Long Clay Poems
Long Clay Poems. Below are the most popular long Clay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clay poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Far off the beaten track and trail
on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale
more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
on a hilltop mounted
As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
in my poncho and sombrero
half-cut like a loco gringo
who waved “vaya con dios!”
We lit yet another hash bong
all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
under the cop radars.
Till late as wasted brain cells flag
with every mind trip headfu-ck drag
I tucked in to my sleeping bag
on the hill ‘neath the stars
As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
by a shallow hollow.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
in the hot sun and dust and dry
under a big Waikato sky
from our camp on tent row
And as I ripped in with the guys
to our grog trailer of supplies
we made a hanging chain of ties
with every pull tab rent.
Waiting for Cold Chisel that night
with a superdoob glowing bright
I was fuc-kin’ high as a kite
and lurched back to my tent
The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singing songs of praise
in some weird sh-it I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chanting Hari Krishna freaks
burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
so I got high some more
Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
on my three day bender
That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
and fired a burning flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
and I so revelled there
Written: November 2009
Sweetwaters was an annual three
day music festival back in 1980s.
Children of faith,
That look up to the heavens,
For help, for comfort,
For a change, for a beginning;
They are like nails hammered into rocks,
They have broken hearts,
They've got nothing,
Completely no one else to turn to,
They walk in the shadow of death.
Children of faith,
They know that they have numbered days,
And are aware of their crashing clay;
They see their fading light rays,
But they have their hopes high,
Like a camel in the Sahara,
That waits for years ,
For a shower of rain from above-
Their tongues prophecy new beginnings,
Their lips sing in thanksgiving,
But their hearts weep in sorrow,
For the afflictions and torments.
Children of faith,
Live each day like their last,
And give each shining sun their best.
Their thoughts are totally lost,
And upon this,they don't boast.
In fact, they're so detached-
From their poor lives.
They thank the setting sun,
For bringing a thin film of darkness,
And for silencing the day's noises;
So that they will shut their doors and windows,
To cry in silence,
And lick their tears;
And face their fierce fears-
While no one else witnesses their agony.
Children of faith,
That look up to the skies,
For midday dusk-
When the days seem longer,
Or appear like they're failing.
That call on,
For midnight dawn,
When nights appear faulty;
With the greatest of scary dreams,
And the highest ranking of their pain,
Or with life-threatening haemorrhages,
With wounds cut and drilled deeper.
Their lives have taken firm grip,
On to the strongest ropes,
Whose ends are knotted to weak poles.
Most of them lose it with time,
Like you and I at some point;
Only few keep the fire burning,
As they wait for their deliverance.
Children of faith,
I don't understand what it is that they are made of,
But only they know what their origins are.
We want to walk like them,
And borrow lessons from their trials,
As we try to put on their coats,
Just to feel the coldness or warmth or both;
That they get from their shield of faith.
She wants to follow their example,
And keep hearing their tales.
He wants to live a life like theirs;
And keep reciting their prayers.
We plead with them,
To Teach us ;
How to build faith like theirs.
When the storms are rough,
When the floods are yet to wash away our feet-
When misfortune befalls us,
Or when we feel we've lost it all.
I suppose I should have been satisfied
with the first letter: I mean, just how
often does the Almighty write to us?
Not since He did it on stone, I suppose.
But I am human and so rarely content--
then too, I still had so many questions,
like why must children suffer cruelty or
deathly ills-- and why are the aged so
often forgotten, ignored, neglected?
Why do so many hunger for vengeance
while others thirst for a drop of love?
Before the act is always the thought--
so why do we lessen the other, turn
him into an animal, some predator
to be feared and hunted to extinction?
And why do we peacock ourselves
with plumes of ego and pride, then
go strutting into the world like
petty kings, wood-hearted queens?
And always, always, we are we less
than we could be, sad thin shadows
of that person we know could, and
should walk free on the sun-lit earth?
I wrote this unmailed letter knowing
He would read the words before I
could put them down-- but I did
not expect an answer... so when I
found another letter slipped under
my door, this too written in a hand
of unearthly beauty, I gasped with
guilt and fear: was I too greedy and
just foolish to want to know the
Mind of God: why He made us
the way we are, what He wants
from us, of us, for us? Now I
began trembling, my fearful heart
pounding like it would burst open!
Still, I opened the letter and read:
"I really am breaking all my own
rules in writing you again, and
I'm not sure why-- yes, I
don't always know my
own mind-- I told you all
a long time ago you
were made in My image--
I suppose I am intrigued,
for the answers you seek
have been sought always,
throughout time, ever really
since I put that immortal part
of you in your ancestors, and
so turned animal into human,
and instinct into choice....
I gave your species
everything needed:
reason, imagination,
speech, and my
greatest gift-- love
strong enough to
transcend even time.
And what did humans
do with these wonders?
You waged war endlessly
and oppressed the weak,
breaking them as though
they were clay pots and
not my beloved children.
So I sent prophets to warn
you to choose light before
the dark ate your souls.
I even sent my only son
to lead you home, but
you killed him-- and you
wonder why life is hard?"
As always,
faithfully yours,
God
The same striking man, the same lush, green land,
cushioned and delighted her heart in sleep.
Her romantic dream of senses was most grand
unless repeated fears began their slow, dark creep;
drowning and stabbing frights would often expand.
She would then wake, shaken, and try to understand.
This consistent dream had always just been.
Each night, the familiar reel repeated
with new chapters unfolding now and then.
Six sweet, white roses were never deleted
and repeatedly appeared at her dream’s end -
always pure white of a love intense blend.
She touched the new, glossy travel brochure,
ran her fingers along the pictured tree,
reminding herself that she was quite sure
it was the same tree her sleeping eyes did see.
This tree of certain enchanting allure
is what urged on her travel towards tomorrow's tour.
**********************************************
The guide led her slowly to the charming tree.
Its presence moved her into a faint-type sway.
When her trance-like eyes finally broke free
they took in surrounding nature’s breathtaking array,
and paused at her dream recalled mound of clay
where six, white roses lay in a love intense display.
Visibly shaken, the guide sat her gently down.
Sitting, too, he began sharing an ancient tale.
“Centuries agone, the prince loved a poorly
maiden from town. Family, foes and doctrine bid
this love to fail. They eloped, cloaked by soft darkness
draped all around. He wore armor and his beauty wore
her plain gown.”
“They returned after six love-days of bliss.
Only hours back 'fore his true love vanished.
No sign, no clue, the prince sought all amiss
and threatened the guilty would be banished.
The prince finally found her in the sea’s mist
with stab wounds he would not ever dismiss.”
“He buried his love and also a spell in this clearing.
He left no marker but a white rose for each day
he and his wife had shared perfect, loving, pairing.
So sure his spell would bring her near with love revered,
he vowed to watch over her grave using spell's sway
and to join her within three moons after she appeared."
The guide asked, “how much longer do you plan to stay?”
She glowed, “I must linger at least three moons after today.”
Who is Satan?
Satan is a creature from the world of the Jinn. The Jinn are a creation of God made from fire. They are separate and different from both the Angels and mankind; however, like mankind, they possess the power of reason and can choose between good and evil. The Jinn existed before the creation of Adam[1] and Satan was the most righteous among them, so much so that he was elevated to a high position amongst the Angels.
“The Angels prostrated themselves all of them together. Except Satan, he refused to be among the prostrators. God said: ‘O Satan! What is your reason for not being among the prostrators? ‘Satan said: ‘I am not the one to prostrate myself to a human being, whom You created from sounding clay of altered black smooth mud.’ God said: ‘Then get out from Here for verily you are an outcast or cursed one. Verily the curse shall be upon you till the Day of Resurrection.’” (Quran 15:30-35)
The Role of Satan
Satan was there in the Paradise of Adam and Eve and his vow was to misguide and deceive them and their descendents. Satan said: “…surely I will sit in wait against them (human beings) on Your Straight Path. Then I will come to them from before them and behind them, from their right and from their left…” (Quran 7:16-17)
Satan did not say to Adam and Eve “go eat from that tree” nor did he out rightly tell them to disobey God. He whispered into their hearts and planted disquieting thoughts and desires. Satan said to Adam and Eve, “...Your Lord did not forbid you this tree save that you should become Angels or become of the immortals.” (Quran 7:20)
Their minds became filled with thoughts of the tree, and one day they decided to eat from it. Adam and Eve behaved as all human beings do; they became preoccupied with their own thoughts and the whisperings of Satan and they forgot the warning from God.
It is at this point that the Jewish and Christian traditions differ greatly from Islam. At no point do the words of God – the Quran, or the traditions and sayings of Prophet Muhammad - indicate that Satan came to Adam and Eve in the form of a snake or serpent.
Islam in no way indicates that Eve was the weaker of the two, or that she tempted Adam to disobey God. Eating the fruit of the tree was a mistake committed by both Adam and Eve. They bear equal responsibility. and they asked God for forgiveness.
Form:
How Hungry for GOD Are You?
How hungry for GOD are you? Do you pray and read the
Word daily? Do you stay in an attitude of prayer throughout
the day? Do you stay in fellowship with other believers?
Do you support the work of the Kingdom?
Do you hunger and thirst to know more of HIM? Do you feel like
you just can’t go on any further till HE touches you afresh? Do you
cry out for the fire of GOD to come on you by HIS SPIRIT?
Do you look for HIM to send you to unsaved people so you
can tell them about JESUS and lead them in a prayer to HIM?
Do you pray for the youth of this country and ask the LORD to send
a tremendous revival to them? Can you hardly wait for another
service so you can worship HIM with other saints?
Do you sing and worship HIM around your home and as you are doing
your work, cleaning, washing, and cooking? Do you sing n the SPIRIT as
you are mowing the grass, changing the beds?
Do you and your husband go to the mall purposely looking for
people to tell about JESUS? Do you seek out young people to
pray for them if they will let you and when they do, are you
praying for HIS SPIRIT to saturate them and use them and
keep them?
Are you longing and crying out for JESUS to come for HIS church?
HE is you know! Do you look for opportunities to tell people about
JESUS whenever you check out in stores, restaurants? I tell the
clerks or checkers that JESUS loves them and that HE is coming
soon, sometimes the reaction is tears, some laugh, some love it,
some hate it but needless to say, they got the message.
Do you pray for our nation and leaders to be safe and to be
led by HIS SPIRIT? And also, are you still and tuning
your ear to hear HIS still small voice? When you came to HIM
did you jump into the river of revival with all of your clothes on?
Did you tell HIM, Whatever YOU hate, I will hate, whatever
YOU love, I will love! Did you determine you would give
HIM everything and will follow HIM wherever HE wants you
to go?
Did you determine to be like a good little pot of clay made
by the GREAT POTTER and asked HIM to cover that little
pot with HIS SPIRIT and fill it up so HE could pour it out
on who so ever whenever or wherever HE chooses!
Oh, yah~~! Then, you are definitely hungry for our
GOD!
GOD bless,
Written by: Marilyn S Jennings
May 6, 2019
Through layers of snow,
White blankets, the world
Peaceful and quiet, still as grief – abiding
I stay hidden, secreted in the darkness,
Buried beneath the dust, the mud, the earth
Where life awaits the springlike touch
From sunshine’s blessing, rich and glorious
Awakening the music of a heart’s mystery
Soothing, like stardust – so gentle,
Light covers my grave, so somber
Earnest and peaceful, I lay quietly, waiting
For the miracle of a moment when sunlight
Breathes its wisdom through my veins,
Inviting me to rise through the soil, the richest
Clay, trembling with compassion, caressing
Away the frost, cold, so unsympathetic – bitter
Like resentment who fills the heart with
Doubts, distant thunders, storms in skies so blue
They feel like beautiful guiding me through
The reckless rest where I’ve been dormant, forgotten
By the twinkling stars, the sunrise and sunset
Never aware that I was even there – alive,
Hidden by the winter freeze, with ease
But, now – as spring silences the silver flakes,
There, hesitating within the earth, my tender leaves
Begin to peek, peering up toward the sunshine
Graceful and lulling, like the glimmering glories
Discovered in the new buds, stirring, emerging – soundless
On a quest for the light, the rain sprinkling through
The night, erasing winter’s touch with a growing
Promise – the assurance of a thriving blossom, a bloom
Who develops just as the heart begins to beat
With eagerness for the beginnings of spring,
Growing – springing from the darkness, resurrected
Great joy comes from the knowing, the hope
That revives the spirit, the feelings
In those who see that I have made it, once again,
Through the silent nights and the snow blanketing
On a land, sleeping through the winter’s smile,
Waiting quietly for the proper time to rise
From the earth, - new birth of a bud, a gentle
Wish peeking out from the past, prompting the spirit
To listen to the whisper of God’s tender gift to us,
Those who know that, despite our deepest wishes –
In time, in season – there is birthed a splendor
In spring, that splendor – that pretty comes from me
The bulb who waits, patient, beneath the ground
Where there is the promise that, in time, there will come
A beautiful flower who will brighten hearts like the sound…
Laughing in the breeze – a flower, free to breath!
Life is possibility
there are broad horizons out there for us all if only we will look
If children don’t succeed they try again or try something else –
life is about finding who we are, what our purpose is, and where our talents lay…
Just because we are not happy with something now
does not mean tomorrow will not bring brighter horizons
Get out and follow the rainbow of opportunity
its spectrum of options are numerous in number and variety
Look top your heart and minds desires and work with it
A potter will work with a piece of clay, take it and mold it
Squash it, slip it, turn - carve - colour - glaze and cook it
In attempt to master the minds perfection
We do not always get it right
but there is little that cannot be scrapped and redone
before too far down the path and then re-do
There is nothing to say if we become lost to our first desires
that in looking for others we shall not find where we should be at
or what it is we should be doing
Too many of yester-years children have grown up
to thinking they have no place within our society
they have become lost to lack of jobs
they are skilled and talented in own direction
as humans they bring chance to our world with new skills
those that are being lost through continual rejection
Each of us has personal pot of gold to find
not always is this financial but one that makes us feel needed
Each of us should be encouraging
so many live miles from home families divided miles apart
Community is individuality here and yet we need pull back together
for in doing so we will know each others needs to support
When the efforts of others become unrecognised
We can lose that which is vital to having the skills needed
for tomorrow or future years
Pulling together now and offering needed skills to fit in
An hour or two’s experience in an alternatve can keep us in touch with one another
I was always taught that none of us know what will happen to us in years ahead
Sowing seeds now could help us grow or keep us going then
Think twice because times are changing
Those latter years of our lives could perhaps see us working retirements
With those we helped along the way over us instead
Teach them what you know and they’ll remember
Maybe helping you in your struggles or perhaps retraining
Karma comes around as it goes around, make yours good!
Like a Potter, God has a plan and a purpose for us. Like clay, we are filled with air and many impurities.
He places us on 'The Wheel', where we must be schooled. He's ever patient to long endure with our disharmony.
He's beyond tolerant, going the farthest distance with us. He'll bake, shake, remake us; reshape us; return us; resend us;
It's hard to even imagine what good He would not do for us. He's unafraid and freely allows freedom of expression and freewill.
He knows no weakness that disallows Him to release us to our own devices. His Divine Law of Freewill often yield to our hastened demise and destruction.
Many are the tears of God, frequently poured out for the choices we make. But He is bound by His Divine Laws, intrinsically stamped upon His character.
Although He is Omnipotent to do as He pleases, He sometimes prohibits Himself from certain actions.
His Love is also subject to Divine Legalities of Holiness. And His personal attributes never contradict each other.
He is indeed vitally involved in the human condition'; but He forces neither success or failure; and He neither
dictates heaven; nor does He program hell for us. Each destination is a personal preference via free choice.
I must confess, there are times when I wish it were not so. But ultimately, the Father knows best how things should go.
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