Long Broiling Poems
Long Broiling Poems. Below are the most popular long Broiling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Broiling poems by poem length and keyword.
Ionah: first
(Morfil Gwr (Whale man).
Angry winds tore at the sails of the distressed little ship
Waves crashed and harried intent on destruction
Below he hid shaking with fear and loathing
Begging to be cast into the storming broiling waters
To escape the eyes and voice in his head.
Remembering how he stood at the edge of the dock
Watching tides swirl in and out with hypnotic intent
Fear in his mind forcing him to flight
Away he ran trying to feel unnoticed and small
Still he was found no peace for his plight.
Down he sank into the maelstrom deep lives saved
By his supposed good deed mind going blank
Down he went ,down he sank
To the depths he fell cold and black
Welcome death he cried his body slack.
Out of the deep with jaws open wide he came
Great fish of the deep, sifting the sea, Morfil by name
And swallowed the man his grief, anger and all
Shaking with anger tears streaking his face
Admitting defeat asked to be restored to his place.
With a great gush of vomit spewed onto the beach
Found him gasping as air filled his lungs
Grudgingly yet he ventured into the city
Looking at all his eyes full of pity
And they flocked to hear the words that he spoke.
Out to the wastes with anger in his heart
Leaving the people and city behind
Angry with them and the creator
Hiding away like some spoiled child
Under the searing heat of mid day sun.
Yet then the creator saw and loved the man still
Despite his tantrums and anger within
Sent help to feed and shade his head
And still the man asked and wished he was dead
“Why Me” was the song that he continued to sing.
Andrew P McIntyre 2012.
It’s early July and what’s happening is
The weather’s so hot it will make your hair frizz
And perhaps even ruin that cold champagne fizz
At Taylor and Kelce’s “I do’s.”
Abe Lincoln sits gazing at water, now green,
With algae the worst anybody had seen
And you-know-who claiming his conscience is clean –
It’s vandals that one should accuse.
The National Mall has a Giant State Fair
But somehow the crowds aren’t showing up there.
Performers pulled out, for they’d rather be where
They’re not forced to air you-know-who’s views.
Though the temps may be broiling, an obvious fact,
And the wedding at Madison Square will distract,
The sad truth is the soon-to-be 4th has been stacked
With so much that it’s hard to enthuse.
For our country’s divided on every stage,
Which will make it a challenge for us to engage
And beneath all the fireworks, sorrow and rage
Will infuse all the red, white, and blues.
Celebration of Las Animas
The shadows know
When I shout into the void
Of obsession’s chaos that swallows even darkness,
Fractured light in jaundiced eyes,
Where withering blasts of winter hibernate in masquerades,
Promises lay in crumpled thoughts of raging anxieties
To crumple wings stilled by grief’s passages
Of flawed conscience.
My gentle shepherd, who walks in the brittle solstice garden,
Whispers to this stubborn lamb of irrepressible forgiveness
With healing that unites a divided soul chasing eulogy
To float upon the flowing tide, the River Agape,
Dewdrops of compassion in solitude’s metamorphosis -
Ebony’s iris nightfall – weave an arras in twilight’s hush
Where scented leaves of solitude and grace
Celebrate in welcomed cleansing wind and fire.
Released from perfectionism’s chains by perfect perfection,
Through radiating renewal on the Samaritan’s road,
Solitude’s incense from ash groves inhales metamorphosis,
Seasoned with the breath of mercy in shadowy first light
As dawn quietly peeks through the pink blush of epiphany,
Leaves behind ominous – footsteps of midnight –
Sweeping away bittersweet thunderheads on stone spires -
Finale of my seclusion.
In preludes to all things bright and wonderful
Rebirth, renewal, tethers me to new psalms
Scrubbing clean overgrown graffiti on my woodland wall
New anima stretches out in one moment of time and space
Navigating unexplored islands in the broiling stream
By argent rainbows in cornucopia’s of charity
To untangle knots of errant threads through life’s keepsake tapestry
Eternal Emmanuel, radiant message, face of amazing grace.
2-24-22
Contest: Form F – Free Verse
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Life
Animas means life – communication of the spirit with the subconscious.
Keeper of my faith’s flame
I seek, oh God, Your revival fire…
make my spiritual endeavors ablaze
kindling love against apathy’s coldness
as you nourish me with sizzling blessings’ bounty.
Keeper of my servanthood-flame
I need, great Lord, Your might of fiery power
as my dedication is exposed to broiling tests
debilitating me from roasting trials
midst pressures of ministerial challenges.
Keeper of my life-building flame
I come to You, dear Saviour, for holy purifying
to burn doubt, unbelief, selfishness, pride
with my yearning to be heated up from indolence
making me effective in labouring with compassion.
Keeper of my prayer flame
I trust You, Christ Jesus, to keep on igniting my soul
to draw nigh to You with supplication-earnestness
expressing requests’ sighs and needs’ angst
anticipating for answers’ delight.
Keeper of my worship flame*
I exalt You, Almighty King
midst Your heavenly warmth of shimmering bliss
while I sing hymns of earnest gratitude
extolling You with beaming triumph-praise*!
*Revelation 2:18 … These things saith the Son of God, who hath his eyes like unto a flame of fire, and his feet are like fine brass.
March 16, 2022
3rd place, "Pick-A-Title, Vol 29" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 3/27/2022.
My home cooking zest verily exposed me
to cornucopia’s functional essence
since we in the family were nourished
with blessings'* bounty…
Tasty delicacies sizzled with love
when as early in the morning, coffee brewing
would turn to sweet blends of fellowships.
My mother’s viand cooking lessons
taught me basics of right menu preparation
for “life-balance” said she… along reinforcing facts
of good ingredients' mixing, “stirred with kindness
in humane dealings,” she asserted…
midst wholesome relationships
toward meaningful bondings.
My Dad’s supper cooking pursuits
admonished me about broiling tests
as well as roasting trials
that would reveal integrity’s credibility
together with sautéing demands
toward faith drive-acceleration
against slothfulness and fruitlessness.
Thus, my spirit delighted in every cooking quest
with my siblings and parents, while joyously
we would produce our assigned “specialty”
flavored as valued signature recipes
worthy to savor during dining moments
upon simmering conversation-bliss
of bubbling gratefulness to God and steaming triumph-praise.
*Deuteronomy 28:2 And all these blessings shall come on thee, and overtake thee, if thou shalt hearken unto the voice of the LORD thy God.
August 1, 2019
The seething waters took them.
I rage,
rage against the deluge,
an unmoored,
unrestrained rage.
I rage for the innocents,
a rage that drowns all else
except more broiling,
more roiling waves of rage,
an anger that unstrings
the harps of angels.
Rage I now, at the blind horror
of godforsaken moments
that snatch all away
as suddenly as a surging,
untethered,
Texas tsunami.
I rage against
the ever-deceitful aspirations
of peace and calm,
rage utterly
against all heaven-sent calamities,
rage most,
upon
this violent earthbound dream
we have plunged into,
it is a raging river
that will sweep us all away,
even little girls,
all those struggling to still swim
above such raging torrents
only to slip through flailing hands
as hope sinks below
yet more tumultuous waters,
waters which
it has been written,
that Jesus himself
once walked upon.
The same people who demand I put that mask over my face
are the same ones who lift sieves from borders.
Inviting sludge +slag along with the gold.
The ones with no respect for law and order.
The same ones that demonize all police.
The same ones who close an ocean.
The same ones who claim they can stop rioting with a hug.
Broiling the soul of the country for optics and blood ratings.
The same ones that release violent inmates.
Into society to protect them from the flu.
The same ones that are defacing Honest Abe.
The same ones that use retirement homes
as halfway houses for rapists and drug addicts.
The same ones that rip toilets from their mansions,
to avoid paying taxes-all the while raising mine...
That's why you can bet your blue "regressive" behind
That my thumb will be turning red come November.
My drinks enticing and sweet
On a chair in the middle of the street
My little floaters been dinged
Toiling waves the edges singed
The wood alive with roaring flame
Waters pulsing like a broiling brain
The cars flow downriver like syrup
I float on my raft with an empty cup
My chair can't sink among the heat
Since it's not the damn drivers seat
So I travel the world and surf
My cup will never touch any turf
Arms reach out from the ocean waves
They hold tight, the current fails
They want saltless delight im sure
I lift the parasol, sugar is the cure
I reach down and share the fluid
The current takes it, people included
It's no matter, I can surf without it
So I crouch on the boards and sit
Then lie and bask in the sun
And even the hands cant ruin the fun
They still reach and pin me
From below the board they see
Grab my cup and take it
I laugh and spit
I let them take it where it belongs
Bubbling under the wooden walls
And I still have the suns fire
It extinguishes the waters pyre
The lapping waves cant burn
My raft of wood will never turn
Everything is so warm and free
As long as my drink is lifting me
Dare to dream Ashes nightmares it seems reawoken
Token words spoken after scares & flares teams broken
Dafter peacocking then rocking no blocking just shocking
Mocking laughter of the ghost of Christmas future knocking
Host boast from coast to coast toast as England roast
Boiling..recoiling..toiling & broiling this is our last post
Our iridescent flaming proper copper haired laird
Incandescent flairs no taming his despairs we all shared
Luminescent cares blaming Bazball heirs ill prepared scared
Stoic brawler our defiant mauler on a leaking reeking trawler
Too reliant on our brilliant defiant resilient glowering giant
Big Ben set up camp crippled by his men again & ripples of cramp
Overpowering pain courses through every vein towering skipper & champ
Heart on his sleeve…makes us believe in a reprieve heroic Firestarter
Immensity of intensity.. O Captain my Captain..our smarter martyr
Divine fire
makes spiritual endeavors ablaze
kindled by love's impact
against coldness of apathy
turning brewing friendships
to fellowship-blends so sweet.
Revival flame
exposes spirit to broiling tests
midst trials, verily roasting
revealing integrity’s credibility
demanding drive-acceleration
with pressures against slothfulness.
Fiery sessions of faith-fortitude
burn unbelief and doubt
as well as selfishness-pride
being heated up for diligent service
midst God’s compassion-furnace
toward kindness' exercise.
Transforming powerful ventures
marked by reaching-out zeal midst soul winning pursuits
radiate inspiration for life-building mission
glowing with the Lord’s heavenly warmth
yon eternal simmering joy…
sizzling gratefulness and steaming triumph-praise*!
*Psalm 57:7 My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.
July 24, 2018
Edited on March 28, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND 1098" Free Verse Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/30/2022.