Long Ceaselessly Poems
Long Ceaselessly Poems. Below are the most popular long Ceaselessly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ceaselessly poems by poem length and keyword.
“Arms Full of Linnet Wings”
In the garden
that afternoon
she planted seeds
in their ripe minds
their eyes looking
up to hers their
irises dazzling
in the late afternoon
sunshine wide open
as if waiting hungrily
for more food
she dropped words into
their mouths which
they swollowed whole
jewels like memories
nebulous little darlings to grow
perhaps too young
but maybe one old enough
for the story to stitch
and in time graft
and re-sow
all her little goslings
in a row, eventually
swans, black or white
she could not tell
would never know
she held tight
to the moment
that Summer all a glimmer
and noon a purple glow
arms full of linnet's wings
she never ever wanted to let go
too soon
she would leave
the nest
long before them
she wondered
ceaselessly
about the three fates
and how they’d
grow
the seeds
she’d planted
in their minds
bloomed an entire
wild garden
undernourished
yet overgrown
(LadyLabyrinth)
for Lynette, with Love
“The linnet and the drush say
I love, I love” (PJ Harvey)
“To see a world in a grain of sand
and a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and Eternity in an hour
A Robin Redbreast in a cage
puts all Heaven in a rage
A Dove house filled
with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thr’ all its regions”
(William Blake)
“I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
(William Butler Yeats)
Compliant to God, never defiant
Persistent in doing His will by grace
Jubilant, amidst trials, triumphant.
Yielded to the Lord in running life’s race
I’m upheld by His love’s magnificence
For joyous service along might’s brace.
Dependent on His light’s iridescence
Taught am I through the precepts of Scriptures
Delighting in His marvelous presence.
Surrendered to Christ for steward gestures
Blessed with His provision-sufficiency
I’m nourished while He ceaselessly nurtures.
Gripped with the Saviour’s faithfulness-mercy
Propelled by earnest humble gratitude
I worship Him in His excellency.
Toward divine strengthened faith-altitude
I abide* in my Master’s fortitude.
*1Corinthians 7:24 Brethren, let every man, wherein he is called, therein abide with God.
May 21, 2019
Honorable Mention, "STRAND SELECT O ,any form ,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 2/14/2020.
Immortal and undecaying these poems, I know, shall die one day;
one day all fame and immortality shall fall flat among the debris.
The Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China
shall be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions.
The eyes of Newton and Einstein shall be upturned;
upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars
shall be falling down ceaselessly.
Alas! where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature,
music and paintings earned through thousand years?
When these poems will die one day;
when all fame and immortality shall fall flat one day among the debris;
when the Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China
will be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions;
when the eyes of Newton and Einstein will be upturned;
when upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars
will be falling down ceaselessly;
alas, when where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature,
music and paintings earned through thousand years; that day, o God,
pour down those poems into my soul, listening to which, all the nymphs
and inhabitants of Paradise will start dancing in joy.
I walk bearing such a soul which plays like a flute,
sings like a cuckoo,
runs stirring murmuring sounds like a spring
and dances unfolding its feathers like a pea-cock.
If I were not submerged utterly into the darkness of the worldy life,
my soul would play such a way, your sky would start trembling;
it would sing such a way, the passers-by would remain standing by speechless;
it would run stirring murmuring sound such a way, poems after poems
would fall down into the souls of the poets;
and it would dance unfolding its feathers such a way, the eyes of the beauty-lovers
would be dazzled in wonder.
My soul is, as it were, a cuckoo who has mistakenly entered a city;
he sings songs but the outcry of the machine-monsters does not let them enter
the ears of lords and ladies.
"The Lord is risen!”*
keeps on reverberating
as vibrant resurrection-shout
for life-transformation
conquering old nature
vanquished by God’s salvation-might
toward empowered service
wrought by the Holy Spirit.
“The Lord is alive!”
ceaselessly echoes
jubilant resurrection-truth
along faith-perseverance
smiting doubts' grip
through Scriptures' assurance
bracing against angst of confessed iniquities
to radiate Christ's light.
“The Lord reigns!”
serves as blissful resurrection-triumph
for fruitful kingdom-involvement
propping labour of love
with earnestness verity
girded by the Saviour's faithfulness
for worshipful adoration
around heavenly fellowship's bliss.
*Luke 24:34 Saying, The Lord is risen indeed.
I thank You, dear God for Your love, sending to me Your Son Jesus Christ to be my Saviour. Thank You, dear Jesus, for dying on the cross, being buried, and rising again to save me from hell, granting me eternal life. I trust You. I put my faith in You while I repent of my sins. Thank You, Holy Spirit for enlightening me that only Jesus Christ can save me, and satisfy my soul. Keep me staying in Your victorious will by Your grace. In Jesus' name. Amen.
April 9, 2018
Edited on April 3, 2022
1st place, "Easter" Free Verse Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh; judged on 4/11/2022.
1st place, "STRAND PICK E, any theme, any form" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 4/25/2020.
Featured as one among Poetry Soup's "Poem of the Week" on April 29-May 5, 2018.
STILL WATERS
Cautious on a determined curious observation
Ceaselessly burying my mind in the grave of fables
A believe that truth lies within the ambit of rumours
Obsessed with this stupid incessant search for the truth
Stupid! They said; more stupid it visibly appears
Only the death of the faithful will be laid at the feet of the unfaithful.
There is an escape path; but we always come back
No matter how far we run; the truth runs after us
It will only take a day to restore normality; just a wish
Maybe if wishes were horses; the destitute could ride
Just as wishes keep being wishes; the poor becomes poorer
Imagination is more important than knowledge; the patterns are invisible.
The early warnings came earlier than expected
We read the will to forgive our enemies; not our friends
She is harmless; at least, so I assumed for long
She is one of a kind; one not capable of deceit; I thought
In for more than a surprise; she did the unthinkable
The sayings now understood; still waters run deep...
Lordvip
This Hurdy-Gurdy's gonna be worldy!
An instrument unbeknownst to a few.
But the Hurdy-Gurdy swirls fervently,
Like spinning saucers in a sky bright blue.
The Hurdy-Gurdy thrives when it's whirling.
Bringing music to playful ambience.
Sounds flow and dance incessantly twirling.
Listeners know its tone is resonant.
Musical notes flow into all winds whirls.
Whisperers summon Hurly-Gurly art!
Colorful notes whistle and are wordy!
The five senses feel every worldy part.
All about Hurdy-Gurdly is curly;
Its secret sonic, sixth-sense wails endlessly!
This Hurdy-Gurdy dreams of roaming wide.
A box of sci-fi secrets, old, yet, new.
Its sweet song becomes my lyrical guide.
Like dancing moons 'round planets that are blue.
The Hurdy-Gurdy flies when sent to whirl.
And fills the sky with playful soothing sounds.
Its swirling notes rise ceaselessly in whirls.
And all who listen feel emotion-bound.
Each melody glides through turning-year wheels.
The Hurdy-Gurdy casts a rhythmic spell.
Its soft sounds resonate with great appeal.
Awakening all that the heart foretells.
All ears touched by the Hurdy-Gurdy heal.
Hidden, mystic sounds unfurled and revealed!
Upon the vast expanse of blank parchment,
Unspoiled slabs of molding clay,
They lay unfolded before me,
As her earthly form once did sway.
The quintet of horizons,
Whirled in orbit around her soul,
As the globe revolves in homage,
To the radiant, golden sun's control.
Yet the air I once inhaled,
Now has veered a different course,
And all that I bestowed upon her,
Contained the essence of my life's discourse.
Oh, what wisdom I imparted,
She adorned as her attire,
Yet now my hands, embittered,
Rub against the clouds entire.
In the realm of what was everything,
Beneath the shadows, my hands do strive,
And the images once vivid,
Now drenched in hues of somber black arrive.
A stroll amidst the world outside,
Enveloped by the sounds of children's play,
Their laughter echoes in the air,
Yet my soul bears a searing dismay.
Twisted thoughts, they dance and twirl,
A carousel within my mind,
I'm spinning, spinning ceaselessly,
As the sun sinks, leaving me behind.
Now my hands, they gently cradle,
Fragments of shattered glass,
Of what was once my universe,
Now diminished, a fading mass.
The images, once vibrant,
Now painted in the darkest ink,
A tapestry of love gone awry,
Turned my world to shades of black, I think.
All that was, has now departed,
A canvas tattooed with despair,
Every glimpse, every aspect,
Marked with the echoes of a love that's rare.
In the tapestry of time,
A future where you'll shine,
A celestial being in another's sky,
But why, oh why, can't that sky be mine?
["The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough." - Ezra Pound]
Mortal bonds, the chains of flesh
Shackle a weary spirit
To a crushing forlorn succession
Of a failing in the means to find answers
Any action, bound to be
A fruitless endeavor
Disquieted passerby
One gaze into a jaded pair of hollow eyes
As if viewing through a pair of stained windows
Of ornate painted glass
The visage, like the empty pews
Of a magnificent cathedral
Of agonizing sorrow
that which never ends
Blunting the edge of indescretion
I will find no relief
Ceaselessly lamenting
dismally spiraling
Into loathing lol self reflection
Catatonically stricken
By the weight of calamity
Ironically symbolized
To illustrate a trend
Bending will, I broke it.
I chagrined in disbelief.
mortality, transcendence
My ever dearest siblings,
Through this sonnet, allow me to express my love for you, Brods and Sis, emanating from the Lord, exemplified by our parents, exuded throughout
our family and extended to our homes. I love you…
Faithful ardent love ceaselessly prevails
Compassionately binding hearts with glee
Since the Saviour’s divine care never fails
Granting sweet fellowship for you and me.
God’s warm presence seals our kinship embrace
Tying us around great partnership bliss
Enclosing our togetherness' blest grace
Midst prayer-propped greeting and kindness’ kiss.
Sublime loyalty keeps knitting our souls
Secured well while to the Lord we draw nigh
For revival fires in reaching-out goals
To leave good legacy along faith’s fly.
Together we nurture love as home’s worth
Such is Christ’s gift to share with heaven’s mirth.
In today’s birthday of mine, my heart offers gratitude to God for His love that keeps on reigning over our sibling-bond… which our loved ones, spouses and children likewise experience. Also, thanks for your love.
*Ephesians 3:19 And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God.
March 8, 2023
9th place, "For You, Love" Poetry Writing Premiere Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh; judged on 3/12/2023.
It’s a recurring thought –
Over and over again –
Reverberating in my head,
Bouncing back and forth,
Reeling up and down like a Yo-yo,
Like a boomerang that keeps coming back,
Like a song stuck in your head,
A thought that gnaws at your will to live,
Like an army of termites devouring
your soul making you hollow inside,
Like the waves of the sea
lapping its shores ceaselessly.
It’s a nagging thought
to just shut off everything,
Like turning off the light switch
and walking away;
A thought to strip off all my
worries and cares of the world,
Like a snake shedding its skin,
And just wandering away,
Leaving behind petty rivalry,
envy, jealousy, shallow ties,
The promises and perils of life,
And to step forth renewed, reborn,
into a new place with no identity,
no name, no past, no aspirations--
just living for the day
As I like, As I please,
With no vagaries of life,
No yearning for paradise.
Walking away folk free
unrestricted by time or space,
customs, creed or the rules of the law.
But this thought
Like an active volcano ever brewing
and rumbling but never erupting,
Like a seed sowed with care and nurturing
but never sprouting, never coming to fruition.
It just keeps kneading and churning
Forever bobbling in the doldrums
Performing boondoggle tasks
Bearing the burden of the world like Atlas,
Unable to sigh or sneeze,
Fearful that a sudden moment
The slightest shift might cause
an upheaval in someone’s life.
Ah, the woes of life!
Why thou linger willy-nilly in my vicinity?
Why thou not forsaketh me?
Go and befriend the dark, foreboding clouds
And burst down upon some distant shores.
Let some sun shine upon me,
Let love gather me in her warm embrace,
Bequeath to me days rife with joy
and mellow moonlit nights,
Let my path run some distance straight
and not twist or turn at whim,
Let there be spring in my seasons
instead of the cold and bare winter,
Let me rejoice in the day’s toil
And earn me the night’s repose –
It’s a recurring thought,
Over and over again,
Reverberating in my head...
Wait just a minute!
Didn’t we go over that already?
~09/10/15
"Inside My Head" contest by John lawless