Long Elapses Poems
Long Elapses Poems. Below are the most popular long Elapses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elapses poems by poem length and keyword.
In the womb there was no room
for a babe to thrive and bloom.
By the will of God conceived, as
a regretful burden perceived
by a single mom who can't comprehend
generational blessings she's chosen to end.
Fearful tears drip down. Who could care?
She feels so trapped, but the clinic is there.
"It's not human yet," "You'll feel relieved."
Each familiar-as-Hitler lie is believed.
As time elapses, the loss has begotten
trauma and shame that won't be forgotten.
In the womb there was no room.
The chamber of life became an empty tomb.
------------------------
In the inn there was no room
for the babe in Mary's womb.
By the spirit of God conceived,
in a filthy manger received
to a virgin mother whose eyes behold
the very Savior the prophets foretold!
With joyful tears, she praises the Lord.
Though fearful, she chooses to trust His word,
believing her Jesus' blood sacrifice
would pardon her sin and give her new life.
His cruel death was mocked, but Jesus is risen
for generations of sinners, forever forgiven!
In the inn there was no room.
From the chamber of death, life rose from the tomb!
Summer to fall,
No other transition
Is quite so compelling,
So thrilling,
So enchanting,
The sunlight shines golden
In the late afternoon,
Illuminating the leaves of trees,
Some of which reveal gentle hues
Of red, orange, and yellow,
The sun spreads its warmth
Like an infant being swaddled in a blanket,
And it causes one to doze off,
Daydreaming of yesteryears,
What about those years?
Ones of youth,
Ones of innocence,
Ones of naivety,
It’s a bit like the trees,
The way one enters the world
Small, frail and vulnerable,
Only to grow and change
As time elapses,
Quicker than memory will allow,
A sudden tingling stops the mind
And halts one’s dwelling on the past,
What is tingling on my arm?
And when one looks down,
They see the winged creature
Crawling on the forearm,
Unintentionally tickling the arm hairs,
Oh, it’s just a lanternfly,
And now, it is here
That a new sensation arises,
As one observes the insect
With its patterned wings,
Displaying vibrant yellows and pinks,
With an overlay of dark spots,
Like a photo negative print
Of a night sky full of stars,
The sensation is suddenly alleviated
As the insect flies away,
But not without leaving
An impression on one’s mind,
One about small things,
Beautiful, fleeting things,
Which might just make
The passing of time,
Or the passing of life,
That much sweeter.
drop by drop it's dripping away
time elapses like a rolling tide
fast, strong and sudden
it will shove you on left or right
above or down under
only the tide knows where
above all
only God knows where
where is right or wrong
which one is better or worse
and He knows sure which is the best for us
faith...
enduring selfless faith
surrendering to Him
all fears, anxieties and tears
all that there is..
to His words that I cling..
in the wee hours that am alone
only to Him I utter the words
sometimes I can't anymore even
say the words
just the tears rolling on my cheeks
that will tell
how am I feeling inside
my insides are bursting
my thoughts are breaking
all i have are pleas
pleas that I hope soon it will be heard
soon it will be answered
I do not want to question
I do not want to even doubt
I do not even want to blame
I do not even want to curse
All I do is to hold on
Hang on.. hang on..
so tired, so tired..
long enduring nights where no one I can talk but Him
yet each day I wake up
still.. still I stand up..
resume like nothing really bothers me
I smile the brightest smile they say
but my eyes can not hide
so many longings inside
I am trying to understand
but it seems understanding isn't enough
patience... much patience...
and really strength...
strength to hang on
strength to carry on
strength to keep fighting
but through it all
this prevails
I still love you my God
and will still be here
Thanking you
for what you have done
and to what You will still do
For I am forever Yours
And all of these comes from You
I am nothing without You.
(C) Olive ELoisa
1:33am
May 23, 2014
Whatever reason it may be, disgusted by life itself, I felt offended being alive and that’s why I opened my heart’s window and watched
a passing cloud within the heart.
I understand that everything under the sun shall change its shape
as time elapses and, the leading stars of the time also vanish to yield their position to new stars as the stage of history revolves, yet still I have a question, why does it have to be that way? On the other hand, though, the circle of human life did not change from the beginning of the time of its conception to very end of everyone’s day, so I have to ask again, why?
The answers to those questions, though not conclusive but tentative, came to my mind were, no matter how much the medical technologies may be advanced as men insist, living things never fail to die; and men are always hungry though they eat like a pig because men’s daily bread comes from crops produced in the barren soil. No matter how man beautifies life rhetorically with words such as love, blessing, abundance, and glorify with such communal phrases: god, spirit, holy, or sanctity, men’s life is miserable and hopeless as before because they have to inhale the mass of evil that is filtered through the air to survive.
Since no one ever defined explicitly or gave me a straight answer on human life, I have no way to solve the problem of life but to satisfy with the common words ‘life is not different from any other thing.’ But if I comfort myself with a trite remark such as this, isn’t it an act of betraying my mother? Because the mother went through such enormous labor pain in order to bring this helpless child into this world and rose with her whole hearted earnest care to plant hope on this corrupted world.
Love is not negotiable..True Love anyway.'
There is the love of a man and woman, the
Love of siblings.. Love for parents. And Love for friends.' Also the Love for humanity..' Some love mechanically almost? Mainly i surmise this is prevelent
With Men and Women, yet if time elapses it
Becomes more intuitive; the spritual element enhances.' Some people are self centered, yet others love them to the best degree they can.' Is love not returned a love
Wasted? I think not.' For giving in love makes room for more love, in the giver.' This holds true in all the areas of life that
Love inhabits..Sometimes you must show
The love to stand back' and allow another to settle in their spirit.' Should they turn to
You again? You will find out whether your
Love is deep enough to welcome them back. Love is a fluid element, rich in patience.' If that is in limited supply.? Is it
A lasting offering.? An offering pleasing to God.' Who comissioned Love.' And receives
It with open arns..No matter the hour.' There is a love that will tell others they are
On the wrong path.' And brave the storms of disbeleif, Love is patient, love is kind
Keeping no record of wrongs, it allways preserves always hopes, though i talk in the tounge of men and angels if i have not
Love i have no-thing.' Love the Lord your God with all your strength with all your might and all your soul.' And your neighbour as yourself..Even though you are
Not recognised.' For so it has always been.'
So they treated the prophets of old.' So take heart, for your kingdom is not of this world.' And the world understands you not.'
All blessings may much peace be upon the reader
Of these lines.)
Written by: Sashi. Prabhu (zeauoxian)
Written on: 28th July 2012
Tonight I trudge down the weeping shore,
My troubled heart and uncertain mind cry galore
The waters rise up to speak to me
I try, comprehend its sublime message for me to know and reason see.
On a quaint spot I sit by myself
Looking out and gawking into the vastness of grey greenness for help
Gushing, come memories of a thousand days,
All weaved into a garland soaking in moon rays.
The waters sound encore in my ears,
As I listen, my mind ebbs and slowly fades away all my fears
The salty breeze, gently tap my face
The frothy sprays splash to knock me out of my daze
As time elapses these sublime moments pass
And sand becomes my bed and blankets of water cover me…..
The weeping shore…
Crying mind galore…
Waters rising to speak to me….
I have comprehended the subtle message stored for me under the sea…….
I am now content, happy and filled with humility…
And moments that I live have begun to be filled with tranquility…….
Letting go was never possible
Holding on was too cynical a dream
Life feels mystic and miserable
Somewhere in between, to struggle for more
holding onto a strained thread of perseverance
As, perhaps, sometimes love is not enough.
Time elapses along with its own course
Teaches the mind a lot of perplexing moods
Like drizzling rain, murmuring wind, or the sounds of silence
In humility and submission for forgiveness
In a monologue of hope and faith
Yet, knowing the truth of the innermost soul
That perhaps, sometimes love is not enough.
I will say my prayer today for a defeat,
For hoping for a blooming flower with its own virtue
Proving the ticking clock wrong and conspiring with a selfish motive
Hoping my belief will not be a hot topic of group distortion for an utter denial
And, knowing , sometimes love is not enough to fill up the blanks.
And I love her, as I love me, failing both perhaps.
As, perhaps, sometimes love is not enough.
Courtesy: A calendar registering today's date ( 9-11-2019)
--- Matamoros, 2:00p.m., December 6, 2014
I sit at this table
(as I have done many times)
wielding a ball-point pen,
with insufficiencies of
thoughts and words --
out of place.
All the while
the two dogs --
Guero and Princesa --
shower their affections,
licking and nuzzling,
in return for caresses,
pats, and gifts of food.
They respond in kind
to attention and gentle treatment.
A nearby train
sounds its horn,
blocks a street,
further clogging traffic
in this unhealthy border city.
The day goes on, time elapses slowly.
It is very warm.
I exchange minimal phrases
with the occupants
of this house.
The owner has just
returned from visiting
his dying elder brother
at the Social Security Hospital.
We leave to visit
an acquaintance in the countryside.
A random fragment
from a life.
within the parting of titian stained skies
a wisp of crimson elapses from sight
as a gossamery wind amplifies
lullabies falling limpid in hushed night
beneath the willow, i watch as it weeps
then cradle myself in its fragile limbs
'tis there that most forgotten memories seep
as the salty spray of loneliness brims
you reach out...a shadow in lambent light
i feel death's touch upon you through night's air
with wings wide open you take off in flight
unable to free me of this nightmare
this willow tree, though once my childhood crutch
tucks me in its folds, like a mother's touch
December 27, 2019
Best Sonnet of 2019 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
I heard echoes of scurrilous snarls,
from my conscience as it spoke
contemptible remarks aimed at me.
What shame those words delivered.
"Fatuous one, why does your hand quiver,
mimicking the trembling lips of a child in fear?
You dare call yourself a poet,
but you're nothing more than a joke."
Guilt is the culprit that tunnels my mind
as my passion for poetry shrivels on its vine.
Withering like a flower, my empty heart
has stripped my soul of its craving to write.
It's my own foolish notion
that causes me to shiver.
I weep over my planted seedlings.
They thirst, and their mournful cries I hear.
Abandoned by their mother who begot them,
and for this I'm filled with remorse and regret.
That mocking voice invaded my aching breast,
when again, it ridiculed me as a fool...
"A self-proclaimed bard who gives up the task.
You should put down the quill and live in disgrace."
There is no saving grace for me.
No nourishment for my verses to thrive.
My heart is broken, drowning in memories.
Without the will to live, how will it survive?
It only drums in rhythm to keep me alive.
Rows of sprouted thoughts have withered.
Parched and dying, drying up in a field of grief.
While I, their neglectful sower, helplessly sit
as time elapses and I watch them expire.
I’ve fallen between the gaps of missing lines
into an abyss, my fingers charred in a fire.
I can only water the seeds of self doubt
with salty sweat from my furrowed brow
and over fertilize them with tears of frustration.
I do not seek salvation or redemption.
Damnation will out.
My ink well of impetus has sprung a leak
or maybe it's a new watering hole I seek.
I have not a drop to quench their thirst
no morning dew, nor afternoon shower
to give my wilting buds reprieve, a relief.
I've tried to save them all, or was it just
a half-hearted attempt made in vain?
Not one more rhyme can I rescue from pain.
I'm suffering from loss. All hope is gone.
My fear is that I cannot express myself
in what was once an emotional voice.
No wonder my pages remain barren and blank,
except for the blotches of spilled ink.
My parchment lies in a state of immortal decay.
I relinquish my quill to a better hand than mine,
setting it free and praying that I be forgiven.
For the folly, I've only myself to blame,
this pillaged poet.