Long Atonement Poems
Long Atonement Poems. Below are the most popular long Atonement by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Atonement poems by poem length and keyword.
What do you do with pain
What do you do with illness
You either give in or live with it
Surgeries, medications, herbal remedies
Prayer faith and atonement
Everyone suffers
Everyone hurts
Life is precious and fleeting
Is it unfair for life to drag endlessly in youth
And race away so fast as adults when we could use it the most
No use crying
Just smile
Limp along and use whatever aid you need
A cane, a walker, a brace, a wheel chair
but get out there in the thick of life
If others feel uneasy because of you
Let them, for everyone of those
There are the blessed souls who'll open a door
and assist you, God Bless the good
Life seems unfair but everyone has loss
everyone has fears, everyone has doubt
You are not the only one
You haven't been single out
You are not being punished
It's part of life
So if you need to when at home
Go ahead
Scream, shout , rage. cry, let it out, let it go
But have something to look forward to
Have something to believe in
"In the beginning God created..."
Live with it.
Menace intends to mow
Ruthless slices stem renegades
Remnants flap erratic,
Resilience remains unafraid
Virtuous dispose overgrown
Scorn of manicurist imbalanced
Courage operates alone
Realisation spurred by challenge
City's mesh messiness
Accepts intended bedlam mosaic change
Faceted shadow corners glint
Light slides, vertical snake rearrange
Cult harbingers cut opposers
Whip and snip straight edges
Goaded by nurtured clones
Rebel dispels lectures
Scope stacks psyches intermingled
Hand clasp members hope
Allegiance tucks members beneath wing
Anonymous chase, utopia
2nd August 2020
Any Form, Any Topic
Brian Strand, sponsor
Sensing the atmosphere for omens.
Signs of impending, cusp and verge.
I ping and curl, scrape to drudge up-
internal program and hit send
and hope for good vibes return "not the end."
I have become a lightless diode.
A buzzing lamppost in the neighborhood
of victimhood and it's backstreet node.
A useless burnt out core in off mode.
A robot running over castles
premade in the sand.
I try to read between the lines,
decrypt the Oracles plans behind,
the fulfilling jinx it has in store foe me.
Stars aligned.
A telepathy mainlining, a pulse headlining freakshow.
Of kinetic belonging, or safety net I used to abide in
long ago.
When the world had justice and overseer
and endearment-
enthronement-thoughts of the faithful.
I long for the ether of a hint,
graft me in with your marrow, splint, in the know.
Don't leave me high and dry,
Alone and crooked, wicked bent.
Odious clouds and signature mounds.
Terra-blyte your foretelling,
Either a warning or a telling of blue skys color turning.
Ether, of any which way the wind blows in my mind.
A private message, rather stalking.,
as it stands a topography cone of cold stand.
Your best made plans, for me
for the tasting, cast of shadow.
forecast, menacing.
Bound to be set in stone, found rather mocking.
Injected in-guest-guessing an after the fact thing,
for me.
You read my fear as I fill
a prescription of
my self fulfilled prophecy,
rolling the bones
with fate's hands.
I hear there's power in the knuckles,
the joints, the suggestion of glands.
Just. Faint whispers,
whisking by
warning-arrows
with no flame-
no spark burning for me.
Just a whisker filament, fading to the darkest
sharade of gray, hit parades.
To shade my own guilty sense of judgment.
Of putting my trust in false things.
With their superficial gradient of monochrome;
night rainbows,
overlooking Styx river country home
aside a brick road leading all the way to Thunderdome.
My sonar/feeler brain finding it's way
in the dark like a worm in the dung.
In someone else's element.
With no taste for mental or spiritual atonement.
Or the taste of Hope's spark on my tongue.
I search my mind for a minuscule moment
It maybe one that I need atonement
Then I stretch it out as far as I can
to make up a poem that is "hopefully" not bland
I also may add some things that are not real
I am not really going to tell you how I feel
I am good at hiding my inner self
like dust on an old bookshelf.
So when I write about anger or sadness
it's mostly made up with complete drabness
Or maybe I am not being completely true
and my mood is actually blue
I do love the life that is before me
although I will say women do not adore me
So if you ever read my word
most likely they are just absurd.
On days like this
I wish I was an Aztec.
Give me Nextlahualli
As a noble death.
I’d gladly part with
My possessions, and
Give my body in sacrifice
To the benefit of the gods.
Yes, it’s the Flower War,
A good death.
You don’t believe in that?
You don’t revere the gods?
Blasphemy!
Better to cut your tongue
In half in atonement than
Say that aloud.
I lie in a drugged stupor
As they ready the flint knife
Which my priest will use
To cut out my heart.
I feel greatly honored
A Flower War death is
Much more noble than
Dying in battle.
From forever land I watch
My discarded body get
Flung down the temple’s steps.
There is satisfaction in knowing
I have saved my community,
And my viscera will feed
The animals in the zoo.
Religion trumps spirituality
Every time!
I wish I was an Aztec.
*Image of Family Focus by FOTF.
Soma Sonnet: Suicide Watch
The steaminess awkward away,
as summer writhe its day of me,
I risk a search that subs my plea,
lies atonement hopeful in play,
~~o save thy wretched soul.
Chains cross my path in front of me,
taxes wrongdoers pensive stalking,
post exhaustive heated walking,
a sign beach closed due to rough sea,
~~o save thy wretched soul.
A morning stalls a zenith Sun,
what life remains why do I hold,
ignored alerts are strong, be bold,
my worth value zero they've won,
~~o save thy wretched soul.
I launched drifting in seas control,
Art hast o save thy wretched soul.
2022 August 17: Created
Do others often ask themselves,
" Are there days without darkness...
when another storm shows fierceness?
Has hope dimmed for selfish reasons? "
And the living pay little attention to events,
although they grin and appear to be perplexed;
and they miss every sign of the crucial times:
how can they not be aware? That's so absurd!
Are there days without darkness?
The evil ones embrace dark ideals
to accomplish a task linked to death,
to control and suppress each breath!
Anybody who holds the absolute power,
shouldn't neglect the masses with needs;
money is squandered on wars that drives:
brother against brother, sister against sister!
Lost is the concept of fairness, of humanness;
they silence the one who's forced to rebels against
the iron hand from the throne of false atonement:
they have built a dungeon fit for raving lions!
Are there days without darkness,
with limpid skies of unfaded blueness?
Are the paved roads free of thistles:
where all are safe from vile threats?
Soul Sanctuary
Wandering through a moveable museum of memories columnar
Dusting off exhibits of moments held fast in watercolors gossamer
Milestones chiseled into fleeting moments of atonement,
Soft edges of first love painted in golden moments –
Brushing aside gauzy cobwebs on photo negatives confessions
Blushing with pastel transparency of opaque blended impressions
Images emerge into negative space awash with nude opinions
Perspective layered into hard edges from edgy palette dominions;
Meandering through silent salons shaded dusky murals in shadows of rose
Lending sienna tints and hues to luminosity’s prisms in afterglow;
A sacred place vibrating in clear cerulean hues –
Holy space of signed wax relics - a chancel of still life in blooms;
Drifting through galleries of jigsaw puzzled passages
Fantasies spattered in bold black and white sketched with color assuage;
Visions staring back unblinking at lost victories buried in the abstract
Untouched prints, tattooed in rust, restored –restoration intact;
Still furnishing this sacred place
With an ever expanding collection displayed
Fragments of umber magic captured – deckled grief fading –
Portraits of choice set in unforgettable, studies of raw strangled cries invading;
Browsing hand in hand with free form time -
Lost in mazes of archival, acid free, displays in fine lines;
Within twisted illustrations featureless faces hidden -
Born out of the gasping barren abyss of flat washes in rhythm;
Framed in this breathing womb tiny points of pigment wait
Nurtured! Protected! Nourished! Building up a portrait;
Unfinished infinite design revealing watermarks
Cherished by the eternal conservancy in soaring arcs;
And in the brush strokes of this secret sanctuary place
Abides the master plan of the divine intimate grace.
Version #2 of Sanctuary – 7-27-21
“JUST SAY YES!”
Evelyn Pearl Anderson
Imagine seeing the LORD God
seated high on His throne
and exalted with His garment
train filling the temple zone
Bright seraphs are seen flying above
with two wings while two more
wings cover the face and two more
cover the feet; they implored
“Holy, holy, holy is the
LORD Almighty; the whole earth
Is full of his glory”
As they called to one another
As Isaiah heard all of this, he
must have been greatly moved;
“the doorposts and thresholds shook and
the temple was filled with smoke”
Isaiah cried out, “Woe is me!
I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips
And I live among a people of unclean lips, and,
my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty”
Woe indeed! Then came a seraph
flying to Isaiah with tongs
carrying a live coal from the altar,
with it touching Isaiah’s lips
“See this has touched your lips,
your guilt is taken away
and your sin atoned for,” the seraph said.
Then Isaiah heard the LORD’s voice
“Whom shall send?
And who will go for Us?”
And I said,
“Here am I, Send me!”
Our encounter with the LORD God
May not be so colorful
Or so dramatic or musical; however,
God’s calling is just as meaningful
How wonderful to serve the LORD:
“Holy, holy, holy is the
LORD Almighty; the whole earth
Is full of His glory.” (Isaiah 6:1-8)
The one whose blood was poured out,
To finish the work of the father.
Knowing and foretelling of this day,
Better one died than the whole world.
An offering of atonement unblemished,
Not that we loved God, but God loved us.
In darkness of captivity was thou heart,
A stone of stumbling built by hands of man
Layer and layers of lies and deception.
Only to be rolled away by the promised
Inheritance of the Holy Spirit,
Receiving by believing not traditions.
Circumsizing the stony heart of flesh,
Born of a Spirit whose cornerstone
Was set apart from the hands of man.
Not written on the tablets of stone.
But written unto thou heart, mind and soul
A renewing of the existence of eternal.
A breath of life entering to be a dwelling.
Unto a new creation manifested
by the God of the Living.
On this valentines day
Just writing in hope and faith
That many hearts might entereth into light,
Love, comfort, joy and peace today and everyday fulfilling every empty void.
No longer to worry and trust of mankind
To make one feel loved but the Love of God who surpasses all understanding that we might receive this inexpressable love, joy and peace unto the salvation of the soul.