Long Carries Poems
Long Carries Poems. Below are the most popular long Carries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carries poems by poem length and keyword.
Approach of Wind, it chills
in a particular way.
Unexplainable, how it carries in competing tandem,
of unknown elements brought into the arena, bare.
Doctor's bag opened of winds,
surgical biopsy underway,
in new mandated trailways.
Membraned channels of envelope streams
holds aloft vapors of vial serums,
like a bassinet with black wings.
Intheorium sends it's postage.
It soothes the Cesarean Earth in her pangs,
for mankind's evil is great. How can it stand to be.
So he sends them a strong delusion
so that they may believe a lie.
Armies shall pillage the Family and
upend the carts in the Marketplace.
Souls shall be scattered to the four winds, looking desperately for a compass
that can find the head.
Delivery, once slow, has increased exponentially.
Magma rivers will haunt the landsape like lions,
Nemian.
Great forges looking for gold to smelt into idols of Pompeii.
For he shall stand in his Pomp in the Temple,
then sit, as if he is God.
The universe creaks on tiny, sublime hinges.
Time swings in space-time, frayed at the fringes.
Each squeal is a cipher, a riddle to implore,
For a small iron whisper that unlatches the door.
Dreams swing on hinges where memory's ghosts hide.
Half-truths and illusions roll in with the tide.
They glimmer, they scatter, they beckon once more,
Through half-open gateways, and a half-open door.
A rusty hinge is furious; it moans with all its might.
It groans with a grinding burden too heavy to fight.
Its sorrow is relentless, its voice a grating roar,
A fracture that longs to close, bolting the door.
Each heartbeat has a hinge to swing open, recall.
It shuts out sorrow, but lets joy in, to all.
Its hinge chatters; it flutters; it listens for clues.
To filter what enters the soul's drive-through's.
At dusk, the day's bronze hinge is on standby.
Day sinks into silence; the night awaits its reply.
Timing is delicate; a groan, a whisper, or a song,
As fleeting shadows find rhythm and shuffle along.
The mind is a doorway that swings in late breezes,
It opens, it closes, it pants, it begs, as it pleases.
From folly to wisdom, from basement to high spire,
A small hinge of thought can spark reason’s fire.
Love leans on its hinges, both weak and true,
It squeaks when neglected; it splinters into two.
But kindness can oil it, and faith guards the door,
So two hearts on hinges can swing together some more.
The past lies in a doorway with hinges of stone,
It groans when it opens, it sighs when it’s shown.
Yet memories linger on, they hunger for more,
Knocking for entry to door still locked as before.
The future is waiting on hinges yet to be seen,
It echoes in light beams, with glimmers between.
Each moment is a sneak preview of what's in store,
Through cracks in the door, that has not been opened before.
So marvel at the mighty hinge, with its knuckles and a nail.
It carries the key to enabling life to be at full-scale.
With a sneak preview, a whisper, an echo, or a roar.
Each tiny hinge sets things in motion; it opens the door.
Love is where orchids dream and roses bloom
offered to the soul
where lover's tongues speak
and moist eyes hold tender whispers
where breath is shared
the universe is folded small around a graceful embrace
of our emotional melody
We cross the heart's bridge as wandering sparrows
looking down on the stream that carries our reflections
toward the horizon
lifted by golden wings of enchantment
into a misty realm
inviting our hearts to a banquet of peaceful fantasies
We drift on wishes of our desires
our senses filled with fragrant perfume
as we dance through the flowers bloom
spinning and spinning
along a cobbled path beneath a night sky
where small lighted candles glow
in our open palms
their glow shines upon our faces
shadows of wonder are captured in the light
as our hearts melt like the candles we hold
summoned by a siren's song calling our names
drawing us closer to forever
Poetess
I need a Poetess to steal my heart,
In the depths of the dark, night air;
That carries her cries, near and far…
I see before me,
An angel of my forever heart.
Her words shall guide me towards her heart
And in the depths of the dark;
I shall let her take my huge heart.
For I have no need of it to live, when I am with her.
She keeps me alive, with her Heavenly words.
Words of trust and promises of faithfulness;
These are the charms of The Poetess.
For she could be trusted to speak from the soul.
I could once more stupidly believe her promises to never go.
So I write you a poem from the bottom of my soul;
You words are worth loving;
My Magnanimous Noun.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
What If
You live in a Matrix that you don't know, what is really happening around you.
That there are people that wish to control you through fear, lies, and manipulation and deception, but you don't realize it's happening.
That these people have been planning this a long time and they are incredibly smart, evil, rich and powerful.
That they are the people that you trust, listen to, appreciate, and admire.
That they are many years ahead of you in technology and they have gathered so much information on you, that your privacy doesn't exist.
That they control the economy, your food, your water, your money, and through the false narratives on television your mind.
That they are so evil that you in your worst thoughts, could not fathom their evilness.
That their goal is to depopulate the world from 7.8 Billion people to 5 hundred million.
How you might ask? Through your food, vaccinations, chemtrails, your water, medications, lack of health care, and many other ways.
That they want a data bank on everyone on earth through your dna and tracking, and tracing devices.
There are many of us and few of them, so they want to monitor us at all times so we can't retaliate when we realize what they are doing to us.
After they give us our freedom back with conditions, they will bring us back to our prisons at home with another plandemic.
Then they will tell us that if we want our freedom we have to first be tested and then vaccinated.
Later they will say that your money carries the virus and they will bring in the cashless society. Why? If you don't go along with the program, they shut off your funds.
That they want to disarm us, take our weapons so we can't fight back. Canada just banned assault weapons, U S A will follow.
Henry Kissinger said, You want to control the masses, you control their food and their money, and they will do anything you ask.
My friends welcome to, THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
Go to YouTube. Everyday they take down their videos to censor them. Warn others like I have warned you.
Off The Grid With Doug and Stacy
YouTube.
Dr Sherri Tenpenny Brighteon.com
Tell all that you love and tell them to tell ten others. So forth and so on. God bless you all we are in this together...
Michael Tor
Many years loved, many years lost
A hearts once love Lost Love
Young and free they was no care
Destiny unknown road traveled
Journey, a meet paths cross
Gentle in kindness bound to fall apart
A dream, Feel for a Lost Love
A reality of a journey they both knew
Even the first kiss was deadly
But the warmth untold
A hearts desire no matter the difference
He was of age, she was barely legal
He had father's permission
A promise to be a real man!
Two hearts they fell in love
Feel for a Lost Love, many rolled by
Days was years, love always remain
Even down the road beauty still persist
Destiny's can be chances even in heart
As journeys are purpose she wears his heart
It not red or run with veins
Its not darken but shell it covers
But she carries it both in life
Its not just his love but hers as well
Feel for Lost Love that never die
Another love that never started
It carries us all on the swift tide of truth,
launching us through life on a dime,
spinning us further away from youth.
To experience it is a pantomime,
a never-ending trip through the deep;
some call it a crime.
It forces us to take a leap
down mountains sheer and places full
of boldness and virtue and other things that don’t come cheap.
It can beat our senses dull,
but it leads us on to take
the heart-transforming fall.
It jolts us clear awake,
whacks us on the head,
reminding us we are but drifting snowflakes.
Once upon a time we fled
and tried in vain to avoid this trip,
we stopped trying when we found we’d end up dead.
Sure, we’re guaranteed to make a slip,
maybe even two or three,
but without them, there is no beauty in the trip.
This is where we’re meant to be,
taking the helm and flying strong,
not forgetting to fall to our knees.
This trek is weary; this journey’s long
and no times can match
when we were young.
But now we form new bonds to attach,
living truly free,
and unlock the love of life beyond the stone-cold latch.
The wind doesn’t have a plan
It doesn’t know where it came from
Or where it’s going
It just is, it carries itself
Like the memory of one in an aged home
Longingly she misremembers and in it frays
Where do we go now or do we?
Some repeat the same ragged line, over and then over
Your memory lingered as a hot blistering day
And the breeze of forgiveness carried
One of us had to let go so the wound could too
The reconciliation of the Holy Spirit healed the wound
And the Wind moved on in forgiveness
Most time your mind seems lost and words are spared
But the eye that sees me, burning my heart it has a voice
It tells me I love you with all your terrible faults ,deeds
Im your memory, wind and Mother and I will always hear your voice
Through the storms , through the rains , through everything that's unjust and just it remains
He is the God who saves us
Even before there was a beginning ,
He was outside of the end ,
He is, He is everlasting everlasting everlasting.
He is creator of all things
My God alive. He's not dead.
Width raised up hands and eyes and my voice elevated.
I lift him up
He's my God of praise.
He is the GOD who saves us
Though my circumstance
Seems sometimes happenstance
Honor and thanks be to the holy ONE my LORD , my KING
He who carries our heavy load day-by-day.
He is the God who saves us
As I look from within my GOD , HE is the GOD who saves us
He is the God who saves us
He is, He us the God who saves us
It's not footprints that we should be talking about -
They’re personal – my footprints, bold and giving,
Which shape me, make me me - who I am:
They're not Jesus’s, the king of living.
Your personal history partly determines your life,
Helps you, or makes you want to overcome,
Makes you want to become who you want to be,
Because I'm more than just my history’s sum.
The Jesus that we know is a universality:
Communal, all-knowing and immortal;
But that I evolved and am part of humankind,
Gives me purpose and a rather large portal.
Individual responsibility makes the criminal weep:
His actions are only his, there's no leeway;
It gives the success story her satisfied smile,
At past determination in her disbelieving day.
Existentialism posits we each exist without divinity,
As self-sufficient entities with meaning as your call;
Supernature strokes the ego, fondles the pride,
So just believe in atheism and be relational to all.
In Mary Stevenson’s Footprints poem,
Jesus carries you, with his footprints in yours;
But I think my role-models, physios and teachers,
Along with myself, carried me in theirs!