Long Elders Poems
Long Elders Poems. Below are the most popular long Elders by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elders poems by poem length and keyword.
Happy Father’s Day to you, my roommate and friend.
Here’s a poem written for you in my usual style.
As you look ahead to the years coming around the bend,
I hope you see your family and it makes you smile.
You seem to take great care in loving those around you,
Especially those to whom you speak daily on the phone.
It’s nice to see someone who loves what they do.
Yes, the last two lines were written while I was stoned.
All kidding aside, I’m glad to have gotten to know you.
You keep pushing me in ways that can only be good.
Every time we talk, you encourage me in what I do.
See…I do listen to my elders, as a young man should.
Seriously, Steve, do what you do for the rest of your life,
And remember the people around you who show their love.
Just look to your friends, your children, and, of course, your wife.
And I’m sure your mother’s proud, as she loves you from above.
Our Babies Rise Into The Morning
Tired eyes and lots of yawning
Before they get upon the day
Excited to see their friends
Sharing lunches, smiles and laughter
Taking nothing further than their next step
Living life in the moment
As they see it
Our Babies Rise Into The Morning
Feeling the excitement
Of happiness they're about to encounter
As they take pride
In knowing it'll be a day like no other
For all to see
And for all to embrace
Our Babies Rise Into The Morning
Planning their dreams and visions
And what they see this world to become
A better place for everyone
To love, live and conquer
While reaching for success
In the eyes of our babies
Who set no boundaries
Only to win
Our Babies Rise Into The Morning
With their hearts wide open
Ready to take on the world
Not knowing destruction lies ahead
As they continue about their day
Trusting the elders to see them through
And make it home before the sun settles down
Alive...
Launched my modern home, I drew,
a Star to be the brightest.
Twinkling the construction crew,
blueprints to my universe.
Shuttling every two by four,
neutralizing nail to floor.
A stellar constitution.
Continuum fascination.
Adds a boat with loads of color,
coming as a rushing river.
Splashing moist lemons, via,
chartreuse, (light green), lips, cherry-fuchsia.
It kissed a beach of panels.
Sharing, in the light of candles,
and darkness, in packs of Camels.
A dab, a splash, or light touch,
part of me, surrendered much.
Furnished all with harmony,
ivory, and ebony.
Musical chairs, desk of joy.
Table sings, a bed is coy.
In and out, grows a garden,
laughter poured out from hoses.
Flower beds giggled when done,
smiles coming from roses.
Blossoms stood to be amused.
Elders wilt, were being excused.
Smiles were growing everywhere,
none was built to put on airs.
The sounds of hammering heard,
creates a fluttering bird.
The final nail enters in.
Breaths held, speechless, it makes them.
Entertains the hearts, it does.
Enlightens minds, added plus.
Soothes the soul, molds the spirit.
Gave their all, now it shows it.
Is it great, or a wonder,
Just our house, though none other.
I say unto you, when the olive branch is brought to the tax collector, let not those who are without mercy be sent forth from the well to offer comfort to the thirst of the brethren who linger by the hearthstone of the humble shepherd. Do not fill old wineskins with a new vintage without first giving thought to the psalms and parables from which they derive. In order to heal the sick and bring sight to the blind, the first harvest must be dedicated to the Great Whatever.
Therefore, do not leaven your bread earnestly while you bury your talents beneath a bushel. When the faithful servant of the rich master attends the wedding feast of the ten virgins, should he not first forgive his debtors and replace the barren fig tree of the elders with fruit of the prodigal womb? Pharisees and Samaritans have a greater chance of threading the eye of the needle than does he who labors in the vineyard of an unjust steward.
Know ye that all manner of men may seek to sow their seed in fertile soil, but the seed that grows secretly will remain unknown though it multiplies a hundredfold. Therefore, take the beam from your own eye for the sake of the grieving widow. The alpha and omega shall follow you days without number. Loaves and fishes shall multiply in the net of the fisherman and he who proves deserving will be granted admission to the first ward of the Temple.
On this occasion then, let us remember that not even the least of God's creatures shall be excluded from the eternal bliss of perpetual salvation in the unending glory of the guiding light as the world turns from the edge of night in the search for tomorrow and the Lord exclaims, “All my children shall be forever free from the dark shadows of the secret storm." We have but one life to live. The days of our lives are numbered. The young and the restless must not allow their love of life to lead them to another world where false prophets are not abominations in the eyes of the most righteous. Praise be to the Lord of Hosts, the great MC in the neon sky. Amen.
The Pious Wolf of the Parish
The candles in the parish hall sputtered, casting long, monstrous shadows against the stone walls. There sat Abid, cloaked in the sudden, sickening reverence of the townsfolk. He wore his piety like a freshly laundered shroud, his voice a low, honeyed venom as he pointed his finger at her.
"Wickedness," he whispered, and the word hung in the damp air like rot.
It was an old trap, a familiar nightmare. He had spun this web before, burying his own black deeds beneath a mountain of fabricated sins, all laid at her feet. Now, he sat enshrined among the elders, a wolf sheltered by the sheep, his past safely buried in the dark soil of their collective ignorance. He was the architect of her ruin, yet he sat immaculate in the glow of their unearned grace.
She opened her mouth to scream the truth, but the sound died in her throat. She looked at the blank, hollow eyes of the community. They were blind. They were deaf. The heavy silence of the room told her everything: her voice was dead to them, a ghost story they had already chosen to forget.
A young girl and young boy knelt down before the elder…
Their heads were bowed…their faces ashen…
They came in search of the elders guidance…his wisdom…and compassion.
The girl spoke first:
“Some days I feel like a girl.” She said. “And some days I feel like a boy…
both of these, to me, are real.”
The boy looked into the elders eyes:
“That’s exactly how I feel!”
The elder nodded at the children and said:
“Long ago our creator took an oath
to create those who could see through the eyes of a boy
those who could see through the eyes of a girl…
and a few chosen ones…who could see through the eyes of both.”
“You are called two-spirit children…because our creator knew
those of us who could only see through the eyes of one spirit…
needed those who could see through the eyes of two.”
The elder told the girl and boy to stand up then announced,
“In you we’ve found two gems.”
He smiled…placed his hands together…and then bowed down to them.
And these two children were revered the older and older they grew
for possessing the wisdom and the knowledge of not one spirit…
but the wisdom and knowledge…of two.
(This story is not fantasy…it’s origins run deep…it’s message strong…
It was the belief of the indigenous people who were on this land before us…
until we told them…it was wrong)
I think it’s time we celebrate two-spirits again…the time for hatred is done…
It’s time we realize…as a wise people once realized…
two spirits see better than one.
Democracy is
The leadership of the youth and
the guidance by the elders
I wish it was so today
I see deceitful guidance all over places
Leaving the youth to wonder and suffer
Exploiting the genious in us
While the youth get confuse
Where hopes are high or low
Our elders are busy with lies
Democracy is
The leadership of the youth and
the guidance by the elders
Alot of youth on the streets
Where creativity is common
But with out sencse nor support
The youth of today got vission
Yet the mission looks impossible
Is like we are left alone
Is like we are just on our own
The elders sim close but
Yet so far to reach
For how long our rights are just a struggle
Democracy is
The leadership of the youth and
the guidance by the elders
Our elders no more give us the chance to lead
Is like our youthful energy is only for their greed
The elders look scard
The elders are scard of our creativity
They are scard of change
While they are meant to guide it
Our elders don't believe in us
The reality today shows it all
We use to get our elderly suports
Not now any more
So we are left on our own
As crimes never seize to depart from our youthful age life's
Democracy
Is the leadership of the youth and the guidance of the elders
Yet civilization turn it away
To a modern trend
Where control and power only belongs to polictician
Civilization civilise the fool in us
It makes us live but our presence don't exist
It turn the head to think just straight
With out vission nor moral observation
We no longer have enough elders whom are to guide us
So you see crazy youths all over the globe on the streets
Behind your backyards
In the corners of the road
Forming groups gangs
With a high spirits that never care to listen
All because we chose to be civilised
As we change democracy to
What reality says today!
They did the same thing to my mother, Eleanor May Dubarry, no provider including Medicare wanted to pay her final medical expenses,
including transportation to and from the Everett's Providence Hospital.
It seems they really wanted either her or me to pay them instead.
But they never did admit to it. After she died, my middle brother Dale, made copies of her death certificate and I mailed them to all the involved parties. Because I did not have Power of Attorney, they really could not hold me accountable. Cathy Mutschuler, DSHS kept telling us, my mom did not have to pay!
There have been other instances. An elders couple in Ferndale, Washington, could not afford to pay for their prescriptions. They had their own final solution. They decided, not Almighty God, when they had the right to die. I am sure many tears were cried and many hearts were broken in to. How many times tragic scenarios like this happen? Even the news media probably does not even know.
What is a woman to do when her medical provider, United Health care does not honor her claim? Her other provider also will not pay her medical bills. She has been to see Governor Jay Inslee and our federal representatives. They promised her they would help, but no affirmative action was taken. And now she is being hounded by bill collectors demanding payment.
Both of us are believers in Jesus Christ. I told her to contact problem solvers, but to pray about it first. Yes, I am a Democrat, who is also a Christian! I am a supporter of our Governor and Federal Representative and Senator. I honestly believe they intended to help her. But failed to do so. This is why the title of this narrative poem is entitled the Medical provider runaround. And yes I am on United Health Care and they have good go me. Delloney will help me apply for Medicare before I turn 65 October 4th of this year.
Share your own stories in your own words and in your own ways. And always remember to pray! I pray to Jesus Christ. And this poem is my prayer for help and guidance.
Love as always,
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 54/ October Country
August 27, 2019
The old indian chief had seen much
fought in many a battle or raid
he had fathered seven children
with his four fine young wives
Now he took his ease
sat smoking his pipe
with the other elders
spent time in dreamland
He knew it would not be long
before the great white spirit
came calling out his name
he had made his peace with all
His children and wives wept
when he departed in his sleep
they carefully dressed him
and laid him on the platform
His favourite spear and shield
thick fur rugs and some pots
his faithful horse battle dressed
some gold and his finest headdress
When all was ready the witch doctor
Set the platform ablaze with fire
wailing his wives mourned his passing
as the fire died his ashes blew away
Now in the after life
he hunts once more
riding the ghost horse
he races through the skies
10/31/2013
contest: Native American People
Marriage:
( Halal Nikkah Everlasting Marriage)
If you want something to last Forever,
You treat it differently.
You shield it and protect it.
You never abuse it.
You don’t expose it to the elements.
You don’t make it common or ordinary.
If it ever becomes tarnished,
You lovingly polish it.
Until it gleams like new.
It becomes Special.
Because you have made it so,
And it grows
More Beautiful and precious
As time goes by.
Same As the way,
When GOD created the love of one person to another.
He knew that this to be true for us.
The time we met and got marry is a gift in my life
Just for me only,God created you.
All married couples should learn the art of battle as they should learn the art of making love.
Good battle is objective and honest - never vicious or cruel.
Good battle is healthy and constructive, and brings to a marriage the principles of equal partnership.
I Will be the warrior to fight for our love,
We will fly together ,fly higher that the Dove,
I Will be yours ,save you from dangers
I will take all the Pain,form you, to me they are no stronger.
You will be the Queen in the Kingdom of my Heart.
And then I will be the king so we will never be apart.
You will be my Majesty,I will serve you forever,
And for all the times ,I will leave you never.
When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody
So you propose her and drop a direct proposal request to her parents through proper channel(through her elders)
So I propose you first.
Will You Marry Me
Forever in my heart,
is where you will be,
Nobody else will Enter,
Because you have the only Key.
Will You Marry Me ?
Will You Marry Me?