Long Emanation Poems
Long Emanation Poems. Below are the most popular long Emanation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Emanation poems by poem length and keyword.
As the paleness of Fall and
Winter saunters toward us
As the sun moves across the sky
And the moon goes in course by night
God puts on a show in the celestial realm
He is at the helm
And in the clouds, He speaks aloud
He speaks aloud but not by trumpet blast
But with the host of the heavenly cast
He, in the quietly spoken sounds of the wind
Does not rescind, but coaxes us along
Guiding minds as He instructs each indiv’dl
With the vittles prepared in the atmosphere
God is truth (John 14:6)
God is Faithful and True (Revelation 19:11)
He is absolute verity
Unaltered by the tides of time (Numbers 23:19)
The Maker of all things
The Furnisher of all things in truth
(In heaven and creation) (Psalm 19:1-6)
He loves truth (Jeremiah 10:10)
He speaks the truth in all ways at all times (Psalm 119:116)
He's the source of all truth (1 John 5:6, 20-21)
His truth sure and pertinent
As He stretches it out then pulls back the curtain
To reveal all that is certain
My ways and thoughts are higher (Isaiah 55:9)
And I rule from My throne above the Earth
And see all its worth (Isaiah 40:22)
He doesn’t consult us for the truth
He is the emanation (Psalm 50:12)
He is The Desire of the nations (Haggai 2:7)
“I AM WHO I AM.” (Exodus 3:14)
“I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6)
For you can do nothing against the truth
But for the truth" (2 Corinthians 13:8)
He Who made heaven and earth,
The sea, and all that is in them;
Who keeps truth forever (Psalm 146:6)
BROODING NIMBUS
I am not just an ordinary cloud
Dark and menacing all in grey
A harbinger of storm and rain
Ready to fulfil my destiny again
Snow will fall, as it must obey
Blanketing Earth like a shroud
But I do prefer the other image
As a halo that surrounds a saint
An light emanation for a deity
And an example of spontaneity
Inspiration of a picture to paint
Maybe make a holy pilgrimage
But a brooding nimbus, I’m not
A bowling ball with no fingerholes
Maybe hovering in a dim-lit sky
But rain is not me starting to cry
I can assume a variety of roles
But always when cold, never hot
SECRET LOVE
I must admit to loving Doris Day
Secret Love sung in Calamity Jane
The gentle song just blew me away
Now, I always want to hear it again
Those lyrics really said it all to me
And like her, I just about fell apart
And seeing her sing it was fantasy
It struck straight into my heart
It struck straight into my heart
This for me was also a secret love
And my racing pulse would start
That smile, like the blue sky above
This is the first time I have shared
All these years, I’m still unprepared
I must admit to loving Doris Day
He awoke as Bögü Qaghan, Khan of the Uyghurs, Great East Wise Prince
He heard the words “Visit the seven petal lotus of times since
And breathe in that lotus flower’s scent, by the holy wind, to convince
Your heart to be born again in spirit, without needing to rinse”
Bögü Qaghan put on his armour for another day of battle
And worshipped Tengri, god of the heavens, despite earthly prattle
He successfully fought Yan, to aid the Tang, as if it was fate
Travelled to the city of Luoyang to pray, wish and contemplate
Exhausted after the fight, four angels came, each carrying a plate
Carrying a petal from a white lotus flower that grew great
Nostalgia grew in Bögü Qaghan’s heart, recollecting an old bond
An old friend called from beyond, a lotus grew out of his soul’s pond
"The bright crowned Hearer, the Keeper of Faithfulness
Whose virtue upholds the state of holiness
May the eons guard the defenders of greatness
And the commanders of the divine highness
May they all be crowned with the gold of the sages
May it be so for ages upon ages"
He bowed his head and smelled the small petals of splendorous moonlight
And the heavens opened, the world shook, and all the world was bathed in light
The indiscriminate sun rose in the Orkhon Valley of might
Almost five hundred years after the sun set into a pond in plight
The King of Kings was born as the Divine Khan of countless many
The Son of a King was born again as the Emanation of Mani
The opaque grains of darkness drizzle silently
from the curved cauldron of the seamless onyx sky.
The silver embroidered satin tapestry rolls out
from the copious cornucopia of the nascent night,
as the twilight tinsels dissolve in azure ambiance.
The music of silence echoing in the nocturnal sky
wakes up the sleeping stars of beauty one by one,
designs the enticing lattice of the crystalline crown.
The moonbeam motif distills the stellar sequins,
makes the drifting dream of your charisma for me.
The dust of radiance drips in the mystique night
from the sparkling bowl of the blooming stars.
The lattice of twinkling trance is thus designed
for our love to serenade, flowering in garden of night,
with the seraphic symphony of the silver starshine.
Clear of the cloud of surreptitious self-qualm,
the diaphanous brilliance in the ordained orbit,
embellishes the stars, each shining with clarity of its own
in the enlightened transmuted stellar trajectory,
out of the ambiguous depth of abysmal spatial abyss.
In the dark wilderness of the desolate life
I set my eyes on the unmoving pole star.
Its unique attribute takes me to where you are,
I see argentine starry shine in the iris of your eyes,
glistened by the emanation of efflorescent emotions.
It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Beneath the lofty canopy of ancient white oaks,
luminous beams of moonlight were dancing.
Their rhythmic cadence observed by amber eyes,
a pack of hunters, roaming the woodlands.
Myriads of stars were quickly fading from view
as ashen skies paled to blue across the horizon.
Dawn bathed the land in soft morning light,
embellishing the rolling hills. A new day was born.
The first rays of sunlight gilded droplets of dew,
and upon beds of moss, night creatures slept.
March 8, 2022
Form I - Imagism - New Poem Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Sing!
The human spirit
That cries to the winds
Laughs with the rain
Resonate!
Voices of mercy and hate
Consoling the memories of our experience
Again and again
Vibrato!
Of penetrating spirit-filled passion
Reaching from the innermost soul
Breaking the silence like thunder
Tremulous!
Emanation of intrinsic wisdom
Sonorous to emulating
Our innermost identity
Overtones!
Cascading on the ears of gratitude
I sing fire and ice
Its mood and elation awakens us
Timbre!
More divine than nature in its greatest reverence
A heart of tears - a smile of joy
Captures the divinity of its language
Harmonic!
That all understand
Absorbing the beauty with the cantor of genius
Striking deeply in our thoughts
Serenade!
"I know this so utterly...
The hearts interpretation of our common kinship...
Our human condition liberated in song!"
Sing!
January 4, 2020
Sing It Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Listen to sterile silence
nursing homebound fans
wavering white noiselessness
of silent futile passing
Absence of passion
hope
care
happiness
or creased
and reasoned
nearing deceased sadness.
Hear this void of madness,
lack of hunger
or parched thirst
for conversation
splendid nutrition
scandalous emission
empowering immigration
enlightened emigration
or angry fear emanation
of forced solitude migration
Into mortal loss
of sensory reception
political deception
economic perception
theistic inception
septic conception.
Smell nothing.
Taste everything
becomes dust
delustered rust
lust for transcendent
disembodied consummation
omnipresent transportation
omniscient evaporation
full latitude
for fragrance-free
plastic platitudes
feckless attitudes
disdainful blows
against further fertile emanations.
Sing where nothing
settles into rounding octave rings
to never
ever want to dance
in robust spirals
forming springs
Against depressions
felt repressions
thought impressions
known suppressions
unheard deflation
worn through integration
transcultural conflation
Of pantheistic elegant circling Zeroes
absorbed by a monstrous
monopolistic silent
slick supreme One
Listening to sterile silence
nursing homebound fans,
white emptiness
of silent
restless passing.
Glare at isolation.
Rake loneliness in.
Sleep with solitude
if you dare
to care
and share
yet without an inch
or squeezed moment
to spare.
The luminous lucent mind,
a longingly mystique crystal,
shines sublimely
with the transparent thoughts,
glistened by soul-suffusing sensuous rays,
the innate emanation
of efflorescent emotions.
Clear of the cluttering clouds
of surreptitious self-qualm,
through the diaphanous psyche,
resolute in the ordained orbit,
sometimes, I follow faded stars,
forecasting the fate of the extant galaxy.
The pale pearls of euphoria
in the argentine night
of pining passion perception,
make morose motif of spent stars,
convey in residual radiance the acuity notion
that everything has a time
to flourish and fade,
like the ephemeral instants
of effervescent ecstasy.
The flow of my intrinsic instinct
in the emotive space,
trails the waned discernment sensitivity,
propels the existential stellar essence
across the cosmic emptiness
to where the stars disappear.
I steer by the light of what has lost the gleam,
flickering like the forgotten promises,
navigating the final stretch of the secluded ink sea
with a compass calibrated to the last anchorage.
I am not lost,
I am tracing the beauty of memory,
glowing like the faded stars in the remains
of everything that was once mine.
BROODING NIMBUS
I am not just an ordinary cloud
Dark and menacing all in grey
A harbinger of storm and rain
Ready to fulfil my destiny again
Snow will fall, as it must obey
Blanketing Earth like a shroud
But I do prefer the other image
As a halo that surrounds a saint
An light emanation for a deity
And an example of spontaneity
Inspiration of a picture to paint
Maybe make a holy pilgrimage
But a brooding nimbus, I’m not
A bowling ball with no fingerholes
Maybe hovering in a dim-lit sky
But rain is not me starting to cry
I can assume a variety of roles
But always when cold, never hot
The blessings of grace come down
to bring change deep within
so not to be what I once was
in God's grace, Christ has come in
Dimly it's hard to recollect
but to be clear on Christ alone
a great sinner am I, but praise God
my sins, my saviour did atone
God pours out His loving kindness
showing His pleasure to HIs own
for I don't seek this loving Lord
but this Lord of love picks us alone
This Lord sees all our mistakes
despite that, He pours out HIs grace
in His providence in our lives
works it for His glory before our face
My love that I feel for Christ
is such a feeble, faint spark
but it truly is divinely sent
as its effect has clearly left its mark
My God is so lovely and caring
For He kindles it and keeps it alive
It's God's work to hold me true
waters can't quench it for it to thrive
God works in His marvellous providence
through a course He would prescribe
though contrary to my narrow view
His purposes work out to be of its tribe
(This is based on seven quotes from the pen of John Newton on Grace, the author of the great hymn 'Amazing Grace', which follow below.)
1) I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to ne, but I am not what I hope to be in another world, but still I am not what I once used to be, and by God's grace I am what I am.
2) Although my memory's fading, I remember two things very clearly: I am a great sinner and Christ is a great Saviour.
3) He has been pleased in loving kindness to draw us to himself, and to be found by us when we sought HIm not.
4) We serve a gracious Master who knows how to overrule even our mistakes to His glory and our own advantage..
5) The love I bear Christ is but a faint and feeble spark, but it is an emanation from himself.
6) He kindles it and he keeps it alive; and because it is his work, I trust many waters shall not quench it.
7) God often takes a course for accomplishing His purposes directly contrary to what our narrow views would prescribe.