Long Ascension Poems
Long Ascension Poems. Below are the most popular long Ascension by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ascension poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm not jealous of all His suffering
or His final Ascension hovering
I accept that I cannot cure on touch
or walk on water, or through walls and such
But I sometimes get the distinct feeling
(when with people, or prayerfully kneeling)
That I wish I could get to know others--
(family, friends, neighbors, sisters and brothers)
--The way God does, completely, and loves still
(my befriending skills are sometimes at "nill")
"Love one another as I have loved you"
never really seems to come fully true :(
Wish we could talk longer than just a while
wish I knew their favorites, and why they smile
God gets to see them everywhere they go
people could hang out with God, if they know
You'd think maybe He never gets lonely
since God's Heart is all full of Love only
but He wants us to get to know Him, too
as much as He loves us first, through and through
to be continued...
My omnipresent spirit observes man's zonal realms
In star-studded cast of aureoles...a diverse culture in motion,
Which alights into Borealis songs, their haunting lore, their generational rites
And through sacred Mystery , I connect with their melting pot of eras
Designed by one Galactic handiwork-- moons, stars
planets circling around Milky Way, ever vibrant...
And my light pulses with them, my light pulses.
Then to bestow a natural pace of night and day,
Season upon season, I see myself as one
With creation reaching ---out for God's grace. And through centuries before
Genesis,
I continue whispering to human souls their temporal existence on earth,
earth , only a bridge into eternal energy
Where peace erases all rancor
and greed sown by primitive and urban
desires which poison the grid of unity...
And I shall will my invisible wings to
tap divine power
among men likened to holy ascension
into one paradise where
peace breathes
of nothing but hallowed order.
A sinless one pays the wages of sin
One in whom death hath no hold
An anomaly goes unseen
For thirty silver coins He is sold
Offending many with all he aimed to mean
That was mocked and frowned upon when told
That the Son of God had stepped on the scene
Calling out men to either be hot or cold
He died as was foretold
A matter put to rest
Tucked away in a tomb and a stone rolled
And time would do what it does best
To pass and oversee His ideals grow cold
Not knowing of what would manifest
When His demise was three days old
Word broke out of the tomb being open
Some talked of his missing
Others witnessed Him risen
To five hundred he went appearing
To whom His rising couldn’t be disproven
No matter the mockery or chastising
Then His ascension and came the Holy Spirit
That His believers could do as He did
By faith to live and to push every limit
And from the yoke of sin be freed
With Him in heavenly places we sit
And in Him we are a new breed
K. Muitherero
We fuel passions by inpouring presence
Mindfully imbibing all sensations
Assimilating every layered nuance
Knowing unreal, fleeting illusions
Desire in heart arising, causation
We choose to enter a hypnotic trance
Our ego immersed in limitation
We fuel passions by inpouring presence
Having begun this play in innocence
Exit requires distilling attention
The sole lifeline we have, is our conscience
Mindfully imbibing all sensations
Innate joyfulness chooses expansion
That too as renewal in permanence
Pleasing love caress without cessation
Assimilating every layered nuance
Assigning priority to silence
Discernment choosing the love vibration
Living nonchalantly, thus in balance
Knowing unreal, fleeting illusions
Waking from the dream by slow ascension
We know, yet prolong our earth life parlance
Equal in void and manifestation
Playfully continue the divine dance
We fuel passions
31-December-2020
In the ethereal domain
Ascended masters we revere are seen
Thus soul’s ascension seems endless
Is the clear knowing from this that we glean
We are as yet in a primitive stage
Myriad fears and desires still bemuse
Awareness stuporous, we flounder in darkness
Falling prey every time, to ego’s ruse
Of what use are scriptures, if we heed them not
All that’s asked of us is we learn to love
The path too has been clearly mapped out
Let head meld with heart, acting hand in glove
We are ignorant, knowing not who we are
We’re fearful to let go of lower mind
Tragic it is, we know not we’re living light
To glory of our soul, we remain blind
22-July-2022
As I slumbered into the dark abyss of the night,
Smiling, like babies do,
At those dreams of Gods and Goddesses,
Laughing and dancing and showing me my path,
There appeared, on my side table,
A sparkling silver key!
The next morn' I chose to keep it in my bag
As I got ready to leave for work
As if, my sixth sense was telling me
"Keep it, the door will show itself!"
True to my guts, the door appeared as I was walking
Up the steepy hill, there where what I deemed as being
Work, a mere concrete building imprisoning responsibilities
And having imposed upon me, the state of being their guardian!
The door looked as magical as a fantasy film
I shook myself and felt my hair tumble all around my face
As if I were the lion king cleaning its mane, ready to battle!
I wanted to rush, open the door and just escape life,
When oh! I decided to peep through the keyhole first
Curiosity, it is believed, can kill
But when dealt with cautiously, it can be tamed!
Pray, I saw through that peeping hole, a swirling wave tunnel
Unlike Earthly waves though, it crashed never
It just kept swirling and swirling
And a signboard was placed there, reading "The World Fairer!"
Everything else was just dark and engulfing it all
Was the eerie sound of silence!
I swallowed my gulp and fished out the key from my bag
Pray, it had appeared to me as the Gods and the Goddesses
Were talking to me!
They rule me, they decide for me and they watch over me
So, who am I to doubt of their intentions,
Even if such remain laden with tests, with mystery and with traps!
With my heart heaving and hammering
I just thrust the key into the keyhole,
Opened the door and walked into the tunnel of silence,
Into the hovering darkness
Towards there where the sign
Directed, was the World Fairer!
In the land of silvery mists, where dreams touch the ground,
A being-abyss struggles, wishing to rise in docile flight and facing a deep fear,
Striving to be a fruitful field, the most fertile version of its essence,
While the shadows of insecurity cast it into the amphitheater of blooming thoughts, to crush it.
As the depths of the ocean carve waves towards unknown shores, so it sweeps the black soil of doubts,
Foreseeing serene sorrows from now on, the swirl that is just beginning its existential course,
Before the step has been set on the ancient path of stars, before the seeds of hope are thrown to the wind.
And every conceived gesture, every uttered word that will gravitate around it,
Will be sewn in a silent dance together with its shadowed face of expectation, imprinted in the essence of the tome of life,
They will intertwine, like threads of gold in the fabric of the night, in odes of the density of dreams,
Sending echoes through the abandoned galaxies of the heart, reflecting in the constellations of distant love.
However, the gaze directed towards the traces of the past heralds unwritten legends,
Whispers of time on its aged skin, spoken in a twilight that only it hears,
Resembling forgotten smiles which rays of dawn resurrect,
In the fields where the cries of the helpless and the shouts of the strong intermingle, a lattice of recovery.
Breaking the walls of the four seasons that confine its soul in a temple of skin is not a journey without fears,
It's an ascension on stairs of comets, a search for oneself through the fog of a universe made up of shades of grey,
But when the constellations dispense their counsel in a symphonic accord,
The revelation of a world between worlds is uncovered, where its destiny is written in the stars.
Receive your promise as a lamb at the bosom of spring, let its sash unfold,
Expand the curtain of hope over the scenes of your days, allow pure magic to flood your mood,
For if you do not catch the sky in flight, if you do not savor from the chalice of chosen moments,
The opportunity to reweave the tapestry of fate will flutter away like a startled bird – the precious sands of time will scatter to remind you of the age of silence.
Taken up to heaven to sit at God’s right hand,
He sent His apostles to every man,
To teach, to preach to heal so all may understand
He died, He rose and He will come again.
He raised His hands, blessed them and rose up out of sight
Then they went forth to preach everywhere.
To tell the world about the Christ, the Way, the Truth, the Life,
That when He comes we won’t be unaware.
“Therefore,” He told them, “go. Make disciples of all men.
For every power has been given me.
In the name of the Father, Son and Spirit, baptize them.
Teach them that all might come to believe.”
He died and He arose and ascended into heaven.
But He didn’t just leave us behind,
He promised to be with us for ever and ever,
Until the end of time… Until the end of time.
The day after I was birthed,
God and a bunch of sassy angels
played Irish fiddles in a beery bordello,
a place not yet colorized into reality.
The next day,
squealing in my two-day-old
tight Rubenesque pinkness,
I was immortalized in a Brownie Box Camera,
the guys in the men's room
pissed themselves with a teary laughter.
On the third day of my fleshy ascension
a thin women said she was going to love me
for a little while only.
I took the deal.
So many days have fallen away now.
Sex saturated, love begotten, a damaged
dance of a life,
but there was always wine.
An old, white-beaded gent,
has bequeathed me two holy relics,
iconic images of Santa,
and Michealangelo's painted finger,
when I hold them up to the light
I can almost see through them.
Salvation in an App Store?
By Mark D. Stucky
Google Maps won’t work
for the way I feel lost.
Is there a salvation app
I can install on my phone
to download redemption today
and upload my soul when I die?
Since there are apps
for everything in life,
why not also an app
to access the afterlife?
Is there a spiritual map to the Pearly Gates in Heaven
that also includes a free ticket for effortless admission?
Can an app act as replacement
for tear-permeated repentance?
Can I install a cheap-grace app
without costly discipleship?
I don’t want to pick up a cross and follow Jesus.
I just want to pick up my phone and stream salvation.
I want Jesus joyous in my app.
I don’t want him hungry and thirsty.
I don’t want him sick and in prison.
I don’t want him naked and a stranger.
I don’t want hillside sermons on social justice.
I just want smiling faces and shining crosses.
I haven’t found salvation
in any app store so far.
If you find that elusive app,
will you please send me the link?
(First published in Soul-Lit, Summer 2023. See also my poems “Missing: God Incarnate,” “The Ascension (with Rewrites),” and “God’s on Mute.”)
(The image is a collage created by the author from multiple images.)