Long Disfavor Poems
Long Disfavor Poems. Below are the most popular long Disfavor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disfavor poems by poem length and keyword.
( Concern for National Israel )
God decreed a covenant; a covenant of works,
on Sinai He gave it to man:
Obey the Law, from it righteousness draw,
- be saved by it if you can.
We labored and cried, and from it we tried,
to earn our favor with God.
We strained and strived, in failure we sighed,
- and felt the disfavor of His rod.
After many years through sorrow and tears,
we discovered our nature too foul.
Our confidence gone, we moved out alone,
- ran to an idol named Baal.
He too, was severe, filled us with fear;
demanded our children to take.
This was for naught, no righteousness it brought,
- so him, we too, did forsake.
On return to our land, we dealt with a man,
many people worship as Deity.
He taught mercy and grace; withstood us to face,
- was nailed to a Roman tree.
After the dispersion of all, denying Adam's fall,
our leaders placed our trust in man.
Utopia to build, by the strength of our will,
- find satisfaction in life as we can.
Doomed to fail, we made a Humanist hell,
with torture as never before.
Workers paradise gone, its doctrine all wrong,
- salvation's not there anymore.
Some men claim, to our “perceived” shame,
that Messiah was the one crucified.
They're common folk, without credentials of note,
- and are quiet easily stupefied.
Surely we, the learned, can readily discern,
by reasoned, scholarly analysee.
We're not easily fooled, as a general rule,
- and we have an historic pedigree.
Yet, if Abraham’s promised seed, was singular indeed,
reason demands Messiah be that too.
Then, our Zionist claim, to National Messianic fame,
- is just another fanciful bugaboo.
Should we look anew at him whom we slew,
determine if his claims could have merit:
The Prophets shed light on a Messiah in type;
- shall we see if the scriptures declare it?
In the Genesis of old, a wonderful story is told,
of a singular birth - miraculous.
The woman’s seed (Virgo), a virgin shall conceive,
- calling him Immanuel (God with us)
(my friends i wrote the piece below in one long exhale. i did not change a word but
rather let it sit as it fell. could the writing be improved. yes it could but why try to
create a masterpiece when finger painting is so much fun. you have greeted me with
wide open arms. you have been a great support at a stressful time in my life. so here
it is from my heart to yours.)
they are those who ride us on their backs
send us on journeys to places they built
one chess piece at a time
they put into words
what we knew
but could not say
why am I telling you this
there are wonderful poets here
choose a dish
visit their buffets
taste more than one feel
give it a whirl
experience worlds you'll never find on a mac
visit their vivid dreams
drive one of their soap bubbles
ski on the end of a needle and thread
discover the barely open doors
the naked flesh between the creases
displays lined in scrap paper
that one can absorb eyes closed
crawl under and over the sea
tunnel the milky way to a brand new galaxy
witness a sky that like curtains part
peak at what is on the other side
life is short play nude
spend a bitty bit of time
with bitty bits of folksy folks
on a striped colored blur
they are special the poets who live here
so do yourself a flavor
put on your roller blades
and go for the tricycle ride of your life
here is the best part and get this
(i hope your holding your breath
and turning red white and blue)
some of their poems rhyme
some of them even use styles
here comes the huge reveal
( unlike me who is not really a poet
and doesn't actually know it)
they use good grammar
extensive vocabularies
and here's the kicker
capital letters
and proper punctuation
go figure
which they also use
well that figures
there are great poets here
you do yourself a disfavor
if you're only here to write
and not here to read
In a short time, you will be my executioner.
Your actions shall be considered a favor.
You say to me “Lady, please forgive me”.
I, Mary Stuart, am grateful for your sympathy.
You are putting me out of my misery.
It was purely by providential chance,
that I should rule both Scotland and France.
My first bout with misfortune was the scene
where my French king husband Francois died at sixteen.
I would return to my native Scotland right away.
I faced subjection by my half-brother Earl of Moray.
James Stewart and John Knox scorned my presence.
Peace between Protestants and Catholics found no permanence.
With this problem, I became heavily involved.
During my reign, practically nothing could be solved.
My cousin Elizabeth has been a thorn in my side.
Her disdain and disfavor she chooses not to hide.
Elizabeth proposed with blatant effrontery,
that I marry the Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley.
Such a marriage would bring an English-Scottish alliance.
I would have been a fool to submit to compliance.
My marriage to my cousin was out of defiance.
I thought I could love Henry, Lord Darnley.
However, Henry’s actions became a liability.
He helped kill one of the noblest men I would know.
Scottish Lords conspired to murder David Rizzio.
During my reign, troubles compounded all the while.
Soon I found myself a ruler without a nation.
Adversaries forced me to agree to abdication.
I would be placed into imprisonment during exile.
My involvement in the Babington Plot is the reason
why I am being executed for high treason.
Please let your blow be both swift and clean.
It shall release me from this ignominious scene.
I wanted England and Scotland to live in harmony.
May I be remembered this way throughout history.
Mary's son, James VI of Scotland eventually became King James I of a united England and Scotland.
Clementine was gourmet fresh,
plump and glowing no matter the season.
A monumental bargain for those with taste
who did their shopping at the misfit market.
We all wanted inside her space.
A human buffet flavored for nibbling
and she knew it. I did.
I took her to parties just to get in.
She made comfy with everyone.
We played the same games.
Being a fruit, she got all the attention.
The disfavor of her sunny disposition.
There were no shadows where she repined.
Beautiful Clementine.
Not sure when i saw her last.
Looking buckshee, she had rolled her eyes.
She was making room for Magnolia.
Something about it being the proper conditions.
Sometime after the denunciation,
right round that time...
when a wan softness set in
she soon consumed all our senses.
I saw it happen in the darkness.
My interest had been revoked. .
By then i'd become like driftwood.
With boots on, carried off by the current,
i self sheltered in NYC on desolation row.
There were only shadows when she repined.
Beautiful Clementine.
Hopelessness surprised me with Clementine.
i made no attempts to rejoin the flock.
Taking the weather for granted
I acknowledged that those seasons had died.
I heard she passed away in France.
A victim of the Corona virus.
A winter swallow let me know this,
before Magnolia and her pigeons did.
Her posse had no flag or tags for it.
They spoke all at once about her demise.
No flowers bloomed past that time
and still they squatted in her garden.
I saw it happen in the darkness.
Beautiful Clementine.
A virtual mess, so unfortunate.
A tall order in the end.
I lit a thousand sticks of incense
their escape was ten stories tall.
RIP beautiful girl.
You’re an *******.
Words muttered out of context, out of line.
A rage-shadowed truth,
but with such unexpected forthrightness,
it missed its mark,
serving only to deepen our divide.
Home is no longer where happy is.
I’m not sure it ever was.
There’s no abuse hurled or fists weaponized,
and much
— if not all —
is done with the intent of love.
But even so,
my nerves are frayed, and I can take no more.
Three hours pass,
and I begin counting down the seconds till escape.
Has distance weakened me so?
Have the miles between myself and that tumultuous guilt-laced anger
made me so fragile and contemptible of thought?
The fatigue enters my very bones from the moment I cross the threshold,
and anxiety-heightened feelings fight their short leash
with new resolve.
Where before I ruled my emotions and responses
with resignation and an iron fist,
I’ve become a feeble-willed sovereign,
allowing them to run amok with freedom previously unexplored.
No part of my reaction
or unbidden tears
are based in reason,
no matter the (harmless) judgments passed or words that can’t be rescinded.
Countless crueler realities play out
near and dear to my heart.
I must be pathetic and wicked,
(for others truly have a cross to bear; I have none)
and I should believe I deserve
to pay for my disfavor
in the very blood that runs through us all.
Matthew 15:4: “For God said,
‘Honor your father and mother’
and
‘Anyone who curses their father or mother
is to be put to death.’”
I cannot apologize enough
to erase the stains of my thoughts,
nor can I gather the resolve to twist this on myself
any longer.
I am unworthy of a love such as that which I receive.
THE X-FACTORS
I was told that structure forms from idioms.
That to construct vision is a way of seeing what needs to be done.
This is when norms of humanity are formed.
However, do the norms of God supersede all?
Would this mean a voice is only a voice?
That laws do not have to be followed.
That a hidden culture is manifestation of a society that is lawless.
Being that laws can be removed by mediums unknown,
Like fabrication that corrupts a system such as judicial.
A circumstance, quality, or person...
A strong but unpredictable influence...
A factor that is label with an X.
A crisis that must be corrected.
The statuses of a mind significance must be rightful.
To allow lack of discretion though illogical intelligence, destroys the powers vested via the Constitution.
To establish an instrument of government, is to become a language understood.
A voice that brings logic to the multitude.
Yet, do the norms of God supersede all?
As a world govern by created life, our composition is to establish law.
Why walk a mindful journey along?
The X-factor labels wrong.
A strong but unpredictable prejudice of power.
A crisis that must be remedied.
A circumstance, quality, or person that negates social justice.
An erratic onset of disfavor through social injustice done by political leadership un-indemnify those that are injured.
The X-factors must be destroyed.
A political focus that can manifest war.
____________________________________________________________________|
Written May 25, 2016!
David Didn’t Require a Savior
It seems that God loved David so much.
Yet he destroyed a lot with his very touch.
He killed Uriah to have his wife,
Which resulted in a lifetime of strife.
A baby he lost.
A tremendous cost.
His son raped his daughter,
Which lead to his slaughter.
Absolom killed Amnon, their half brother.
And afterwards, resented their father.
In the uprising that ensued,
Absalom was subdued.
So are we being told that three children died,
Because David did not abide,
To the rules of his God, that he did not obey,
And the deaths reminded him on every day.
But God forgave him for his deed, of course,
When David begged forgiveness and showed remorse.
David didn’t need a savior,
To be back in his God’s favor.
And as there was not a mediator needed,
The Savior concept should be conceded.
But how was Uriah helped by all this?
He was wronged and lacked the bliss,
Of God’s justice for his death,
Once he had taken his last breath.
But the murderer, David, received God’s favor,
While the victim of the crime received disfavor.
And what of the baby that God did kill?
God kills babies and gets a thrill.
It says just that in Psalm 137 verse nine?
In that verse it’s more than just fine.
It’s a blessing to smash babies on a rock.
This is what God says. Not really a shock.
To kill a baby when you feel the need?
After all it’s only your enemy’s seed.
So God killed many babies in the Bible
And no one seems to hold Him liable.
The groans of ancient years still echo in my bones. It is a pain
That lodges in the weariness of Africa. Curled in her, the strain
Of old world history. Out of her given darkness triumph shines
The light of all cities, world clamoring, and out of her plundered mines
Glower the bright towers of world economy. We who lost are owed
Much here. My ancestors were used: mediums of exchange;
Stock for slave houses and ships; rich cargoes of commerce;
And cattle to the whip. Toiling night and day and no remorse
Nor recompense for labor, in humanity's disfavor. I am owed
Because all my life I have been on a journey, going nowhere
On my own. I did not this destination set; No man can reach
Another's goal, I am bound to ship 'gainst my will. My soul's leached
Of traditions: language and peace. I pine far from King's dream
So stereotyped, so American, I move in jungles of passion
My captors cannot read. I am overdiagnosed with tensions
Strange to my desire. I must be paid since I did not set here
This destiny I built them; like a moon I move and shine fair
Imprisoned in the power of the sun. My heart groans, and I
Cough up tides amids the white buds of cotton, breaking like a boil
Upon the day. Why? Those owed least get paid still from our toil.
A TESTIMONY
I was lost in sin when Jesus found me;
He cleansed me within, His love surrounds me;
Now I am forgiven, each day’s a victory.
I trust in His name, He’s so forgiving;
He’s always the same, in me He’s living;
His love I can claim, it’s such a mystery.
Though I don’t know why His love He gave me,
And it often makes me cry to think He’d save me,
Still I know that when I die, I will live on high
In the mansion He’s prepared; I’ll be so glad when I get there!
Oh what a day ‘twill be when up in glory
His dear face I see and tell the story
Of His love for me that day at Calvary.
I will sing and shout of Christ my Savior;
He has brought me out of sin’s disfavor;
I will never doubt the change that He has made.
When I pray and cry, the Savior hears me;
Even when I die, He’ll still be near me;
How can I deny the price for me He paid?
I know when I fail He’ll not forsake me,
For His mercy will prevail, and He will take me
Back into His arms again, wipe away the stain,
Set me on my feet and send me on my way to walk again.
Oh, what a Christ Divine whose love’s unending
Through all years of time my soul defending;
I’m so glad He’s mine for now and ever more.
These words written to “Strangers In The Night.”
She never realized,
What she had inside,
Till she recognized she was a mother.
She loved her own
Plus a few on loan
That she nurtured in place of others.
Are those others to blame?
Should they be ashamed?
I think not wise to aver.
For they have no clue
When they misconstrue
And hold their child in disfavor.
No instructions they show
So love never grows
And their children cease to strive.
But surrogate moms
Stop the time bombs
And help those naive to thrive.
Though they’re never alone
When they teach the unknown
To advance and never surrender.
For matters not age
Of pupil or sage
Nor does it consider the gender.
They lead souls in need
With advice they do seed
And instruct the bewildered to fare.
Hence the child shows love
They were once deprived of
Now living their life so aware.
They now hold a key
In the vast human sea
Thanks to the knowledge of others.
For unwitting wise emit
A mere prose or a quip
Never knowing they helped another.
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