Long Clamored Poems
Long Clamored Poems. Below are the most popular long Clamored by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clamored poems by poem length and keyword.
That morning he headed off to the store as they were having a big sale
In life he was looking for more as lately things had become a little stale
It was Faith this department store was selling with every size and style
In walking through that door it was this need he thought of all the while
Each and every lonely night and all those heart aches and growing pains
How this life would so often slight even your own mind sometimes feigns
All of that continuing questioning of why, never once getting a real answer
In now giving this a try in beginning to see that there was only One cure
They had some popular door busters as the large crowds clamored around
From afar you could see their shiny lusters but close up none could be found
He quickly just skirted right past for he was looking for what was in that flyer
Something that would keep him through eternity this being his greatest desire
Off in the distance towards the back there was the Faith he saw in the ad
He now knew he was on the right track and not just hooked up in some fad
The warmth that was coming from the display warmed him inside and out
And in the continuing of making his way he was shedding all that old doubt
In the Cross he knew that it was real as soon his heart had began to break
He couldn't believe how it made him feel that Jesus had died for his sake
And as all those tears began to come a store clerk asked if he was alright
As this would seem strange to some, but not to those who've seen the Light
For such a time as this:
…when enhanced community quarantine
causes angst, grievously torturing…
...when lockdown brings ennui
of senseless boredom that seems to be forever…
…when pandemic’s cure
being clamored for is still uncertain…
…when disease-virulence continues to attack
inflicting even the very frontliners striving to subdue such…
…when global crisis afflicts sorely
intensifying financial need of grumbling stomachs…
…when enforced government measures
all the more manifest limitations of human resources…
We need GOD Who is sovereign in His control of every situation!
His grace, mercy, compassion, wisdom, and wisdom
are working together for His good purpose
verily beneficial according to His plan
since the foundation of the universe
until the end of the world
throughout eternity.
Indeed, we can trust His omniscience that perfectly knows everything;
thus, let's keep on yielding to His might, beseeching His healing*
thanking Him midst worshipful praise delight for faith-fortitude
seeking for His forgiveness, protection and salvation
doing our utmost part responsibly by His Word
praying against lurking skepticism-mockery
claiming His assured blessed peace
while sharing His wondrous love
with others blissfully.
*2Chronicles 7:14 If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.
May 6, 2020
3rd place, "In Times Like These" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 5/10/2020.
A clown named ‘Bozo’ on WGN-TV
for Chicago’s populace held great appeal
They clamored to see him as if he were a deity
so charming was Bozo’s on-air personality
The waiting list, they say, was ten years long
Register your kid five years before he’s born
Then for the precious ticket pay through your nose
And pray that you and the kid a lucky day chose
That you got to play the bucket game
became eligible for the ‘grand prize’
A free lunch with Bozo himself under the Golden Arches
Because, you see, Bozo was no deity
He was Ronald McDonald in reality
~ he of no table manners
and a mouth full of ‘the big nasty’
___________________________________________________________
In case you detect a subtle whiff of untruth in one or two
of the lines above, Sherlock Holmes --- Yes, I mixed in a
few 'stretchers' with a story that is basically, ahem, itself
a 'stretcher.' ~ gw P.S. But 'Bozo' really did exist, and on
WGN-TV as well. And the waiting list was really 10 years
long... And Pinocchio never did have a long nose, did he?...
Connor Constrictor
crept through the carpet.
Marianne Marmot
marched through the market
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Tutu Toucan
turned to and fro
while Wally Walrus
watched in slow mo.
Singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Kami Chameleon
chewed a crumpet
and Tommy Tortoise
tuned up his trumpet
playing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
All the animals
clamored for more,
more of the funny
musical score
singing, “Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
Boys and girls join in singing,
“Hi hey hi hey hi hey ho!”
He sat on his tree stand looking out
Over a field layered in frost.
He’d found his way without doubt,
Even in darkness he didn’t get lost.
Getting up early was the cost
Of getting a shot at a deer,
And the winter was drawing near.
The season was coming to a close
And many miles on sore feet,
Clad in came hunting clothes,
Yet still he had shot no meat.
He couldn’t afford to buy beef
And had a family relying on him,
So he sat out in the cold morning dim.
A doe stepped out into the field,
With no fawns alongside.
He raised up his gun, still concealed,
And drew a quick bead with his eye.
Better this one should die
Than a doe who still had young,
He took aim for a heart-lung.
The gun went off in his hands,
The round struck fast and true.
The doe sprinted across frozen land,
Then collapsed in seconds few.
When it lay still he knew
That it had been a quick death,
Which always was for the best.
He whispered a prayer of thanks,
As he clamored out of the tree;
He thanked God for giving him a chance,
And the deer who now would be,
A savior to his family.
He set about dressing the kill,
The smell of it still worse than the chill.
The doe went up upon his back
Onwards to his farm he roamed,
With forty-five pounds of meat to pack,
Plus the hide, antlers, and bone.
He brought it back all alone,
Thankful for this cold morning’s take,
To the garage, to cut up the steaks!
I saw them bloom
in emerald,glistening fields;
tall,dauntless and vibrant
searching for the sunniest sky:
to grow bigger than any other flower,
to be noticed by the incandescent sun;
but as the days grew shorter,
their vanity vanished in gloom...
the pitiful sunflowers wailed in twilight...
wondering if that was worth their cry!
I was delightfully walking under
the fragrant and tempting apple trees...
emerging from grassy,shimmering slopes
crossed by rarely traveled roads
that led to misty mountains:
when I spotted a multitude of sturdy men
cutting down the tallest timber!
Their unheard cries of agony
couldn't revenge that wanton of cruelty;
when greed overrides concern:
there's no room for compassion
or human sympathy!
At the age of sixteen,
I planted the smallest pine tree
by the sun-scorched foot-ball field...
where my many victories were
clamored by my peers;
and I patiently watched it
grow and suddenly gleam...
as this writer started to dream,
to value Nature's most prized jewels
he couldn't afford to lose,
or to be snatched from his reach,
to make him rich in spirit!
She was Auntie Mame, Cher, Bette, and Liza with a Z to those amongst us.
Children clamored for her attention, twirling and whirling in her presence.
She was happy, joy, enthusiasm, personified, if you got to know her, you were delighted.
She was the most upbeat, positive person I had ever met, and I had no idea how damned depressed she was.
No one knew that she felt hated by her own mother, who resented everything she said, did or wore.
No one knew how sad she felt every second of her childhood, convinced she was too fat to love.
No one knew how much rage she was holding bottled inside, hidden away deep in the recesses of her heart,
Enraged that other children’s mothers hugged and kissed them, and said, “I love you.”
At school she was the epitome of happiness. Everyone knew when Mrs. T. came into a room, the party began.
I loved her in kindergarten, and kept loving her throughout my entire childhood and adult life.
She was music, she was marching, she was sunshine, she was joy, she was always volunteer of the year,
And she did not believe in volunteering.
which I always thought was curious.
She was the grand marshall of the parades, the head of every committee that helped children.
One time when she wanted a particular teaching job, she called every member of the school board, and told them to give it to her,
And they did,
Because they all loved her
Because she had been their favorite teacher,
Because she was puppy spice, and cinnamon kitten, and bunny love.
So they gave it to her,
But she did not take it
Because she could not believe in herself,
Because no one had ever believed in her,
Until they did,
But by then,
She did not see it.
She was a child herself, having never having a real childhood.
And no one knew.
One Scary Night
A joke, a dare
Come on, dont be scared
I am not, I stammered
Alone, up old brown stairs I clamored.
Inside, I could swear I heard them laugh,
Where were the lights, around me spirits dance,
The stairs to the top floor, they are creaking
I look to the left, why do I feel like fleeing
In an instant I see the spirit of the old man
and in my mind, is that a knife what is in his hand?
I start to run down long eerie passages,
Here he comes, the headless knight and his headless horse carriage.
The ghosts are now calling, in the kitchen of all places.
I cannot resist, I must see the look on their faces.
On to the stony floor I slide, watching them cooking.
I hide in the pantry, so scared, are they looking!
I hear the breath of someone inside,
or is that breath I hear, mine?
I feel the brush on my neck
I faint as i look, as I see what's behind.
I wake up on the dirty basement floor
I dont want to be here anymore
The chains are tight around my wrists
In the distance, I see a coffin that is lit
Is that mine, oh I feel alone.
I scream, mommy please take me home
I pass out once more, hearing the dead walk the floor
Its me next, i am sure.
I wake to see a familiar face,
My mother is wiping a cloth on my brow
I thought I told you, never go to that place
So I smile, happy to be in my abode
and promising to leave forever, the haunted house alone.
Oh, the vicarious thrill of watching it unfold.
Something I could never do, I never had the courage.
Yet, there she stood, alone, a raven haired beauty
Silken strands of delicacy, caressing her shoulders
Something to exult, to worship, at least from afar.
And then he came in, as dashing as one would expect.
The chasm between dapper and dashing and
modest and mousy, too much to bridge.
No night club was dark enough to compensate
and so I just watched.
I watched him approach her, the impetus to do so
as natural for him as combing his wavy blond curls.
His dress and his manner clamored of opulence.
And yet, she seemed to resist.
Had she tasted this brand before.
Had she already been just another bauble
or conquest, meant only to adorn.
Embarrassed that she caught my gaze,
I turned, just as she smiled
Could it be that that such grace and beauty
could have an eye for me.
It was not mockery I saw in her grin.
Perhaps courage will find me yet
and lessons learned will ensure a thrill of my own.
Then Pilot said, “I have questioned this man called Jesus,
But I could not find him culpable of a Roman crime.
So, I sent him north to be judged by Herod Antipas
Who is Tetrarch of Galilee at this time.
But Herod too, could find no fault with him.
So, I will free your rabbi Jesus after my guards have scourged him.”
“NO! NO!” clamored the Jewish leaders standing before him.
“If you release this blasphemer, you are no friend of us or Caesar.
By Roman law, he who declares himself king, rebels against your Emperor.”
Pilate pondered this and said, “Is it not your custom at this time of year
That one Jewish prisoner be freed and released back to you here?”
“THEN, FREE BARRABAS,” barked Caiaphas, high priest of the Jews,
While surrounded by dozens of the Pharisees he used
To shadow and entrap the man said to be the ‘King of Jews.’
And the crowd clamored, “YES! YES! FREE BARRABAS! BRING HIM HERE!”
“But what should I do with your rabbi Jesus standing here,
Whom some of you have called your Christ”? Pilate queried.
“CRUCIFY HIM!” retorted Caiaphas, and the crowd loudly agreed.
Whereupon Pilate placed his hands into a shallow basin among the shelves,
Washed his hands in water before the crowd, lifted them up so all could see,
Smirked and said, “I am innocent of this man’s blood. See to it yourselves.”