Long Coach Poems
Long Coach Poems. Below are the most popular long Coach by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coach poems by poem length and keyword.
The Spirit of the Lord is not mentioned often in the Holy Scriptures
But if you read the book of Acts you will get the full gospel picture
Of the power of the Holy Spirit and what It can do
Of the power that God has and how it can delight in you
When you dance with the Spirit your priorities will be rearranged
When you dance with the Spirit your whole outlook on life will change
Understand that God desires to be in relationship with us totally
God wants to be a part of our triumphs and our tragedies
God wants us to dance with HIm in true harmony
Cheek to cheek hand in hand is how God wants it to be
Now when the Spirit comes its more than an emotional two step move
When the Spirit comes it comes in a full transformal groove
To touch our souls, to open our hearts and to strengthen our minds
The Spirit wants to dance with us in a manner most kind
The Spirit wants to move us out of our brokenness and our mess
The Spirit wants to call us out on those things we need to address
To not be so concerned about what society has to say
To not be overwhelmed by life's circumstances as we journey on our way
Now dancing with life, full of joy and spiritually purified
Cleansed of those things that God sees as being horrified
Baptized by water and forged by the fire of spiritual transformation
A new creation in Christ now housed on a new foundation
Dancing with the Spirit jitterbugging with the Lord Christ
Doing the spiritual salsa, the holy hustle and the tango for the rest of my life
No longer will I define myself by my worst experience thus far
I'm now dancing with the Spirit no longer bitter nor faint of heart
Stepping out of the boat with courage and holiness abound
A new adjective before my name as the spirit in me has been found
No longer crackhead Sue but now Life Coach Susan
No longer drunken Joe but now Detective Joseph the man
Now dancing with the Spirit delivered from the adversary
Full of godly power to fight against my enemies
I'm dancing the merengue, the cha cha and the samba with the Holy Spirit
I'm dancing the swing, the bolero and the mambo as I'm now with it
Dancing with the Spirit I'm doing the jive
Dancing with the Spirit and I'm feeling so alive
Doing the gospel waltz, the holy hip-hop and the heavenly electric slide
I'm dancing with the Holy Spirit cheek to cheek side by side
Never will another season bring so much joy
A feeling of love, togetherness and happiness
Ring out them festal bells and let’s be jolly
A savior was born, condescended, we are happy
We go to church, offer praise most joyful
Screams of delight, Children playing happily
Lovers holding hands gazing happily
At the beautiful sites, mountain's peaks, rivers of joy
Birds singing sweetly in the air, their songs so melodious and joyful
Every home, through their windows flowing sounds of rapture and happiness
The drunk on the street had one wish to make him happy
Give me some rum, he said, that will make me good and jolly
I played this song last night and it is so fitting, for the topic says Joyful, Joyful
It’s the season of good cheer, a time to give, to dance, to eat and be jolly
Only you can determine your level of happiness
To give of your means it is easy, but to give of yourself many cannot do this happily
Give without grudge, with no intention to receive, that's how giving becomes a joy
To exercise these gems will cleanse the soul; give warm feelings, make us happy
Laughter in the trees, laughter in the breeze, season of laughter, everyone is happy
Gift for baby, gift for mommy, gift for daddy, even the cats and dogs had to be joyful
What the world craves, so elusive for some, thank God in His love, we find great joy
Come one come all let’s jump on the bandwaggon, riding the coach called Super Jolly
The invitation is out, don’t settle in doubt, cast off your cares, ride with us, happily
Great people great love, warmth, sharing caring, all things good gives you happiness
Take friends, co-workers and fellow poets, toss in this great soup pot of happiness
Recycle love, make this world wonderful, song writer says, ‘don’t worry, be happy’
The world needs people who are positive, will see the best in others happily
A smile, a word of cheer, a few words of encouragement, make another’s day joyful
‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way’, what good is that if we are not jolly
The Lord has come, so unto this world be peace, love, and most important of all, joy
There is truth and beauty in the person with happiness, looking radiant and joyful
I would give my money just to be happy, to see my loved ones and friends real jolly
Luxury of life I would trade off hapilly, to have the thing the world craves for, joy
I'm here to take the lower approach
To what I was ordained to coach.
I'm no Preacher,
But He did put me here to teach you.
I'm not inveighing;
I'm just saying
That the only way through life is by praying.
Everyone seems to want to be a sinful conformer,
While the depths of hell get fuller and warmer.
Death and time, still succeeding the former.
See I'm a Poet
And as a person who does believe,
I perceive what others have forgotten to see.
Prosecuted not by we,
But by the persons my ancestors plotted to be.
And now I find myself trying
To figure out why you'll think I'm lying
When I reveal that what is born today,
Tomorrow will be dying.
I've seen many "joyous" christians
Everyday on thier knees crying.
Repentant of the sins Flesh had them denying.
Unwilling to make the bed
They chose to lie in.
Well predict your life on what your perceptions have been prying.
Forgetful of the One who can take
The dreariest,
Weariest,
Rainy, that drains me
Weather
And turn it into something
Sunny,
Bright,
And lovely
To make things better.
Kinda like unchanging youth
Resting on the skin like morning dew.
Now don't prosecute me for my truthful depiction.
Grinning at me with an afflicted conviction.
I'm just tryna pull you in my direction
And get you ready for the next resurrection.
Cause there will be one
Right under the blue sky:
The return of the Son!
And I can't wait.
Fate...is what Faith...is real
That crucifix around ya neck,
That's not the real deal.
It might be real steel,
But it didn't bless you with that real good meal
You ate last night.
Look at it like this:
People subdue to materialism
Thru a metaphysical way of
Praising Him.
But a faithful Christian gets blessed
Despite of "we," "she," "her," and "them"
Because in His word, He stressed:
"Blessed is the man that walks not in
the cousel of the ungodly, nor stands in
the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of
the scornful; but his delight is in the law of the Lord"
And that is blessed.
Read the book of Psalms if you need to hear the rest.
I'm not disdaining any reproach,
Like I warned you before,
I'm only here to coach
With the soul purpose to reproach,
Your processes with the lessons
And confessions
My Father had laid upon me
With CAREFUL discretion.
So to you from me:
Be Blessed, Be Faithful, and Be Ready
( Based on the animated musical produced by Walt Disney
based on the fairytale written by Charles Perrault.)
"Hello Cinderella, how are you ?
I am very happy and still in love,
the Prince is kind and handsome;
and from the first kiss it was truelove !"
"What became of your animal friends ?
I brought all the birds, and the mice,
and other animals to live in the palace;
now, they are safe and think it is quite nice !"
"What became of your stepsisters ?
I allowed them and their mother to stay
in my manor, because they had nowhere to go;
I am sure they will grow old there and decay !"
"What was it like after your father died ?
I was a girl when father remarried,
Lady Tremaine who had two daughters;
then father died shortly after and was buried.
The daughters Anatasia and Drizella were spoiled;
and Lady Tremaine was very mean,
I had to live in a dusty attic room with the mice ;
and everyday had to scrub and clean ! "
"It must have been exciting to go to the ball ?
Oh yes, I was excited and wanted to go,
but it seemed impossible that I could;
until my fairy godmother helped me as you know.
The stepsisters had ripped apart my mother's dress,
but, fairy godmother made me a shimmering gown to wear,
made a pumpkin into to a stage coach;
four white mice into white horses fair,
and a old horse and a dog into a coachman and footman;
it was magic but only till the stroke of midnight.
At the ball I danced with the prince and walked in the garden,
and when we kissed it was delight ! "
"So I know the ending, your foot fit the glass slipper ?
Yes, of all the maidens in the kingdom it only fit me,
and though my stepmother and sisters tried to stop it;
the glass slipper was the key,
soon after I married the prince !"
"Cinderella, my last question is what is
your advice for young girls ?
I want every young girl to know they are a star,
and to never ever give up on their dreams;
because if they wish and wish they can go far,
as the song goes- A dream is a wish ! "
_________________________
February 09, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/A Conversation With Cinderella
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1428-994-09
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Conversation A Fictional Character
sponsor, Natasha L. Scragg, Judged 03/02/2022
First Place
Within the glass backed walls of the squash courts, ....
Eager junior players are busy getting into their strides..
In small groups of 4 to 6, they are seeking to earn their stripes..
Religiously undergoing punishing regimes while in training...
Perfecting skills and flair to better perform beyond all these training...
Within the glass backed walls of the squash courts..
Players are wielding each a racket as an integral part of their hands..
Moving fluidly into anticipated spaces with well measured paces..
Unhurriedly and ever so confidently they execute hitting maneuvers...
One can't help but recall the phrase poetry in motion in their actions...
Within these glass backed walls of the squash courts..
Perspiration drenched players are seriously undergoing racket drills...
Moving swiftly and surely through well drilled routines without frills....
Whacking hard and fast the moving blur of a rubberised squash ball...
Confidently and effortlessly retrieving impossible shots off the wall...
Within the glass backed walls of these squash courts...
The dedicated coach is closely assisting and monitoring his players..
Eagled eyed and confident, he's getting the best out of the players..
Pushing and cajoling, occasional groans and cries of frustration and of laughter...
Help relieve the monotony in this serious business of training players to be better...
Within these glass backed walls of the squash courts..
Young players are diligently sweating blood and tears to excel further....
Endlessly going through technical drills so that their skills be better..
These endless cycles of training and stroke making drills are necessary....
For these young players are chasing living dreams of squash fame and glory...
Within the glass backed walls of the squash courts...
Kiddie dreams of glory and fame are planted in fresh young minds in earnest...
Sporting dreams are cultivated and gradually nutured into driving ambitions...
A number of such dreamers will falter never to taste the ultimate highs of glory...
But one in a while, a shining diamond of a player steps into court, to start a new story..
Within the the glass backed walls of the squash court....
A generation of champions are being groomed to hold court...
Outside the world awaits patiently, who's the next champion to step forth?
The warmth no longer comes
it seems to only leave.
The furry ones, all
caught in hypnotic disbelief:
hardening ground's
taken root
where once
gardening grounds
(forsaken, mute)
were once and again
makin' fruit.
Each beast, shaking
like a leaf
(though, truth be told
I've only ever
seen 'em dance)
as if to compel
the sun to
sidle up
'n stay a bit.
The butterflies are all turned
to windblown, drying leaves.
The biting clouds of gnats
are now
the biting cold of early flakes.
All hatched and reared
(the secret thrush, the ungainly, splashtering loon,
the burly snakes)
as evening hurries home
to be home for the night.
It's so early, so late.
The fatted robin's gone
just as the field mice hid
from barn-now-lapcat.
This constellation of crows,
a raucous perch, tried
that hiding ploy: their clotted knotted
silhouetted faux-leaf blackening hide out
where the leaves’d lived but crows are not
meant to blot the low sun as they’d plotted...
And so it was as so its been since Oh, so ever since -
a bird of prey, answered their
plaintive caws with painted claws -
a fracturous startle from above
a crash! a cry! a scattering!
one down, one murder
still.
Nothing softens, nothing greens.
No flowering as Southern urges
force flocks into making V-lines.
Each nest left: all break routines.
Summer is souring, as frost emerges
and last-one-picked, the pines -
lefties left in left field;
icing soon, their needles their shield
and, the coach never intervenes...
The light more slow to show
more tugged and bent to slant.
The sunshafts seem to push
the cold ahead as snow by plows.
And for our part we too as well
well, we turn away, turn indoors.
We turn our dreams to
make-it-through this.
We turn our collars up,
and too, our eyes to floors.
We turn our (each seems to)
thoughts inside this shell
not towards Inner but
rather, of course, truly from-
far and away from the
Cold & Falling, closing crisp.
How unlike the Scholar's Cup!
Our husks indoors,
our thoughts follow
but burrow deeper still.
Don't blame the light
for not keeping company
so deep where hides
a fearful, frigid 'you.'
It's Autumn
all turns on
one point.
It's Autumn
Fall burns on.
It's Autumn
sun burns on
one point
(of light.)
I have never felled so alive
as now.
My palms would sweat. I’d get physically sick.
Why was I always the last one they’d pick?
There were times I would not be selected at all,
for a physical game, I was pretty darn small.
I watched as they’d point, whisper, and scheme;
avoid if they could choosing me for their team.
My Dad told me, “Son, God made you this small,
to prove it’s not height that makes someone tall.”
So, he set up a goal post, and bought me a tee.
He told me, “Success would be all up to me.”
I practiced my kicking whenever I could.
I worked very hard ‘till I got pretty good.
I’ll never forget that hot summer day,
tryouts for high-school to see who would play.
The teasing began as I stepped on the field.
My jersey so big, they laughed and they squealed.
The coach even grinned, as I heard him say,
“This is not a good sport for peewees to play.”
The practice was brutal, even more than I thought.
But then, towards the end, at last came my shot.
Coach explained how important a kicker would be.
Last season they had lost four games under three.
He placed the ball down on the thirty-yard line,
forty-yards from the goal I had claimed to be mine.
There must have been twenty or more who had tried,
all woefully short as the coach merely sighed.
With hands on his head he looked to the sky.
I was the last to step up and ask, “Can I try?”
Everyone laughed, ‘till he shouted, “Enough!”
then mockingly said to me, “Show us your stuff.”
As I carefully positioned the ball on the tee,
it seemed the whole world was laughing at me.
So, I called on the power that God will provide,
then glanced to a nod from my Dad on the side.
Three great big steps and my toe struck the ball.
I caught it just right. I knew how after all.
It seemed like slow-motion as the team stopped to stare.
The ball gently tumbled as if floating on air.
The looks on their faces I could never replace,
as it split through the uprights with plenty of space.
I looked towards my Dad now beaming with pride,
then turned to the coach with his mouth open wide.
Cheers were replacing the laughs I’d revered,
on the day that hard work overcame what I feared.
I went on to college and professional ball,
but that was the kick I enjoyed most of all.
I don’t think I’d ever have worked quite that hard,
if I wasn’t picked last on that old school yard.
We've a third string coach running the team
who can't even remember his own play book
so a batch of amateurs
are running the show
from the bench
from the trenches
of their minds
Its a play book mirroring
Alice in wonderland
where everything is viewed
through a kleidoscopic -myopic
upside down opaque lens..
where predators are entitled to
a lifetime of get out of jail free passes
then given a badge of martyrdom
when they finally run out of lucky gas-
its a land with a Rio Grande autobahn
where illegals blitz through an open border
and its leaders put its own citizens on lockdown
where honest Abe has been shot in the head... again
by far-far- leftists dregs
who lecture the working man about global warming
while poking holes in the ozone in their private jets
Its a land where black people matter
but matter somewhat less if they dwell in the cities...
if they slaughter themselves over drugs and turf...
if they happen to go against the current-are conservative..
Its a Land where blacks are ferried
to a rabbit hole called planned parenthood,,
who(despite the name) ironically kills a half a million black babies a year....
black wombs are rivaling the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Treblinka
its a land with no rules except for its own citizens
who pay the bills for the lazy-for the illegal
for the ungrateful for the criminal...
and for all of their honest efforts
or for having a differing opinion
or simply being heterosexual
and being of white skin
despite their best efforts
to accommodate
to be empathetic
accepting....
sympathetic,
are constantly branded
racists-
homophobic
xenophobic...
a genuine all around
globo phobic menace..
Yes indeed...Its an upside down land
that's been stamped systemically racist
infested with white supremacists
even though a black man
was elected president
and ran the country for eight years
even though people of color have
the highest standard of living than in most
if not all countries
Why then if this country is so racist and hopelessly bigoted
do people of color flock to the border by the millions to get in.
If I were a person of color, I would avoid this so called
house of white supremacy horrors like the plague
and roll the dice on another color of velvet ...
people....welcome to Joe in Wonderland
Legend Of The Black Dove
(Part 4) "The Imposter"
When the dust had settled in the pit, there was a movement
As the Black Dove had fortunately fallen between the pinnacles.
However, Jack Wild was not so lucky as he impaled himself upon
One of these obelisks. The Dove took a running jump and found
Himself atop of the pit, he ran over to rescue the other
Trapped men. Fate had been kind to his friend Rex Murphy,
While the other three men were hurt and needed medical attention.
The Dove and Murphy carry out the men to the Golden Coach,
Which took them back to Southerly. The local doctor managed to
Patch them up enough to be taken back to the local jail in Dover.
It was time to return the coach, so Rex Murphy and the
Black dove started back for Dover. By that time the Black Dove was
Satisfied that he had finally tracked down the men who had
Murdered his friends. He lay down (leant against the seat-back)
In the coach for a rest. The coach was approaching Dover when
Murphy notices a group of Men by the road. He stopped to investigate.
As it turned out they Had been robbed by a masked man wearing a
purple waistcoat with a Black Dove insignia on it. He had shot and
killed two people before stealing their horses. Three passengers climb
aboard the coach. As they continue their journey to Dover. The imposter
and his five Assailants, who had been lying in wait, emerged from behind
the rocks. They where heavily armed and the leader disguised as
the Black Dove Bade Murphy and his passengers to step out of the coach.
In the Meantime the real Black Dove who was inside the coach, climbed
Out of the window, sneaked around the coach and leaped to the
Top of the rock. He picked out the Leader, then jumped off the rock
Onto the horse grabbing the imposter and sending the horse into panic.
The horse gallops off with the two men wrestling with each other.
The horse raced around the place near the swamp were the horse
Sinks into quicksand. The two Doves were also trapped in the fast
Sinking quicksand as they continue to struggle, Both finally sinking
Out of sight......
Is this the end of the Black Dove and his imposter ?
Will any one succeed in rescuing them in time ?
Find out in the next exciting part...."Adventures On The High Seas"
Posted 1st of each month.
Written: 1st April 2013
A marriage formed by insisting parents
To join lands and force grudging events
We stood stiff, shivering and apprehensive
Each of us nervous, fearful and defensive
He was over six feet one inch tall
I was only four feet eleven inches small
Clutching wilted wild flowers to my breast
Wearing a shapeless yellowed white dress
His shirt was murky grey his suit was done for
Pants too short and his coat an eyesore
The minister mumbled words barely audible
Yet we heard him say without any fumble
I now pronounce you man and wife
Together you are forever joined for life
Dizzy, I fell into shadows and confusion
But my new husband moving with precision
Caught me his enclosing arms fixed firmly
Saying softly in my ear and only for me
I’ll take care of you, I promise, wait and see
We began our marriage studying each other
Faking indifference our interest under cover
My husband was confident and never grim
I became proud that folks respected him
His humor was dry spicy and often wicked
I’d blush and laugh I just couldn’t help it
His cursing was mild but if he was riled
He’d switch to Croatian no translation required!
We began to thaw to be at ease to yearn
Each of us maturing determined to learn.
We worked hard to make a stable marriage
Careful to find nothing to dislike or disparage
The core of our marriage was warmth and contentment
As we tirelessly worked towards a life-long commitment
Laughter and tenderness ensued sharing passion
Soft endearments whispered even if old-fashioned
We had stops, starts, and minor setbacks
As we finally tread on true and straight tracks
We cultivated a strongly anchored life and love
That enclosed us like a favorite and well-fitted glove
Our foundation cemented as the years sped by
We had no children and only God knows why
We filled this lack by composing and teaching
He a sports coach instructing and training
While I by feeding and seeding in writing
To those young minds uncluttered and seeking
A short path is upon us as we rehearse our final bow
Our off-stage exit beckons as we share a loving vow
To never forego our familiar and loving banter
That has been the link forging our balanced center
That cultivated our strongly anchored and enduring love
That now resembles a familiar and favorite well-fitted glove.
Revised March 22, 2019