Long Carpenter Poems
Long Carpenter Poems. Below are the most popular long Carpenter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carpenter poems by poem length and keyword.
For the carpenter it is his hammer and saw,
for the artist, his brush and paint.
And it is God who makes us all in all
as He brings forth His gifts in the saint.
For the preacher it is his pulpit and bible,
for the writer, his paper and pen.
All of our lives are an exhibition
with His message to the hearts of men.
For it matters not what field of labor
you find yourself moving through here.
If what you do is in obedience to Him-
as others see, to the cross they'll draw near.
Lay hold of the gifts given you by God
and speak a word of life in due season.
For all are called and not just the preacher
to show hope in God's Love as the reason.
(As the reason for why we do what we do)
Douglas L. Ace
I don’t stream a lot of TV
but once I’m in that mode, I’m down
and I can’t get up.
Best pickup line I heard this week:
“You could be my emergency contact.”
A girl recently called me “weird people.”
She was effusive and I was put in my place.
Apparently, good grammar isn’t legally enforceable.
Her friend apologized, saying—and wrote it down.
“She lives on her phone; it’s a claustrophobic place.”
“Ooo!” I’d said, "Can I use that?” She gave me a blank look.
Leong, lisa and I were walking to class when a lone goose flew over,
honking incessantly, like a New York taxi in heavy traffic.
“That must be a Canadian goose,” I said, because my uninformed comments seem forever welcome—and we are pretty far north.
“I know what it was saying,” Leong offered, in her most inscrutable Asian way. Lisa and I waited to hear some Chinese wisdom, but what she finally said was, “Where IS everyone? I knew I shouldn’t have stopped to pee.”
There’s a song that goes, “We got married in a fever.”
That line seems so point-on to me. That’s how it happens.
Not, “We got married with a prenup, hotter than a brussel sprout.”
My Grandmère told me Peter and I will need a prenup, if we ever…
.
.
Songs for this:
Feather by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Head In The Clouds by BabyJake
Jackson (feat. Josh Homme) by Florence + the Machine
I was working out back, while under the palms
I've a tendon-cy to stand under the limbs
to focus my eyes, and digest the surrounding glands cape
Plantar-d there on the ground was a carpenter ant
that caught my attention, and that is a fact!
Disarming he was, determined as well
making his way through tall blades of green grass
As hungry as a calf, he had shinnyed himself
He knuckled up under with all of his nerve
Hopped on an iris, like a tropical bird
and began eating his way through small fingers of lumbar
that was stacked against the rear of the old cellar door
Diget know? .. It was humerus to watch, how he testes his food!
Consuming the wood from the bottom to top
He tendon to stop, to take a deep thigh,
then back to devour, while munching his lunch.
Lashing away, until his jaws became sore
He must have consumed a whole foot, of lumbar or more!
Prostated he was, till he lymphed to the floor
Tomarrow I'll have only sawdust to store !
Ureter about fables, and stories of ants
They are truly able to eat a whole fence!
Their orbital cavitiy is bladder and bigger
than one might imagine…They've the gall to be pigs !!
____________________________________________________
9/10/16
For Contest: Body of Work
Sponsor Viv
Words of body parts used:
back
palms
tendon
limbs
eyes
digest
gland
plantar
digit
arm
blade
calf
shin
knuckle
nerve
iris
fingers
lumbar
ear
cell
humerus
testes
bottom
thigh
lash
jaws
foot
prostate
lymph
marrow
ureter
orbital cavitiy
bladder
gall
From Gabbatha, before the judgment seat,
a winding, tortured road: Golgatha's end.
His flesh in shreds, he staggers on His feet,
rough timbers grate excoriated skin.
The lines from Jesse's root are drawn by thorns,
the precious blood, in rivulets, runs dark.
To slaughter sent, the lamb of seven horns,
unblemished ere disfigured by their marks.
Exchanging doubt for will on Olivet,
and then to be betrayed by Judas' kiss;
just thirty pieces bought that blood and sweat.
Sweet Jesus, has it truly come to this?
'Fore Pontius Pilate, seat of Roman power,
civility, barbaric and uncouth,
the lord of a dominion cruel and dour
is juxtaposed 'gainst witness to the Truth.
The keepers of the Torah did not know,
or knowing, chose to look the other way.
Prophetic much disrupts the status quo;
Messiah sacrificed so they might stay.
A carpenter, he learned to dress the wood,
a trade ’twas handed down with father's love.
Ironic then to fashion heaven's door,
with arms outstretched, give access to above.
The lots and insults cast further disgraced
this giver of new wine and broken bread;
above his crown of thorns, a sign was placed
with words that bore the truth of what he said.
The first line read, "Jesus of Nazareth."
The second signified Judean king,
a title earning chief of priest's rebuff.
His own received him not, "He's no such thing."
And so on center stage, the bitter cup,
with cohorts stealing parts to left and right.
The serpent bronze is high and lifted up,
and ushers in humanity's dark night.
Amidst it all, a faith ’twas Roman-cast;
observing, the centurion was awed
in witnessing how Christ gave up his last,
"This Jesus truly was the Son of God!"
The earth was rent, the inner veil was torn
as though creation's pain sought some relief.
The crowd, returning home, beat breasts and mourned;
the women, at a distance, watched in grief.
An upright man who did not give consent,
a certain Joseph took his body down,
wrapped Him in strips before the day was spent,
and thus was Jesus buried in the ground.
(from the passion narratives of the gospels)
Fifth Place Winner
for the A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
sponsored by Brian Strand
written 04/11/2022
He was about thirty
when he left home,
a strong man by then,
and a skilled carpenter.
He'd helped Joseph
build most of the houses
in this village you know.
It was so hard..
to let him go,
nobody believed
he could possibly be
the messiah of the writings,
even though everyone
knew of that miracle of the wine,
over in Cana.
My he was a good son,
I was so proud of him..
was that so wrong of me?
Even though I knew ever since
he was in my womb,exactly
who he was.
He was my firstborn you know ..my eldest..
such a loving,caring nature.
Yesterday the wind blew hard
branches now litter blacktops and lawns,
twigs crunch underfoot.
Minor damage
but this morning, neat suburbia
is a little ramshackle and shabby
the way infrastructure
turns shabby when chipmunks
gnaw their way through
to another hole,
or carpenter bees’ tunnel
or ants crumble caulking
into small untidy scruff.
It’s a day for a rain-proof slouch hat.
A day for surveying
what and which
fell prey to that blustery toss,
and what dodged (as if it could),
the glancing clout of the gales disorder?
I walk to the end of the avenue.
some walk in the opposite direction,
all of us
seeking small signs of downfall
the wind strewn and note-worthy.
We head home one by one
with our breathless tales,
a little swagger in our steps
very eager to report
not much at all.
Blessed is the man who trusts only in the Lord,
and whose confidence is in the Lord.
For he will be just like a tree that's planted by a stream,
and will not fear the heat for his leaves will be green.
Give up your life, be molded by the Potter's loving hand,
give to Him your heart, and let Him start His master plan.
When I get near sighted, Lord and can't see past today,
remind me that your master plan is always the best way.
Take a look at the birds of the air, they don't sow nor reap nor store
and yet your Father feeds them, are you not worth much more?
See the lilies of the field never worry for they know
that the master plan is in God's hand.
We know that all things work for good for those who love the Lord,
who are called according to His will to act upon His Word.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil for He is my life and breath.
And when my dreams are shattered, it's because they're made of glass;
dreams built by the Carpenter are made to last.
Then when my castles crumble it's because they're built on sand,
I've got to build my home upon the Rock, just like the Master planned.
Take a look at the birds of the air, they don't sow nor reap nor store
and yet your Father feeds them, are you not worth much more?
See the lilies of the field never worry for they know
that the master plan is in God's hand.
written 1 Nov 1979
I fly on wing of song.
Twenty-three miles out of Atlanta
soaring like an eagle traveling from DC
thirty-six thousand miles high
Fly, fly away
Through the blue hues of morning
white fluffiness lie below towards earth
puffy white and gray cotton-like softness
gently moving on windsong
feeling like a Welsh princess
watching o’er her universe.
I see the world through a rectangle
looking out over the airplane’s wing
reaching outward and upward.
Soaring like hope
Moving like faith
Solid span of charity
Humming motor onward bound joyful sound
A higher plane than I have found;
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground
wind under my winged sails
I’m pressing on the upward way.
Arrows painted on wingspan
pointing left as we travel right
viewing “safety line attach point”
feeling secure way up here
three flapjacks adjusting the wind flow
reminding of Father, Son and Holy Spirit
pouring through keeping my soul.
Upward outward incline
continuous motion held by metal strength
while thin white clouds pass by.
Heaven’s sky still far far away
no matter how far up one gets God is farther still
beyond the blue somewhere higher.
Sitting assured as my mind presses on—
landing soon will come
back to earth world
where I belong.
@2011 – Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
an impression of the world
stands before me
Left is right, and right is wrong,
and the mirror reflects a melancholy song.
i the mirror
not
the babbling brook,
or
the rippled river
whose images tell harmless lies.
i
the mirror,
who was once held in the
weak, shivering, hands of a life nearing its end
now lay
on broken, crushed bones, crumbs
and i
one thousand shards
the cracks
the jaded moments of my life.
i
an unintended semblance in the raging waters
crashing against the killing rocks of the rushing falls.
never utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
the serpent swallows the swollen cow,
swallowed - the farmer's wife,
swallowed - her son,
swallowed - the thorny toad,
the black widow spider devours them all!
i the empty frame
the bits and bites of carpenter ants.
my world
a perverse facade
of
what should of been
of
what
is
of
what
was
or of
what? WHAT?
less?
i guess.
NEVER utter the curse
"it can't get any worse"
whose voice
will bring me peace,
whose rapier
will deliver me,
who will
burn my body whole
or
dig me a deep hole
or
throw me void of soul
into
the waters of the screaming ocean
who herself dies a slow painful death.
Dec 20 2015
armand
with a major contribution by
Joseph May
He was born in a Bethlehem stable, a modest carpenter's son,
Who did wondrous things ere His work on earth was done.
Despite His humble birth, He rose to become the King of Kings!
Along His perilous bourne He became adept at many things.
He was a PREACHER with no degree - His tutoring was from Above,
To guide Him in spreading His wonderful message of love!
He was a DOCTOR who cured the sick and caused the lame to walk,
Healed the blind, raised the dead and made the mute to talk!
He was a TEACHER who showed the way to eternal life,
And taught The Golden Rule that all may be free from strife.
He was a skillful LAWYER, tho' He held no jurisprudence degrees;
On many occasions He held His own debating fractious Pharisees!
A MIRACLE WORKER, He turned water into wine at a celebration,
And multiplied a few loaves and fishes to feed a vast congregation!
He was also a FISHERMAN, albeit a fisherman for the souls of men,
And a SHEPHERD guarding His flock from straying from the pen.
Never before nor since has such a man trod this earthly plane.
This Majestic One aspired for naught of trite worldly gain.
His sole mission was to die for mankind's sins on a lonely tree.
This son of a modest carpenter who is King for all eternity!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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