Long Again Poems
Long Again Poems. Below are the most popular long Again by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Again poems by poem length and keyword.
Assurance of triumphant peace*
prevails over sins' misery...
Shame's angst and haunting despair cease
brought by moment of forgiveness
springing from God's graciousness
for our life-journey's victory!
With grand pardon received fully
let's offer it, too, as love's gift...
Others need such desperately
for freedom's blessed certainty
against guilt-filled anxiety
to soar with joy by faith-filled lift!
*John 20:21 Then said Jesus to them again, Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you.
May 7, 2018
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND 3 to 14 line" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 8/21/2021.
Oh Father teach me to love again
It behooves me too love again
give me the love that you display
agape
Teach me to love again
You're never ending Grace this place affectionate love benevolent
Teach me to love again
Give me more of you God
For its true it's you who are love
Teach me to love again
Father teach me to love again
Give unto me what is missing;
Give me affections, friendship
Give unto me benevolent agape
O' Father above help me to love
O' Father help me to love to love again
Give unto me friendship love patient;
No boasting dishonor envy not easily angry
Recording my wrongdoing never
Give Me Love rejoicing with the truth love
Trust hopes and preserves
Teach me to love again
Father give me a love deserving of yours
Your gifts of faith hope and love
The greatest of all is love
And though I am not worthy too receive it
But yet your graces enough and it's efficient
Teach me to love again
Part of your nature is love when you are love
Father teach me to love again
Help me to find the meaning and purpose in my life
Father loves me simply cuz
You are loved Oh, Yeah!, teach me to love again
God give me an intense
The affection for another person
Father give me a noun the noun your verb
Teach me to love (again)
Father allow me to love a one like you do
Teach me to love again;
3/7/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23 (c)
I barely know how you bear it, I said to the grapefruit
Of course, true to form, she tried to smooth everything out.
I was irked because no words arrived to sooth me.
Which made her easier to eat, actually – more palpable.
Masticating my cereal is never easy these days,
especially when the news is on, so I shut that puppy down.
If it is not good news, I do not need it, especially in the morning.
There was a wreck at 17th and Lamar, as usual.
I see one there almost every morning,
Yet I continue driving this same exact route.
And me, the woman who loathes routine,
Actually living one now. Is it my age, do you suppose?
The car radio is on some 1970’s music but not folk music.
The one channel I had on before my husband drove
And ruined things by changing my channel.
He is going to be eating mothballs for supper tonight.
My girlfriend calls to yack about her dead husband again.
I wish he was still alive so I could beat his ass, she says.
I have heard it about sixty-nine times, still it never gets old
Especially this morning as listen to the wrong freaking station.
There's a list I need to finish
If I am going to win this
War on how this world is not
Living from the loving hearts
Everyone has deep inside
Why did people have to hide
It away so deep and far
Leaving a big painful scar
On others who don't deserve
To feel this angry hurt
My mission is to complete
What's written on this paper sheet
First task to accomplish
Is send out a caring wish
That love finds a way back in
This hateful world once again
Second task is to make sure
There's not a trace anymore
Of racist remarks coming from
Anyone's negative tongue
Third and final task will be
Finding sensitivity
In people one by one
When I am truly done
There'll be only happy crying
No more kids shooting and dying
Abuse will be laid to rest
I know we can pass this test
If the world just comes together
Clearing any stormy weather
Making days a lot more bright
Come on, lets let in the light
Touch me in the morning
Let your warm light caress my face.
Kiss my cheek with a soft summer breeze,
And take me back to another time and place.
A place where only a few would know,
A place where only those like us would venture to go.
We will travel through this portal of time,
Where memories will come alive, that we have embedded in our minds.
A world I had forgotten stands before me,
The man I had loved so long ago now leads me toward a path I must follow.
Together again as in that time,
Never to leave but to stay with him until the end of time.
To be with you here and free,
Together again for now through eternity.
The day dawns crisp and bright, the sun rising,
And day after day time repeats again and again;
Over and over each day rises, beauty unfailing,
I have dreams where there is no sorrowful pain.
Days sweetly unfolding,
Where love is dwelling;
And the sadness rests.
I recall all my paths the sad and the best,
In my springtime youth all days were endless;
Now each is precious, beloved and quite priceless,
And with each new dawn I thank the Almighty, up above.
___________________________
April 29, 2015
Poetry/Rhyme/Up Above
Copyright Protected, ID 04-667-950-29
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Days,
sponsor, Thomas Martin, Judged 2015
First Place
To All My Children
I Look at All the Things I’ve Done,
Since My Day of Birth
And I Know That I’ve Been Blessed
As I Prepare to Leave this Earth.
I Have Children That I Love
And Oh! How They Love Me
So I Know They’ll Understand,
It’s Time to be set Free.
Our Lord Has Been My Guide,
Down My Life’s Road So Long
I Can’t Count the Times..
He Saved Me from Doing Wrong.
Hold Our Memories Close to Your Heart
For That Is Where I Shall Abide,
Knowing How Much I Love You
Will Help Your Pain to Subside.
Oh We Shall Meet Again,
Of That We Can Be Sure
May God Bless and Keep You
And Help You All to Endure.
Connie Moore
the buildings gray stood grand and tall
the proudest prize of man's bright call
none dared to think that one might fall
thus glist'ning in the sun -
the perfect morning sun …
from cherished ground each tower rose
with strength and structure, grandiose
and steady through what nature blows
designer minds had wrought -
their best, or so we thought …
but some small men with missing parts
brought caliphates with fits and starts
their twisted aims from twisted hearts
would make examples, clear -
the things we held, so dear …
there wields no sharper blade or knife
than those which can't thus value life
oh deep that wound of careless strife
cut by an empty soul -
an empty, barren soul …
they flew that morn from foreign lands
these rotten souls, with hateful hands
with peopled planes at their commands
and hate their only cause -
a beast with deadly claws …
one at-a-time straight 'head they flew
'midst cloudless skies and vault of blue
they stabbed their evil arrows through
the hearts of all mankind -
death's rattle left behind …
those towers melted, crumpled ... fell
and brought a grief no one could quell
there on the news, straight out of hell
that horror lay unfurled -
the weeping of a world …
two decades gone, the wounds remain
those birthed from promise gone insane
lost catafalques, like tears through rain
that make no earthly sense -
death smirks as God relents …
please, teach our wee ones how it was
that heav'n did damn such twisted cause
to burn such bright and wondrous Oz
with fire's heinous flash -
turned wonder into ash …
how can it be that monsters, thus
now wear a mask that looks like us?
how can we learn, again, to trust?
still, from those ashes, then -
the grandest dreams of men ...
through hope … will rise again.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art borrowed copyright-free by the author from public domain files at FreePik / Picasa )
She whispers, “He loves me; he loves me not,”
as she plucks the dewy petals off a daisy.
She thinks of the misery that loving him has brought.
Oh, but his sweet kisses. They melt her and make her crazy!
As she plucks the dewy petals off a daisy,
she thinks of a few bad times; he gave her bruises then.
Oh, but his sweet kisses. They melt her and drive her crazy!
He always brings her flowers, vowing not to sadden her again.
She thinks of a few bad times; he gave her bruises then
although there have been such good times she also can recall!
He always brings her flowers, vowing not to sadden her again.
Two petals remain; one by one each dewy petal shall fall.
Although there have been such good times she also can recall,
she thinks of the misery that loving him has brought.
Two petals remain; one by one each dewy petal shall fall.
She whispers, “He loves me . . . he loves me NOT.”
Nov. 2020
For Brian Strand's 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(46) any theme any form' Poetry Contest
Wind blows ashes all around,
as men toil – bent over at an arduous task.
In the place where a scraping of shovels incises the coming night,
their blades incise cold and black encrusted ground.
Attached to the shovels' handles
are arms which are skeletons,
and the arms belong to bruised, decrepit bodies.
Hacking and wheezing, the men continue smiting the earth -
plunging the shovels down, lifting them up with dirt,
and tossing the dirt to the side.
Plunging, lifting, tossing dirt – again and again and again.
The men are so frail they barely can continue,
but with the armed guards watching on,
they dare not falter and come to a stop.
Coming from the gloom are shrieks,
and then comes that all too-familar stench
after the shrieks have died out.
It permeates the air and seeps into their nostrils,
and still they toil at the trench.
They struggle on beneath a sky which for a long time now
has withheld from them its light,
and the light of hope is but a dream
that perhaps crosses their minds from time to time.
Perhaps in their dreams at night
as they lie on crude and uncomfortable "beds,"
they imagine they are digging tunnels -
tunnels which will lead them away from all this misery,
but their misery is a nightmare from which they can’t awake.
What horror in their knowing that their own bodies
might one day soon be lying too
in these graves they dig.