Long Bounding Poems
Long Bounding Poems. Below are the most popular long Bounding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bounding poems by poem length and keyword.
Thanksgiving to God* for mission trip to
Taiwan
Assuring me His presence and the power of Gospel
authority
Instilling in my heart His Scriptures’ instructions with great
influence…
Worthy is He of praises for men’s redemption along faith’s
ways
Affirming His love, grace, mercy, and blessings --- constantly
abounding
Nurturing souls while meeting needs to satisfy spiritual service-
nourishment.
*Revelation 7:12 …Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.
September 18, 2019
Silence is deafening
Like a dungeon dark hallway.
Door after close door of bounding
Moans and groans, and painful
Yelling gasping for air.
I sit in this cold
Dark cell shivering with my
Blacken thoughts.
Am I the only sane one?
Am I the only healthy one?
They come in and out
At all hours to poke and prob.
I, a human, a pin cushion
Ready for use.
Trying someplace else to delve
Madden hunger for More pain.
In isolation with no touch for comfort.
They in hazmat suits
Because they cannot breathe my breath
Or touch my tainted skin.
Claustrophobic in these four walls
Lord, please save me
From this darkness and pain;
Meet my exhausted lids to rest.
All I see are the haunting eyes
Of the ghost that had passed
Veiled in fear white sheets of snow.
12/15/2020
I always feel like a prisoner in the winter, banished from the outside by the jealous wind. As I get older, I continue to make peace with the cold, but I follow the spring. It is a different door, one covered with vines and stars, and to it I am drawn, as if to a beautiful girl.. no other days compare to her.
The flash of a disposable camera, clicked with young fingers, pink-polished nails. A yellow sun dress patterned with orange daisies. The basket on the bike is filled with stuff for lunch, sodas and sandwiches and things. Laughter resounds over the tops of trees as we careen, the children of May, across the sun-spotted road.
The compass points north
You know, this is Saturday
That means we go east
You yell to me that I run too fast, but all I hear is my heartbeat in my ears. I look back, you run faster. The evening begins to cast a spell in our town; the colors purple and orange appear like watercolor in the sky and we both stop to watch. Vapor trails crisscross above us, they're streaks across the fading day, pieces of the memories we've made.
Heat lightning at night
She's reading a magazine
Sarah's rare green eyes
To your door we go, but only you proceed. Your father doesn't trust me yet, but I tell you that I'll try harder. Maybe, one day, he'll give me a pat on the shoulder and a smile. It does hurt, I won't deny, to listen to the screen door wheeze shut and hear your bounding footsteps on the stairs. What comforts me is that I know tomorrow brings you around again, walking through a high archway, lovely enough to steal the sun's attention from the flowers.
These suburban dreams
The pink and yellow houses
Waiting with my thoughts
-For Debbie Guzzi's "Spring Haibun" contest
OH YES...IT IS WELL...
I now know you as you are known
to be known---as in the beginning
when wisdom posited
riveting pellets of revelations
strengthening fertile minds---etching
fearless determinations---bounding
the oneness of mind so essential to survival.
I now know you as you are known
to be known---and no false claims
of Armageddon can excuse you
from you inhuman genocidal deeds.
No capricious apology or innate fear
can generate a forgive---forget syndrome.
Remember to remember that Judas
was and is---forgiven:
for Truth---never forgotten nor
desired to be---is his deed.
May God forgive me
for allowing you to freely rape
and abuse peace, love and justice.
May The Supreme forgive me for allowing
myself to drink the wine of deceit
and bite into the fruit of fear---to forget
to remember: you cannot love the tree
and hate its roots; that you cannot fight wars
in the name of peace; cannot build justice
and equanimity on a foundation of injustice.
To forgive and forget? May The Most High
forever forgive me and never forget
to remind me of the profound effect my fears---
veiled, shadowed choice that I have had to make:
Relentlessly springing into fiery actions
when not needed; failing to initiate
community actions when I knew I should.
I now know you as you were known
to be known: hate---the fraternal abortion
from the belly of the womb; the un-sanctified one---
Indeed, with satanic blades you may murderously cut down briefly
the tender trees of the Garden of The Most High; but remain powerless
to uproot the ever anchored and growing roots of our supreme
beginnings here: in this wayward land that is bequeathed us.
Indeed, in Amazing Grace…shall we still rise…rise…
and rise again; and may our portion be to hear and echo:
well done…well done…all is well.
Somebody help me, I don't understand
Why people are so damn uptight
Not like we're gonna be around forever
Aging to ninety or a hundred we might
Society needs to really mellow out
Our tickers weren't meant for this stress
The average lifespan of a healthy peep
Could be quite a bit longer, my guess
Times we're living in is surely a factor
The pace of life is astounding
We no sooner marry and raise a family
When to old age we go a-bounding
Guess I kinda rushed you through life
Didn't mean to dampen your dreams
But oh for the laid back days of the past
Or at least that's how they seemed
IN THE JOY OF THIs MORNING
————————————————————————————————
(For Jim, to explain why
my tears can run down in Joy)
********
In day’s earliest light
(my inner eyes see)
The recitals there, nearly-sky, as
The does lead their Spring-born fawns
Leaping over Glory’s
Far-sprouting wildflower fields…
Finding brown hares fast to follow;
With streaked cats in a chase, swinging their paws at
Bobbing blooms, like
The sweet-scented heather on tossed air
Left by the fleet fox — not on a hunt, but
On a spree of joy —
In a breathing-in of a new day’s anointing.
The pure leaps
Into
Being…
And the squirrels, too, very nearly
With the gifting of invisible wings, bounding off
From tree to tree…
While we, the children of God, are left to
Watch —
Incapable of such leaps
(often going on in our suffering, short, shuffled steps)
With our simpler legs:
Designed
for
Kneeling
And preparing to sit in awe
Before God’s heavenly throne; in joy…
To learn in our imagining thoughts, the ways of
The flashings-past beauty of horses, freely
Jumping ever higher, with distinct grace,
Over recurring hurdles,
While carrying bareback all their praises, on to
Canter over clover, and over
Blue coneflowers amidst wild, white daisies, and
All the yellow dandelions on
Through the blessing, reverberating echoes
Of the heartbeats of God —
As they seek to penetrate and fulfill,
Showing our so-created human souls
The way to leap…
How we might — this morning —
Ascend to flight!
————————————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 5/12/22
ALL
Thanks be to Go
It was the darkest night of the year, and the light was eclipsed but the haunting moon was so near. Lagging
hope faded, and the jading stillness increased my fear. Twas a warm, muggy night with a cool, misty fog drear.
A vixen wind against my jaundiced awning did sheer. All at once, ghostly emanations and visions of black
ravens became so stark so clear. From a nearby church cemetery; gasping, satin-sheathed mummies from their
soiled compartments began to rear. Wispy, veiled goblins in the distant pines started to appear. The nearby
stream gurgled spewing, nauseous vapors that filtered across my warping pier. Gargantuan gargoyles around my
crenelated windows did swerve and veer. White-tipped bats with ebony capes around my porch light did flitter
and fleer. Cringing 'neath my pleated, satin curtians, I heard a knock so *****. Bounding from my cloistered
lair, all my remaining wits did forswear. Flinging open the door, I was confronted by a craggly-clad seer. In a
hurried, modulated rant, he with warnings of pending doom filled each, perched ear. He, then, paused and
glared at me with a bleary-eyed leer. Slamming the door, I began to ponder his doleful, portentous lear, then staggering to my pantry, I grappled for a bottle of cheer. Unbeknownst to me, a pilfering vampire had
spliced a bloody concoction in my satiating beer. Suddenly, the velvet-laced furniture was shrouded with a
crimson verneer. Stumbling along a meandering course to the basement, I located a wooden box that
resembled a bier. Accepting my perilous fate, climbed into my designated tomb, and into my coroded heart
plunged a jagged spear.
MY GOD BREATH BREEZE ON ME
I am a spirit first
I have not hunger nor do I thirst
I am a spirit first
God breath breeze on me, My God breath breeze on me
My character courage plus mine energy
Ever bounding enthusiasm essences heart
In do part Lord helps us
humored life’s mood morals quality resolve
temperament vigor vitality warmth will thank God
I am a spirit first
I have not hunger nor do I thirst
I am a spirit first
God breath breeze on me, My God breath breeze on me
As He breeze air in me
No longer am I animation ardor now I am a living soul
backbone boldness living breath
complexion dauntlessness full of disposition earnestness
I am a spirit first
I have not hunger nor do I thirst
I am a spirit first
God breath breeze on me, My God breathe breeze on me
8/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
Quiet Woods
My feet traverse along a path unknown
In deep dark green I find a place so rare
To spend in quiet solitude, alone.
I fancied that I saw a vision there
And moving not a muscle to forewarn
A weasel, in the bushes, held my stare
No sound, save that of blackbird in the thorn
No leaf upon a tree so much as shook
A silence so profound on air is borne
Young rabbit, unsuspecting,by the brook
Too late perceives the hunter’s bounding leap.
Misfortune mine to read from nature’s book
With prey, the weasel melts in forest deep
And lilting blackbird utters not a cheep
‘Beautiful Form’ Terza Rima sponsor Catie Lindsay. 23rd May 2010
Bill Bulldog was our gorgeous British Bull Dog. We were so lucky to have Bill in our lives for eleven wonderful years. Bill was like no other dog we ever had before. A gentle boy ~ a character! My granddaughter was always scared of dogs, but adored Bill, for to her he wasn’t a dog ~ he was a ‘Bill’.
A face only his Mother could love and she did
Bill bulldog was his name
Bill was a character
Bill was adorable
Bill knew it ~ he was such a Diva
Bill had so many facial expressions
blinking his eyes rapidly – Bill’s pathetic look
jutting his jaw forward – Bill’s naughty look
tossing his head in disdain – Bill’s diva look
bounding toward you whilst running sideways ~
Bill’s ‘get out of my way look ~ I don’t think I can stop’
Bill on rising would roll on his back ~ legs in the air ~ rocking from side to side
as if welcoming a new day ~ you could almost hear him shrieking with glee
Bill loved all homosapiens for what they might have in their pockets
Bill was always on the lookout for treats
Bill ignored other dogs – never thinking he was one
Bill’s snoring kept me awake – stereophonic sounds with hubby joining in too
as he aged Bill became a late riser
needing gentle persuasion to go for a pee
aghast that we had woken him at such an unearthly hour
Bill’s fierce demeanor was a mask he wore
to hide his loving character
Bill would lick you to death
Bill loved to lick
but licking his food was not something Bill did
Bill would gulp it down at the speed of light
Bill was our handsome Boy
Bill was a ‘one off’ – for when they made Bill they broke the mould
Bill was unique
Bill was our Boy
Bill brought us so much laughter and tears
Bill I miss you so…
Written 30th July 2019
3rd PLACE
Contest: Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 – List
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Contest Strand Pick 5
Sponsor Brian Strand
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