Long Elisabeth Poems

Long Elisabeth Poems. Below are the most popular long Elisabeth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Elisabeth poems by poem length and keyword.


Reunion, May 2012, the Village

Through the ravages of time
Those youthful faces appear
As friendship and memory
Erases the damage of years.
The conversations continue
As though  never broken
Just an extended break until
The next words were spoken.
We all drink the same drinks
Though they cost a lot more
And the room has changed
They’ve moved the door
Thre pub doubled in size
But we are seeing it 
Through youthful eyes.

The atmosphere hasn’t gone
It’s still very much the same
And I spite of all renovations 
They’ve retained the old name.
Yup no longer behind his bar
Elisabeth  has retired too
It’s all Waiter service now
Just another thing that’s new.
Run by their daughter Birgit 
So it’s still a family venture
Such a fitting place  for
Our reunion adventure.
There’s now a vilage square
Where Marlisse’s house stood
Opposite Otto’s unchanged bar
So I suppose that’s good.

I sat in his bar to check
It was safe and alright
To slip across road for
Another happy illicit night.
This will be our last visit
For our stories are almost told
We all may be young at heart
But we are fast growing old.
We all take one last look
Through memories eye
And as the taxi draws away 
Wish our village fond goodbye.
We part at the station
After four memorable days
And by various means
Go on our separate ways.
Form: Rhyme


A Writers Life

A WRITERS LIFE
 There is on Facebook pictures of dead film stars
 like Elisabeth Taylor, who was born in London 
and photos of her childhood. 
I don´t really care about this. We should remember her
as a great actress, see her movies and shut up.
Then we have Ernest Hemingway, who is one of me
 favourite writers, alas, he often appears in the picture 
of his life, not so much about his writing, more about
his adventures, which I do not care to read about.
Dos Passos, another great writer, lived a smaller amount
of daring-do, but he surpassed Hemingway in his  
say, The Bridge over San Louis Ray”, not to forget 
John Steinbeck, Theodore Dreiser and William Faulkner.
I like American writes, pre-word processor, 
and now they are going mad producing toms of too many words.
The thing is this. I don´t want to know about their childhood.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member How Do I Love Thee

I don't know
that love has a 
bucket list,

a program best
to follow...and
writers do seem often
inclined more amorous 
of
text...

especially us poets, flag
carriers of the heart,

seldom an emotion
not expressed
by pen in part

like an accountant
tallying feelings
numbers his bread
and butter

one has to wonder
if the physical and
the sheet ever entirely
meet

did the composition
a real body fullest greet

or sometimes is writing
Love's happy-face hiding
fearful retreat

“how much do I love thee?”
I have not read Browning's
reply in equally great verse...

were I the beneficiary
my cry of joy would
blush the very sky
a splash of passion never
to be rivaled nor dimmed

for all the world to see
therefore, Elisabeth
was it so deeply also 
Robert's eternity

was such fond declaration
the height of shared human
affection
or mere sonnet of romantic
poetic perfection

the heart
too often
a heart of letters

Premium Member The Reality of Christ In Me

Jesus came here to earth as a man
to reveal God and what He's like
teaching of our heavenly father who's real
for this Jesus is God proving there alike

He taught His kingdom is heavenly
but it was on earth that it was brought
drawing many into this for He was king
as some missed the reality as they thought

Jesus is a living saviour no doubt
He's proved what a blessing to receive
as He comes to live in His people
assuring His presence to all who believe

Changing one's circumstances of life
won't do anything for your soul
for you need the holy spirit's dwelling
to kick towards your spiritual goal

The secret is knowing Christ for real
His presence being felt within
the reality of Christ in me
this is HIs victory forever to win

Quote:
( "The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.")
- Elisabeth Elliot (1926- 2015)
Form: Rhyme

Family Gossip At Dinner

They whisper among themselves
as dinner is served in the bright dining room,
and staring as if I were an unwanted gest,
" He is a Casanova so guiltless,
looking for married women like Elisabeth! "
I keep on eating and staying cool.


I would love to laugh, but a chuckle deliberately escapes
getting their attention, " Look...is chuckling as a brat, he
should go to the confessional and clear his conscience! "
Aunt Jenny mumbles to Lisa who stares at me strangely.


All through dinner, my aunt keeps on talking about my behavior...
even the walls can hear her voice making me blush with shame,
" When I call him to pick me up and take me to the doctor:
he always makes up excuses while silly Elisabeth tickles him! "


" If her crazy husband caught them in bed, he would knock all senses
out of him and imagine Elisabeth breaking them up?"
She exclaims dramatically by giving me a nasty look...
" And yes...my nephew will have a broken nose and two black eyes!"
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member To Elisabeth

Elisabeth

Elisabeth Line, a lady coming in the car, I just watching a lady
A lady on the opposite side, in front of me with two children; Lives
Nice young lady, but where is the husband? I ask myself. No answer

The train slowly slows and stops, stops at a stop, in a station
At a railway station, the door opens, and a lady is coming, she sits down right
On my right side, hmm, I watched the two children and their mom; the lady sat down

Hmm. She was as if she wanted to sit on my lap. Hmm. Single lady. I am afraid
This is the reality in my life. I am afraid of women. I fear in this age of the woman.
I was charged. Hmm. Sexual harassment is not my style. True is the winner. I asked God

The Crown Court and the Police did the perfect investigation. 
Vilmos is not guilty. – Thank you
This is the life. Real story. 
It’s happened. This is happened in my life. 

Oh, the lady beside me was so nice. Amazing creature of Life
Yes, yes. I felt her look on my face. Hmm, love from a life gone
Yeah, I just wrote on my phone my self-killer poems to life to bye

She watched the texts, the words on my phone – I felt the look of her
She read my sentences. I had a flame on my right cheek. Life gone
Hmm. Farringdon Station came. Said me: Get out! The Metropolitan Line is yours!

Goodbye, Elisabeth.
I don’t know who you are
I love you.

To Shakespeare With Admiration

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member The Reality of Christ In Me - 2

The gospel challenge goes freely out
come to Christ to receive the God-man
this is God's message to His lost race
for the gospel is in the Lord's eternal plan

The real true meaning in the gospel
is to know Christ and all He is
in the blessed word Christ is revealed
alive and real Jesus is all this

This is God in the person of man
showing Himself the divine being
offering the filling of His spirit
to instill every believer of Jesus' clan

It's so difficult to explain fully
the reality of Christ living within
for it means so much to one's heart
to beat rapidly knowing what it's to win

Christ provides such joy unspeakable
this bubbles up within your heart
such gifting among so many
yet deep down God's real in no small part

(Quote:
( "The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances.")
- Elisabeth Elliot (1926- 2015)
Form: Rhyme

The Sweet Breath That Holds Life

Who gave us the sweet breath
that holds life and guards it?
Think of mother, think of God...
they both proclaim it
with their words; even Elisabeth
has lessons for us who seem dissatisfied:
God granted her wish because of her faith!  

Another question overrides this doubt
shrouded in mystery, silence, and error,
" Who's the real creator of this planet:
a huge explosion or the hand of the Creator?

Why does our Earth remain suspended  
in the immensity of the Universe, is space
as huge as it appears? How can a planet spin indefinitely
and remain on its orbit throughout the dreaded darkness
and the wondrous light, through the seasons of awesome mutations?

Who gave us the eagerness to explore life's philosophy
and live in it according to the principles of virtues?  
Wasn't it mother telling us those awesome Bible stories
of courageous men and women who proclaimed
their God and victor as Jesus did to discern lies?
Why don't we rely on God and reject astrology?

The sweet breath holds life is seen in delights and strifes,
and it's at our command: protect it or destroy it;
our appreciation should be enough to let it last...
until our days are done and death finally materializes.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Petrified Lover Soul

Petrified Soul

A walk in a cemetery. Living in the past, but tales
I love the past. It’s not a fairy tale
Feel. Past lives. Death feels from the ages of life

Beautiful, nice, gorgeous moments, times
Cold feeling, almost freezing, around old stones and graves
Here live souls on stones, monumental names, strict signs

Remember the past. Because. Remembering the past. The life
Old monuments, milestones of life and development. Loved on
The past. Good to live here. The present is dirty. 
All around the world. Need to find crystal. Saving me from my past life

There are light stones. Remembered names. All in the cemetery
This cemetery is my inspiration. Loved the tours there. A dream home
Thank you, past! Remembered people! I love you! I am a student of yours

Thank you, Wembley! Thank you, Kingsbury! This cemetery is the land of the past
I love. Great Thanks! The fantasy lives in your history, send the present life
I stay here. I died here. I want to be here, an invisible stone. The hologram love

Not me. I know. There lives a lady. 
She lived here two hundred years ago.
Amazing. Tall. Attractive. Air creature. Tale

Long white dress. Marble white skin. White long face. Black shiny short hair
A womanly beauty. Long legs. I respect. I love this ideal. She lives in a statue
I know where. A stone angel. Can you see? No, you can’t. I know this lady

She is a stone. Her soul is a statue. A ghost, a shadow in my life. 
She needs love. Always following me in the cemetery. The secret desire
I remember her from a dream. She just watched me in the cemetery

I loved her. She is dead. In Hungary. Why follow me? Why? She needs to kill.
She wants to digest my life. I know. I will die. I never returned her love. She is suffering
Followed me from Budapest to London. Died many years ago. Hmm. Perfect empress

She died. Her love lives. Sharp blade. Wants kill. Waiting. In the graveyard
Fearing. In my heart. I don’t go there. I feel her desire for revenge. She was a pure heart
Perfect personality. Guardian angel. I love her. Waiting for me in the cemetery, her statue

Always
I can't delete her
From my life
She is a stone
Coded love
The killer
I loved you, Elisabeth
Love
In bloody heart
Mine
Petrified Soul

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