Long Bidden Poems
Long Bidden Poems. Below are the most popular long Bidden by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bidden poems by poem length and keyword.
??Isaiah 5:1-8 KJVAAE??
[1] Now will I sing to my well-beloved a song of my beloved touching his vineyard. My well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill: [2] and he fenced it, and gathered out the stones thereof, and planted it with the choicest vine, and built a tower in the midst of it, and also made a winepress therein: and he looked that it should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes. [3] And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem, and men of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and my vineyard. [4] What could have been done more to my vineyard, that I have not done in it? Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes? [5] And now go to; I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard: I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up; and break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down: [6] and I will lay it waste: it shall not be pruned, nor digged; but there shall come up briers and thorns: I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it. [7] For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant: and he looked for judgment, but behold oppression; for righteousness, but behold a cry. [8] Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth!
??Matthew 22:2-8 KJVAAE??
[2] The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son, [3] and sent forth his servants to call them that were bidden to the wedding: and they would not come. [4] Again, he sent forth other servants, saying, Tell them which are bidden, Behold, I have prepared my dinner: my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come unto the marriage. [5] But they made light of it, and went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchandise: [6] and the remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them. [7] But when the king heard thereof, he was wroth: and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city. [8] Then saith he to his servants, The wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy.
[14] For many are called, but few are chosen.
My dear Bride,
Much energy and talk go into today's relationships. And much anticipation fuels tomorrow's relationships.
But when have you heard it said, "We HAVE Yesterday?" O, I don't mean the popular love songs, but our own sweet music produced by you and me on the foundation and platform of love.
In the course of marital longevity, an extensive history slowly unfolds
that will show and tell those tales of old that have been waiting to be told. But life goes forward so rapidly as the present zaps us with 'Many Must Do's'.
Before we can answer 'present to the roll call', the bell tolls, flowing into tomorrow. We are preoccupied with today and tomorrow with very little time
for 'Yesterday'. But make no mistake, 'Yesterday will never go away' because a history text is written to which we will someday be bidden and others of us
will be smitten by the scroll.
It's a long trail about a love tale, a saga of beauty created in an age of duty. It's the history of our start, our story that we built with our own two hearts and heads. It's the romantic stage that we strutted upon to play our role, writing our story to be forever told.
May we embrace the memories, so neatly arranged and never to be changed, of the first time we met. Let's reflect upon that lump in the throat and chill in our spines, our walks along the way, the phone calls each day, the love letters, the honeymoon we wished had lasted a lifetime, the days that were never too early and the nights that never grew late, even past midnight.
And we need never worry about tomorrow that will wait for us as we treasure our 'forever love' in both the now and those history-making yesterdays.
01222019PoSoupContest, 2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 18, Mark Tony
Winnipeg
Every day you drive down my street, through my neighborhood, anticipating the day we'll infinitely meet
I tried to ignore the feelings I've felt since the moment I walked into your convenient store but it ever holds the creative precipice of something more
You stood less than a foot away while I unconsciously held my nervous breath
You were holding yours too
If only we knew
But now we do
The truth isn't always true
Nor is it free for you or me
The wind blew
Scholastics were very few
Punished for an era that never grew
Her encyclopedias aren't new
Faux dictionaries are the fiction of the past in belated mantras that had to last
Even the fire burns out before it realizes why it was lit
The fireplace watches faithfully as grandpa snores & grandma knits
Mom & dad don't babysit when their tireless infants throw a raging fit, left to wonder where they misplaced a generations first aid kit
Burned their fingers when they forget the oven mitt
We've been there
We've done that
Old news is tucked neatly into older hats
Bootlegs
Winnipeg
Old age is something you earn for the sake of the wisdom you asked to learn
Flowers and trees
Bushes and leaves
The oldest trick in forbidden words still suffers the plot it deceives
Forgotten?
Never
Hidden?
As rightfully as its bidden
Good ole darling ridden
You see the warrior emerging from shame
You see the fighter with nothing left to blame
I still don't even know your last name
But I thank God for you every day because this isn't some highschool football game
There are no players
No more cheerleaders to haunt the jocks in old dressing rooms across the parking lot
They found his body on the rocks bound to a body bag stitched up with old rags, tied with dog tags because some still remember the night they were shot for every secret they carelessly forgot
Pierce her scarlet letter with new fangled knots until she morphs into something better
Take your orders
Draw the margin around the recycle bin's borders
You know exactly what it takes to win
Your folly may never be another man's sin
Dolphins eyelashes seduce that grin from fin to friendly fin
My love, please let me in
© Sarah Herring
“Deep, deep, deep. Listen and hear our faint gait.
Sanitation, fluorescent lights, and a PC pillow for smother.
Agree! Agree! Atone! Suck it in and suff-o-cate.
White-ness. Black. Ev’ry creed, faith, and color. Listen to Nanny State and call her your mother.”
A wilting flower and grass that’s mowed
Are ever learning why the wilt and why the harm
Innovation, creativity, and where Americana once flowed
Abandoned by the Deep as “fly over” and robbed and made empty the house and the farm
Nude, nude hush in the cellar and the hand can’t hold the gavel
“Trade with China, take arms to China. In Syria sustain the war.
Rude, rude, rude! Abuse of power and a ban on travel.”
Rightful tariffs to the farmers and the market still tends to soar
“Bully the one we call a bully or brute.
A triggered, flying milkshake will save a safe space.
‘You get out and make a crowd!’ You fight! You punch! -- You loot!
And if you see his son about, spit in his face and invade the place.”
Knowledge of good and evil, and the tree from which it sprang
Covet, covet, corrupt in Kiev; greed was found a-Bidden
An Arkansas mansion mem’ry and sight on the oval did haunt and did pang
An outsider, and drainage of septic forbidden
“The farmers don’t want handouts or charity.”
But past year’s labor sets this year’s price
And The Salt of the Earth today will have clarity
The cream off the barrel of tariffs is their due, and the tycoon’s not calling it “nice”
“I’ll still call you a hater. You deplorable vulture!
Because the map in November robbed us our due!”
It’s not 'the other' we hate; it’s your stainless-steal culture
You polled the what, -- (here a hint and a Midwestern clue)
you owned the what, but Deep, my dear, you forgot about us and left sour the Who.
Warm, warm, yellow warm incandescent nourishes
Blue, blue, sterile, starving, hopeless erie --essence
Nanny off the hitch and hands uncuffed --a dirt road gives and flourishes
With the death of equity and the light of equality. And the tapestry shall dawn irid--escence
The long bulb dies along the edges and fringes
Clinical, global culture to the bin
The gate has fallen off its rusted hinges
And the incandescent will win.
You ask me why you need God, yes God with G capitalized
Whose only begotten Son’s precious life was sacrificed
I will tell you in simple words, not with that of the erudite
But those that come from my heart, and from the Book of Light.
I will start with a question, much like the one you posed
For in this way we each would know, it is truth I depose
Does a man need air to breathe? Does he need it to survive?
In the same way we need air, we need God in our lives.
You may say a man would die, without air instantaneously
Yet you have been fine all these years, thinks at God occasionally
Why are you then still alive, while His Son had to suffer and die?
But you forget Christ rose again, the third day, that’s no lie.
On man surviving without God, is rich and even popular
We cannot compare earthly time, with that of time eternal
What is man’s time on earth, but a hairbreadth, a tick
When he dies his soul’s destined, to a forever place he’s picked.
A masterpiece, a product, the maker has conceptualized
Comes with operating manual, functions fully harmonized
When that product is therefore used, without following instruction
It will cause a side effect, a malfunction or destruction.
Much like that of man therefore, though free will he was given
Created in God’s own image, to serve a purpose he's bidden
The design for which he was formed, because his heart is marked
An inner craving for higher being, for peace of mind he’d hark.
I may still go on and on, yet convince you I can’t be sure
I can only hope I have stirred, questions on eternal future
For I am sure you have heard of them, when staring death to its eyes
Those in God have peaceful smile, those who don’t sheer terror lies.
Let me end therefore with verse, His Word from the greatest Book
“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb”, take a look
At how much God loves you, He knew you before you were born
He’s waiting, open your heart to Him, His grace is new every morn.
Note: Quoted verse - Jeremiah 1:5a
Tell Me - Poetry Contest - 2nd Place
Sponsor : Richard Lamoureux
30 March 2015
Unsung Children
Somewhere deep inside you
Behind the patches and the plasters
Of your broken heart
Somewhere in the shadows
Lays the summer of your soul
As timid as a naked flower
Before revealing the splendour of her petals
To the world
Somewhere running under the rivers of your veins
With the same fragile courage of porcelain
Your tenderness is stronger
Than any army’s rage
And I wish I could take you
Hand held out into the sun
Show you how the cracks and scars
Will be your deliverance
Turn those solemn sorrows faded burdens
Into the breaking clouds of blessed rain
Washes away the ugly stain
Till you see yourself again
Somewhere in the soil and earth of being one
The rooted light and love patiently wait upon
Waiting for the moment
When you burst out from behind the grey
To stand your own salute to the overcome
And I wish I could discover
The realisation of who you are
The exponential trigger
Which would shoot you out to your freedom
With the truth in the splendour of your sacred flower
Leaving you amazed and unafraid
In the libation of your own illumination
To see
All which you couldn’t believe
And which disbelief has bidden
All which you were forced to disbelieve
And which believing has so hidden
Behind the plasters and the patches
Of your broken heart
I know that I am unable
To wipe away the anguish and your pain
But if I could for just one moment
Ask you look into this mirror
For you to see yourself
Once again
You would see the salt in your tears
Are the shinning diamonds
Of your heart
In the unsung forgiveness
And the sacrifices
You have made
“ Wake up my precious loves
“ Slowly steady the nightmare shall recede
“ See
“ With me
“ My precious loves
“ How wonderful
“ You really are
Dedicated to all my friends and my unknown companions
Who as children suffered abuse in any form
It is our lot, to be the un-understood
The cold ignored and the lost forgotten
And an embarrassment to moralities fickle truth
We do, however, have each other
“ X ” Col
The 8th of September twenty twenty two
A day of sad news is brought to you
London Bridge has fallen this was said
At eighteen thirty two Queen Elizabeth II is dead
Her Royal Highness reigned for seventy years
Her subjects she'd blood, sweat and tears
The longest reigning monarch to ever have served
Mourning across the world will be observed
A Queen, a monarch and a mother of four
The only Queen to do your bit during the war
A granny of 8 and gan gan of 12
Being a great monarch you did delve
Born Elizabeth Alexandra Mary in April 26
To Prince Albert who became George VI
No-one knew you would become Queen
The first decade of life being pristine
In 1936 uncle Edward abdicated the crown
Your whole world just turned upside down
Your first radio broadcast at the age of 14
"God will care for us and give us victory"
Your first inspection of troops in 1942
Pragmatic and kind but that's what you do
In 1945 you did your bit for the war effort
Joining the ATS as a mechanic and driving expert
In 47 you married your childhood sweetheart
Very seldom was it you were ever apart
Your true resilience again was shown
As you collected fabric coupons for your gown
In 1948 your first son charles was born
Then came Anne whom I've met on the lawn
Ten year later Andrew did come
Two years later Edward your youngest son
In February 52 your father did pass
You became Queen as a 24 year old lass
June 53 the your coronation year
First one broadcasted caused many a tear
In the 70 years you did so much
The commonwealth you kept in touch
Your political views almost always hidden
Even recently meeting president Bidden
Stiff upper lip and done what's right
Keeping the family together a real fight
You are now on your final journey
Together forever with Philip and corgis
You will be missed as Commander in Chief
I thought this poem was going to be brief
From all your citizens on all your land
We shout out loud Liz was grand
R.I.P your Majesty
God's Speed
Forever eternity.
Containers come with different purposes
as they hold, wage, measure and engage.
From stone walls to fragile shells,
blood vessels to cage to idea.
Containers come with different protections and methods for treasures to unveil.
Each of a different purpose and story to tell.
Holding memories, secrets, or material, spirits- preciousness,
like a ring of a bell, a bluuurpbglllpll-
vomit of a puppet, a ouija for a demon of Hell.
In wooden chests, treasures lie hidden,
till the creak of hinge is bidden.
Whispers of history, stories in books, either Holy, educational, entertaining,
mysterious or forbidden us.
The brain to house memories,
where they belong,
the skull for the brain,
to help keep harm from,
or as a placeholder
for grey matter placebo for some.
The vessel of a porcelain teacup,
holds warmth and comfort, it's mold to stand
and deliver, as your lips gingerly quiver, bracing for
impact, careful it's hot, you lily liver!
Aww yes, sipping nature's elixirs
with each delicate sip,
in its delicacy, (pinky up sophisticately)
we find wisdom's mold to behold, pattern,
symbology, continuity, ingenuity, bounty,
Thrift Store Old Lady looking at you look at her.
antiques like security.
Aaarg matey!
A ship sails the vast, uncharted sea,
bearing straits of discovery, to arrive in one piece and enjoying the ******* luxury.
Contouring the wind's sweet glide.
A private plane, a non fossil fuel of the Elites,
a vessel of travel and privilege,
reaching for the sky, off to Little St. James,
though Hell is a contained container,
and Hell is from here to Eternity.
Continued....
Listen no more to these words I speak
Whenever they have been preceived to be
Dipped into the tissues cup, of bitten agains tainted truths....
Hear me sigh this breath of deepened remorse
Within these pangs of fleshes amissful regrets?!
So turn from me, if beyond my soul your eyes have met
My plague; my thorns; buried in these broken bones
This slashing upon my face
That from my birth has maimed my very world....
These splinters, of my own frailties of weakness
Tantalizing and piercing, innocent and beautiful hearts!?
But I did not ask for this curse I said
And as Paul once did, many centuries long ago
I pled with "My Father," to please remove this from my sorrows
Oh that I would have been born a crippled or disfigured I pondered
Rather, than to hold these temptations scars....
So please, turn from me if within this mirror you see
The sickles of carnals slaughtered
Rising from the ashes of its smitten burning pit?!
For all I have ever longed for in this life
I have watched crushed, by the image of this reflection
Which buries it blade deeply and unremittingly
Into this why me paved heart....
This portrait of pretty; which melts within its bidden pain
Since the days that I can remember; the crumbling of stars before my sight
Dissolving my spirit, into this crows foot cauldron
Of the bewitching darkness' very own brew!?
There is only one hope within this life I find
And it shall never be found, within this enigmatic skeletals body....
Break these fetters and shatter these eyes "Dear God;" these orbs
Shackled; that I may live, beyond the burning of this rotting corpse?!
Listen no more to these words I speak
Whenever they have been perceived to be
Dipped, into this grave of the craddles repose
The temptations of hades wanton, and, bloodied....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Flesh!?"
Form:
The storm has blown itself away; there is a lighting of the sky.
The monstrous waves start to recede, and the ripples just pass on by.
The rocks find a new home from the pounding they have been given.
They come to rest haphazardly, as though so hard they have been driven.
The fence looks old, all gnarled and bent, a pathway almost hidden.
The footsteps - where have they come from - and to where are they now bidden?
An eerie cry - a sobbing sound - mixes harmoniously.
With the sound of seagulls squawking, now setting off back to sea.
The lights are lighting, one at a time, pinpricks of ghostly yellow.
The sobbing increases just slightly; a voice so soft and mellow.
‘Come follow me, a prize awaits,' it sings out on the breeze.
I find myself following it, my heart it seems to please.
I have never felt so fresh, my heart it seems to float.
I follow the pathway in the near dark; my being fills with hope.
What is it, that is calling me? Is sounds so sweet and near.
I stumble and realise I am soaked, but I am without any fear.
‘You are mine,’ says the voice so gentle and caressing.
The light seems to grow brighter, I feel an urgent need pressing.
I must find the source of this golden voice; its song fills my head.
I must press on the winding path before me, I feel I am being lead.
A shape that glows and points at me and opens its glowing arms wide.
I stop as fear overtakes me; I want to turn back, like the tide.
And then the shape embraces me, calms me and points behind.
There I am lying on the beach; am I now losing my mind?
‘Your journey is just starting,’ the voice tells me. ‘Come, we can not be late.’
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
Realisation comes to me as the shape pushes me onwards up the winding hill.
My earthly body I have left behind, but my adventure is in front of me still.