Long Acacias Poems
Long Acacias Poems. Below are the most popular long Acacias by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Acacias poems by poem length and keyword.
On this day when
One walks outside
The fumes are coming off the roads
The mountains appear full of smoke
Dust is flying around seeking relief
Many seek for shade but none found
Oh, ye clouds that look promising
But they pass by
The earth is in thirst
Suffering for the sins of man
But for those which seek
Beyond their horizon
The living water is found within
Springing forth new life
No longer seeking outwardly
But inwardly to manifest
The Lord's unseen fountain
That is in our midst
Producing fruit of the spirit
“In that day the mountains will drip new wine, and the hills will flow with milk; all the ravines of Judah will run with water. A fountain will flow out of the Lord’s house and will water the valley of acacias.
Joel 3:18 NIV
“On that day a fountain will be opened to the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity.
Zechariah 13:1 NIV
Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”
John 7:38 NIV
Form:
The carriage with Mr. Mihai Eminescu glides silently, unseen,
Through the whispers of Iashi's stones, wrapped in its own mystery.
How long and tiring is the journey through boundless realms,
Emerging from the shadow of the past, with old, untouched stories.
What secrets are hidden among the stars, in shining constellations?
What mysteries sparkle in the vast cosmic night, trembling?
From the parental home does the poet return?
Or from the embrace of dusk, towards the living in sighs?
On the dry cobblestones, the rhythm of horseshoes sings,
A strange lament that the night echoes:
The carriage with Mr. Eminescu, grand and silent,
Traverses spiritual Iashi, where his memory is recognized.
Some are born; others pass towards sunsets,
Under the sighing acacias, with a heart full of longing.
The linden trees weep silently when shadows grow denser,
In the mystical night, where memories blend naturally.
Fear grasps my soul at the edge of reality's veil,
When the carriage with Mr. Eminescu begins its nocturnal round in Iashi.
It moves always, ethereal on its course,
With spectral horses gliding on streets of mist and smoke.
As long as the soil of Romania is kissed by the light of dawn,
The carriage with the poet Mihai Eminescu will traverse the night in its eternal stroll.
In the sacred chronicles of a silent and eternal march,
We must be prepared to welcome him in this spiritual ark.
Even if our hearts are overwhelmed by a sad thought,
Knowing that celestial carriage casts an endless spell:
For the carriage with Mr. Eminescu, will be floating through Iashi,
Never stopping, in an eternal dance under the shining moon.
Eminescu, stay among us, poet, please stay a while longer,
For by illuminating us, you will always watch over us in a darkened world.
In the moonlit corridors of human thought, the carriage rises:
With linden flowers and secrets, through the evening shadows, it ventures towards destiny.
A metaphorical journey, through realms of astral truth,
Eminescu's dreams whispering on the winds, continuing forever.
clothed in drama
a pentecost poetic
chiastic
three stanzas long
the Spirit outpoured
in the Day of the Lord
portents predicted&
prescribed
called out
not cast out
the
ultimate reality
sealed&consumated
an atoning sacrifice
saving mercies
grace given
an expectation
engrained
in penitence& prayer
a focus fixated
cause with effect
in awareness of worship
interlocked
in perspective
the faithful restored
fresh
with abundance
of spiritual joy
affirmed
in a unique reality
of
deliverance&due reward
where acacias abound
before the Lord's overflowing
waters of life
a reasoned restoration
seasoned
in the coming of His day
in the midst of His people
inescapable
irresistible
an inheritance
to claim&
enjoy
SIX WOMEN PATIENTS
Six broken women lay down to rest
brown bodies all in a row
six long stories to tell with jest
six smiles with a million tears
race around ward releasing fears
just so
Six windows uncurtained offers
six sunny acacias buffered
trolleys reel, pills and bottles steep
surgeon makes his rounds with a nod
six students in tow
asking six silly questions to know
just so
Six hard beds high, sigh-slept many
linen stiff as a new penny
squishy meal of mieliepap mixed veggies
making six quite edgy
whose next for operation table no-one knows
they can though still touch their toes
just so
six sets of eyes close for night
dream of kids, chicken pie, golden flights
needles, nurses, morphine gone
no slips on escalator or hip joint pain
they reconnect their own wires, abiding fires
flowing into Aegian sea as African queens
awake back in ward, still here
wee patients not free, see ?
Matron says ‘Go pee’
just so
I love to use botanical names
for Australian native flora
Reminds me of a horse ride
the rhythm of a canter
So many common names
among the native gum
Blues, reds,greys and several kinds of white
Known only to locals as a rule of thumb
Latin names define colour, growth
or even where they're found
Eucalyptus each one distinctive
among seven hundred species that abound
Genus eucalyptus, includes nearly all the gums found on the Australian continent
Flowers of a brilliant hue. yellow, orange, red and white
Attract the native bees, collecting nectar
often hear them buzzing whilst in flight
Twenty four thousand species
of Australian native plants
Grevilleas, melaleucas, acacias, leptospernum, callistems and more
All hosting many animals
possums, goannas, koalas, birds bees and ants
clothed in drama
a pentecost poetic
chiastic
three stanzas long
the Spirit outpoured
in the Day of the Lord
portents predicted&
prescribed
called out
not cast out
the
ultimate reality
sealed&consumated
an atoning sacrifice
saving mercies
grace given
an expectation
engrained
in penitence& prayer
a focus fixated
cause with effect
in awareness of worship
interlocked
in perspective
the faithful restored
fresh
with abundance
of spiritual joy
affirmed
in a unique reality
of
deliverance&due reward
where acacias abound
before the Lord's overflowing
waters of life
a reasoned restoration
seasoned
in the coming of His day
in the midst of His people
inescapable
irresistible
an inheritance
to claim&
enjoy
clothed in drama
a pentecost poetic
chiastic
three stanzas long
the Spirit outpoured
in the Day of the Lord
portents predicted&
prescribed
called out
not cast out
the
ultimate reality
sealed&consumated
an atoning sacrifice
saving mercies
grace given
an expectation
engrained
in penitence& prayer
a focus fixated
cause with effect
in awareness of worship
interlocked
in perspective
the faithful restored
fresh
with abundance
of spiritual joy
affirmed
in a unique reality
of
deliverance&due reward
where acacias abound
before the Lord's overflowing
waters of life
a reasoned restoration
seasoned
in the coming of His day
in the midst of His people
inescapable
irresistible
an inheritance
to claim&
enjoy
Like a lighthouse defying the darkness with an unwavering light,
I've grown accustomed to sleeping with my eyes open, watching the edge of dreams,
afraid of being surprised by the veil of silence that falls unexpectedly,
seeking to hold the reins of this ephemeral world between my fingers,
until the final blink whispers a call toward unknown realms.
Like a lighthouse that refuses to fade at the break of day,
I keep the horizon of the sea captured in the enchantment of a desperate gaze,
I ask you to gently close my eyelids with the softness of a calm sunset,
for what was to be seen is already written on the canvas of time,
carefully draw these fine shutters over my eyes weary from watchfulness.
I hope the end comes late, in a night with a sky full of stars,
when the acacias shake their blossoms in a dance of scent and memories,
and silence settles gently, like a wave kissing the shore,
wrapping the story of life in a dream that will never be lost,
a dream in which the lighthouse's light will guide the soul toward eternity.
There is a rocky path,
small fields on the left
and a mysterious forest on the right,
a fairyland.
Cold creek among the trees
running towards the lake.
A red short wall decorated with nettles
and a gate at the end of the road.
Winding hill, red brick steps on the side
with cones spread all around,
just like if someone dropped them in a hurry.
At the top of the hill, right behind the bushes
a castle surrounded by acacias.
In front of the entrance a nut-tree.
Further, rabbits, swings, a sandpit and a slide.
Flowers everywhere.
A small beach at the bottom of the hill
with a thick chain at the entrance
and a leaning willow at the bank,
next to a rusty, creaky pier.
Warm raindrops dripping from the sun,
air filled with whispers, magic and wild mint.
Black night sprinkled with stars
mirrored in the surface of the lake.
The carriage with Mr. Mihai Eminescu
Is heard passing through the streets of Ia?i.
But, Lord, what a long journey it has made,
How pale and weary he seems to be!
And what is happening, Lord, in the sky and among the stars?
And what's happening in the wide world?
Does the poet come from his parental home?
Does he come from the realm of shadows to the living?
And tell us if everything is just an illusion
And tell us if we are mistaken.
A rhythm of hooves is heard on the stone
Crying strangely in its wake:
The carriage with Mr. Mihai Eminescu
Is heard passing through Ia?i.
And some are born, others die,
At this sign, the acacias sigh
And the linden trees weep with yearning.
And I'm afraid, I'm afraid, that this is all there is,
On the edge of cold reality,
The carriage with Mr. Mihai Eminescu
Passes through the streets of Ia?i.
It always passes, it's heard to pass,
Through the beloved streets of his town,
But the carriage seems without substance
And the horses seem made of smoke.
Nevertheless, as long as Romania will be on earth,
In line with the last steps,
The carriage with Mr. Mihai Eminescu
Will always pass through Ia?i.
Be ready to give him a noble welcome,
Even if you feel the mournful thought,
That eternally through Ia?i the carriage will pass,
And it will never stop.