Long Company Poems
Long Company Poems. Below are the most popular long Company by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Company poems by poem length and keyword.
~Don't Be Left Behind~
( Couplet)
Please don’t miss out and be left behind
Salvation only thru Jesus we can always find
Try not to do, what you know is not right
And pray to Jesus to keep you in His sacred light
Don't do evil and keep company with the wrong crowd
In front of our God we should be humbled not proud
The ways of the Lord are always good and perfect
He deserves all our unconditional love and respect
Find the Lord first and to you all His blessings He'll surely add
For your sins and mine He paid the price so we can be glad not sad
For the love of God we can come anytime and have with Him eternity
Only through Jesus we can have Salvation, not in our own way and ability
We can not attain Salvation just by doing it with our own power or good
We're not good enough, just "God" is really good and perfect and that’s understood.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2006
February.25.2016
~Author's notes:
Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.
1 Thessalonians 4:17 (NIV)
I tell you, in that night there will be two in one bed. One will be taken and the other left. There will be two women grinding together. One will be taken and the other left.” And they said to him, “Where, Lord?” He said to them, “Where the corpse is, there the vultures will gather.”
Luke 17: 34-37 (NIV)
Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth.
Revelation 3: 10 (NIV)
“But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
Mark 13:32 (NIV )
“Immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then will appear in heaven the sign of the Son of Man, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.
Matthew 24: 29-31 (NIV)
Run across the fair fields, as fast as you can run, the fields your grandmother ran as a young girl,
Over long lush dark green grasses, whipping your knees, soft spongy turf springs each new step,
To stop where fast flowing streams rush and dance to the wind, a sweat breaking out on your face,
All out of breath kneeling by the bank of a brook, a stitch in your side, corn waves like a gentle sea.
By the brook with childhood friends enjoying sweet company watching spring as her beauty unfolds,
To walk across wet water mead’s, seeing glades in their finest clothes, to a meadow, in full flower,
Rolling in grass making camps sitting legs crossed as warm summer breezes temper-sweating brows,
Making sure you sit next to the one you care for most, nothing will be as good as this day ever again.
Playing in the meadows where your grandmother played, picking daisies, making very long chains,
Holding buttercups up to chins to see if they shine, then laughing, shouting out loud when they do.
Playing kiss chase, slightly slowing down, when the one you want to be kissed by is chasing you,
Under old pear blossom trees, flushed rosy red cheeks sitting next the one who is your first love.
Laying in high grass chin in cupped hands, it is so special this lovely day will be yours for all time,
Just staring at friends, full of innocence and so happy, this romantic time can never be repeated,
Unplanned moments where beautiful things just happen it’s your youth just enjoy the here and now,
Where everything is brighter has more colour, smells from the meadows become a memory for life.
Laying on your back staring at turquoise watery skies, listening to the silence, a perfect sunny day,
Heaths meeting small woods surrounded by greenest carpets only seen by a child’s pure innocence,
Give your heart and soul to this day enjoy natures gifts, your end of days will recall these moments,
Falling asleep in the December of your life, this last dream your friends will be there waiting for you.
So gather these thoughts, tie them up in a bow, put them safely in a corner of yesterday’s thoughts,
And walk again with your dear young friends in those happy times golden hair fluttering in the breeze,
Back to days of cotton dresses and turned-up jeans with baggy shirts, nobody noticed or even cared,
Hold your sweethearts hand once again and run across the fair fields where your grandmother ran.
The Old Lady In The Shoe
November 22, 2013 at 5:57pm
Dedicated to all my children around the world;
The big and small of it.
Some appreciate the little
things that encourages
them to do big stuff.
Some won't say anything,
because they never
get enough.
N'ary a second thought they give.
Some think they are entitled to it
and know not of reciprocation.
Some think that they should always
be the center of your attention.
Some children you can
doat on, and give them
all you've got.
Then there are
those to who will never
reach out to offer invitation.
Never lend a helping hand
To execute your plans,
It's selfishness
that guides them
because they love you not.
Some children want to be heard
others just wanna be seen
but the unappreciative child
won't amount to a hill of beans.
Some children need a little push
while others need a shove
mothers can never tell a child
Which one who best she loves
When mothers see these attitudes
She knows which child
will pass life's test.
Some play in the corner
day-dreaming all alone
Some children keep
lots of company;While
others have one friend
that is all his own.
The one you devote
your time to
may not be the child
that does his best.
Some children need you more-
Some children need you less.
But the child that won't say
" thank you" mom....
and never listen to advice
is the ones that breaks
a mothers heart,and
discounts her sacrifice.
Some children need a little push
while others need a shove.
Some need a swift
kick in the pants
or maybe a wake up call;
Others just need
a little coddling:
But never does a child
deserve no love all
Just remember the old lady
who lived in the shoe..
She had so many children...
They said "she didn't
know what to do."
Mothers learn your child,
try to give each what he needs
The one that appreciates
their mother is...
more likely to succeed.
footnote : original version
There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.She had so many children, she didn't know what to do;She gave them some broth without any bread;Then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.
Earlier version:
There was an old woman Who lived in a shoe,She had so many children,And loved them all, too.She said, "Thank you Lord Jesus,For sending them bread."Then kissed them all gladly and sent them to bed.
Somehow it's like you don't exist
The stars above are missing you
You've been away for oh so long
And I'm drowning in your absence,
Just like drowning in quicksand
I can only stop the struggle
To avoid the complication
You're gone, away
You can't believe
How the fire you lit so long ago
In my soul
In my heart
Can eat me up when you're not around
We're planets apart;
So close, yet so far
And when you're roaming another world
Carefree and smiling
Unaware of the turmoil
Your absence causes
Here I lay, drowning in your memory
No-one to keep me company
But myself
So I sit, and think… and just exist
And the magic you have on me starts to fade
The beauty and meaning which you brought
To my life
Seem to die away
Into pictures of Utopia
Abstract euphoria
They fade into the charred night sky
Weighing heavy on my heart tonight
Like a coal ocean breeze,
Or a cave painting, of what used to be
And I start to remind myself… of myself
I see my ugliness, stripped naked
Staring into the mirror
No longer saved, rescued, hidden, covered
By your beauty…
My pity, my shame… my agony
Bare, unclothed
No longer lifted by your confidence,
Your pride, your pleasure
My blasphemies, lies, my defiled soul
No longer sanctified with the purity, the faith,
The truth you plunge me into
This is my ugly truth
- - -
I am myself now
My old, pitiful self
I'm the monster I was running away from
Before I crashed so hard… into your arms
But it was the best crash
Fate steered me into
My hero
My savior…
Now, with no shelter
I am a pit
Of everything I used to be
There's no running away
No angel to fly me skywards
To lift me and drown me into the sun
To save me
I'm left to sink in a muted sea
The sea of tears I cry for you
I cry when I miss you…
I never thought I would
And before I run out of air,
I just want you to know…
You brought the meaning to my life
You colored all the black and white
Without you I'd be a careless soul
You are the one who made me whole
You saved me from me
From the killer that I was
And if I could sing, to you, my final words
I'd say this…
You taught me the art of human passion
You taught me to love myself so deeply
And then, I'd be able to love someone else
You taught me to smile when I wanna cry
That there are no limits—
Not even the sky
Thank you
I miss you
I love you…
Dawn broke
The eastern pink sky
Drew across the stars
As they faded and lost to the night
I called the eagle
To guide me
Piercing whistle
That I learnt as a boy
Running wild and free
I walked in the company of men
High above, eagles flew
The wraiths are coming from the otherworld too
Carrying the angst and pain
That has no place and name
Here at Heartstone
The screeching and wailing
Increased hideously
The tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
I stood, with the company of men
My bow ready
Arrows drawn
Arm, steady
I have trained to defend
Truth and love
Nobility
Chivalry
The wraiths gathered
The screeching and wailings
Piercing through
To our souls
We are ready
To fight to the end
To defend
All that is true
The flight of an arrow
Unleashed
Steadied by the eagles’ feather
Of brown and gold
It flew
Straight and true
In to the non existent heart
Of a wraith bitter and cold
It was this I slew
A bundle of rags fell
For it is not the metal tip
That killed
It was the feather of a Heartstone Eagle
Truth be told
That slew
A wraith, bitter and cold
The wraiths flew
From behind the mountain
The screeching and wailing
Tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
They came in their hundreds
To fall
For, truth and love
From a feather
Of a mighty eagle above
Slew the hearts
Bitter and cold
Brown and gold glow
Flashing by
The flight of an arrow
The archers
Standing tall
The gleam of brown and gold
That flew
Deep in to the cold bitter hearts
Of stories now told
Of men of the longbow
I reached
I pulled
Many arrows to fly
Of a star
Of a longbow
Aquila am I
The longbow of dark wood
Felt my strength
As I clasped its’ bronze inlaid feathers
And reached
And pulled
Arrows of brown and gold
Deep into wraiths
Its’ purpose understood
The sky turned black
With eagles that twisted and turned
Of wraiths, slain
Felled by the longbow
Down they fell
In to their own stinking hell
The brown and gold aglow
Darkness falling
The fires lit so bright
In a company of men
That celebrated under starlight
Remember….
This day well
When the archers
Masters of the longbow
Sent the wraiths back
To their stinking hell
Of Aquila
Who slew
More than most
The flight of an arrow
That holds true
Listen and you can hear the wind whisper
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.
Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved a real fear gripper.
Fast Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a thousand tons
With errant compass windjammer now strayed
Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns
The current wants to go counter clockwise
Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
Sails unable to give pull to the right
though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries
Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
Exactly where was their lost location
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots
Get back on course or it’s their damnation
No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.
New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying all things they refused to succumb.
Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea
Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape
West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.
Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles
OF THE COMMON SEAS
"We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice." **
Truth need not be found
in philosophers' musings,
or complicated by thoughts bound
with theorems and words, fusing,
nor within the intricacies
of mathematical proofs,
as one and one may indeed
not equal two; un-truth is truth.
Truth becomes vast in life,
and like the pearl, can be found
as beauty captured, in seas rife
between the common oyster's gown,
Or found within the common leaves
of books written by common men,
discovered by those literates who read.
Truth is simple, now and ever been.
I stumbled on such a prize
In Dana's autobiography;
of common men on common seas
living truths of common humanity.
** Dana, Jr., Richard Henry, Two Years before the Mast, World Publishing Company, 1946, p. 283
1
Like a moth to a candle flame
I pondered the perceived right
of those of wealth, culture, piety and fame
to control and lead the common blight -
(the average, struggling and forsaken souls);
yet have never descended to the lowly station
to learn the culture of these earthly ghouls,
their dreams, their pleas, their damnation.
As gods atop their cloud draped mountain
how dare they, in their empiric quackery
force the masses to their impure fountain
to drink of the laws and life that they decree,
yet having not trod the tracks of the plebian path,
having never felt the sordid plebian passions,
but worshipping instead their comfort and wealth,
adorned in decadence and richly clothed fashions,
how can they govern those they do not know,
minister to anguish they have never felt
or heal their sickness of body, heart and soul?
How can they play the cards, to them never dealt?
Are they leaders, statesmen, kings and lords,
or simply counterfeit men full only of themselves,
vainglorious peacocks, strutting hordes
deceiving not a common man, only just themselves?
We have them here, in this land of the free,
politicians, preachers, corporate men and judges.
None have suffered and worked, you see
yet dare to rule, when by common men begrudged.
Form:
Greeted by the multi-lit display
draped over the hedges
and the railing of our front porch,
the brilliant lit Christmas tree
winks at us, welcoming us home
from the Christmas Eve Mass.
You settle comfortably in your chair
as I walk into the dining room.
Sitting down, I light the lone candle
on the table and contemplate
its flame, dancing and whirling
in the darkened room.
The flame draws me
into its story.
Its bright yellow light
thinly framed in blue,
speaks to me about
many dark places
penetrated by its light:
caverns and street corners,
vast fields and mighty forests,
tall buildings and small homes,
and the darkest place of all
… the human heart.
The flame tells the story
of a long time ago,
of a world enveloped
in the darkest of nights.
Violence and cruelty,
poverty and pestilence
heaped upon a brutalized,
battered and lost humanity.
In a miserable stable,
its walls and floor painted
in manure and straw,
the dark dank smell of
wet hay, and its livestock denizens
filling the air, there lies
in a feed trough a light more brilliant
than the dancing flame.
The flame of that light
dances in the eyes
of his homeless parents,
his mother who birthed him,
and his proud, protective father.
The light is reflected
in the eyes of the animals
shuffling about in their stalls,
and in the eyes of the shepherds
and the travelers from afar.
My gaze, fixed on the flame,
widens as I detect
other shadowy shapes
around the table.
I sit in communion with
my father and my mother,
my sister and my brother,
their lives, like others,
lived in various degrees
of perfection and imperfection,
drawn to this light whilst alive,
and now in the life beyond,
join with me transfixed
by the light of the candle.
I smile to be once again
in their company, and,
with a nod and a parting glance
their shapes slip back
into the shadows of the room.
Once more alone with the light,
an image forms in my mind,
that eternal light birthed
in Bethlehem so long ago,
which danced in the eyes
of Mary and Joseph,
in the eyes and hearts
of many burdened by the weight
of scandal and shame,
poverty and despair,
which the world was unable
to crush and snuff out,
this light will always be there
to guide and to light me
through the dark corners
of my life yet to be,
to the eternal Christmas awaiting me.
"melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams " (by poet)
a gift from my father - on the first day of college,
"Golden Treasury"...A book of poetry...
the first poem I read... "She Walks In Beauty".
I carried that book throughout my life, even when I stopped reading poems...
even when poetry wasn't the priority any more,
Instead I looked at recipe-books - how to improve my culinary skills,
and became almost a champion chef in a few months.
Wordsworth and Browning were far away from my thoughts,
Coleridge? Oh No! Porphyria's Lover, and Ancient Mariner...
did not exist in my world of reality!
how many glorious summers went by ~ how many frosty winters ~
Delicious food, excellent company,
chasing after active children, stressing about job-opportunities,
exotic travels, grandiose entertainment ...
had time for every little trivial thing in the world...but no time for
the book my father imagined his daughter would embrace the most!
then one miraculous day...when even my father gradually forgot
the girl who used to blossom in the world of words, and poetry....
I found my precious friend collecting dust,
neglected, discarded, in the corner of a shelf.. couldn't believe it was waiting for me with a beating heart ~
each and every page came alive with a magical touch ~
still my name clearly visible, handwritten with my father's calligraphic dexterity !
almost shaking to spot my long-lost treasure, I cried!
overwhelmed with emotions, tears fell!
as if a candle burnt and melted.
every drop of tears brought back the lavender memories ~
of an exhilarating past... my passions, my yearnings,
tender dreams of lilac hues never attained, the abandoned path I was supposed to tread ...
a path strewn with lyrics and verses, ballads and
sonnets like blazing auburn leaves of autumn ~
now shockingly empty and despairingly barren.
the forgotten aspirations and never-met goals...the tremendous sense of loss,
of crushing heart-break, of torturous frustration,
all flooded in!
many lonely years have gone by!
melliflous birds are still cooing in the forest of my amber dreams
ultimately my first love has returned !
First Place
May 15, 2021
Inspired by “ He gave her a book” contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
The interrogation threatens to shudder like an earthquake
A long index of accusations spread out among the atmosphere like a blazing forest fire
Satisfaction, the officer and venomous umbrage, the criminal
Self-appreciation, the quiescent defense attorney with no right to be there
Misery, the boisterous dauntless prosecutor
The months of the annual calendar, the jury
Pain, the almighty judge
It’s a court case already divested from the defendant
Why should it not
Bother, why bother
Its past the millionth time in 216 divided by the jury
Satisfaction has seen countless rewards of capturing umbrage
Satisfaction has felt the boundless benevolence of glory
And foaming at the mouth, glowering with muffled respected fury
Sits umbrage, staring out blurred vision
Victimized in his own apperception
What’s the cost, the damage total; what has befell, befell reality
The anathema of fate or rather the favored affliction of fortune’s fool
Within a realm of possibility it may perceive to be both
A pebble laced with a thread thrown into grass only miles away
To be reeled right back in like a helpless fish on a line
The audacity, the audacity; oh just hush
Silence is golden and this silence is benevolent
Joy was once prevalent in the company of such disgrace umbrage reigned
Together they were serenity, a mixed graceful period of harmony
Such a song sung by dual owls in the presence of the lightened darkness of night
(sigh) …I can’t do this anymore
Make a world, create a story peacefully
Creating a plot circulating, tip-toeing around the issues placing bait in front of my eyes for me to take
What is wrong with me, my life
One word, a sharp enough blade to stab in the ankle to slaughter Achilles
In this case, me
The poet’s banishment, scourge creating a series of nine lashes
Still runs deep, refuses cessation
Proceeds to feed on every ounce of merriment to permeate through the cracks
Melancholy has produced to invade back in
What’s the cause this time for it to attack
A few simple words, reflection, swift defiance
the bruises upon the right appendage whispering, begging for more scars
FOR WHAT? ! ? ! ? ! ? !
Forget it….it’s nothing
Satisfaction has pardoned me, set me free
Umbrage, my twin has taken over me
To another bridge, we sit and sulk over a failed attempt at flight
Cause we willingly defy the right to say goodnight