Long Craw Poems
Long Craw Poems. Below are the most popular long Craw by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Craw poems by poem length and keyword.
United States, 50 united partners, 50 regions that form a nation.
Each with individual States laws different from the others yet is still an amazing creation.
Till the new world was founded, tyranny ruled in Europe, people look at America as hope.
A new beginning a new place to worship as you pleased, to freely express ones beliefs sometimes irritating the Pope.
European domination has always been the Europeans way of thinking, it was a courageous thing.
Leaving the European masters settling into their country. A change that blessed the new nation, what settling and fresh fruit did bring.
The first to arrive had what they had and had to make do they prayed and were thankful for the chance to be on this new land.
Many of the first didn’t see this nation as it is today; they built and passed down the heritage of the law, they trusted the Lord understand?
Brave woman and children followed their dad or mom because God’s law was in the travel book we called the Holy Bible.
The greatest gift that God gives us is that of the knowledge of His laws, edicts and Holy Festivals, we can all have a Spiritual survival.
Freedom for any faith, any ethnic culture, made us molded to this land.
Looking to God for guidance we thrive in strength, God’s guiding hand
We were building a concept new to the old world order; freedom came at a high price.
England gave reluctantly our freedom as we chose to be a nation of God, at a great cost of human life.
Now here in this day our streets are filled with violence, sometimes a killing a day.
We’ve really have turned on God’s laws...
As a single person with no millions I’m at a loss on how to help, so I go back and ask the Father, not to be ired but it sticks in my craw.
We are supposed to be “One Nation under God”; God laws His Holy days and festivals have to take precedent.
We are His creations His spiritual children the chosen, so be vigil have faith we are truly Jesus’ descendants.
All Christians are called many however are not chosen, How come?
Something so simple to enter God’s Kingdom, yet not easy for some.
Transgressors leaders in the world of ****.
Beware brethren” Like a thief in the night.” The 50 lines, states won’t matter much to the Lord, when Jesus returns, because God’s world will be back to the norm.
A question I have asked myself of late:
what essence does this poetry possess
which differentiates it from mere prose,
and gives distinction to its 'poemness'?
Sometimes, at least to me, a puzzle fits
the way I go about the task at hand;
the sonnet with its fourteen lines permits
the muse some license, structural remand.
Here, meter, thought, and rhyme must smoothly meld,
convey a captured thought and set it free
in such a manner that the reader, held,
is entertained, at least to some degree.
Sometimes the challenge lies within a text
that already possesses its own form:
retain a meaning not too highly vexed,
while patterning against a different norm.
A poem may shed light on dark events,
or ridicule the theater absurd,
or liken things not normally compared,
use turn of phrase or play upon a word.
Iambic pairs are what I've changed the most,
with good results, but not all of the time,
for scarce I think I've found a call to boast,
the meter's shot and words don't seem to rhyme.
Perfection, rarely found, can be hard-fought;
improper turns of phrase stick in one's craw.
at other times, the words flow as they ought -
a thing of beauty, satisfaction's “ahhhh."
So clicking on a Google link displayed
by searching on the nature of this word,
I find it means "a work" or "something made";
in Greek, “poy-ay-mah” is the way it's heard.
Surprisingly, the word is found in Strong's,
a catalog of Bible words by verse.
The entry under "poem" isn't long;
with just two entries, one might call it terse.
The first, in Romans One, declares that God,
in things that have been made, can be perceived.
and thus, though you indeed may find this odd,
creation is a poem God conceived!
Ephesians has the best usage of all,
in chapter two and starting at verse ten:
"For we are his poema,” there writes Paul,
for works prepared before it all began.
Just ponder this: when God said "very good,”
it was not for the stars that filled the sky.
A source of wonder, scarcely understood:
that poetry was man, God's perfect sigh.
Read a story the other day about one out of five children in the U.S. go hungry.
Amazing to me because no child should go to bed with stomachs grumbly.
This country gives a lot to other countries in foreign aid.
Why don’t we curb that? Feed our own children so they never go hungry and afraid.
Millions are spent every year on foreign food to hungry nations.
Commendable yet our children go without they have no rations.
The Lord loves His children in any country and He’s looking.
Our nation has been blessed yet our elderly and young are really being shaken.
Leaders the elected officials offer nothing new they are corrupted.
Special interest groups lining their own pockets and are distrustful.
Look at their track record; look at what they pass for laws.
Funding other countries ignoring our children it really sticks in my craw.
We have a supposed Godly nation we supposedly in God we trust.
Yet our officials have scandals galore have greedy plans that strictly are a bust.
Children, the nation’s future are left hungry and we cut programs for education.
What’s the real price? Wars, killings, go on children going hungry that’s what’s upon our own nation.
Of course morally our nation neglecting our Father is bringing us down a deadly path.
All we will do is anger the Father again and we have to be ready to face His wrath.
Jesus told His disciples to allow children to come to Him.
Are we so stupid that we ignore this? We are not looking to Him for guidance; soon He will arrive and take His children to the Kingdom.
Vote my brethren it’s your right ask God what to do and ask God what is right.
Pick wisely allow God to guide you in your choice, look to His guiding light.
The old guard replacing the new faces of the republicans is younger and has the same agenda as their peers before; those policies are still the same.
Policy for the rich always have been there agenda they are still playing with children’s lives they are still playing their corrupted game.
This earth and all who are in it see the sheer madness of what mans all about.
People have been the same since the beginning, they have their doubts.
Loosing sight of the true meaning of life, they kill, breaking God’s laws.
10 Commandments, they can’t even keep one and that sticks in our Father’s craw.
The Commandments are put in place so that man can have a peaceful life.
Carnal man can’t figure it out, pretty simple, yet we are in strife.
Think if everyone loved one another like God planned this world would be great.
What we have here is disobedience to God’s laws, we can’t get it straight.
The first Commandment is to love God with all your heart and soul.
He is the Creator, the Loving true Spirit, Creating a beautiful world.
When we forget to put family values and the Father’s love above all else.
We allow Satan the deceiver to control the madness we do what we want regardless.
Only a tiny flock will be in God’s kingdom at the end of this age.
The Bible states that’s so, read it, turn the page.
The great tribulation will be coming you read it everyday in the newspaper.
Using the Bible and studying Revelations, you’ll see God’s Spiritual despair.
He gave Moses these 10 to make our lives better He shows us a better way.
How to love, cherish, your fellow humans, and how we should pray.
Corrupted politicians, church elders, transgress against God’s edicts and laws, the devil has us all fooled.
We keep electing them, although many are false teachers and elders, allowing things like perversions in our schools.
We have a chance, a slight one at best we need God fearing people who act out of love to make this world repent.
Asking God to put honorable men in office and in the churches who teach the Commandments, heaven sent.
When the family values are trashed, we break God’s laws and for this we will incur His wrath.
The Commandments of our Father are simple and sure, if we don’t follow them, then we deserve all we get, a gloomy final path.
12 BARS
Twelve brazen bars, one frozen lock!
Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc
endures inside a barren cage,
her catacomb in sundown sage.
Of former days there is no trace
except displays of fallen grace –
Twelve dreams, abiding in her place,
are free, inhabit yawning space:
12 DREAMS
... of wings unfurled, and seething eyes
that dredge the depths of dawning skies,
divining clouds that cling below,
once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow;
... of clutching winds that carry free
above an anguished leaden sea,
dispersing dust of distant stars
midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars;
... of swooping to a silent shore
to perch beside the ocean’s roar,
at last to feel the sobbing breeze
message the leaves of rooted trees;
... of stalking strays and twilight tramps
within the fog of lighthouse lamps
that blink forlorn through caldron nights
in search of shades of errant Kites;
... of darkling vast deserted lands,
with shadowed stones on windswept sands,
where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost
disgorge faint groans in mourning frost;
... of blotting out the bloated moon
while feathers beat a banshee tune
and glimmers dance and prance aglow
upon a pearly pale plateau;
... of tasting cool torrential rains,
beyond the realm of binding reins,
and sipping freedom they exude
in quiet drops of solitude;
... of vanquishing a galley crew
aboard a ship of midnight dew,
beneath the pierce of seagulls' screams
that mock the strands of scarlet streams;
... of sating once an aching craw
with tearing beak, with ripping claw,
and echoed by an eldritch screech
while feasting on abandoned beach;
... of restive thoughts and weary wings
that drift on haze in smoky rings,
obscured within the opal shroud
of her resemblance in the crowd;
... of croaking caws in broken rhyme
in winter woe, in summer clime,
while building nests of sundown sage
beyond outside a barren cage.
Late to the party we arrived at seven
At least we showed up before eleven
Sweet Ginette, joined us both at the door
A bottle in my hand ready to pour
Off to the kitchen to see the Birthday Queen
All the happy faces a beautiful scene
Hugs for Chantale, another for Helene
I met a new person, energetic like a teen
Her name if I remember, it is Jocelynne
She is married, to a cool guy his name Martin
Bruno was cooking but stopped to say hi
Christine looked happy to be with her guy
Jokes and conversation, a whole lot of fun
Happy to spend time with everyone
Dave seemed content enjoying the mood
My stomach grumbled, I was ready for food
To the table it was time to sit down
We were all treated, to the best meal in town
First Chantale prayed a blessing on us
Our Savior is great, he deserves a fuss
The meal fantastic but the Tuna was raw
I tried to eat it but it stuck in my craw
My Mary she enjoyed it, although not me
I prefer all things cooked, that come from the sea
The pasta amazing, seafood galore
The wine was superb, I let Christine pour
She sat to my left, Dave sat to my right
Everyone there, made it a perfect night
Once concluded, Christine C sang a song
A Louis Armstrong tune we all joined along
Her voice was clearest ours more like a croak
We were lost in the moment, that's not a joke.
We all started dancing, disco moves on the floor
Armand turned up the sound, as we screamed for more
First time I saw Dave dance, he cuts quite the rug
Armand has his own moves, he likes the Jittery Bug
Before too long it was time for dessert
Hot from all the candles I unbuttoned my shirt
Chantal blew out the candles after making two wishes
Armand served Mary's cake, on rectangular dishes
Chantale's special day, a day to remember
Celebrated each year, October not November
So we raised our glasses, thankful for the cheer
Together we celebrated a friend who is dear!
T'was the night before Christmas,
Satan feelin' kind'a blue,
Cooked up a devilish plot...
To repay me and you...
For all this religious fervor,
And holiday joy....
Annoyed him like hell,
He would take every toy!
Inspired by the Grinch,
I'd guess...
He'd make this Christmas,
An unholy mess...
So he dressed the part,
In flaming red suit ill fitted,
His tail he could not hide,
In that he was outwitted...
With Santanic glee,
He set on his course,
To repay this cruel world,
With tons of remorse...
His raindeer substitutes,
Many demons in pain...
Would haul his fat ****..
No matter the strain...
With a magic bag to steal all the toys,
It you could never fill,
Toys just disappeared
To make cry girls and boys...
Well he struggled down,
The first chimney, you see,
Attracted by its fire,
Not by how it'd used to be...
He bristled with
Santanic Claws,
Designed to give,
Anyone pause...
Chucklin' sardonically,
As he did descend...
He'd even steal their stockings,
Which perhaps he could mend...
And someday soon after,
Sell them at a flea market,
Being sure to infest them with fleas,
While attached to an electric socket....
Would be just his luck,
On that first he was greeted
With a big-eyed little girl,
Her prays did seem answered,
She was quietly seated...
"Oh, dear Santa she cried,
I've cookies for you,
And milk cause I heard,
You loved that stuff too!"
He eyed her with anger,
A craw in his throat,
His plan now seemed
hopeless...
His goal would not float...
Countless children, he gruffed,
To defend their own home?
The weapon of innocence...
Their's all alone...
He turned and he roared,
Up the chimney in a snit,
And that was the last time,
That a child did outwit,
This king of all evil,
And doer of deeds,
Unspeakable for ages,
To all races and creeds...
So if you want,
your Christmas toys,
Alert and count on,
Your little girls and boys...",
Three Private school girls went missing at Hanging Rock
In 1900
An eerie tragic event
Enjoying a planned picnic
No one knew what was about to impend
Lunch finished, four girls and teacher
Decided to explore
What happened was a whole lot more
Miranda, Edith, Irma and Ms Mc Craw
Cannot describe what they saw.
In an unexplained event,
All vanished into the rock
Except Edith,
Edith returns to the group in complete shock
Hysterical and can’t detail what happened
But she knew it wasn’t imagined
The surrounding town descends into chaos
The searchers will not give up
For their search for the lost.
Irma found unconscious but unharmed
Strang things continued
It became a real issue
Withdrawn students, staff quitting unexpectedly
All at the picnic had behaviour changes
It was progressively
School girl commits suicide
Headmistress jumps of Hanging Rock
Killing herself
What did they see, whatever it was
They kept it to themselves
Some believe Paranormal Activity occurred
when the 1975 film premiered
clocks stopped at 12 pm, watches stopped at 6 pm,
coincidental or cohered
Rabbit Hunters find frilled Calico at the rock, believed
To be Ms McCraw’s
With no other evidence
They all withdraw
None of the missing women wherever found
Hey search began from the ground
Still till this day, there is an eerie feeling up the top
The mystery of wonder
Keeps us to ponder
Theories are they followed a lizard into a crack in the rock
(a hole in space), how could this be when there is
No trace
It’s acknowledged the crack in the rock is a time warp
And they are in another dimension
These myths leave you
With apprehension
Another is there was a large red cloud above the rock
They went up into it, vanished
So many different articles
Published
They will never be found, this case will never be resolved
What is the truth
We will never know
Me father was a collier, worked Harton off the coast
Though he rattled from the coal dust he was whiter than a ghost
But the one thing that reviled him in his God-forsaken post
Was the torment of the pit ponies who he'd love and trust the most.
Shetlands worked the low seams, Gallers the big pit
And they toiled in dust and danger in the darkness and the grit
Blinkered up between the limbers, heaving coal, tubs full of it
Were the brave young beasts of burden, all a-frothing at the bit.
And Blackie was a strong 'un, he'd been down since '34
But he earned the lads good bonus so they worked him more and more
Till the weight buckled his legs and he stumbled to the floor
And he just laid there a-panting, all a-choking in his craw.
Ah me Da would bring them sugar and share with them his bait,
Now his mind was torn with fury and his heart was filled with hate
So raging black with anger he made the butchers wait
And he vowed he'd take the pony back up with him in the crate
Then Da's no longer digging, they locked him up you see,
For misappropriating mineowners property,
But you cannot cage a conscience, he'd set the brave one free,
From the bittered, blackened hellhole that had been his slavery..
Now Blackie's in the meadow with horses by his side
When the miners bring their children down he takes them for a ride
And he passes by the pithead and the place he nearly died
And he brays a silent prayer for the others still inside
For the broken, bloodied ponies and the tears yet to be cried
There's torment in them ponies down the mine, Hear me well, lad
There's torment in them ponies down the mine, Hear me well, lad
There's torment in them ponies down the mine.
HEAR ME SING THIS IN CONCERT ON YOUTUBE: 'Louis Spence.Ballard of Blackie'
THANK YOU.
The rented hall ways so surreal.
Cheerful alumnus ranting sex appeal.
Forgive my dropping a time bomb.
Taking Mother to the prom.
Our student body didn't shake.
All others escorted steady dates.
A proclivity prom, above all others.
Our band encrypted, "The Righteous Brothers".
Bobby Hatfield's introverted eyes, somehow.
Deeply scanned the milk punch bowl.
Imposter bandits, smuggled from Jersey.
Spiked the punch bowl, with laced heresy.
Setting alumnus minds; off and reeling.
We never, "Lost that Loving Feeling".
Alas, by now you must have guessed.
A convert Baptist to Catholic to Buddhist.
Thanked and Blessed.
Times worn quickly it seems.
I betrothed the crowned prom queen.
If begets lead to further begetting.
Trumpet in the table setting.
Now, before I forget to mention.
I'm Chief Commander of the United Nations.
The priestly Buddhist Monk is my adjunct.
No!!, pundits from paltry pulpits Shout.
No needed pouting, I'll get put out.
Covetous opponents horns, a' Blow-in.
I hold cards, but none are show-in.
That female candidate, can she insist.
A real, lopsided bubble purist.
Piling coals upon my trouble list.
She never, "Closes Her Eyes Anymore when Her Lips are Kissed".
Dear Jesus, may I adorn my Bobby Hatfield headphones.
Appreciating a, past on, baritones gigs.
Someone strummed an evil trick.
Thank You, for Your promised Rainbow.
One end of the spectrum, birth and mirth.
The other end death, it seems much worse.
"It Makes Me Just Feel Like Crying".
"You are My Soul and Highest My Highest Inspiration".
Pressure doesn't bother me at all.
What casts my craw into the fiery jowl.
How all my works got twisted.
As tho, I took your Mom to the prom.
Hoped betterment of bastion dorms.
Face radiance of holistic norms.
Is "Something Beautiful Dying".
Form: