Long Creche Poems
Long Creche Poems. Below are the most popular long Creche by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creche poems by poem length and keyword.
I didn't want anyone
to have a sad Christmas,
so I roamed Manhattan's star-decorated streets,
where many a homeless weeps...
where was I to find that someone,
if not in that corner where a barrel fire was?
By God's grace, I found that unhappy person in ragged clothes
to give my four presents to,
ending the drama of his woe
by bringing coat, shoes, gloves and a long scarf
to erase the misery of a beggar whose cold night was rough;
he widely smiled when I leaned forward and offered him my gifts!
Bewildered folks wearing the latest fashion attire, did not have
the decency of stooping down and give him a single quarter,
and doing so they killed the Christmas' spirit entirely...
a generous spirit well-known in this city; yes, my anger
could have made me lash out at them with indignation,
but realizing how greedy people can be withholding love:
I gasped in relief to discover a creche of our Savior so cheery
along the festive Fifth Avenue to get rid of my frustration!
What I found there was a Heaven-inspired sight
of gleaming angel's hovering the stable announcing Christ's glorious birth...
while beneath bang-pipers and trumpets players, glowing with mirth,
accompanied the youngest choir singing, "Holy Night."
Perhaps venturing out in the cold of the wealthiest city,
gave me the opportunity to realize the hidden goodness of kind souls
that give away their humble presents in various forms,
not expecting anything in return...but rejoice in the delightful sound of harmony.
I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness,
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold,
Love in their abode,
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener,
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors,
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent, .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus,
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion,
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said,
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation,
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter,
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
EASTER SUNRISE
Outside, perfect Sunrise
Service. The air’s so fresh.
Pastel dresses, pretty ties.
Resurrection from the creche.
Birth and rebirth celebrated.
Jesus - our Dayspring on High.
As sunrise songs begin, elated,
Oh how blessed with warming-eye.
The Son! The Son! Salvation
Hallelujahs in the blue and red hills -
Up goes the praise of creation.
Though a miniature group, it thrills
With anticipation of eternity nigh -
Gathered with the communion of saints.
Early risers savor the reverberating sigh,
Remembering our Savior - with no restraints.
We smile, we nod at one another
Knowing each person rose to the occasion.
Oh how much love, one for another,
In this small concreted space - a holy invasion.
Can you see the angel armies all about -
In power, quietness, expectation?
The one who rolled the tomb’s stone with a shout
Surely sees glory after glory without cessation.
We remember the snow white lamb of Bethlehem;
The victorious, merciful and just lion;
The great I Am;
The One who awakens Zion.
The air, so fresh, and we’re squeaky clean
Not because of water and soap
But because we accepted and lean
On Jesus Christ our Living Hope.
Dressed in pretty attire, not to be seen,
But to honor and applaud The Great -
The death and resurrection was the scene,
For the return of the King of kings, we cannot wait.
Bruised bones resolved, inhale - the inspire.
The second Adam resurrected on Sunday.
Laud, sing - with Holy Spirit fire.
Join in this spectacular prayer ballet
And the cloudburst of the sunrise choir.
Bursting with pink, tangerine and baby blue -
The horizon and the faithful spire;
The disclosure of God breaks through.
3/22/2023
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Behind a Round Table:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
VERSE 1:
I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness,
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold,
Love in their abode,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
VERSE 2:
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener,
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors,
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent, .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus,
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion,
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said,
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Outro:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES....
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation,
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter,
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
Oh, Triple Androgynous Name remembered by no name
I am now a shooting star falling to Earth in shame
Mother-Father of every single mother and father
I am now an orphan under moon and sun in pother
Oh, shining mirror of the great invisible spirit
I am now the moon without her light for some to see it
The endless universal womb without body or flesh
I am now an aborted fetus with no single creche
Oh, very first human before even Adam and Eve
I am now in the curse of ignorance that Man can’t cleave
The very first thought though not one thought can ever be you
I am now to be forgotten to those I never knew
Oh, holy spirit whose name is forgotten in the Earth
I am now praying for your sole son to give me rebirth
I felt a bit like Humbert, or John Proctor,
an ageing vulture drawn to fresh young flesh.
She was a pretty, witty Turkish doctor
(so, not exactly plundering the creche!)
She seemed to like me, though we'd never met.
"Why don't you come to Turkey?" she'd implore.
(You've guessed by now I met her on the Net!)
My mind was moving that way, more and more.
Some hanker for one evening with Stan Getz,
Cafe A-Gogo, in the wee small hours.
My fantasy was always minarets
in Istanbul, those slender marble towers
(which seem too graceful for this ugly world)
and me, enthralled by shape and song and air,
as muezzin's warble hovered, wavered, curled,
calling the faithful to their morning prayer.
One Easter, I had four days with no work.
For once, the bank account was almost full.
"I'll go see Aysin," (thus was named my Turk),
"since Ankara must be close to Istanbul."
One word about the people of that land.
They're nosey. Answer questions, they'll ask more.
They meet an Arab, they can sell him sand.
They're merchants. Sent to Hell, they'd open a store.
Turks want to know two things: the area,
in meters squared, encompassed by your flat,
and please confirm that Greeks are hairier
and darker-skinned than them ("Greek girls are fat?")
Met at the airport by a courtesy car,
I'm gliding through the magic Eastern night,
fielding the driver's questions - "Is it far
from Maine to Malibu? Do I look white?"
So, Saint Paul, you faced a thorn in your flesh?
I can hardly hide my envy tonight.
Softer and smoother than hay in the creche -
My cross does her best when I dim the light.
No threat of pain, unless it might service
promise of pleasures that she seeks to give.
Aroused ev'n more because I am nervous,
she loves most the sin she'll never forgive.
Keenly attuned to fantasy's wishes,
she pushes me down, proves herself master.
Then she reclines with grin so malicious,
as well-taught student courts his disaster.
Paul, I'll take black thorn instead of white thighs.
Let me trade. Let me trade! Let me trade!!! Lies ...
5 May 2023
taciturn springs rising
from within the quarry
of deep earth's wisdom
urging lyrical waters to transpose
while held like singing seas of living reveries
of history and infinity
misting to meld with rainfall dreams
Falling like ancient messages
into the orchard of molecular landscapes
drawn to penetrate its legacy
embedded in the rockeries and rills
blanketing the groves of dirt and ferns
teeming in the arcadian oasis
feeding feast or famine
flourishing the solicitude of springtime
in spider spun dreams
of longings in ancient oaks
merging with the ebb of shedding sycamores
in salted seas teeming and exalting
the rhetoric of existence
in musing opaque vapors
mingling into pervasive clouds
bleeding life
cached in the creche
of pastoral beginnings
of everlasting eddies
watering the garden of dreams
April 22, 2020
Rewritten: October 3, 2020
Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsored by John Hamilton
MISSING
Who said my daughter was missing?
We wouldn't find her replica... anywhere
She wasn't in school...not at her sister's creche
She wasn't there...I mean nowhere
Maybe it's nothing to ponder on anyway
We looked for her everywhere
Who saw her...my sister's daughter?
All we found here was her teddy bear
Oh God dear!!! where is my daughter?
What do you mean you don't know?
I left her with you this morning
Could she be missing or stole or taken
Taken to where...the unknown destination
Someone must have taken her
But to where?
My sister became caged like a bird without a beak
She couldn't cry nor laugh
Her eyes swollen like she's dead alive
As we speak...she was working slowly off us
Barefooted and with her head gear loose
Before we know it...she was on the other lane
Soliloquizing only to herself and the gods of the land
Reality knocked us all at once
Get hold of her now before ... we all chorused
As we reach out to her... her smile spoke in French
It was a language we understand not
She suddenly changed direction towards the East
It was a midnight black evening
With no sun speaking to the moon
She became a mother without a child
No one at all for her to breast-feed
No sob of a child for her to dry off
Alayande Stephen T.
2.17pm
9th June, 2015