Long Angry crowd Poems
Long Angry crowd Poems. Below are the most popular long Angry crowd by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Angry crowd poems by poem length and keyword.
The Voice that spoke into being
Before the world began
Everything we see around us
He spoke them into being
The stars, the moon, the sun that shines
Birds and beasts of every kind
Created at the sound of His Voice.
The Voice that said one day
“Let us make man”
In Our image, in Our own likeness
The Voice that angels fear and love to hear
The very Voice that calmed the storm
And healed the sick, the blind, the lame
Was silent before an angry crowd.
Yes! He was silent for our sake
The spotless Lamb
Scarified, crucified
By the cruelty of man.
Creator of this universe
His silence broke the chains, the curse
As powerful as His Voice that spoke
Was His silence, that shook all hell and earth.
He was wounded for our transgressions
He was bruised for our iniquities
He was willing to be silent
To buy our salvation and healing!
Imagine yourself as a raindrop
Sharing space in a cloud
Will I be part of a morning shower
Or the member of an angry crowd
Will I fall to earth on a gentle breeze
Or ride the currents of a storm
Will I be cool or refreshing
or steamy muggy and warm
Will I bounce upon some rooftop
Or touch the leaf of a tree
Rising along a storm surged tide
Seeking some way to be free
Will I kiss the petals of a daisy
And glisten in the sun
Or fall into a lazy pond
That has no where to run
Will I gently touch the soft brown earth
Searching to find my roots
Attach myself to a passerby
Who is wearing rubber boots
Will I find myself in a glass
as part of a lemonade
Or settled in a sheltered ditch
As a puddle in the shade
A raindrop's life is ongoing
Like the angels tears Caressing the earth
Rising once again into the sky
Clouds symbolize rebirth
Just imagine it for a moment
And think of the rainbow in flight
A raindrop divided into colors
Bathed in heavenly light
An angry crowd was seething as Jesus hung on a crude cross,
Shouting in triumph as if being rid of their albatross,
Condemning the one who came to save all from the curse of sin,
Yelling with rage, “Crucify Him”, over and over again.
Why? What was their rationale?
Why was heaven aloof to the yells of the blaspheming throng?
Jesus screamed out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me”,
It’s as though the Father turned His back on His dying Son,
As the blood of Jesus ran from His wounded head, side, and feet.
Why? How could such silence be?
The hostile crowd scoffed as a crown of thorns mocked His dignity,
Not understanding they were killing the very Son of God,
They stripped Him of clothing; brought shame to His humanity,
Humiliated, He breathed his last before the lynch mob.
Why? What had all the ire gained?
At last, as His blood flowed to the hallowed ground of Calvary,
The earth rocked and shared the pain that few seemed to feel,
The Innocent had died for the guilty, those with sin’s malady,
Marks for all time and eternity, before this One all will kneel.
Why? Because Jesus loves us!
when scorpions crawling on the boiling sands
dance the dance of death with tail culled up
the gaudy toadstools grow in the dark and dampest spot
in the wasteland, and as day progresses the never-ending
merciless killing under the very same scorching sun that hangs high above
the wasteland drags on and on in the urban, areas where people carry out
the activities of daily routine to sustain ordinary lives.
on the street and alley the children’s corpses
though laying here and there
no one knows how to stop the deafening roar
that comes from the blasting bombs and the report of the guns
that take more innocent lives away from loved ones which do not allow
even a moment to the bereaved one to mourn with own accord, and when
the tears of a woman in black burqa slaps forehead and bangs her breast with palms and cries, her maternal affection benumbed and become stone as her tears coagulate and harden.
a small rough and simple wooden coffin goes
carried by the stern looking bearded men followed by not requiem
but the shout of the angry crowd brandishing empty fists that won’t do
anything in air the agony of the incompetent father who incapable of
keeping his dearest daughter’s life
nor able to provide a decent funeral and burial services
for the child’s last journey overlays the new-soil-covered little grave
as many layers of sigh after sighs.
when the tanks and armored vehicles sweep through the street
where many, many of those horrible stories rolling and flying
all over like autumn leaves, the soldiers with dust covered
combat boots dash into the street with unceasing gun shots
that hit the shadows because it moves, only because it breathes,
and therefore must be slaughtered. the fireballs hotter than boiling
sun shoot in the air with loud report on the other side of the street.
and between those ear-piercing roars
another angry wave marches on the street
carrying a small coffin, and in this chaos
eventide with no tomorrow dyes the corner of sky
above the faceless battlefield with the red of blood.
I am in the middle of nowhere without a gun, bullets, bow or spear, the philistine are coming upon me and an angry crowd is moving towards the square.
You have got to help me to get out of here, for the second judgment is drawing near and nothing on the island will be speared; prepare your evacuation route and get a comfortable pair of walking shoes.
Daylight greets me like dew dripping from a motionless tree
And the sun with its candid smile emerges from its resting place and in seconds it starts to blaze. I walked in circles to purge the heat from my body, but it kept filtering out in the street and a big celebration began in the square.
This is the irony that I never fear, I know that something good was going to happen but I could tell where, and when the sun came out my spirit began to shout and the crowd in the square reminds me that destiny was near.
The desert heat spreads its warmth all over the city and anger
Turn into a smile and the big band was standing by, the food trucks start rolling in and the vendor start to sing, the people kept coming and the desert was filled with canopy.
It is the magic that sometimes happens when life takes you on a winding journey, the fragility of the wind fizzle out when you move about and the pleasure of life takes you where you wants to go, you never could imagine that you could be part of the show.
Can you feel what I feel the moment is real, just listen to the flute and it will remind you of your youth, when you climb the hills and valleys and the elements in the sky whispers a sweet lullaby.
I am standing on real earth and gravity is under my feet
It is where we ought to be, close to the fish that swims in the sea.
And when the vastness of life surrounds you and night falls
You will leave the desert wall and take a ride out to the middle of sea and the moonlight will have a dialogue with thee. Just I and you sitting there absorbing the pleasure of the salty air.
I am nowhere in the middle of nowhere because you are here
And the moon sprinkle its light over the calm sea and the desert heat melt with passion for thee, and it all came together without a doubt and at last we could celebrate history.
Come and join the desert crew something special is waiting for you.
Today the humblest and kindest men are few,
surprisingly the proudest ones also knew
that without their faith they were condemned and lost,
but reading the Bible they learned not to boast.
Behind the boldest human spirit which God redeemed,
one sees that soldier wearing the victorious shield;
he is not afraid to fight men and demons,
even Jesus fought them with very wise words.
Who doubts the writings inspired by God?
Were the Prophets those villains who shouted?
Didn't Jesus stop the angry crowd throwing stones?
Didn't He show them how gracious is forgiveness?
Can we imitate the boldest human spirit and stay meek?
Which thing do we despise the most: being strong or remain weak?
Never think you're better or more special than another;
if we have love, we can build a world that's loving and fair.
Written on 5/6/2017
You can twist the way a man sees the world.
Do you think that sounds ridiculous?
What if you did it over time with subtlety and diligence?
The audience is largely uneducated, so remind them of their impotence; tell them any other source of facts must be regarded with suspiciousness.
Whisper to them over breakfast and slowly introduce corrosive dissonance; outright lie to them at dinner,salting in some truth for spicy antithesis.
Those who run the country are up to something mischievous; their lives, their fine America, have been eroding with precipitance.
Remember empowered yesterdays with a sad and tearful wistfulness; twist the needs and rights of others with pernicious lies and maliciousness.
Invest their government with conspiracy and its policies with wickedness. Remind your audience that freedom was torn from kings by well-armed militias.
Introduce the savior as a shining instrument of religiousness; defend his faults as small and frivolous and his right to rule as unambiguous.
When shocking reality dares assert itself, denials must be vicious and officious.
A rescue mission must be launched and certainly they must be participants; banners from the gift shop will form a team identity and a certain moral equivalence.
The leader will whip the angry crowd, stoking resentment with fabricated incidents, swearing, “I will be with you on this great crusade and you will be my instruments”
As the mob storms off he will slink away; he was only there for stimulus.
Hear the old republic creak as the President flexes his insolence; he’s seen that no blame can touch him, so he’s filled with proud ambivalence.
What will it take to rein him in? What kind of obvious stimulant, with thousands already dying every day and our society marbled with brittleness?
I was not in a wrong place
Neither was it a wrong time when I met my fate
I was unarmed with my sweat’s worth
Another day’s dime in my pocket
I was confronted by a flood tide of an angry crowd
Their faces were unrecognizable, the voices too loud
I looked over my shoulder, there was no one in sight
Pointed accusing fingers rose, I started to take flight
It was too late to escape, the tide caught my feet
My whole body was stampeded and I failed to breathe
I tried to hang on to life but my arms where weak
I could not swim to safety, the shore was bleak
My defenseless body succumbed to the violence
In the attacking mob’s fuming eyes I saw hell’s darkness
As I gasped for breathe
My soul was unshackled from the earth
I ascended into the heavens in God’s hands
As my blood was dripping from my attackers palms
The vengeance became senseless, guilt swallowed their hearts
They left the scene heads down, could not look God in the eye
But I was now free like a bird
Rising above clouds the feeling transcends flying
I thought I would be dead
But on God’s right, I have just become undying
I cry for you now, you who are ladened with hate
I cry for you because the blood of the innocent is never drying
SAY NO TO MOB INJUSTICE
It is an injustice to an innocent soul, to your own soul and to all
When the mind's disease is hate
it flows through the veins unchecked
I'm just a voice of reason in the midst of darkness
striking a match
a light for minds seeking refuge from a storm
and lift a crying child above hate's swollen river
that may sweep us away
People are angry, their Earth shakes
lighting flashes, children cry, crowds move as rivers
their mummers becoming louder
confusion fills their mind, fear fills their lungs
they are tossed between rage and reason
Demons rise to shackle their fragile souls
to a long history of claiming purity
frightened hearts beat louder
echoing through the valley of self-righteousness
as they march in step with unfurled flags
demanding all follow their worn graveled path
of self-illusion
the scythe they wield sweeps through the marrow
of anyone who questions
why they confiscate freedom in freedoms name
Who dare stands to lift the crying child
from the grasp of the angry crowd
giving hope, where there is madness
as the young stalk of democracy burns brown
withering away from a drought of common sense
urged on by those seeking power
using lies to move the mob, like pawns
because they see the world changing around them
and wear the heavy coat of brutality from their own history
fearful of their own sins of reservations and hangings
this is the same demon led crowd that yelled '' Give us Barabbas ''
8/21/21
When asked to go against your grain
Will you cross a river while flooded
Will you climb a tree in a thunderstorm
Walk over live electric wires
Go outside during a tornado
Only true love crosses picket lines
Faces down an angry crowd
Forces open a window to save their love
Save me love as I am walking on the wild waves of uncertainty just for you
Be my life raft
Be my solid shore
My sand to the sailor
My land to the lost
Be my breakfast when hungry
and my hat under the scorching sun
Be my hand when I fall down and my cake when it isn't even my birthday
Be my sunrise on an over cast day
You are to me the most precious thing
A laugh when I am sad
I want to heal all of it for you
Eclipse all other past loves
I want to be your Mars when you think you can't live on this planet anymore
I love you and I hope you find in me a quasar bright enough
to outshine the stars you live among
We are so close
Don't give up now