Long Channelling Poems
Long Channelling Poems. Below are the most popular long Channelling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Channelling poems by poem length and keyword.
(A lone voice whispers)
I always used to wonder
Where do Robins go to sleep
Then one dark night
Within a deep all-consuming lucid dream
At approximately one o'clock
A beautiful deity appeared out of the mist
Wearing a blue and white coat
Holding a Lily and a shining lantern
Across its shoulder, a golden trumpet and a branch from Paradise
On its golden belt
Hung a scepter and a silver scroll
As it strolled towards me
Within my illustrious sleeping streams
A strange palace of darkness
Where no birds
Flew or squawked
Its mysterious ever watchful eyes
Held me firmly transfixed
Like an ethereal heavenly hawk
Its bright white orbs
Swallowed me whole
As it whispered words
I'll remember
Until I'm old
Within the light of day,
We appear
Your beloved and even I
To watch over and visit you
To see and follow all that you do
When we, the blessed few
Waiting in the new spectacular bright white lights
In the glorious cathedrals of Atmos, shadowy arches
Cross over
When allowed a brief time
Before we are eventually
Reunited in a new form
To rejoice in hymn
Within your All Highs
Divine Church
Depending upon
The faith of your choice
To visit those we still
Love
To leave a sign or sing
A sonnet
Happily with echoes of our new voice as we too mourn
Then in here
At darkness
In
The Great In-Between
A place you all visit
Whenever you fall asleep
In deep dreams,
We always appear
For real spiritual shapeshifters
Like us
Never really sleep
We just transform into Robins
Through a supernatural technique
For sometimes they are merely vessels
We use
Just one of our everlasting souls keeps
So if you see one
And it sings
Looking straight at you
Remember this
It's just a beloved loved one
Maybe even me
Archangel Gabriel
Channelling
Through
And with that beautiful closing line
It disappeared quietly
Back into the receding winds that whined
Of the Hidden Divine
And when I awoke at eight,
I'm sure it met me
Sat on my old garden's wooden gate
My beautiful friend
Who loves to sit on the washing line
Whispering and singing
Hello
Sending shivers and tingling
Shooting
As I remember that dream
All the way
Up and down
My sinuous
spine
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Looming bells;
Celebrating marriage and love
Channelling flowers;
Overlooking for the bride;
From a distant you can smell her;
Aromatic like oracle flowers;
She walks softly and quietly;
Celebrating marriage and love
Flowers surround and hang surrounds them;
Bride to be and her groom;
Standing in a row the bride-man/groom alongside him his best man;
Flowers fold outside wedding blossoms claps;
Father of the bride sheds tears,
Celebrating marriage and love
He stumbles yet says something blew in his eyes;
As the organist plays here comes the bride...
8/13/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
By those virtues deposited in my heart;
Amiss those tandem brutal deleted parts;
Memories of prior judgment sinner wrath;
Presently mourners rants when will healing start;
Remorseful and enlighten yet still I'm sad;
There is a virus sin driven this not right;
Urban bound humanity stillborn so mad;
Now so death is total separation blight;
We are forged wrap hinged boxed up engaged and caged;
Deserting yet self-servicing beyond sight;
Where's our divine Savior now is He nearby?
How's that both the moon and sun shines at night;
I offer up my mind and spirit as bait?
Where's hearts delight be it now my soul excites?
The Lion and the Lamb view the Canary.
All with the Robins, Sparrows and Doves recite.
I'm tweeting chirping heart's delight through the cage.
Flocking unfurl feathers moving to ignite?
Demon's drool while being a concreted fool.
I was smiling during the darkness. I see daylight.
All of the flesh of my spirit so unfolds,
I am further delighted in the twilight.
As my head evolves, my soul has spirit wings.
Rises above the height of the heathen burn.
I have broken out of my well-deserved cage.
Out from the darkness now within my eyesight.
Spiritual brights of reflective rainbows.
I am channelling passages virtues holy white.
I'm given freed at last now out of my cage.
Open up to the living God for insight.
Fortunate am I now that I am now so there.
My spiritual birth now lit in candlelight.
6/20/20
WRITTEN WORDS BY James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
People, we are the pulsing heartbeats,
Pumping life through this world's veins.
Our words, the rhythmic thrums,
Echoing through endless plains.
Poems, they are the arteries of connection,
Channelling thoughts from mind to mind.
Conversations, the capillaries of communion,
Weaving bonds that intertwine.
Life, it's the ever-flowing river,
Carving paths through rocky terrain.
Concerns, the rapids that threaten to sever,
Tossing us, testing our will to regain.
But communication, ah, that's the lifeblood,
Coursing through, keeping us alive.
It's the oxygen that our spirits so crave,
The sustenance that helps us thrive.
So let your poems be the heartbeat's cadence,
Syncing with others at the perfect time.
Let your words be the arteries of compassion,
Bridging the gaps, making connections sublime.
For in this tapestry of life's conversations,
We are the threads, interwoven as one.
Each voice, each thought, a vital pulsation,
Keeping this grand symphony forever begun.
People, we are the heartbeats of existence,
Poems, the very blood that gives us form.
Let's flow together, in perfect persistence,
Weathering life's every storm.
Twenty twenty oh...The virtue and trite.' Sky
ABC..9 and 7 all channelling, smiles bright similar to those fixed on cadavers? A sign of past times. Yet like a bell without chimes, and the adverts for free burgers mate they were also free.' Have snack be a
Hero.' Maybe you'll get world status..Maybe? Appealling to our best was
The worst they could due.' Meanwhile orders from switzerland..Well they were in train too.' Just not being announced although long arrived.' That come twenty twenty three would make it a test for some to survive..yet back to the ( tickers ) on the
Bottom of TV screens the posturing the
sense of ' International co-hession' how
Would our Aussie be seen.? Andrew Bolt he was a bold one Ben Fordham and more
I didn't hear much on Lawsy..Then we lost
Him for sure.' Mark Hobart a honest Doctor
And others of note, took the hits raised theirconcerns and Did Nick Patterson get some flack.. Now the heros are visible
At home and worldwide Novac of the
Tennis court.' Though they locked him inside.' Then the emails got opened and
The planes came into land.' Agenda twenty
Thirty..And primarily aimed at our land.' You see we were..We were.' The beacon they had to put out..' a good living free
Nation ' the world aspired to our ethos' without a doubt.' And we being far enough away ( could be a seeding ground?) A place of reason and re-grouping for when
They brought the curtains down.. Now bloody wake up Australia.' Get out on the streets, get to the tent citys get your people
Back on their feet.' You should listen to Bosi.' Though he's not right on everything
And Scottys another.' Hey just give them a
Ring.' Get into your ANZAC.' and humanity
Again.' You will find there the anti-dote
For this clearly induced pain.'
If anything
I see them each morning
standing by her statue
at the roundabout,
Pensive, deep in prayer,
reflective,
perhaps seeking solace
I don’t know!
Maybe searching for forgiveness
trying to make a connection
with their loved ones,
using her image as mediation,
I honestly don’t know!
Could be channelling messages
of love, praise, loss,
or something completely
different,
I really don’t know!
I drove past again today
not a sinner was there
no one deep in prayer,
Thin Lizzy’s
#Waiting for an alibi#
came on my car radio,
For a split second (if anything)
it all made sense,
and I did know!
I took note of the time and
date,
and went on my way!
The pages meet my fingertips again
Tenderly guiding the ink, as if it were rotten bile
Channelling all away
To minimal change of my world
The illusory script does not function
To the disappointment of myself and the happiness of others
And again to my bewilderment.
The room spins even though.
A dumb look washes over my face or it must have
Reality pixelates and I feel a weight at the side of my head
Up and down it nods as if opening up the plates
Ripping apart the fabrics with a sickening tear
One that plays a sweet discordant melody,
I grip the fruit infront of me
It secretes black ink that stains all,
Faux grass in between the toes, infront of a square sunset
Smothered in a blue lens,
Chunks of stuck food appear in the line of sight
Punches and stabs and what feels like betrayal
Too many words entered the ear
Removing the eye of the hurricane I float in
Drawing it back in where it does not exist
Impossible but the best course of action anyway
Deserved, echoing throughout
Truth mixes with it, alkaline
Yet still only serving to increase my pain.
The swirling parts ever so slightly in my mind
As the mantra repeats.
Not more than they say,
The glass ceiling never being broken.
Be kinder. Be more assertive.
Orders taken and meals thrown
Up into the mind the storm halts.
And the pen glides still,
Soul, guts and heart,
Empty and raw.
He played the cello with such finesse
Clutching his instrument tight to his chest
As if he was channelling his very own heartbeat
In every stroke ~ in every note
Investing so much with each lift of his bow
His flamboyant gestures mesmerised me so
An artiste creating a masterpiece
Tantalising
Teasing
Tempting
Tormenting
For he was ~ he became that cello
For he was ~ a most talented fellow
Any inhibitions gone
his soul immersed in every song
On reaching the finale
this man was truly spent
his outstanding performance
was surely heaven sent…
Written 8th October 2019
3rd PLACE
Contest STRAND SPECIAL 8
Sponsor Brian Strand
I wrote this after attending a most wonderfully uplifting performance by the World renowned Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, who performed at the Royal Albert Hall, London. This poem was inspired by their principal cello player, who put his heart and soul into every note he played!
Life has been given me
more times than truth would dare,
Death has passed by
less often than once.
You say symmetry, symmetry
prevails around here!
I beg to differ,
the inanimate is not to fear.
Love knows no kind or state
of mind
where thoughts in line
perpetuate the logic of time
but only lives in the knowledge
that nothing perpetuates itself
except itself.
To bear fruit
is to feel the geometry of syntax
in the movements
of self-willed digits.
Yet the semantics of my heart
is to divine
the course of my fingers
riding into
the horizon of your skin.
I hear the noises
that contaminate
the streets and suburbs
of man’s blueprints and plans
but only the rhythms of your heart
channelling love’s winds of joy
make it into the soul of my land.
ravens croak
applauding twilight
larks churr
saluting sunrise
a last dance over
an inverted verge.
a perpetual encounter
the last mesh of murk
against gleams of glow
held in abeyance,
opposites wrangling
like birth and demise
asking intricate questions
preserve or discharge
uncertain anxieties
ravens claim temporal flesh,
their ravenousness relished,
dominant despotism
it seems.
yet our lark’s song resonates
stirring our species
influencing our intimate impressions,
channelling subconsciously
our choice
around that inverted verge
eternally guarding us