in the tierra there exists a bruise upon her beautiful body,
An assault levied by the 'learned', the rape of a writer wrought by the wretchedly wanton,
Honors earned ransomed by pitiful rivalry, kindness taken in the grip of disingenuous delight,
Some say her very name is a curse, an anethema from some God foresaken moon,
Poet Destroyer, 'Too much nerve, too much passion' they exclaim,
Its only natural for her ingrown throne to be a thorn
In the fingertip of the editorial 'elite',
They know we will bleed for her grace like the children of wild sport,
The Poet Destroyer shall not hurt us as educators of deformity do,
She will not impose false limits on our brows,
She will not strike our eyes with rotten ink,
And look now you vultures of vice, we are Legion,
We are Brothers and Sisters of the Quill, raise your sight and behold our Worshipful Queen,
She rests not long in the sanctuary of her inner star, here we are,
Leading the war march towards you with captured & dried quills
Of imposter poets lashed to her sheild of cauterized parchment
Imprinted with the blessings of all literary Titans who have warred before,
We step forward While chanting in crazed concentration,
Oh woe to you,
Victors of vanity, victims of sanity!!!
This composition has been made in honor of the Poet Destroyer, aka. Linda,
A beautiful woman, a guiding Light, a warrior of liberated and Divine Art.
J.A.B.
I am ransomed!
As I kneel at his feet
Broken and weary, he lifts me up
Clean, unblemished before the Father, I stand
Once, a lost and wandering sheep, but, no more!
~*~
All creation sings your praises,
Thou who angels love to praise.
Singing holy, holy, holy
round Your throne in heav’n above.
Feathered creatures of all species
worship You at each new dawn.
Joining in a joyful chorus
praising You for each new day.
Wind and rain with trees of forest
join in singing praise to You.
Leaves vibrating making music,
as the rainstorm rustles them.
Sun and moon and stars in heaven
praise You their Creator, great.
As the sun vibrates its vocals
moon and stars ascribe You praise.
Let us all as image-bearers
of the God who gives us life.
Join with all of His creation
Singing praises to our God.
Praise Him for the great salvation
purchased by His Son made flesh.
So that man redeemed and ransomed
Will one day with angels sing.
Lord, my words are not enough to praise You.
You have given me so much.
You have taken that which was worthless,
And given it great value;
For You ransomed my soul with the very blood,
Of Your Own precious Son.
What greater value hath anything, Oh Lord,
Than that for which The King of Kings would,
So willingly lay down His life.
You have loved me more than anyone else ever could,
Even when I loved You not.
I'm sorry that I hurt You, Lord.
Even now that I know You well,
Sometimes I hurt You still, and I'm sorry.
Because of You I am no longer worthless.
I fell from Your Grace and wallowed in sin, guilt and shame,
But You, My Lord, lifted me up and cleansed me from all unrighteousness.
You held me close to Your heart and forgave me,
For everything I ever did to hurt You.
I love You, Father.
Thank You, for loving me so much.
AMEN
Upon the wings of mortal life we fly.
Roaming from cradle through soil, sky and sea,
We grope through sin like Adam; then we die.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
Our nascent hearts carefully trail life's terrains,
The path we walk is choice, not destiny.
Feeble, we fumble in our quest for frail gains.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
Temptation shows her face at every turn
Deceitful words spur our soul to death's tree.
Like Eve, who ate the apple, our lives churn.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
The cross of iniquity is hard to bear,
In faith we turn to God on bended knee.
Craving a contrite heart devoid of fear.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
We beg for restoration, a fresh start.
That we may stand blameless and ransomed be,
Forgiveness is the gift Christ did impart.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
In a world full of woes we need great grace.
Eternal life, God’s gift, can set souls free.
That we may in heaven behold your face.
Oh Lord, be merciful, I plea.
Ó January 26, 2014
By Adeleke Adeite and Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Grab your Partner
Sponsored By: POETESS DARKLY
Filling minds with symphony of truth
Opening them with catalytic mystery of light
Living waters flowing like angels’ robes
Lifting inspirations into the depths of brilliance
Omitting your hopeful eyes to the skies
Without blemish and aching to purify
You are so talented and true
Outstanding words that cringe in harmonies
Under and over and back to the earth
Revealing an answer that was once nothing
Drenched and battered in sweets for a recipe
Rocking and popping in slivered ecstasy
Enveloping us all in the highest reverie
Aiming at the heavens where you ought to be
My heart pours out to all of you
Someone believes in you—I do
And though the dark is soon to come
Never fear, for light will always fold it over
Dimming away into resonate and pure master-peace
No, you are free in this glistened life
Everlasting like the holy beings in perfect-pitched song
Vindicating your cause and all others to follow
Emptied only to be filled yet again
Ransomed in unremitting constancy
Give into the beauty of recycled rhapsody
Interlaced with supportive strands of genius
Veiled in humility and never lacking agility
Enshrouded with the benevolent shine of generations
Understand that you will succeed in succulent growth
People will only fail you if you give them reason to
You are an incredible addition to a lively creation
Onward the music will lead you on
Universally swirling and curling with mastered energy
Veering out and fluttering in perfect sight and sound
Eventually reaching out to the remaining shadows
Get up and look at the world around you
Obvious beauty surrounds every shady corner
Take what you may and create your renovating legacy
The symphony is playing for you
Helping you along the smooth sands of life
Intertwined in fiery drive and sifting scents
Surrounded by the resonance—and a stranger’s global confidence
-inspired by the one and only Anthony Snape-
When I lay me down to sleep,
And cry the tears that sinners weep;
To speak the words of a contrite prayer,
And know that someone listens there.
He cares for sheep that have gone astray,
Who willfully wander their own way;
They vex the pride that hides within,
And drink the bitter cup of sin.
The web of lies and dark deception,
Lie in defeat of Light’s conception;
To capture all and destroy life,
With passion’s fire and human strife.
We need to plant the gospel vine,
Where evil rules and saints repine.
While martyrs lead with ransomed prayer,
With hope for life that tarries there.
Blood that was shed on Calvary,
Set slaves of transgression wholly free.
So we rise from the grave to seek reward,
Giving praise to a risen Lord.
I am not forgotten in the forests of so little light
I am lost in dark mists, troubled with fright
Embedded in life and love, the joyless pain
As nightly shadows hide my heart's refrain
I hide
I struggle to follow each elusive map
Finding my way I ponder the missing gaps
To understand how fortune falls, I pause to wait
Unsettled and empty, a vagrant of fate
I hide
Let me walk among sheltering trees
That tower over my hate and fears
My ransomed heart to be set free
Letting go of many desperate years
I hide