Long Call down Poems
Long Call down Poems. Below are the most popular long Call down by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Call down poems by poem length and keyword.
THANKS
April 7, 2019
RobertBenThoughts.Blogspot.com
John 19:28-30
You hung on a cross
Until you died,
“It is finished” you cried
Giving up your spirit,
Thanks for dying for me.
Luke 9:9-10
You told Zacchaeus salvation
Had come to his house,
Because your goal was to
Seek and save the lost
Thanks for seeking me.
John 14:6
You said “you are the way,
The light, and the life.”
No one gets to the Father
Except through You.
Thanks for dying for me.
Matthew 18:3-4
Be pure as a child You said,
With your blood I can,
Without I cannot.
You are with me each day.
Thanks for dying for me.
Matthew 6:33
First seek God’s kingdom,
I do, sometimes,
Maybe not like I should.
I am so week and undisciplined,
Thanks for dying for me.
John 11:35; Matthew 6:33
You taught us it is all right to
cry over the losses in our lives.
Then taught me how to
seek God first.
Thanks for teaching me.
Matthew 21:12
You taught us we could be angry
You controlled your tongue,
You controlled your mind even
when they disrespected Your Father.
Thanks for teaching for me.
Luke 9:53-55, Mark 3:17
You rebuked James and John
For wanting to call down fire.
You called them “Sons of Thunder”
Showing Your sense of humor.
Thanks for teaching me humor.
John 14:2
You left to go prepare a place for me.
Dying you made a path for me.
Your blood cleansed me
Making me innocent again.
Thanks for dying for me.
Thanks for loving me.
“Pearl Diving” (Part 2)
Angel fish are pretty, but they’re boring that’s they’re lot
the Man O War is far too flashy, frivilous,
Octupi are too touchy feely always begging for the real thing way too early,
the Dolphins always laugh out loud, they’re overly boisterous show-offs
always trying to call the shots;
perhaps she’s best off lying in her Clamshell tight and small
for she is understanding now
the Clamshell has cast a spell o’er her
to stop all creatures in the deep from
hijacking her magic powers.
It’s comfortable and very warm, no need to leave her purse,
how could she leave what’s she’s only ever known behind;
better to sleep forever with the Clamshell as her nurse...
dream her dreams,
keep very still -
it couldn’t get much worse.
She’s shiny and she’s aged just right
the Clamshell protects her from the light,
she’s not a real jewel anymore
she’s a bottled up narcotic bright,
a little white pill zipped up in her hardened purse
to numb out all that sunken hurt.
He swims down to get a deeper look
the sunlight now dappling through the
hottest deepest lure of blue
thrashes his legs much harder now
to get the closest view.
He sees the sharks surrounding her
he checks his dorsal fin
he’s now become a predator
and she his treasure there within,
to somehow prize and shuck her
from her clammy milky mucous shell.
Such a beautiful sin he grinned and thought for a nano-second,
“Maybe I can win”.
Somewhere in the distance from the surface way up above,
he hears a mermaid call down to him, her silky voice enticing him,
her echolocation surrounding him,
through all those other fish making such a blasted bubbly din,
“It’s mine.” the voice whispers mysteriously in his ears, “ I’m playing this, it's mine, a life to win”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)
"Aqualung", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/xxHL5szgThQ
Dreams of perfect love
Beautiful endeavors
this path on which we stroll
Tempting are the visions
on flowing fields a’ roll
Echoes sing our praises
of worlds we both have seen
Now we are together
and life is but a dream
Sunset early evenings
soft the twilight breeze
Rustling poetic
through patterns in the trees
Shadows sing so sweetly
as they dance upon the view
Now we are together
its like a dream come true
Love beyond the borders
into our hearts does leap
Glistening on amber waves
forever we shall keep
Atop the highest mountain
we call down from above
Now we are together
in dreams of perfect love
Good night Soupers
I'm so bored with winter
Waiting for the thaw
That I spread mayonnaise on the ceiling
And Parkay on the walls
Chicken salad on the chandelier
Tuna on the couch
A sprinkle of some bacon bits
Straight out of the pouch
Grape jelly on the door jams
Peanut butter in the locks
We'll have them eating out of our hands
Like a Canadian Mayor smoking rock
(but only when he's drunk)
Pickle relish in the picture frames
Nutella smeared into the floor
A half a pound of hard salami
Nailed onto the door
A call down to the bakery
Order up some pumpernickel
Slap it on the outside
With the house fixins in the middle
Here you have our special
What you taste you'll soon find out
Welcome to Mike & Savannah's
Famous Sandwich House
I.
They burgeoned above my nostrils
With buds that obscured my visions
They walled my head with fences
Towered above my five senses
Distant from myself, things looked too low
Until I drew closer, I couldn't tell
Just how down I was
Just how far God's love had to come for us
II.
They soared above my perception
Shot beyond my wildest imagination
Exceeding stellar peaks
Like pilgrims on the way to the wailing wall
Tearing up at the dandelions and grains in lesser dawn
I thought, if I could give life to these flowers like the sun,
I wouldn't hold back my light for a second
Behind each ear of corn I'll send whispers
And whispers of the spirit's songs to heal my broken frond
III.
What shall be said when the Lord and his hosts cry?
Woe unto those for whom he draws his battle lines
Peace shall be far from the wicked
Where Jezebel vying, wills and grows horns
There shall be her vanities to call down falsehood upon thorns
In the midst of the wolves shall be a lion and lambskin adorned
Adorned in truth to slay artifices
There shall be love's fire to receive our sacrifices
And by the words of a king, put Baal's children to sleep
IV.
So long as God's dome is heavenly
The best chalcedonies grace his twelve gates in majesty
So long as the seraphs do praise him
The four beasts continually bow in his presence, crying holy
So long as angels and elders forget stately thrones
And cast their crowns face down in white robes
Sunken halos shall break free from the hollow
With the righteous lifted, cast the dragon into the bottomless burrow
SICILIAN PILLION
What rules apply when there’s conflicting rules
It’s a shrug of the shoulders and C’est la Guerre
No chance of seeing or stealing any crown jewels
There’s little recompense from such an affair
Injectable doses you need are in these ampoules
When there’s little logic, structure or form
It’s a free for all and that can easily offend
It won’t be your lover who keeps you warm
Just some poor writer who’s round the bend
So look up at the sky and call down the storm
When all words are laid out exactly as planned
And symmetry glows like a scented candle
But something is telling you to take a stand
There’s so much more that you can’t handle
Just be grateful that you think you understand
You see them all around these days,
braying loud on the internet,
people claiming that they’re victims,
demanding you ‘recognize’ that.
But when they explain what is wrong
biting back a laugh is quite hard,
half the things they complain of
don’t leave bruises, much less a scar.
I’m a victim because you don’t
call me demi-girl two spirit,
you won’t call me a woman when
surgeons gave me genitals the snip.
I’m a victim because I can
chose to stay home, let my man work,
take half his stuff when I get bored,
Patriarchy makes men jerks!
I’m a victim because some unknown fool
put a dark joke up on the net,
progress means thinking just like I do,
quick, call down the whole government!
I’m a victim because at work
they demand that I do the job,
my ancestors got a raw deal,
so pay me more, you racist clod!
That last part just amazes me,
thinking back upon Civil Rights,
back in the fifties and sixties,
and all that went on in that fight.
The blood, the stones, the dogs let loose,
the murderous Democrat Klan...
Did they suffer to be victims?
Hell no, but for the rights on man!
They wanted only the same chance,
be free of this nonsense of ‘race,’
now their grandkids want victimhood,
seems like quite the slap in the face.
Now why do so many want this?
Well, it seems quite easily to me,
they feel the ‘pain of victimhood’
excuses them from morality.
That because of bad part events
they don’t have to strive to be good,
they can do evil, not feel wrong,
not worry about all the ‘shoulds.’
A way to indulge without fear
of consequence awaiting them,
to make their sins look quite righteous,
to strip all restraints off of men.
So you can burn a building down,
beat people and make blood splatter,
and not have to feel bad for it,
since after all, Black Lives Matter.
And you can ruin livelihoods,
put whole families out of the street,
since, “They didn’t use my pronouns!”
Not care they can no longer eat.
You can walk through the capital
and never be locked up in jail,
but if the other side does it
then somehow that’s beyond the pale!
And while this may explain their choice,
there’s nothing that can excuse it,
If you want to be a victim
you’re really just a piece of sh-t.
Do you rejoice when visit's trouble upon your kin
do you with verbal twist do cast your snare
when hurtful things present to neighbor men
and with sarcasm say you do not care
For time and chance in trouble are cast we down
what man among you escapes a razors edge
all mankind in this condition sometimes be found
and are taken surety for a pledge
When curse you call for evil fall
upon another soul
and show within your heart of sin
know that evil will take it's toll
What you call down will in karma drown
not where you place a curse
you may find the words unwind
and happens in reverse
What is so bad and makes us sad
that parents do not teach
vindictive tools bad instruction fools
and cannot a heart to reach
Can you bet if you cast this net
your own foot not be taken
in verbal spill to cast your will
in your own device forsaken
And if be heard the spiteful word
what opinion do you think
of you beware will others share
and from your friendship shrink
If someone shares your confidence
and pains of heart has told
do you use their trust to fence
and take from them their gold
If want you love you must learn
to others not be cruel
for you find same return not kind
and yourself as thought a fool
sources Pr 1:10-18 James 3
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
A breath of love lifts the butterfly
'Pon delicate wings
Where a gentle current carries
It like a reigning king
There is a breath of love that sings
Lasting tunes to the throngs
As the birds of the day and night
Chirp from where they belong
There is a breath of love that sees
All that is right and wrong
And weeps soft raindrops at the harm
That breath to heal so longs
Soon that breath of love will call down
To hurting humanity
Come in the safety of the fold
To live eternally
Sponsor: Gail A. Doyle
Contest: Breath Of Love
Written: February 7, 2015
Kind of Poulter's Measure
Blessing
A blessing is more
Than some words on a page
Or to follow a sneeze
Or break a leg for the stage
It's more than just sentiment
It is conscious decision
To send love and kindness
With a purpose and vision
Not a throwaway niceness
It's so deep and profound
A blessing reclaims
So much more hallowed ground
Not a poem with boundary
No beginning or end
It is never constrained
It is more than just friend
It's the ripples of change
In the pool filled with love
Spilling out when we cast
A request-stone above
A blessing has value
Even more than a prayer
It loves, lingers, leads us
It's a heaven-ward stair
To invoke down a blessing
Is to open earth space
And flood it with goodness
Laced with Spirit and grace
Like an angelic whirlwind
Where the atmosphere alters..
It's the arm of a lover
When your step forward falters
It connects and restores
It has holiness prowess
Like it says on the tin;
It dispels all the darkness
So reach your hand high
And call down that blessing
It can only bring truth,
No fake-news second guessing
Draw the gift from a well
Never known for it's dryness
All the thirst to dispel
With a cup from his Highness
So..
May your life be renewed
May the darker days dwindle
May your eyes see new Hope
May your healing rekindle
May your voice find it's place.
May you outshine the shadows.
May you nurture that seed
So a mighty, strong oak grows
May your neighbours be friends.
May your generous spirit
Be a lighthouse of hope
For the boats harboured in it.
May your journey be fruitful.
May your harvest be plenty.
May your storehouse be shared
Where the hungry soul's empty.
May the places you walk
Find your presence refreshing
For we all have a choice
To bring heavenly blessing.
Jinjagoliath
8th May 2021