Long Churches Poems
Long Churches Poems. Below are the most popular long Churches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Churches poems by poem length and keyword.
Red in China and India,
Purple violet at Jerusalem in Israel,
Blue in Russia and Greece,
Blue light above Rome and Paris,
In the USA, there is green,
But the smoke of Cain the Pharisee,
Talents of common Light concealed,
Talent of the commandment "don't kill,"
In any culture, expressed in his energies,
Else the natural rainbow in the sky disappears,
Juggling of shady fakir,
The giant Ferris wheel,
Devil's toxic wings,
Torches pale of missiles,
Hypnosis,
But I insist,
Waves of the blue ocean are the silver,
Bronze of sound in a blue-light atmosphere,
Golden shining of flowers by spring,
Steel of light green from leaves,
On the bones go the tissues and fabrics,
The bowstring,
White linen with yellow from England,
Embroidery Coptic from Ethiopia,
Orange tree,
Kings-Magi bring on the wings and feet,
Abel's gifts,
Red warmth from Delhi and Lima,
Wool of sheep,
For the temple of God Love and Friendship,
Seven churches of the Apocalypse,
Cherubs with metals and fabrics by seraphim,
Kings-Magi and shepherds at Christmas,
Not for that alchemy
Of the beast
That rises just now from the bottomless pit,
The choice of peoples,
To be or not to be,
The parts of the beast's body, the feast of Herod, or the communion of Jesus?!
By service, ministry,
Two signs — of the dragon or the united apparitions of the Virgin,
Queen of Peace,
The beast hides the talents, for to kill with a fake apology,
Arm the peoples and give the gunsight with a kiss,
The king of "Sodom and Egypt,"
Six six six of hypocrisy,
Say welcome with a dinner for the pigs,
To eat all beings,
I said "no, no, no" for me and this little Eve,
With all my medicine of vine and olives,
Flowers in the alive vase of onyx
Before the Very Beautiful Mary,
In Truth and Spirit,
Protection ring
Of my noble destiny,
Arena against evil,
These suiciders don't kill before the end of my mission,
Witness of the Trinity,
Trinity, the First Virgin with children of my family.
She walks in the night..
Cobblestones and sacred churches..
Historical and superb..
Incredible monuments..
A remembrance of ghosts from the past..
Ahh..
Her lovely Madrid..
Sights and sounds to inhale..
The aroma of fresh seafood paella
Her taste buds sang a harmony..
As she devoured her delectable meal..
Ahh..
To wash it down with a tall glass of sangria..
Thirsty for a tall glass..
Of..
A fresh fruity sangria...
She had one too many...
She more then quenched her thirst..
Perhaps her delectable meal was a bit salty..
She walks in the night..
Tipsy in Madrid..
Magical music playing..
Her lovely hips shaking to the beat of the music..
Electrifying and magnetic..
A tango..
Her love for the tango showed..
As she swayed her hips ..
She was hyponozied by the beat..
In the midst of it all..
She danced the night away..
Under the gleaming stars..
Roaming eyes lusting her..
Admiring eyes focused on her beauty..
Half moon above ..
Took a form of its own..
A wink from the half moon..
A wink..
Smiles..
Admiration..
Lust..
Ahh..
Tipsy in Madrid..
She beautifully smiles..
An unforgettable night under the stars..
And a winking half moon..
What if...the world weren't broken
And mankind loved each other
No poison words were spoken
And brother loved his brother
What if...the wealth of Nations
Was loosened from the greedy
Prised from their groping fingers
And shared among the needy
What if...the Vaticans Secrets
Were spilled among its minions
Or the 'Churches Coffers' opened
For the starving, in their millions
What if...the sick and lonely
The tortured and the lost
Were first in line for 'charity'
Regardless of the cost
What if...King Solomons wisdom
Was in every human being
Would each of us gaze at their lives
And wonder what they're seeing
What if...the 'chains of bondage'
Were swapped for 'chains of daisies'
Would it really be that silly
Would it really be that crazy
What if...the childrens nursery rhymes
Again, will come to pass
Prophetic visions show themselves
As mankind breathes its last
What if...countries worked together
Each caring for their people
Uncoerced by each nation
Misguided, sightless 'sheeple'
What if...the well-stocked Bunkers
Of our 'fearless world-wide leaders'
Keep their worthless lives in 'trust'
Each lowly bottom-feeder
What if...a 'Christ' is Risen
And walking in our midst
Would we even notice
He ever did exist
What if...a Change of Heart
Left us a love Eternal
And Peace alone prevailed
Not Hell on Earth, Infernal
I was walking down the sidewalk
of a big-box shopping center,
lost in my thoughts, as usual,
barely even noticed the thing.
Tucked back twenty yards or so,
I first thought it was a warehouse,
squat, and ordinary looking,
'Cavalry's Victory Church.'
No denomination listed,
just the name and cross to mark it,
a sad lump of steel and concrete,
cream-colored with no ornaments.
No spire, no tower, no bells,
nor statue of an ancient saint,
it had no sliding doors upfront,
could be a damn supermarket.
A grim feeling pulled me inside,
hoping here it would look better...
just factory carpets, few windows,
probably there due to building codes.
At least the pews are wooden,
if compressed sawdust is wood.
So many seats facing forwards
to a low, unadorned altar.
Just a cross to denote its job,
sans carvings and tall statues,
no stained glass playing with the light
while its images tell stories.
No pantocrator high above,
staring downwards from a big dome,
no gargoyles, looks a lot like
some high school auditorium.
I know the patrons are sincere,
and the Reverend does his best,
but this place doesn't inspire
or lift the spirit upwards.
Maybe it's a Protestant thing,
or fear of idolatry,
can't say. I only know that
nothing about this feels sacred.
Could it just be our laziness,
cheaper to build quick and move on...
or the money just isn't there
to inspire all who enter.
Perhaps it is a punishment,
laid upon us fallen sinners,
that He lets Notre Dame burn,
while this eye-sore continues on.
Written September 4, 2016
So tired of all this stress
The hours I've put in this desk
Sending and receiving
Never truly reading
A glaze has covered my eyes
I've known it all too well
The pain of walking the line
Toeing the precipice
Edges of edifice
The view has opened my eyes
All these buses and trains
How they all look the same
Passing through the veins of Washingtonia
Packing for summertime
A welcomed escape for my mind
Shutting sounds that surround
Focus on earth and ground
It's so easy on the eyes
With the wind in our hair
Looking to shed some despair
Through forests and rivers
Wise and ancient timbers
I'm finally home right now
All these churches and trains
How they all look the same
Passing through the hills of Appalachia
Crowning the Virgin Mary
I was only six years old and was
chosen by the first grade nun,
To place a garland of roses on the
Vigin Mary in May.
It really was an honor and a blessing.
Mom had pictures made of this event.
As little girls, we all were so lovely.
Dressed in lovely dresses and real shoes.
We never dressed like boys.
I had to climb a rather tall ladder.
Sister Antoinette helped my unsteady
feet
I was so very frightened.
But~ it was quite ethereal to see
the Madonna's face.
Another nun played the piano for us.
They all sang as I was walking up the
stairs to heaven with a garland of roses for
Mary's head.
"Oh, Mary we crown thee with blossoms
today,
Queen of the Angels, Queen of the May."
Yes, those were the days,most unique.
God and the saints were allowed in school.
We were taught to live by the golden rule.
Our world,today, thick-headed as can be,
Slammed the door in God's face.
And ignorantly searches for peace in the
human race?
Worse, many have no idea of immortality.
Take a view of the news, you will find,
Great evil forever emphasized, over the
good men, do.
God's word never read,just words of fallible
mortal men.
Churches, synagogues our new killing fields?
Yes, that's the result we pay, for turning in
disobedience from God's most Holy face!
Panagiota Romios
5/3/2018
12:30am PST
I live in a big city where the mother earth blessed us
with the friendly climate, refreshing greeneries and crops
So you can enjoy the serene beauty and forget stress
Since it's a rainfed area,farming relies on rain drops
The pongal- Festival of year harvest, is to unite
the city people despite their religious caste stages
Brihadeeswara temple,inscribed on UNESCO's site
Airavateswar temple, surviving thousand ages
Have convoluted stone carvings and intricate sculptures
Our lady of Lourdes Basilica,Nagore dargah are
nearer to us and we consider them as our treasures
Generous,obliging and ingenuous people we're
No religious split among us,Christians will go to mosques
Hindus to churches,Muslims to temples,we are unique
I never learned to look at shop windows
without searching for the walking shape of your footsteps.
The umbrella abandoned beside a rusted bicycle
resembles you more than any living body.
On the wet pavements, an old woman feeds the pigeons
with the same patience you once had
for all the things I forgot.
Someone plays Bach in an alleyway,
and the notes drip down the walls
like unspoken confessions.
In the Red Light District, the red lights no longer burn.
They resemble extinguished stars
that never found their sky.
Between two drunk tourists,
I bend to pick up a filthy doll.
I carry it home — perhaps it’s the only prayer I deserve.
No street leads to you,
but all seem to have kept the memory of your footsteps.
Even the trams stop
in the middle of your thought.
And the bells of the Protestant churches
have begun to toll in syllables
that whisper your name in the tongue of the dead.
You taught me nothing,
except how to stand still
in front of a photograph
that no longer recognizes me.
To clutch the coins of the day
like broken host from a lost gospel.
A man begs behind Central Station.
His eyes hold the same void
in which you kissed me once,
without ever touching me.
It was winter, and every snowflake
melted with the weight of a liturgy
descending from your silent lips.
Here, between water and mist,
I have only one altar:
the bench where I once dreamed you leaving
in a city that no longer believes
pain can be sacred.
Warmly describes a human emotion,
understandably applied for humans to
pleasure, as it's biblically written
where the prophets of old and new
entertained the clueless population
yet obstacles hinder The Word's view.
Then and now, wrapped up in doubt
full of opinions, mostly their devices
deceptive or modify wherefrom the clout
synagogues or churches, advice is
from the pulpits that sermons rout
the ignorants who'll lose their soul's price.
One crucified along the side of Christ
asked for forgiveness before his death
was promised Heaven as his sacrifice
yet the Gospel of John kept his breath
but Matthew, Mark, and Luke spliced
the mocker didn't drink hell's lethe.
Yet Catholicism, Western, and Eastern
Orthodox, The Gospel of Nicodemus empowers
and Arabics who follow the Abraham version
except for most Protestants distant from cowers
to the acts of The Roman Martyrology diversion
was renamed Saint Dimas for those bowers.
The Word of God anointed Christ, The Prince of Peace
and the first resurrection was Lazarus' versed in The New
and Elijah's wheel was versed in The Old piece
God spake His voice, and Christ virtually knew
and rose from the dead, the advent increased
while death and birth are The Word's points of view.
Birth created life and waits for death to do its part
death identifies those precursors of sin
and death succeeds forgiveness for those who impart
as the dead will rise and breathe within
while their blessed souls rejuvenate and claim Heaven's depart,
angelic host resurrected flights for Heaven.
By Parizo Van Thulare
Money is been chased
Deals with the devil are made
Bribes are paid
Greedy life pays
No more love to give
No more ten commandments to read
Quick route to wealth
Slow Poison to one's health
Life insurances are now their priorities
One death is a key to their policies
No degree is of need
No Certificate is of keen
Only few attend churches
The majority chose rituals
He has taken over
Everyone needs a Range Rover
Crime rules every street of the town
Criminals are the ones ruling the crowd
They just take as much as they want
And leave the rest with no place to hide
This is not the life we hoped for
Everything is just so wrong
Please help us god