Long Blood line Poems
Long Blood line Poems. Below are the most popular long Blood line by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blood line poems by poem length and keyword.
Happy 50th Birthday
To you our Joanne "R"kid
My 1 and only big sister
For i could not have wished
for more
Than the 50 privileged year's
spent loving you as your brother
Same father and to mother born
same same blood line
Jealous only i of your 3
amazing children my beautiful
nieces
Wish only Dad was here and
i was there
To share with you on your
auspicious 50th birthday
Just how much you mean to
every single one and all of us
And just how much we actually
love you
So happy 50th birthday to you
Our Joanne my big sister
Love and word's can not express
My eternal joy my happiness
To many word's to simplest
sentiment express
50 x i love you
And not merely because
today the 28th is your Birthday
But for everyday before and after
i forgot or forget to tell you
CANCER
I was ten when you invaded our family, when my sixty year old grandfather
died with lung cancer and at that time I never really understood it; but knew
it was a deadly disease for two women closed to our family died earlier with
breast cancer and saw both of them suffering and heard them screaming in pain.
You came back when I was twenty taking my grandmother with stomach cancer.
At least that was one of the causes of her death, although not the primary cause.
You came again and again taking my aunt at forty seven and my youngest aunt
at forty eight with breast cancer that made me live in anxiety and scared of you.
Scared because this disease was in our maternal blood line, although the doctor
assured me, it was not a direct blood line for it was not my biological mother.
I had a cyst on my right breast when I was forty four and the doctor asked to
come back to exasperate it and I told him to do it right then with no reservation.
The result came negative; but your shadow never left me, haunting me.
I was thinking my youngest aunt was only five years older than me and we grew
up together living in the same household, eating the same food, doing the
same things until we separated to live our lives when I was twenty or so.
For five years I lived in your shadow wondering, worrying the cyst would come
back and what would happen to me, to my children and the angst never left me.
I was elated when I turned forty nine for I passed my aunts’ ages of forty seven
and forty eight and celebrated for my fear went away; you were out of my mind.
That was twenty years ago and three weeks ago; you took my best friend’s life.
You are an abnormal cell that invades, grows and divides without control to
destroy the nerves, tissues, organs, blood vessels impairing their functions.
You are a complex disease that can be benign or can be malignant that kills.
Like an ivy, a vigorous and aggressive plant that grows out of control choking
other plants, damaging walls and structures and toxic to humans and pets.
Just like different types of cancer in our society, such as greed, corruption,
brutality, materialism, racism, harassment causing havoc, unrest, chaos, killings.
6/11/21 Cancer Ivy Poetry
Chantelle Anne Cooke
tercets
Braxton H. Gardner of north Kentucky,
progenitor of our family tree.
His marriage date was 1833.
Braxton Charles S. Gardner from our archive,
was his youngest son, born in ’45.
He barely recalled his father alive.
Barney Braxton Gardner, uncle of mine;
his sister, my grandma, mother of nine.
My father was namesake of his blood line.
Barney Braxton Jolly born in ‘11,
married his sweetheart in ’37.
These four have died and look down from heaven.
Ruth Braxton Jolly, that’s me, data fount;
only female in this list tantamount
of Braxtons quite an accomplished head count.
Darren Braxton Poteet, my younger son,
Braxton Lee Poteet, age 14, grandson
complete my list of six kinfolk Braxton.
November 18, 2020
It amazes me how to you the blood line rules
It amazes me that you consider us fools
You condemn us for the blood in our veins
For the resemblance of him in our young faces and ways
Look down your nose at boys you have made!
Consider us 'less' than the new boy you've made?
It amazes me that you count yourself cool?
That you count yourself out of his little fools
LOOK in the mirror you fool and see it there for yourself
I've got your eyes, your hair, his jaw and chin as well!
But the blood you chastise that runs in my veins is half yours you fool
So chastise yourself too and remember that you were the first fool.
I let your eyes to visualise a garden on a loom;
Bluebells and marigolds in sway and lavender in bloom;
And there to play in a luscious green two kittens wrestling;
Up high in chirping swallow's play are feathered friends a-singing.
A figure of a handsome man is settled on a chair;
And by his side a beauty pure strokes lovingly his hair;
The Witch, or so the story plays, is set to work a-stitching;
For everyday she works to lay the groundwork for her witching.
The "Loom of Dunkele" is dark and glistens as if new;
That which it forges is by spelling set to render true;
This vessel handed down through time where Witches are sure wed;
Commutes it powers to the offsprings through that marriage bed.
At 35 she must be bride and to a handsome beau;
For Dunkele demands that beauty seeps through row to row;
The Witch beholden to this pact must honour this or else;
The Dunkele will take her beauty for its very self.
Dunkele demands a beauty in it's natural mould;
The Witch must weave the magic seams without her vêtements;
As pure as a newborn should she display her nakedness;
For Dunkele gave a perfect body not to be redressed:
No blemish, painting, marking, piercing for her skin to bear;
No jewellery should adorn her parts no braids within her hair;
Should she ignore these rulings and would set about to loom;
The magic would reverse all workings never to resume.
Above the loom, portraits in rows, of Witches one and all;
Each face a picture of a beauty unimaginable;
Throughout all time the loom has served and must forever more;
Or else a terrible curse be laid upon each maiden's door:
Indeed, to pander verily to a Dragon's carnal needs;
The Witch must feed on blood and guts and do as Dragon pleads;
Forever trapped in a darkened lair, no view of sun or sea;
The Witch would disappear from sight, no trace or history.
For 20 years this loom she spins as was the bargain made;
And in this time her beauty shone, success and wealth her aid;
Now in an hour the carpet loomed but for a patch to fill;
A slip of hair should she prepare to weave into the mill.
Then once complete the spell to speak releasing her shalom;
To lead her to that wondrous place where there awaits Handsome;
This rite of passage like forebears would guarantee the Witch;
Leaves on the blood line of her ilk a rich continuous stitch.
I know this man of God that roars from the bottom of the city, below the red blood line.
Knowing that his words never fail, every Sunday I make my way down to the bottom of the city to hear this man of God.
I rest my weight on the hard wooden bench with worn out cushion just to let this man of God spew out the words of God like rain upon my soul.
Many Sundays his pounding and prolific oratory would shake my unconscious, this man of God.
His words of God are righteous and they filled the sanctuary like a balloon, and this man of God is always in harmony.
This man of God energy is that of the sun because the glory of God's love is upon him.
This man of God method of delivering the holy word is conventional, yet he catapults his sermons in the most phenomenal fashion.
This man of God spontaneously in the spirit of the moment kindles the heart of the captive congregation with vociferous and powerful narrations. With resourceful minds, they are aboard a spiritual ship riding the waves of his glorious orations.
I know this man of God, that roars from the bottom of the city, below the red blood line.
Although it is said that he is an academic man with degrees from prestigious institutions, I know this man of God as a most humble and gifted man.
As he roars, and sing, and teach, and spring, I am glad that God led me to this servant of God, that roars from the bottom of the city below the red blood line.
Created by Mary E.W. Stephenson and submitted to Daily Press in the community section online.
Your brothers and sisters
Physically not related to you
But spiritually all humanity
Are
Bounded brothers and sisters true
For we have the same Father, Abba
And we have the same spiritual blood line
So when on of his
Can’t carry his own cross
Don’t be blue, just do
Do
Do all that you can?
Be encouraged
Be at rest, live your best
Breathe your breath
All let
Allow God to come through
Comfort you…
And while you do
Do
Do all that you can?
Be a better human
A child of God, of the King be a blessing
And to live in peace with everyone.
Do, do all that you do
Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone
Do all that you do in peace and live peacefully with everyone
Alleluia.
Romans 12:18
2/5/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
So much happens when you’re away
Things that make my composure tremble
As I begin to say
Moments of less triumph
Suspend my stay
Forgive me, for there’s become a trend
In my time away
Here’s ur rapture, ur Armageddon, ur fallen legend
Arrogantly I want to be swinging
Seeking revenge on my every adversary
But realistically, from my own hemp
I seem to be lingering
Morning lights and hieroglyphics merely had me starry
Blood line carries wine
My resistance varies with time
So here’s ur rapture, ur Armageddon, ur fallen legend
Who am I?
My reflection mimicked
And murmured, I am you
Only further from the skies
It’s become a war, I cannot win
Shield your faces
For man trots again
So here’s ur rapture, ur Armageddon, ur fallen legend
Have you seen beast's best friend?
That you wonder of how things blend.
Minds set where simplicity prevails...
Even though it is at the left blood line veils.
Beloves blindly set even when ache wails...
Tempting moment not enough to divulge details!
Bragging right in such hood is noble.
Tie quietly the right blood line to such immobile!
By which humans are humans ennoble,
Rather than the ones that are ignoble.
You have seen the best of all
From the very start before the first fall.
The heart is flexible and mind, small.
Yet mercy on all, You instinctively befall.
You have seen the angel's best enemy,
So chummy in dealing cum alchemy!
As I emerge into view;
Into this room;
Out of the womb;
From the fallopian tube;
Proceedings walking down;
Golden stairs from heaven;
A kiss a breath of God through my mother's nostrils;
I am emerged;
I am birth;
Cursed;
a solemn utterance intend invoke by Father Adam;
Convicted a sinner from birth through his blood line;
Now freed by remissions of sin;
Confessing through the blood of Jesus Christ;
As I emerge into view;
Into this wound;
Out of the womb;
From the fallopian tube;
Proceedings walking down;
Golden stairs from heaven;
climbing, flying high upward toward the skies;
To see my God and Jesus in the heavenly at death rise unto a new birth;
I am emerged;
I am birth;
No longer accused nor Cursed;
10/4/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©