Long Call for Poems
Long Call for Poems. Below are the most popular long Call for by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Call for poems by poem length and keyword.
August 3 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Isaiah 33-37
Key Verse – Isaiah 33:2 O LORD, be gracious unto us; we have waited for thee: be thou their arm every morning, our salvation also in the time of trouble.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO IS GRACIOUS UNTO US
Praise be to God for being gracious unto us midst His:
Truth smiting treachery
Tenderness surpassing turmoil
Teachings stressing testings’ tenacity
Touch showing His sufficiency in our toils
Timeliness strengthening trust, thanking Him in trials.
Isaiah 34:16 Praise be to Lord for enabling us
to read His book for our:
Restoration, being His redeemed
Replenishment with His refreshing rest
Revival while responding to Him with respect
Rebuke with His reproofs toward our repentance
Rejuvenation by His readiness to renew righteously
Isaiah 35:2 Praise be to the Saviour for letting us
see His glory and excellency with His:
Command for our consecration, charging us with His courageous commission
Comfort midst our cares as well as cheering us toward Christ-likeness
Change for our conversion, congratulating us in our commitment
Correction along our criticisms, commending us in our chastity
Call for our confidence while cleansing us in our confession
Compassion for our charity, chastening us in our carnality
Isaiah 36:7 Praise be to the Creator
for teaching us to trust Him for His:
Presence and power in our pleadings
Provision with His protection amidst poverty
Progress with His prosperity along persistence
Providence with His purpose against preferences
Performance in His perfection despite procrastination
Isaiah 37:6 Praise be to the Holy Spirit for
giving us answers to our prayers with His:
Mercy while ministering to us with His mirth
Might that meets us in our meekness
Marvels against our materialism
Miracles moving our ministries
Magnificence of no magic. Amen!
August 3, 2024
February 10 Scripture Meditations Based on Deuteronomy 21-25
Key Verse – Deuteronomy 21:5 And the priests the sons of Levi shall come near; for them the LORD thy God hath chosen to minister unto him, and to bless in the name of the LORD; and by their word shall every controversy and every stroke be tried.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING ME TO MINISTER UNTO YOU
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my frailty
Letting me come near You with my saved personality
To exalt Your name by my sanctified humanity
Upon Your merciful forgiveness by Your blood’s cleansing purity.
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my weakness
Letting me desire Your presence of peacefulness
To delight in Your goodness by my redeemed soul with sincere gratefulness
Upon Your humbling meekness that smites my stubbornness.
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my ailment
Letting me seek Your help in my sin-defilement
To sow in Your vineyard by my stewardship-fulfillment
Upon Your propelling commandment.
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my cowardice
Letting me rise toward Your call for service
To labour in Your work by diligent performance-practice
Upon Your fervent encouragement in magnifying Your granted office.
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my frustration
Letting me cleave unto Your promises so faithful in their fruition
To trust Your Word by faith-action
Upon Your constant deliverance that’s ready for my protection.
Thank You for choosing me to minister unto You despite my ignorance
Letting me learn from Your teachings’ endurance
To understand Your truth by studious exuberance
Upon Your directing instructions revealing to me Your divine appearance.
February 10, 2022
A TRIBUTE TO MY BROTHER HUBERT W. HINSHAW, T/SGT, U. S. ARMY
8 July 1918 - 2 August 2014
Another World War Two hero has fallen from the shrinking ranks.
He was one of the Greatest Generation and we owe him a debt of thanks.
During the time of national peril Hubert heeded the call of his nation,
Leaving family and hearth behind to serve with honor and dedication.
He served his God and nation long and faithfully giving it his very best.
Now he sleeps 'neath hallowed soil having ended his earthly quest.
Hubie joins the ranks of his comrades whom he served with in the war.
With them he awaits Gabriel's bugle call for forming up once more.
No doubt there was a happy reunion with those who have gone before,
Mom, Dad, George, Lloyd, Opal and Cecil who welcomed him at The Door.
Dear Hubert you served with valor and courage all through life's patrol.
You'll be standing tall when you're mustered for the final calling of the roll.
During the battles of Guam, Leyte Bay and Okinawa, how you sacrificed.
What a glorious day when you reached out to touch the face of Christ!
You served mankind well and this day He'll place upon your brow a crown,
Saying, "Hubie, you served My people and your nation with great renown!"
YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MY HERO, HUBIE!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
I chased the white rabbit through the city lights, Where broken dreams stack up like unpaid fights. Down the alley, a poison sip, Lost my sanity, took a dangerous trip. I’m drowning in this wonderland, full of shadows, Twisted visions in a world of gallows. The clock ticks loud, my pulse is a rage, Bills in the mail, I’m trapped in a cage.
Down the rabbit hole, it’s a steep fall, Got my demons, I’m dancing with them all. Paint the roses red with a heart full of pain, In love with chaos, I’m going insane. In this dark romance where we gamble with fate, Alice and I, tangled in hate.
Cheshire smiles fade, lips stained with gin, Politics played, let the games begin. Pill bottles glimmer under the neon glare, Reality slips, we breathe in despair. Last call for nightmares, the tavern’s alive, Laughter and sorrow in the jaded hive. Smoke in the air, drown the sound of dismay, In this enchanted garden, we slowly decay.
Down the rabbit hole, it’s a steep fall, Got my demons, I’m dancing with them all. Paint the roses red with a heart full of pain, In love with chaos, I’m going insane. In this dark romance where we gamble with fate, Alice and I, tangled in hate.
Time is an illusion, I’m losing my grip, Take my hand, dear Alice, let’s lose the script. Through the looking glass, where dark secrets persist, In this twisted embrace, how could we resist?
Now in the shadows a figure hides
Unmerciful rain collapses on my rooftops
The mind struggles to recollect lost senses
You take me on a victorious voyage to the Island of Paradise
Riding the waves of my intuition, I call for it
“Bring us the light at the end of the tunnel,”
I holler in the shade with Niagara Falls of hope
I hear you call to me gently in the dead of night
Why hide in the dust in the shame of frivolous defeat?
We graze in fields of forever gracious flowers as we lock hands
Don’t you worry—my patience is instilled in the dark
You elevate me higher than the clouds drifting wistfully
I trace your outline as my eyes acquaint with mystery
We have a slippery escape—a ride on a dolphin’s back
Staring…filled by the watery cadence
We sing merrily as we approach the trail of vitality
Trampled that you cannot accept my trust
The waves of the ocean bubbles us up with rare grace
I trace a detailed picture of you in the air
We ran faster than the breeze, rapidly brewing
I sketch in your panic eyes, furrowed gaze—and sigh
Give us words of wisdom to uplift our troubled souls
Not a cringe of movement, yet still I wait to create
We have to leap into the ring of fire—but how?
Imagination brought us together—now shadow, come out!
Let us be brave like the lion in the prairie…send us strength
Collaboration by Laura and David Breidenthal
*note: We wrote line after line without seeing the others' lines, and it actually came out quite nicely I think. : ) *
April 28, 2014
All my life I’ve loved to draw…the many people and things in front of me.
The only problem is the things I draw…don’t always look like what I see.
It seems it should be easy which is why I do not understand
how the beauty I see before me gets distorted by my hands
I can draw the sun, a house, and occasionally…a cloud
but all my other drawings would only make Picasso’s mother proud.
My drawings might be simple, they might be incoherent and raw
but that does not deter me…for I still love to draw.
All my life I’ve loved to dance…the moment I feel the beat
but it’s hard to find the right rhythm when I was born with two left feet.
When people see me dancing (trust me it’s not a pretty sight)
they usually call for a doctor and ask if I’m all right.
My movements might be simple…might make some think I’m in a trance
but that does not deter me…for I still love to dance.
All my life I’ve loved to sing…how I envy all the birds….
for they like me are happy singing when they don’t know all the words.
I think of myself as a nightingale whose voice is beautiful once let loose…
but from what I’ve been told by others…I sound more like a goose.
My voice may sound more like a bird who has a broken wing….
but that does not deter me…for I still love to sing.
I was lucky that a long time ago I came to understand
I don’t need to be an artist, a professional dancer or a singer in a band.
For despite my little drawbacks I am as happy as a clam
Happy drawing and dancing and singing…just the way I am.
The furniture clatters around me.
An illustrious barrel of a goodbye.
The sweater feels like a prop; a famed memo to the stage I subsist on.
A famed memo to the audience I secrete from.
A famed memo to the veracity I refute from.
I soar across the stage, each cry an offering to the void of my shrouded forbearance.
Its crestfallen crumbles stroke the silver of my scars.
Its impeded hamper caresses the gold of my dune.
Its incumbered burden engulfs the bronze of my bane.
Each string pulls at the silenced span of my limbs, a muted call for mercy.
The ignominy of their vigour sings a melodic turpitude against the evil of my imitation.
The potency of their strength strips me until I dress with nothing but the disinclined humiliation of my lingering obedience.
Each relic of their excess sadism carves a carnage into my eternally dissipated flesh.
The sapped vex of its chafe stamps restated stains of a sinful hein; a wound of my forever domination.
Blots of blood pool onto the stage, a sacrificial submission to the performance of my moulding stupor.
The decay of my illumination pulls at me.
A distinct elucidation to the corruption of my core.
A puppet bound by her own vein-stricken strings.
on the outskirts of town
the mountains
adorned in golden tones
seemed to cradle a setting sun
swirls of lavender tipped clouds
beckoned her to follow
the dust trailed
in clouds of smoke behind her
a city lost somewhere in the haze
was left with her past
a billboard sign read
last call for lonely hearts
next exit, to the right
she decided to venture off the highway
down the winding crimson path
that lined the mountain's side
a neon flash at a roadside bar caught her eye
a sweeping melody invited her inside
she swayed to the beat of the singer's every word
it was the best band she'd ever heard
November 6, 2019
for contest LAST CALL FOR LONELY HEARTS – COLLABORATION sponsored by Line Gauthier".
I'll tell ye of me life as a pirate
I knows ye sees me as some old codger
But when I was a young'n matey
I sailed 'neath the Jolly Roger!
Oh, it's truth I be tellin' ye now
'N ye may think that I be a loon
But I talk so rever'ntly 'bout me ship 'n Cap'n
For in truth, 'E made us dance a lively tune.
'E wore a patch o'er one eye
'N had a hook where fingers grow.
When we 'eard the thumpin' of 'Is peg leg on deck
We knew some ship 'd be given up 'er cargo.
We'd be a'squintin' 'ard at the 'orizon
'N 'Ed call for 'Is telescope to measure
If the sail that we'd come upon
Mightn't be a ship full o' a'rn kind o' treasure.
Then we'd sail up nice 'n cozy
A'fore 'Ed run up the bones on black.
But by that time matey
They could not withstand a'rn attack.
"Shiver me timbers, All hands on deck!" , came 'Is shout
For 'E was a Taker 'n ne'er a Giver.
It's many a time me eyes 'd see 'Im
Cuttin' out some poor soul's liver.
Oh, some tried to fight,
The foolish tried a runnin'
But the Cap'n made well sure
They'd get a'rn full broadside gunnin'.
We'd jump o'cross the ratlines with daggers a'tween a'rn teeth
Oft times we'd skewer the entire crew
Then take 'ER plunder aboard a'rn vessel
'N sink t'othern down to Davey Jones...so thar'd behind be left no clue.
Then the Cap'n set sail for Tortuga
Thar be plenty of Rum 'n Women for us thar
Ye still don't believe I was a pirate?
All I can say is..."ARRRRRRRRRR"!
#With_my_mother_in_mind
My heart aches but some distance hunch, clears the odds, thus far I have traveled, the little spark in that very distant, blows soft breeze to my weakling faith, that; your body still shielding that breath, it's an envetable precision that your better days are pulling closer.
Thinking of my mother, crying tears in me start to dry up, hold my head up, my heart warms up, I sense joy crouching, the steps fades, with their nearing approach. Hand me the spear, I wanna stand secured, to ebb life of every evil hand into my ancestors served jar. The eye of heaven looked for the worthy, and my ancestors availed me, taught me the tricks of life, as a package to pursue their calling.
God and my ancestors agreement. Cut off my umblical cord, bare foot on the ground, for their floors are holly. With a lion leather my ancestors clothed me, as a crown for a king. Fear distanced with every encounter to my duties, a spiritual warrior belt on my upper left hand. Voices like unleashed bows to the back of my ears, penetrates; lead us, they say.
Start running like a blind loose bullet, tearing every dungeon, piercing every beast of evil, as I pass. Assured by the price before my life; a better world, a better tomorrow. A whistle hanging on my neck, to call for backup when the going weighs on my tiny body.
Gathering strength with every success of the challenges. My body structure says; you are a child but in me I constantly hear forefathers and foremothers speaking through my voice. It's the spirit that counts, you are a spiritual forefather. I could feel the leaning stick settling comfortably in my right hand palm, ngiyikhehla
Feared death would leave my pursuits without guard and the voices returns; ancestors watch better their artefacts from above; you are secured, spiritual kingdomship, where we are and your throne remains vacant, until you ascend back to it.
Drop on my one knee, bowing with glory, giving gratitude to them. Many will be called but only a few shall be chosen, I'm of the chosen tribe. Lions and wild cows articulates my name better
#Poetic_Ink