Long Beacon Poems
Long Beacon Poems. Below are the most popular long Beacon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Beacon poems by poem length and keyword.
She had an almost insane love of life,
Her attitude exuded abject fairness,
She was the abominably busy butcher’s wife,
Cancer treatments turned her suddenly quite hairless.
Her love of God and Savior was her guiding light.
No matter how she suffered, optimism shone through.
The secret storm she held inside, a secret plight.
Each day, a gift, she treasured gloriously anew.
As the world turned, day by day, the same for many,
She found happiness, and determinedly ignored the sad,
Bringing joy to those who would have suffered plenty,
If they had not seen her beacon of hope, realizing she was glad.
At her services, a reoccurring theme was her love of life,
Her love for her family, and her incessant offerings of hope.
The busy butcher, now not as busy, mourning his lovely wife,
In honor of her, smiled through his tears, daring not to mope.
He could feel her love for him, beaming down from heaven.
Glad he was, she was not still suffering from her secret storm,
A storm she hid from the rest of them, especially her son, Kevin,
Who crawled into bed with his daddy that night, so toasty warm.
Written 10-09-2018 Contest: Soap Opera Titles
Sponsor: Sian St. James
With each step forward, let your heart feel,
The pulse of the earth, the strength that is real,
For paths of mercy and grace lie ahead,
Where love guides the weary, where hope’s gently spread.
The mountains may tremble, the sea may roar,
Yet in His embrace, we have never known war,
He beckons us forth, through valleys and strife,
To find in each moment the beauty of life.
With every misstep and moment of doubt,
He shows us the way, and the truth comes about.
Let not your footsteps leave trails of despair,
For every soul’s burden is light we can share,
In the dance of existence, we’re never alone,
In walking His ways, we’ve found our true home.
Through valleys of shadow, He guides us all.
With patience like rivers and kindness like rain,
Walk in His ways, where love shall sustain.
When storms roar loud and doubts invade,
Let faith be your beacon, let mercy pervade.
Help me as i face daily attacks on my time,
Attention and energy. Empty my life of any lies
And false securities. I trust in your was as I walk in your
Ways. These are the words with in my dreams, he taught me
To say.
For the path that you tread is a story retold.
In the silence of prayer, find strength to be bold,
In the warmth of compassion, let hearts turn to gold.
Love hurts at the heart
So many have seen the way love hurts. Love is pain. The feelings that are twisted and bent, to shape the mind into what is believable. Love has no bounds, yet these frowns fall on tainted crowns. Hounds beacon the night air, deep within the grounds of insanity. Daring to venture on, when no one is there to sound the alarm. Share all these unyeilding feelings. Love hurts at the core of the heart. Failing to reach out, to the never ending ceiling. Peeling away all doubt, all pain that has fallen out of frame. Lost is that love, lost is that heart. Lost is me.
Darrius
11/23/2017
Alone, yet not completely alone, drifting in the labyrinth of my thoughts,
The tiny fingers of my soul reaching through the void,
Yearning for the solace of your guiding hand, a lighthouse in the stormy sea of my mind.
So I dash, swift as a shadow through the tangled woods,
Legs straining under the weight of dread, like Atlas bearing the heavens.
Each step, a Herculean struggle, each breath, a battle against unseen titans,
Bearing the enormity of relentless fears, ancient phantoms that haunt every move.
Every turn in this sylvan maze echoes with my yearning,
The once enchanting allure of nature now a distant memory, lost in the mists of time.
The once cheerful woods now wear a veil of melancholy,
Unveiling a strange and haunting portrait, as if painted by the ghosts of forgotten dreams.
As twilight's fingers gently caress the land,
An awareness of your restless quest rises like a whisper in the wind.
Your frantic search, a mirror of mine, reflecting our shared solitude,
Impelling me to embrace patience and calm, like a monk in silent meditation.
"Take courage," whispers the wind, an ancient and wise voice,
A beacon in the enveloping night, guiding me through the darkness.
Strength found in stillness, calm in chaos, like the eye of a storm,
A plea, a promise, a resilient resolve, echoing through the vast expanse of my soul.
In this mystical dance of shadows and light, I find a strange solace,
For though we wander lost and alone, our spirits are intertwined,
Bound by an invisible thread, woven from the essence of our deepest desires.
And in this shared journey, we find not just each other, but also a part of ourselves,
Lost and now found, in the endless labyrinth of our intertwined destinies.
“Who will not open a gift given with love? Life is a gift, own it, open it and treasure it.”
_ By Poet
God has breathed life into me, and I live.
To make this life as fruitful as I can, I shall strive.
Life is a blessing, a treasure to cherish
I should make it a celebration with every moment to relish
Though life is one of ups and downs with sorrows rife,
With perseverance, I shall try to overcome every strife.
Life is a precious gift we can never forsake.
It is a journey uphill, we must all undertake.
Though life is a roller coaster ride with twists and turns
There is so much in life, each one ardently yearns
Even amid struggles, one can savor the beauty of living
It lies in the art of forgiving and in the joy of giving
In learning new things, in aiming at new heights
In relishing new scenes and in savoring new delights
Every day I take a new step, a new chance,
To improve the quality of my life, its worth enhance.
With a beacon of warmth and a touch of grace,
We can light up lives and bring a smile on many a face.
I wish I could fulfill my purpose, to light up the dark
To make a difference in some lives and leave a mark.
As long as I live, I should see the power within,
To love, to learn, to grow, to strive and to win.
April.12.2023
Because I Live Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
Leave Christ In Christmas
By: Tom Wright
12-16-2005
A twinkling light of stardust shown
As our hope within the ebon night,
Pointing to a mangers precious stone
This star was much like a beacon light.
Wise men traveled both night and day
But mode made not their journey swift.
Arriving at the place the Christ child lay
They beheld the world’s best Christmas gift.
So this year during the Christmas season
Seek not for things designed to please us.
For Christmas is not without good reason
Have you given your loved ones Jesus?
To those who’d take Christ from this time
Through ad omissions and thoughtless acts.
Changing words without reason or rhyme
They Shape opinions and ignore the facts.
I want to hear your voice
Not by will but by choice
I seek your guidance
For on you alone is where
I place my reliance,
Alliance, radical defiance.
I want to hear your voice
Above all voices that ever pieced
My ear I seek your final word what
Is it your declare?
I wish to hear your voice
To calm the turmoil of inner
dialogue and rumination.
I want to hear your voice,
the divine melody that guides my footsteps
Your words are the calm to all storms
Protection from external devastation.
I want to hear your voice
A light house and beacon
among all dark forces that
may come against me.
I want to hear your voice, the gentle thunder
that awakens my soul from slumber,
I want to hear your voice calling me to purpose beyond the noise of this world.
I want to hear your voice, the sacred song that resonates
in the silence of my heart,
I want to hear your voice reminding me I am never alone,
That within your words I find my true home
The weary sailors were lost at sea,
Hoping to find a guiding light,
Wondering if they would survive this misery,
And escape their stormy plight;
But the mighty waves would not relent,
And roared like thunder through the night,
The ship was tossed with fierce intent,
The sea was showing them its might;
The wind was blowing against them,
And the sailors did not give up their fight,
But they forgot their captain was at the helm,
Who had noticed a beacon shining bright;
The lighthouse was but a speck in the storm,
While turbulent waves gave a sure fright,
Still, far, they could see an island form,
And to them, it was the most beautiful sight;
The captain whistled and steered the ship,
The sailors encouraged, held on tight,
Together, they did not let their vessel flip,
As they reached the island safe alright.
07/15/17
Thank you Joseph for the lovely chance you gave me to work with you on this poem, it was a great pleasure...
Fourth Floor of nowhere- had a back room where
I spent some secret time, in younger days;
a huge- yet empty space above the stair
that led me to a new-dimension phase.
Though built late eighteen-eighties, it was home
in nineteen forty-nine, when I turned ten.
The first three floors were free for me to roam-
yet, Fourth- proclaimed off-limits to me then.
But, late each night, I heard them from my room-
the sounds of women talking- whispering,
while scurrying of children's feet would loom
above my plaster ceiling, capering.
One day, come early dawn- I turned the knob
as all my family still soundly slept.
The room was bare- but how my heart did throb
as gentle, ghostly figures, past me, swept.
Years later- due to eminent domain
to build a bridge- they tore our home apart.
When I pass by, I hear them weep in pain;
Fourth Floor of nowhere- now dwells in my heart.
September 10, 2020
~4th Place~
Contest: The Fourth Floor Of Nowhere
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 09/21/2020
Note: The Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was completed
in November 1963, after New York State claimed our
home via eminent domain. Since I live very close by, I
constantly have to pass the site where my childhood
home stood.
My poem was too long so I had to wrote it in two separate parts.
In a quiet town where memories blend,
Lived a man named Mike, a cherished friend.
At fifty-nine, his journey took a new flight,
Into a realm of everlasting light.
A son, a branch upon the tree,
Of family roots, for all to see.
He carried on with strength and grace,
A loving son, leaving his trace.
Within life’s joys and its darkest of nights,
He stood by her, Heather, his loving wife.
Together, hand in hand, they faced every test,
For in each other, they found their best.
A brother’s bond, a precious art,
Forever, he will remain within their hearts.
With scraped knees and stormy nights,
He was their beacon, shining bright.
With gentle hands and a loving heart,
He guided his children from the very start.
He was their hero, always on their side,
He taught them to speak, to walk, and to ride.
With open arms and a playful grin,
An uncle's love would always win.
He’d offer a coin with a teasing grace,
For a niece’s kiss upon his face.
Then came the day, a precious sight,
His heart swelled with love and light.
With open arms and a loving heart,
He played his special papa part.
A friend to many tried and true,
He shared a bond with so many of you.
With his “tough love” ways, he stood his ground,
If you ever needed him, he could always be found.
For the Toronto Maple Leafs, oh, how he’d cheer,
In front of the TV, with an ice-cold beer.
Each goal he’d celebrate, each save he’d praise,
Through wins and losses, his loyalty would stay.
He skated strong, with sticks and dreams,
A loyal player of the Dresden Minor hockey team.
OMHA titles three times, he claimed,
His name is forever printed in Dresden’s Sports Hall of Fame.