Long Collection Poems
Long Collection Poems. Below are the most popular long Collection by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Collection poems by poem length and keyword.
"While contemplating on the objects of the senses, one develops attachment to them. Attachment leads to desire, and from desire arises anger. Anger leads to clouding of judgment, which results in bewilderment of the memory. When the memory is bewildered, the intellect gets destroyed; and when the intellect is destroyed, one is ruined."
Bhagvad Gita chapter 2 Verse 62 ,63
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No one can write about the greatness of that which encompasses everything...
It answers all questions about life!
That book is Bhagvad Gita, an ancient Indian spiritual treatise.
Its a collection of hymns, each priceless words of wisdom,
Even if one of them is practiced, eternal bliss is guaranteed,
Do read that book I would say, it will change you in a subtle way.
The purpose of human birth,
How to achieve salvation,
How to live perfectly,
Why and how of control over sense organs.
Death and the mystery surrounding it,
Human psychology,
How to handle tragedies,
How to be always happy and blissful.
Why there is disparity in the world?
Why bad times are better than good times?
It talks of this and much more,
List is endless...
Few of its gems I state below
Death is a mere change of cloth, soul moves from one body to another,
Bad days are better than good ones, they dissolve sins and give salvation.
However bad things may be, we have to be good,
bad deeds are punished, no questions asked.
We get back what we give, so should give what we want,
This applies to everything, be it money, help, love or talks.
Thoughts are powerful, thoughts brooded over decides our destiny,
We should have control over sense organs, not dance to their tunes.
When mind is fixed in the present moment, actions are perfect.
Only actions are in our hands not results,
so we should act without thinking of results.
Our actions of past and present birth decides our destiny,
we are the cause no one else!
And the list is endless...
A book of that magnitude cannot be encompassed in a poem,
A read of it is must for every human!
It can change whole perspective of life,
And make you a wiser and happier person.
Born in a radioactive life with few friends
Rejected from a place he never felt was home
He finds himself stranded and alone
His eyes blinded by the sun
Armed with only a baseball bat and a empty gun
The world tears at him with hungry jaws
A scorched world with cold hearts and no law
Attacked by raider, robots, and death claws
The dusty capital wasteland he roams
Scavenging the ruins of a desolate world
Super mutants appear around every turn
The lone wanderer finds a flamethrower and makes them burn
Their collection of mutilated organs make him want to hurl
Searching for his father and food for the day
The lone wanderer hopes and prays
Revelation 21:6 I am alpha and omega the beginning and the end
Bloody footprints mark where the lone wanders has been
Scars mark his wounded heart and are etched in his skin
Favoring a shock sword and a 44 magnum
Custom armor most wastelanders couldn't fathom
The lone wanderer carries the maximum
Sailed to point lookout and thrown in the pit
The cruel wasteland tests his grit
Abducted by creatures from outer space
A life of haste, rugged is the beard on his face
GNR radio keeps him company
The lone wanderer runs about while feeling funky
Finally he found his father
Together, Persuing a righteous goal ever further
Only to die a martyr, his death hits the lone wanderer ever harder
The lone wanderer's wrath! Awakening rage
A vengeful path, darkening days
Kicked out of Jefferson's memorial
The enclave takes over, creating total turmoil in the purifier
With no time to prepare a funeral for his father
The lone wanderer grabs 'Vengeance' the ultimate vaporizer
On his way to vault 86 to find the legendary kit of Eden
The lone wanderer lays waste to many a demons
Troubled by the loss of his best friend,
His rampage across the wasteland begins
Periodically, I'm called upon to be the lay leader for the Sunday service.
'Tis an honor, but tho' I've done it often, I'm still somewhat nervous!
Seems each time I'm tapped by the Pastor for this vital role,
She selects Scripture with names that off my tongue don't easily roll!
Oh, I can handle announcing hymns and the collection with no angst at all.
The Prayer of Confession and Responsive Call to Worship are an easy call.
I ain't no Billy Graham or John Wesley and ain't schooled in such things,
But I manage to muddle thro' such passages with the message that it brings!
I'm comfortable rattling off simple names like Matthew, John and James,
And Peter, Judas, Thomas, Andrew and Philip, the more common names.
But Lord have mercy! Spare me names like Akkub, Kelita and Maaseiah,
Shabbethai, Jozabad, Pelaiah, Hodiah, Azariah, Sherebiah and Nehemiah!
I can easily elide over names like Moses, Jesus, Ezra, Adam and Daniel,
And such tags as Jonah, Ruth, Mary, Samson and the Prophet Samuel!
But tongue-twisters like Elimelech, Amminadab and a lady name Peninnah,
Leave me sputtering and blubbering (and I almost forgot a guy called Elkanah!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Cecil the lion of Zimbabwe, famous and beloved,
Shot by a bow hunter after being lured from his sanctuary;
It took Cecil forty hours to die, how he must have suffered,
He was tracked down, shot, skinned and then beheaded.
It was senseless, cowardly, cruel and barbaric,
I wept for Cecil the lion with the rest of the world;
And all animal victims of trophy hunters who kill just for fun,
Our voices must be united and strong, we must end the killing.
We must demand justice for all wild animals,
The hunt for sport must be stopped which to me is murder;
No more photographs with dead animals as the background,
It makes me sick to see these cowards poising for pictures.
Sign a petition, make your voice heard loudly,
Laws need to be changed so these animals do not have to die,
The killer of Cecil was tracked down and went into hiding like a coward,
And this coward never faced justice for killing this beautiful animal.
Just another trophy for his pathetic collection.
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October 31, 2016
Poetry/Verse/The Hunt
Copyright Protected, ID 16-844-909-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, The Hunt
sponsor, Casarah Nance
Ninth Place
Frida and Diego’s house
Had walls of cobalt blue.
Today it’s a museum and
Their paintings are on view.
I didn’t go to Mexico
To visit their collection,
But at the Garden, got to see
A limited selection.
The cactus plants in ochre pots
Arranged in artful ways
Allowed me to imagine Frida
Living out her days.
Some paintings rounded out the show
And photographs as well,
To place the artists at the site
Where both did work and dwell.
The highlight of the whole display,
Which made me crave much more,
Was all the Frida tchotchkes*
In the Garden’s lovely store.
An orange pot and purple plant
Now grace my windowsill,
Reminding me of Frida –
Very un-run-of-the-mill.
*trinkets, knickknacks
(The New York Botanical Garden
currently has an exhibit about Frida Kahlo
and Diego Rivera’s house, Casa Azul.)
Faithfullness; what is that here?
Is it a happiness once a year
The answer to our fears
When we seek it is it hard to find
Is it a feeling or a state of mind
Is it being carefull or is it being kind
What is faithfullness, yours and mine
A reflection of unity a faith in one thing
The fullfilment of duties having done everything
Protecting what is ours this love we share
A collection of the hours we loveingly shared
A satisfaction that this world is not so bad
A chain reaction of favors not being spared
The gratification that we equally love each other
Faithfullness is the greatest thing ever discovered
Form:
How Absurd it Seemed
Ah, those memories, so well refined, reworked, revised to meet the failings of memory – or the shame of remembrance. Tinged now with humor’s hubristic insolence, fleece covered shards of broken lives reassembled in a grotesque collection of stained glass pleading with the moment for forgiveness. Time, imprisoned for aiding and abetting the fugitives, providing refuge for the tattered transgressors, disguising the thoughts, denying the actions, suffering the consequences of eternities amnesia.
how absurd it seemed….
…in a family of black sheep
…to be the black sheep
John G. Lawless
©7/16/2019
It is a collection of 66 different books.
Each an important puzzle piece, just take a look.
God took a complete puzzle and tossed it in the air.
It fell down to the earth, scattering everywhere.
Most important piece is God himself
That most will ever see.
John 15:4 says "You must abide in Me!"
The book Genesis tells how all things begin.
While Revelation shows us what happens in the end.
Each piece or book will provide another clue.
Of why Creator and creature interacts the way they do.
In Genesis, book of beginnings chapter's one, two & three.
It tells how everyone and all things have come to be.
Next we find out in chapter two.
He gave birth to his children and told the oldest what to do.
Obey me He said and all will go well!
But the moment you disobey, life for you will be hell!
You'll trigger a cancerous disease from within!
It will corrupt your thought patterns and will be called Sin!
Though I already know everything you will do.
The right to make your own choices, must be granted to you.
I've placed a conscious in you, but right now it's asleep.
It will provide you guidance when disconnected from Me.
It will not bother you as long as you do right.
But when you're doing wrong, it will trouble you day & night.
I've created this paradise for you my children today.
Obey my house rules or I must send you away.
While you're out being your own god, far away from home.
I gave you a concept called "Prayer" to be your cell phone.
I am "Truth!" and therefore unable to lie.
Disobedience severs our spiritual cord and your spirit will die.
You'll live by 5 senses of the flesh unfortunately,
And your offspring will loose all awareness of Me.
You'll curse humanity until the end of Days!
You'll hate, kill, and suffer for not doing as I say.
Because I gave a perfect man the order to obey.
Only the death of another perfect man can take it away.
Once your bloodline becomes infected with the cancer of sin.
You'll reproduce defects only, but out of love, I'll step in.
I'll put on an 'Earth Suit!" come down from my Throne.
Die with your curse inside Me, so you can return home!
The whole time you're on earth, you will have problems there.
I'll send Angelic help, when you call me through prayer.
You'll know it's me carrying my life saving plans.
When you hear code word "Jesus!" The Savior of man!
When I was young my mom, like most women, donned a hat when she went out.
Dad said it added to her beauty…of this I had no doubt.
My mom had a collection of hats she stored in boxes under her bed.
So many different kinds of bonnets that sat atop her head.
Moms of today are different they go out with their heads bare
but one thing they share with Moms of the past are the many hats they wear.
If we tried to count the hats they don...we couldn’t...they go on indefinitely
Perhaps one way to approach it...is alphabetically.
Moms are:
Accountants
Babysitters
Chauffeurs...they do what
Doctors and
Electricians do…they are
Farmers
Governors
Housekeepers, and
Ice cream makers too…they are
Janitors
Kitchen and
Laundry workers, and
Maids who clean the floor…they are
Nurses
Optometrists,
Painters
Quality control inspectors and furthermore they are
Receptionists
Seamstresses and
Teachers…they can
Upholster that sofa or that chair…they are
Valets
Washroom Attendants and
X-Ray technicians…ready anytime and anywhere…they are
Yard managers and every Mom I know is also a keeper of the
Zoo
That’s 26 different hats they wear…
26 different jobs that all Moms do.
Moms are the original and still the best multi-taskers the world has ever met.
In fact, I didn’t run out of hats for them...I ran out of alphabet!
I guess it’s a good thing each job doesn’t have a hat that sits atop Moms head
for there wouldn’t be enough room to store the boxes under their beds.
They are visionaries, they are cheerleaders, so much of our existence they adorn
yet they had no experience as a mother until the day when we were born.
Because it was at that miraculous moment, despite their fearfulness and qualms
when they smiled as they looked at us and realized……’I’m a Mom.’
For that is the hat that encompasses the rest...the hat we call motherhood
and I must admit, from where I stand
Moms…you make that hat look good.
So Moms, here’s to a wonderful Mother’s Day as this poem bids you all adieu
For all the many hats you wear…
our hats are off to you.
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY
I recall my having saved something: A special sized box … a uniquely colored rubber band … an old, old hat … or a million sundry other things, thinking that sometime in the future I might find a use or application for whatever it was.
Looking back, it seems like I was traversing a universally large area, without dimensions or size, and occasionally thinking I might need some item I saw or held, sometime in the future, so … I’d save it. I’ve been doing that for nearly eighty years now. And, it suddenly dawned on me this afternoon: I don’t have a long-term future any more.
The limitless sized “room” I have been traversing, has been narrowing, shrinking, lessening in size and scope while I have been paying attention to “things”. The arena of Life I’ve been living in has all the while been diminishing, and astonishingly, I’ve just now come to that realization: Sometime in the not-too-distant future, all those “things” I’ve been “saving for some future use”, won’t ever be re-initiated inside whatever domain I had, at one time, envisioned they would be.
That realization made me remember, when my mother passed away and I and my family members wandered through the collection of her belongings, began to fathom just how many “things” she had collected for “future use”. They were contained there, where she had left them in drawers, closets, wrapped in plastic grocery bags or newspapers. They never realized the “future” she had foreseen for them. They never would. The things that were her important “usefuls”, became just discarded items once they were voided of her
imagination of her future needs. Our dreams and aspirations are of the same ilk, just as our well-meaning “intentions”. Once we are gone, those intentions all evaporate into an invisible void. Maybe one of the saddest, empty utterances of mankind is: “I was going to …”.
So, beginning tomorrow, I think I’ll commence ridding myself of “future” stuff, lying here and there for no real reason. Oh, there’s no doubt, as I touch and pick up each of those former “future” pieces, I’ll stop to ponder what my original thought and vision had been for it to be placed, and still lying, in that dusty box.
It’s gonna be a long, memory-messaging day, I bet.