Long Elects Poems
Long Elects Poems. Below are the most popular long Elects by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elects poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: October 02, 2023 For Robert James Liguori Contest
_______________________________________
Fervent mishaps start life's biggest wins.
The first crocus shrieks and grins.
A bird's song caused snowflakes to bloom.
Pink, peach, and gold hues in the sky loom.
A fib said once might have afar-reaching effects.
Even as there's time for the truth to tie its elects,
I once took a pathless route to a sluggish win.
Suitable people can clash with the truth within.
Appearances may mislead, and secrets may hide.
A brave and savvy tale, hiding an enigma inside.
Cross rivers and lofty hilltops to find the truth.
Seeking truth amid a world of lies and sleuth
Aged tale as Eden Tree, vernal as a raw tooth
Men grasp lip-thatch form, art, and truth.
Erstwhile, tales, and fables tell.
Truth, rising from the depths of its well.
Authenticity faces life's storms defenseless.
Yet slyness stays sealed to strife senseless.
Justice and fairness ensure all are rated fairly.
Dark deceit and evil send spun wiles sparsely.
Be brave—the liar is a coward and a slave.
Sneaky, skilled at scams and lies, awful knave.
Being honest is punter than money and status.
Stick to the truth, relish light, do not tend to fuss.
Righteousness is power; truth must prevail.
True bravery for an hour typically will avail.
Under any disaster, selfish wails yield no gain.
Inspire with grit and firm will, not always pain.
If there’s no god, why show respect
for pain that’s felt by an insect,
for doesn’t that in part deflect
from order’s natural select
which did from soup somehow infect,
cajole or otherwise confect
life as we know it, and inject
complexity, until bedecked,
upon the scene comes Man, erect?
A pain-free god’s what you expect?
It seems creation's architect
is oft accused by means direct
(an argument they resurrect),
of child abuse, pain and neglect,
a charge to which I must object.
Though I'm not needed to protect,
still neither shall this go unchecked.
Although I mean no disrespect,
I think when one is circumspect,
allows not logic to defect,
to fancy, does not genuflect,
and stops carefully to reflect,
they, too, will see the disconnect.
For when they do, I do suspect,
unwittingly, Godhead bisect
(it's rare, if I may interject,
that they might attempt to trisect),
considering not, in effect,
that though there are three intellects,
their wills, communal, intersect,
their overlap complete, correct.
Now you may ask what this affects,
but what it means is all aspects
of common will and dialect,
are locked in a direct connect,
such that when one of them elects
to carry out a plan perfect,
none are diminished, none henpecked,
nor subject to a misdirect,
nor actions that might disaffect,
nor any sovereign state rejects
(hence child abuse notions are wrecked).
I have the scriptures to inspect;
in these I cannot recollect
attempts from truth to redirect,
so I eject as incorrect
the notion that God did elect
to avoid pain, to disinfect,
but rather, chose pain to connect
with life, with us, and with respect,
through Christ, and not in retrospect.
Make no mistake, in spite of 2020's terror, God's Mercy is being served on planet earth.*
Every morning, day after day, year after year, God's magnanimous mercies are endless.
Righteousness exalts nations, and its departure automatically engenders humiliation.
Rebellion is in the heart of man, and redemption lies at the core of the heart of God.
Yesterday, The Savior's birth; today, He lives; tomorrow, King of Kings-Lord of Lords returns.
Countries, emperors, kings, queens, presidents, premiers, dictators, Caesars, or czars.
History repeats itself because rulers seem unable to do things differently; God's way.
Reasons and rhymes, crimes and times keep turning like the globe of the world.
I do not anticipate nor expect lasting peace until the coming of The Prince Of Peace.
So it is written, so shall it be done; every knee shall bow to The Virgin born Christ Child.
The fulness of time is rapidly approaching, and neither your vote nor mine will stop it.
Mortal men, the whole breed of Adam's seed, have constantly fought against God.
And we are getting closer to the end than we ever realized, when Christ will rule.
Saints and sinners, popes and potentates, elects and elites; all will submit to Christ.
112320PS
*I pray that we will let nothing, absolutely nothing, take 'The Merry' out of our '2020 Christmas'
Baffling, the turmoil... This warrior, she
with fiercest desire to safeguard the weak
and innocent, rises to squelch hostile fire,
protecting when able with crafts she’s acquired.
But lover prevails; she won’t raise a fist,
lest push comes to shove, and villain persists.
She elects tactful words to settle the score;
oft slighting herself, yet for others she'll roar...
And tear limb from limb when concessions won’t do
(her mind bends a notch when defender steps through).
Because she wants peace to fully endure,
she stays combat-ready with aims to secure.
With zest for the fight, she regards skillful motion,
though harm by her hand is a sickening notion.
1/28/20
For POLARITIES AND PARADOXES Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
I know we are living in the day's of the end of time,
to show you the thing's spiritually I see, in this rhyme.
The love of many will wax cold, their heart's filled with jealously,
only caring about themselves, their heart's turning cold you see.
The abomination of desolation standing where it ought not,
a warning to those who desire good and is blood bought.
The beginning of this has already been granted you see,
the knowledge that our ruler's, keep from us, is truly a key.
Before long you will see churches rising to worship the beast,
as God's children stand, we shall be it's finest feast.
They have a right to worship their god whomsoever, it may be,
The desolation, laying to waste of the light of God in you and me.
God said for the very elects sake, He would shorten time,
and so He has, you will see it in this writing wrote in rhyme,
Rhyme and rhythm go hand in hand you must truly see,
In the last days he shall pour out his Spirit on all flesh you see.
This has He done, and the evidence is in all people here that live,
in this writing, is the truth that freely to whomsoever God does give.
He said ask, it will be given, knock, the door opens, seek and you will find,
Knowledge is a key, a key opens a door, when we work not His word in life, we our own self we do bind.
As the person we be, the spirit's that make us who we truly are,
God's Spirit poured out, doubles, triple's us by far.
Time is sped up, by the spiritual growth doubling and tripling in time,
If we be of God's Spirit, we grow in him, of evil like rhythm and rhyme.
It's time for God's children to truly stand and take their place,
to fall down and truly in humbleness seek His Holy Face.
We are living in the last of day's, Seek His Face for you to see,
AS THE WORD'S OF GOD IS TRUTH THEY ALSO SET YOU FREE...
To the boy Elis
by Georg Trakl
translation by Michael R. Burch
Elis, when the blackbird cries from the black forest,
it announces your downfall.
Your lips sip the rock-spring's blue coolness.
Your brow sweats blood
recalling ancient myths
and dark interpretations of birds' flight.
Yet you enter the night with soft footfalls;
the ripe purple grapes hang suspended
as you wave your arms more beautifully in the blueness.
A thornbush crackles;
where now are your moonlike eyes?
How long, oh Elis, have you been dead?
A monk dips waxed fingers
into your body's hyacinth;
Our silence is a black abyss
from which sometimes a docile animal emerges
slowly lowering its heavy lids.
A black dew drips from your temples:
the lost gold of vanished stars.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: I believe that in the second stanza the blood on Elis's forehead may be a reference to the apprehensive bloody sweat of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. If my interpretation is correct, Elis hears the blackbird's cries, anticipates the danger represented by a harbinger of death, but elects to continue rather than turn back. From what I have been able to gather, the color blue had a special significance for Georg Trakl: it symbolized longing and perhaps a longing for death. The colors blue, purple and black may represent a progression toward death in the poem.
for the suffering mothers
curse be a woman
abusers
curse be the day
he was born
curse be the
government that
don't provide
for our suffering
mother's in Africa
curse be the day
the were put to
office
is a shame to see
this mothers struggle
in the third world
is obviously obvious
is a shame to the world
for the suffering mothers
we are suffering
in the third world
is not a new story
but we dont need that
to be a reason why our
mother's should cry in pain
our elects are brutal to us
that bleeds a lot pain
and lack of help to help
our suffering mothers
our men run to crimes
to escape poverty but
get looked up in jail
so many are not home
cos they are abroad still
struggling
those at home finds it
difficult to work and earn
good pay
what a calamity
this leaves always lonely
suffering mothers
in our community
for the suffering mothers
be strong
be bold
be positive
you are our back bone
you are our hero's
before any hero
you are our saviour
how come you still
coping despite the
hardship
you still care and
feed the tender
with love
you will always be
our goddess
you will always be
loved and never be
forgotten
God bless all mother's
world wide
—The Virtues I Could Not Bear—
He bore those virtues I had schooled my heart
To flout—the mercy tardive as a bell
That tolls when judgement hath already writ
Its iron sentence; and the fortitude
That, having neither warrant nor reprieve,
Still stood, as though endurance were decree.
His papers sodden, rain-black at the cuffs,
He watched the departing omnibus grow small;
Defeat had docketed him among the lost,
Yet some unlicensed morning stirred in him—
A pertinacious ember without name,
Which would not let the ruin have the last word.
A rumour traversed the town ere Truth
Had found her raiment, fastened up her throat;
By vesper it had gathered testimonial,
By night, a hundred tongues had canonised
Its falsehood. Truth came mud-foot, unadorned,
And found the lie enthroned where fact should sit.
I watched him exhaust the stratagems—
The specious plea, the venial compromise,
The facile alibi by which we varnish
Our abdications into innocence;
Till every avenue of self-release
Lay shuttered—and he chose the steeper way.
I had imagined triumph a resplendent
Heraldry, some aureate certification
Affixed to what the world elects as worthy;
His triumph was the wreckage underneath:
Each failure divested him of borrowed names,
Each rising made the ruin less his own.
Then, inexplicably, the firmament
Descended—not as vision, but as fact:
The stars lay rooting underneath our feet,
And darkness flowered upward through the stone.
I understood no doctrine, only this—
The road was not discovered. It was made.
Let Hell prolong its jurisdiction; let
The false arrive before the true, and let
Our virtues wound the very hands that bear them.
We are not promised passage, nor reprieve;
Yet where the last conceivable way is closed,
the footfall itself becomes the road.
America:
Does the Light Still Shine?
--------
"Freedom of speech,
Freedom to worship,
Freedom from want,
Freedom from fear."
--------
Travelers to this Blessed Land
Had many varied tales to tell;
Emigrants from harsh demands
Beset by woes words can't dispel,
Long suffered tragedies emerge:
Exiles condemned for their beliefs,
Scapegoats who fled a rampant purge,
Survivors who sought war's relief,
Elects reviled for social strains
Deplored as being risky foes
Left homes behind with all to gain
And persevered when tests arose.
Now, citizens with Rights-in-hand
Delivered to this Blessed land.
the Terrifying Teens
2010
The dark days of the great recession
Begin slowly to fade away
Ending my Barbados experience -the best job in the foreign service on high note best labor officer award
2011
the president and Congress locked in battle battles
glimmer of hope as economy comes back to life
Studying Spanish arriving in Spain
worst year ever part of three years bad luck
2012
the US re-elects the Black President
rejecting Romney entitlement mentality
I leave Spain my last foreign posting
buying new property in the fall
2013
In the US the religious right
loose the social Battling gay marriage, legal pot
Starting a new job as an evaluate program evaluator
ending my six month wandering the halls of State
2014
The Obama presidency
The tea party rebellion on the right
Moving to Capitol Hill
My sister’s sudden death rattles me
2015
The end of the Obama era
Was this the beginning of the end of America
Beginning the year with a new job
resolving to retire, enjoy life while I still can
2016
American voters and at the madness
Elects the mad would be king President Trump
We traveled across the country 10,000 miles
To celebrate the end of my foreign service career
2017
the year of the chaos president
Fast and furious disruption to the norms
Went to Oregon to renovate property
becoming wealthy in the process
2018
the American public woke up
Send a blue wave to clean up the mess
Moving back to Korea
Blogging up a storm
2019
in the end of the year that was
The house races up and impeach is the president
I travel to Vietnam, Alaska, Washington, Oregon, California and Okinawa