Long Cross(a) Poems
Long Cross(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Cross(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cross(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
The ashes have cleared and the rain is washing memories of you
I see it now as I gaze across those thoughts
I was pierced with the arrows and I hid the blood
I wanted your help but I couldn't find words
As I glide through the words I found after searching
I am back like a tattoo which has faded and is hidden
I am dressed in white and I matter
God has heard my cry and has seen my tears
All I needed was the first day and it was what was asked
You told me I don't matter and that I am a loser
The sticks and stones have broken my bones
Your name will always hurt me
You thought I would die and the trash men would carry me
But the cry was heard and as I lay my gift at your feet
I do so humbly and the fat lady starts her song
She is drunk and as she sways to that tune
You search for me in the closet that you hold
And like thunder crackling cross a summer sky
My eyes water like waves on the tide
But I'm riding that wave to freedom
And your search will find nothing
. for public domain
( liberally inspired from Socrates' "second best account" from Plato's dialogue Phaedo )
Up the road a little and beside a pond,
with a view of dew which she grew so fond,
where she shed her Grace after her demise,
and a lifetime of forgiven lies,
near a wooden cross, a throw from an Oak,
a Preacher preached with tears as he spoke,
"We shall miss her kind voice, her soft embrace,
miles of smiles from her pretty face,
Though none of it real, we needed the show
of what Life could be, and not what we know.
To her old age, from the time of her youth
she gave no care for low gestures of truth.
So let us give praise for she who would lie,
who faced Life truly with a heave and a sigh,
but always looked Upwards for the Gift of Grace,
and let that Truth shine from a suffering face."
Lament
Brooding days,
Vanquished in the unconnected gloom,
Shower frost,
Standing watch at dawn to pierce the morning
With an artic tempest,
Swirling ‘cross a land lost in forgetfulness:
Sighing
Beneath borderless views of snow unbroken,
Where nothing dare disturbs
The unchanging vision
But a single line of footprints
When skies of grey and bleaker daylight
Lean so close to earth
They lay their heaviness upon a homeless wood sprite
Wandering in the raw breath of twilight dawning,
Caught by phantom gusts
Spiraling down,
Shivering as the brumaled wind
Runs its fingers
Through the marrow of the soul
Where slumber languishes,
Icebound
As plodding steps
Frantically searching groves of tangled silver linden,
Pursued
And haunted
By the relentless midnight sun;
Errant fugitive,
Followed by the wispy remnants of a golden morning,
Trembling
As barren aspen branches
Beneath bright errant bursts of fiery lights -
Racing
Across
The northern sky -
Taunting
Tortured
Eyes
Seeing only to remember;
Grasping
For a single crocus
Plunged into yearning
Until the boreal shadows
Touch
The depth of darkness
Bidding nordic sprite to sit,
To rest,
Curled up against a frozen birch of black and white,
Taking final flight on tattered winds
Heralding the touch of sunlight.
Godspeed my friend
POTD
Placed 8 out of 11 placements with 35 entries.
Final days of truth approach
I'm haunted by the tragedy of living,
remembering what an ignorant fool
I was indulging only in passive pleasures
of a world that is full of lies.
I bow my head and on my humble knees
I cross a rainbow bridge,
Search for a sweet blessing of love
and find a sweet serenity.
I hear a strange whisper,
A mumbling prayer of love.
It's strange that such an invocation
should ease my penitent pain.
For if old flowers their petals shed,
then there is hope for me
since I'll shed all my transgressions,
acquire new virtuous leaves
and pray to the Almighty
that He'll forgive my sins.
Craziest time in a dream that repeats itself.
It starts of;
I'm going off to war dress in heavy armor,
riding on a magnificent black stallion.
We wander through a dense forest,
sunlight filtering through the leaves
and cross a clear shallow river amid
schools of salmon and trout.
Groans from fatigue, we stop by a stream.
I gather firewood and start a small fire.
Pulling off my boots, my socks are tinged red
from blisters bloody and raw from the shoes being too big.
Night comes upon us and exhaustion takes over.
Tired and hungry, shivering beneath my blanket
I finally fall asleep, under the twinkling stars
Hunger gnaws in my belly wakes me up.
"Breakfast.", words echoes through my mind.
8/4/2020
Choice 2: Craziest Time In .......... 116words
Craziest Time At The Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
Down a runway skybound
to cross a continent,
see from a window
a city fall away
with bright beads
strung along a coast,
then turning inland,
clumped townships
shrinking to solitary lights
sunk far apart
into hours
of featureless dark.
Disconnected
from the earth,
let the mind paint
the blank distances
and wander landscapes
of Namatjira's hills
and ghost gums
and photographic stills
of outback towns
and along railway lines
spearing the horizon
where a big sun
hemorrhages
into an evening sky.
Then settle back
and allow a familiar picture
to arise from behind closed eyes
of light patched office towers
and stacked apartments
with tall derricks
puncturing the night
as it slides by
in soundless haste.
And way below,
playing out on some
inner screen, follow
stuttering road signs
and arteries of red tail lights
leading to narrow alleys where,
as if funneled into an ear,
you hear the sound of sirens
being dragged
along hot, crowded streets.
In time, let the noise abate
until faces dissolve and life
slurries back into a thick
air conditioned hum.
Doze a little
then try to unpack
the images collaged
across the hours.
Nothing adheres.
What had once
held together seems
to fray and fall apart.
Feel a slight unease
as the engines begin
to throttle back and comence
the slow descent. There,
bubbled on the horizon,
see the glow of city lights
drawing in a converging arc
of flights like moths.
Notes.
Namatjira refers to great Australian and First Nation painter,
Albert Namatjira (1902 - 1959) famous for capturing central Australian landscape including the iconic Ghost Gum, a species of Eucalyptus tree. His work speaks to a deep spiritual connection to the land, something held by his people for well over 40,000 years.
Poem refers to flight across the continent of Australia, East to West, approx. distance 4000 km.
???•?A CROSSOVER FOR ALL?•???
A synagogue strange sight did unfold,
A congregation diverse, young and old.
The pastor preached with passion, a fire in his soul,
As the crazy folks gathered, their sins to unload.4
The alter was adorned with drinks of all kind,
All sort of long years addiction, left behind.
The prostitutes and con artists all came,
To seek redemption, a new life to reclaim.8
The service began, hymns filled the air,
The pastor's words, a balm to their souls, so fair.
The sinners knelt, heads bowed in prayer,
Their tears of repentance, flowing like a river there.¹²
The alcoholics, they abandon their bottles,
Their addiction, a burden, no longer their hurdles.
The thieves & liars left their ill-gotten gains,
A new path, they sought, free from life's sharp pains.¹6
A celebration of life, love, & renewal was spilled,
A fresh start, second chance, a new covenant, sealed.
The pastor's words, arrested them & caused a stare,
A call to action, to live a life most rare.²°
The congregation, a mix of the high & the low,
From the streets and the alleys, they came, you know.
The wealthy and the poor, they gathered as one,
To worship, to praise, to glorify, the Son.²4
The music played, the choir sang with glee,
A joyous noise, a symphony, a melody.
The drums beat loud, guitars strummed with grace,
Saturated the space with ambience around this place.²8
The alter, adorned with symbols of old,
A cross, a Bible, a candle, stories untold.
A decorated pulpit, a kaleidoscope of color,
A rainbow of hope, red rug & designs to savor.³²
The service ended, they dispersed, spirits lifted high,
A new year, a new beginning, a fresh start, nigh.
The church sign out with this final farewell:
"Happy New Year 2024 with stories to tell."³6
???•?VICK MANUEL POETRY?•???
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright©?2nd January 2024.
The old cypress steadily marks
my walk where tremblina birds
roost under misty rain
As I pause along a white-stoned port shrouded
by tanaled album of littered memories:
Gentle this breath the breeze upon
a heaving chest
While furrowed leaves stoop on this marsh:
Somehow, my hands threw the folder
of memoirs into a bin :
Breaths lingering deep to caress edges,
that only winds understood a long love qone.
Then in a whim, a stranger picked the folio,
handing it to me just before the stars
faded on my prayers :
Now. I stride down the lane
to cross a wooden bridge, to welcome new stars.
Contest: Middle January Premiere Contest
For Brian Strand Reposted 1/18/2018
I am here surrounded by
People of every shape and size
Skin color--disability
Why can't everybody see
We may be different from outside
Open your eyes, you will find
The similarities that we all share
Look closely--cause they are there
Red blood pumping through us all
Trying to stand, we sometimes fall
Fear anger and devotion
We can not hide these emotions
Hunger burns when we desire
Everybody has a fire
That grows from embers and ashes
Memories in our mind flashes
Recalling all sweet and bad times
Sometimes we can cross a line
But loved ones bring us right back
When we are about to crack
Tears, disgust, terror and hate
Are feelings we can all create
Greed and negativity
Are two things that shouldn't be
Part of who some people are
Sometimes it just goes too far
Racism and bullying
Two more hurtful ugly things
we need to try and delete
So everybody can defeat
The cruelty we can display
Are you hearing what I say
Knowing how alike we are
Should let us get very far
Uniting in joy and peace
This wrong view will stop and cease
But by grace do I shadow your form
from each darkened night to bright-lit morn.
You're silvery-white in my life's storm
hosting shivery thoughts yet unborn.
Would that my pen divine such meaning,
enflame fiery feelings unbidden
that stun me dumb at their convening.
My emotions revealed, unhidden.
Yet my disguise is opaque it seems.
You cross a transcendental realm –
unspoken vesper in sacral dreams
that never attains its lofty helm.
Someday, I know you will understand
my passionate affection for you -
How my heart bleeds with tender demand,
unformed entanglement to pursue!
My ink is flowing hoping to charm,
My poem an aphrodisiac.
Unwritten rhymes planning to disarm
and attract you to my love lilac.
Though you're beyond my bewitching reach,
I devote this unsung ode to us.
My dear, with unsaid words I beseech -
Let's join our hearts without further fuss.