Long Astrologers Poems
Long Astrologers Poems. Below are the most popular long Astrologers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Astrologers poems by poem length and keyword.
Humanity
The pagan pilgrimage, sun-worshippers frequently make
Latter-day phenomenon, take off on a Bronze Age break
Constellations change position, solstices realign
Tropic of Capricorn peaks, Cancer starts its slow decline
Astrologers reassure us, the end is not bespoke
Astronomers can’t sleep, has a supernova awoke?
Healthy cells deconstruct inexorably from their core
Runaway chain reactions, laying waste forever more
Be that as it must, cosmic cataclysms generate thrust
Comets are slightly nudged, on a collision course with us?
Ancients believed them omens, wraiths of impending slaughter
Those billion ton tailed curveballs, catalysed Earth with water
Modern man searches for answers, drowning in misnomers
Melding PhD honours, with chatbot E-diplomas
Teleporting entangled particles, throws back a hack
Time travelling marvel, rewinds the real Bronze Age back?
Absurdness seems lame, yet concomitantly germane
Hawking conserved energy, by merely using his brain
Newton had a bachelors, kept him celibate stable
He’d balls of steel for sure, alas no bearings on that cradle?
Information cannot be destroyed, only zeitgeists can
Synthesised is truth, in the malleable hands of man
Life’s more delicate, gravitas hidden behind a smile
Like tales that flightless birds, buried heads in denial
Ostriches evolved kick-ass legs, and win the biped race
They dig shallow pits in sand, not complex black holes in space
One squawked this revelation before zooming off to die:
“Humankind’s the sole species, with good reason to ask why”?
The astrologers have set a date
for an unique celestial phenomena;
why would the translucent Luna
turn ginger and then deep red?
Back in January it resembled a huge orange balloon,
its size was awesome to view;
it stood there to entertain a goon
whose sad mood turned into
the happiest song he ever sung...
and although the air was nippy, he strolled along!
Bloody moon of April, appear before I go to rest
and linger until the robins start warbling in their nest;
who wouldn't think of passion and envision dreams
that change with the seasons like your moonbeams?
Bloody moon of April, hang in that breezy, starless sky:
isn't this my last opportunity to marvel at you before I die?
Literary awards honor the prolific writers of any age,
and the ones who make the Best Seller's list:
large sums of money will precede fame;
congratulations to the few who make it!
How will I be received for prognosticating like astrologers?
And will these poems still excite and consume my readers?
You've been fascinated by the poetic words,
I invented and the images I created in my narration
and you might have doubted if all had been real;
nothing I withheld from you...my faithful ones,
and my only purpose was to reveal everything,
and through confession, I became that profound revelation...
And although my work remains in doubt,
you can learn much from its prospective:
as the harsh realities I foster without a treat;
no word is ever foul and it doesn't lack precept:
others use vulgarity and obscenity to make their point,
I use empathy and morality to execute them...
Support and encourage me with your delightful comments,
because of one my truest desires is to please your senses;
making you aware of my felicity, strength and confidence,
not preventing anything from being written and divulged!
Competitive thoughts I will not breed, they will not toss my head;
I wish good fortune to all and a life-long success...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Most rigorous astrology can hardly divine
Why flamy galactic orbs often burning fall;
Or the calm pull behind shiniest meteorites'
Hurtling lower from their neat nestlings tall.
I own that apt eyes as of the lauded Magi may
From starry ciphers tap signs of a coming day;
Yet no tiny mass among the fiery marvels high,
Can answer when first they graced the idle sky.
While I'd rate their near-syzygies tolerably rare,
I know ethereal balls as bereft of all oral strain.
All sheen but full non-awareness of birth-date,
Ought to render these speechless vapors vain.
What telescoped forms of dumb orbitings mute
Might imbue with insight in placid images cute
Any salient squinter into thick lens herebelow,
Where tiptop harps and strung wonders bore?
Astrologers and their crafty stars will sweat to tell,
Where and when their augury-warped instincts fell.
The Year 2016 is swiftly taking off,
blasting fireworks weave superb designs;
the Year 2015 was without Smirnoff,
but what are the changes Man promises?
My simple answer may shock you: finding God
and asking Him for biblical wisdom
is the solution to our problems not yet resolved;
He is the cure of this social symptom!
Election's fever is sweeping throughout the Country,
competition is a race of mockery and insults;
all they talk about is changing our society...
what is missing? Who delves deeper in their thoughts?
If I alienate myself and hide in my safe den,
I can only protect myself from the gunfire of mad men
who pledge allegiance with a compulsive mind;
doesn't a true and loving God hate violence of any kind?
There is no other god before me, before others there is Satan;
I only pray to the One who gathers clouds and makes rain fall,
heeding the predictions of astrologers can stir much concern...
nothing is far from the truth: they see those signs on every wall!
The Year 2015 should be marked, " A Big Failure " on every calendar as a year
of spiritual and material needs, also of dangers and catastrophes;
we can have a great resolution for ourselves by drawing new plans...
when all is peaceful and very calm, we may lose all to an unpredictable disaster!
Born in a nebulae, a spiders web of gas,
coloured by temperature, weighted by mass.
Nuclear fusion keeps them shining bright
just like on that first day when God created night.
So they don’t burn us He cast them way up high
to illuminate our world He lit up the sky.
The coldest stars are red, the hottest are blue
our star is orange to sustain me and you.
A gazillion balls of light, Arcadian fire,
or could they be the angels of Gods holy choir?
Fifteen million degrees keeps them alight
no wonder the poor shepherds fell down in fright,
their signs in the heavens are celestially awed
witness to life through a child still adored.
Astrologers use them to predict our days
while Astronomers study their galactic ways.
A billion years trip past, the mere blink of an eye,
their cores rapidly depleting our stars start to die.
Expanding shells that twist and morph
snuff out the light as they turn black dwarf,
as a swan song gesture, it’s almost over;
in a brilliant flash they turn supernova,
a nebulous cloud of gas is then formed;
the birthing place where stars are spawned.
I ask for nothing,
just relying on Providence;
surprisingly I will experience
an enriching event
that fate has sent...
does anybody wonder why I sing?
I age, and furthermore I feel younger;
wrinkles appear to attest their reminder
that my troubles are of another sort,
and despite more unpleasant occurrences confirming my tort:
these upheavals are raging storms that will soon pass,
and this phase is the ultimate test!
Destiny, unfold this enriching event,
and usher in an age of contentment;
the vitality of these years don't reflect fragility:
resolute and strong, hopeful and diligent...
I can face any hurdle and defy tragedy,
and the hardest challenge is finding trust!
An enriching event was predicted in my natal chart
and astrologers are putting much effort in their research,
to assure me that a better tomorrow is coming;
and should I place my total trust in them,
and catch a rare glimpse and be content...
but Who has given me a last chance at living?
I could never be guided by the unpredictable stars,
what I am amazed about them: is their mysterious glimmer,
but fortune and wealth is the damnation of the sinner,
of that one cursing God for all the plagues and sorrows
inflicted upon them...to punish them for all that was taken without honor
and appreciation; and wouldn't they envy the one opening the golden door?
My harvest is finally ripe, and spacious fields offer their abundant fruits,
every bird has a more sonorous song to make me feel vibrantly alive:
o larks and nightingales, let your joyful ode reach the Heavens above!
My blessings have been too numerous to be counted and this joy exalts
Him with a gratefulness that is equal to every breath I inhale and exhale;
when peace blends with silence: a realistic Heaven is an enriching event!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The greatest tent with its sparkling light,
the ultimate show of all tonight.
Bears, Scorpions, Bulls, Lions and Crab,
are some of the creatures on the twinkling map.
Aquarians, Librans and Gemini in the air,
while Sagittarians shoot those arrows fair.
Wandering giants of Saturn and Jupiter so slow,
taking eons to proof that determined grow.
Glittering Venus pasturing with a gentle whip,
keeping marsion wild beasts on narrow bolder wit.
Simulated danger in the Lions toothless mouth,
rolling drums get the senses aroused.
The funny distraction from Mercury’s to and fro,
laughter from a drama slapstick show.
Mysterious shadows turn to acrobatic skills,
when luminous hand and feet the darkness fills.
The trapeze of turning light in swing,
flying glittering Asteroids holding the ring.
Delphinus and Heraclites dancing the waltz of time,
juggling and balancing another new Moon frame.
Thousand astrologers as master of ceremony,
hailing the act of bend and change in that century.
When all planets cue up a conjunction,
centrifugal gravity by Carousel labor love function.
If then you heart is filled by some magic troubadour,
dreaming the ‘Gypsy’ in the ropes is the part for sure.
Falling back through the abyss of a huge astrolabe,
in speed of light a timeless flied takes shape.
A chariot with 7 horses is the conjunction of the soul,
virtual reflections inviting, from my face washing bowl.
I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”
Job 3:26 NIV
The way of peace they do not know; there is no justice in their paths. They have turned them into crooked roads; no one who walks along them will know peace.
Isaiah 59:8 NIV
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33 NIV
“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.
Matthew 10:34 NIV
Lord, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us.
Isaiah 26:12 NIV
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13 NIV
Indeed ,this world is in turmoil
So, many corrupt paths and roads
Leaving one exhausted from chaos
Waves that would cause a boat to sink
Winds that would blow it sails to tip over
Many astrologers and meteorologist
That could try and tell one the exact
Day that one could sail for calmness
Oh wait a minute this was not in the forecast
Out of no where the waves and winds
Still come out to cause chaos
There is One which has given
One a way to find peace and rest
To bring a calmness not while just out at sea
But in knowing this road leads to Him
For a separation of the old self or worldly things
By the Holy Spirit guiding and molding.
Within, giving a new understanding
That one has nothing to fear
If we could be in the spirit
All are united as family
The waves and winds come but get rejected
Not of own works
But by faith and the will of Christ
To leave one out on a calm sea
Watching the beauty of God's creation
Unfold daily in His presence
Dear commissar wherever you are? There's never been times I've felt so far
That this place is like the deadest star, no orbit or purpose apart from travel
Will it go supernova? which way will it unravel.? Perhaps galactic ice will
Overtake? From the lagoon of despair, in massive lake's to then become a sea
Of doom? Reflecting many itinerant moons; just hurtling round the net in a loop
With a never-ending dismal group, of astrologers; to chart it's demise
Through ever more forbidding astral skies, oh commissar; oh commissar'
Can't you change direction? It's not too far.' Just a million light years away'
Where a Sun is shining, where inspiration can blossom near and far.
Yet maybe there is no commissar? No commissar.. Or book of rules.'
Adhered to by..Well by no doubt gilded fools' surely though there must some be?
In consonants prison, just you mark me' adrift on that silly bubbles sea
Why do they venture? Before anyone interupts ) I'm asking me.!
There's the tide the moon runs, and the tide of emotion for someone.)
Bad tidings ever fleet; at any hour, the tidings of joy bestowing power,
A tide of mice, or'tops the land, by two times thrice no harvest stands
There is also a consumer tide, in which we wallow, and take much pride'
We'd changed for deisel, propane gas now electric, 10 billion cars to scrap effective?
Then there will be even more to make, ever to build' always to be take.'
There's much aversion to any red pill, just pop those blues.' Keep them coming
You can be a wireless object with what's a' humming it's going fast if it hits you'll never know'
What mask to wear on the radio, no matter that your face isn't seen its all about the
Image; yet I'm not that keen' and like why are we all so lost in this smog from such dirty Green.'