Long Before Poems
Long Before Poems. Below are the most popular long Before by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Before poems by poem length and keyword.
When it comes down to it,
The only thing that matters in this life
Is the love, loving Jesus Christ
When you think of what is essential,
The most important thing…
It is the love of Jesus, the One who died on that tree.
The Savior, the Maker, the King
When it comes to what’s important,
The most blessed and amazing,
It is the love of Jesus, the One who died to keep…
Every heart and soul who believes,
Assured of life that is everlasting peace,
Eternity with the One whom we seek…
Before we even know what we need
Before we even know how to believe
Before we even know this King of Kings
When it comes to what life is all about
It’s about a love that freed,
A love that saves from the darkest doom
A love that arose to prove….
God is greater than any grave or concern
God is greater than any grief or gloom
God is greater than any doubt can consume
When it comes down to it…
Life is about finding the truth
And the truth is a man named Jesus
The One who is living proof…
That God loves us more than we know
He loves us beyond what we hope
He loves us so we feel the sweet flow…
Of a love that is beyond all control,
A love that is life’s greatest need
Love that is Jesus’ planted seed…
He is love and because He loved, He freed
So we no longer need to be afraid
He’s the light that reflects God’s amazing grace
He’s the One who paid the price
He’s God’s Son, the greatest sacrifice
Jesus is a living King
And because He lives
My soul will always sing
On and on I sing… to my Savior I’ll cling!
Mama Earth I beckon unto you,not to turn your back on me ,I am your weary child but I am
still smiling. In the morning I want to go to your beautiful garden ,where the breeze is
light and the sun shines through the trees softly glistening, Mother are you listening? I
want to Tarry while birds still sing, after the torrent rain; And mother ask Father Sky
to forgive us here. In your garden I do grow... you have woven me a garment anew. I
deliberate in your garden: Where the Eagles rest and the Robins nest; As I put on my
garment of dew...I want to tarry for awhile in your garden, in my garment so befitting.. I
love you Mother, before and after the torrent rain; Then suddenly my heart runs rapid: I
hear Father Sky's loud thunder,ask him to forgive us for the plunder! I look up to see my
brother the Moon; My Ancestors are the stars. So I tarry in your Garden Mother saturated
in your wet kiss,The only sacred place for me; I am fulfilled in your perfect Bliss .
End Poem
*Theresa's Quote:**
"To the black hairstylist: Again, I will say that you are a blessing to these women and a blessing to this hair. Black hair is a heaven-sent gift that helps black women keep their heads held high in public."
I prefer the black wig B1; it suits my complexion and looks convincing.
This is about her internship in Washington, D.C. During her college years, her health fluctuated. She spent two weeks traveling from Maryland to the city, all while searching for a place to park her car.
Before boarding a train to Washington, she majored in political science. Some stories are best left untold, but not this one. It eagerly reveals itself through my poetic sense of humor. Poetry writing is not only about rhythm and rhyme; it can serve as a voice of reason, a therapy session, and a means of soul-searching as our fingers work their magic.
A Black woman’s hair is often viewed as off-limits to outsiders. Her numerous wigs are her crown and glory. Her extensions tightly squeeze her natural hair, which she ignores for the sake of beauty. Even with a low-paying job, she carries herself with grace. Even if it means using the same wig repeatedly, she secures the B1 bob cut with bobby pins.
On that Friday afternoon, her school credits were on her mind. Her career path and every little thing weighed heavily on her thoughts. Even her romantic life took a backseat. As she headed toward her car in the parking lot, she searched for her keys in her bag, thinking of ways to beat the bumper-to-bumper traffic back in Maryland.
As she opened her car door, she noticed a well-dressed man in the adjacent car watching her. He looked attractive, and her instincts kicked in. Was he checking her out or being creepy? She offered him a faint smile.
Just as she was about to get in, her bobbed wig fell to the ground, exposing her messy natural hair. Embarrassed, she quickly picked it up and closed her door, silently asking herself, "What just happened? Why did my wig let me down?" Second chances seldom come along.
Form:
Like heavy boots on empty streets
His harsh words rang in my ears.
Never has he been so very rude
Why did he my heart pierce?
The whole night I lay sleepless.
How much of tears I had shed.
Felt as if suddenly thrown on a desolate isle
With pain, my face was swollen and red.
Next morning seeing my puffed up face,
He asked so very concerned,
‘Did you have your usual migraine?
You look so tired and churned'
He seems to have forgotten all that he said
Gently applying balm on my forehead
In a tone of assurance, he said, "Don't worry
In no time all your pain will be fled"
Know, our tongue has the power to heal or mar.
Use it never as a sharp knife to tear.
So, check out each word before you utter.
Your words should always be words of love and care!
SLAPPY THE APPLE TREE OF OZ - WIZ
Dorothy and I go way back, don’t you know
and by the way I’m familiar with the bale of hay,
thundering tin can and the trembling kitty show.
At first they were hesitant to let me stay.
I had to pull my roots up from the ground,
put a cafeteria net in place to hold its yield,
then follow the yellow brick crowd ‘round and ‘round
and avoid a screaming witch out in the field.
She threatened to tear me limb from limb.
I stuck out my red tongue, told her to just try.
The knees of tin clattered together - poor him,
and dear Dorothy and her little dog let out a sigh.
I fell asleep standing in the poppy garden of snow.
My apples were nearly poisoned but I shielded them
before my eyes closed. Thankful for Glinda’s glow —
awakening even the brave one with his absent brain stem.
The growling yawn of the cowardly furball freaked me out.
I shook the diamondback crystals from my leaves and trunk.
Our Kansas girl led the way to Oz with a tree-mendous shout.
For the millionth time we grab arms and sing - this time in funk.
We reach the wonderfully luscious land of oz - green as my hair.
Begging audience of the wizard, he finally sees us.
I’m patient as he listens to the beggarly needs — a lion’s share.
I won’t bring myself down to their level - make a great fuss.
The wizard listens to this wizened curmudgeon tree.
I ask him for unending sweet apples without any worms.
And as he has done with the rusty-eyed gang, he makes a decree,
for he must give a long winded speech and make us squirm.
The only drawback is I must stand guard in this breezy courtyard —
a lookout for writings on the skywall that might jeopardize our lives.
Still, I am the crowned jewel, so humble, in this emerald vanguard.
We sang and danced our way down the yellow brick and survived.
10/29/2018
Off To See The Wizard Poetry Contest
Charles Messina - Sponsor
In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy gets slapped by an apple tree. This is where I came up with his name :)
Addicted to modern technology you say?
Nah, I could live without my Mac
Well, at least for maybe an hour or so
Before a withdrawal attack
First thing in the morning you'll find me here
Surfing and learning new things
Opening up and exploring new horizons
An amazing experience it brings
Text books and encyclopedias used to do it
The source for all my new learning
Today they've become much less important
The tide is definitely turning
Farewell to novels you held in your hand
Sadly they're becoming obsolete
No more sitting and reading by the seaside
With waves lapping at your feet
So say goodbye to how life used to be
Must adapt or get lost in the shuffle
Open your computer and start surfing away
Or wind up in a new age kerfuffle!
© Jack Ellison 2012
I laughed at Noah and his family as they built their ark.
I made fun of them until they were ready to embark.
But now the rain is really coming down.
Noah is safe and I am going to drown.
The water is getting higher and higher, it's already above my knees.
Because of ignorance and arrogance, everybody will die, including me.
Noah did right in the eyes of God and survival will be his reward.
But I'm doomed because I didn't do right in the eyes of The Lord.
Everybody is panicking because we are all terrified.
This fate could've been avoided, that can't be denied.
People chose to lie, cheat, plunder and kill.
I will lose my family because of this ordeal.
I could've been a better person but I didn't even try.
I'm hugging my family one last time before we die.
People were consumed by selfishness, greed and arrogance and it's a shame.
As we perish, we can't be angry at God because we only have ourselves to blame.
Im talking with nobody listening, see,
front line walking just like a refugee
sentimental, old friend says I'm out of touch
so hard to be gentle when handling the softer stuff
you've seen this face before, You remember the name
in mass-production I, I'm plenty of the same
much more than y'bargained for, now, don't lose your cool in the rush
stripped down n' ribbon bound on arrival the petals are crushed
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, too close to be cut loose
down under the waterline, down in the thick of it
I surrender one last time, although, truly sick of it
my nightmare scenario, yeah, my indiff'rence killer
after I hopping over bedpans go to find him in the mirror
only I and I alone must throw myself to the wire
as you sit on a distant throne, too green for the fire
what will it amount to, in the case that it does not combust
I could do without you only missing the sense of enough
more than a brother, too dear to bid adieu
another armchair moralist, the word is not the truth
another armchair moralist, he's dear to me,
too close to be,
expensively... cut loose
IT’S GOTTA BE YOU/ Lyric
WHO ELSE COULD IT BE, YEAH/
IT’S GOTTA BE YOU/
DEEP IN THE GROOVE, WHAT IT BE WELL/
I WAS INTO COOL BEFORE IT WAS HIP TO BE COOL/
I WOULD LISTEN TO MILES WHEN I WAS READING ZEN/
I DUG THE BEAT POETS, MAN, MAN TO NO END/
HEY BRO, WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND? YOU BE THINKIN’ IN 5/4 TIME…/
WHAT’S IT ALL ABOUT?
COOKIN’ WITH PHILLY JOE JONES/
THERE AIN’T NO DOUBT…/
HEY BABY, WHATCHA SAY YOU BE DIGGIN’ ON ANITA O’ DAY/
ORGAN SOLO/ IN AFTER SOLO
IT’S GOTTA BE YOU/
WHO ELSE COULD DIG THIS JAZZ SCENE/
IT’S GOTTA BE YOU/
DEEP IN THE GROOVE WITH BOOKER T/
IS THAT YOU WITH SHIRLEY SCOTT AND HAROLD VICK/
SPOKEN:
HEY MAN, IS THAT YOU
IT’s Gotta Be You/HIpSpoken Word
AIN’T NO PAST, JUST NOW AND INTO THE FUTURE/ REACH FOR IT, THIS MOMENT/ THIS RIFF/ THIS BREATH/ JAZZ AIN’T SOMETHIN YOU JUST DIG TO LISTEN TO/ MAN, GRAB YOUR HORN AND FEEL JAZZ/LIVE IT/BLOW NOTES ON YOUR TENOR/GO ON MAN/IMPROVISE, TAKE A CHANCE TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE FOREVER/
FALL ON YOUR FACE/GET BACK UP AND DIG SOMETHIN NEW/OPEN UP/STREACH OUT/PLAY ON YOUR HORN AND COME UP WITH A NEW SOUND AND INTO A NEW WAY OF THINKING BOUT YOU AND JAZZ/ FORGET ABOUT COMFORTABLE ON YOUR HORN/COMFORTABLE KILLED MORE JAZZ MUSICIANS THAN HEROIN/ KEEP REACHING KEEP FEELIN' FOR THE HIGH TIMES IN YOUR PLAYIN’/YEAH… DIG IT
Where have I gone? Where is my consciousness?
Why does deep dark engulf me like the night?
Why does all seem like nightly nothingness?
Why feel as though I fell from mountain height?
The numb, blank mind; the thought of thoughtlessness—
My brain is blank, like an empty slate.
Pure lawlessness brings total awfulness:
Lost souls are dumped in abstract turns of fate.
Lethe, dark queen, come take a hold of me;
Dipped deep into the rivers of Hades,
No living, breathing creatures can I see.
Am I thrown deep into Euphrates?
Did I survive the fall and cross the shore,
Or was I never even born before?