Long Eminence Poems
Long Eminence Poems. Below are the most popular long Eminence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eminence poems by poem length and keyword.
As if standing in the halls of justice,
stoically stood six sable souls—the sun
reflecting off their smooth feathered robed
coverings—a supreme regal sight indeed.
The eminence of the chief was evident
as he royally stood in front of the others
as they pondered the hour of decision.
No need to rush—theirs—a life-time deed
in upholding the purity of the laws of nature.
Above, glided three ebony hued comrades;
their stealth-like fashion as if to ensure
the security of the scene below.
The chief slowly approaches the case;
and hopping atop, he inspects the whole pile.
When his roving eyes met the stilled ones,
three waves of his feathered arms filled the air.
In response, the waiting five tip-toed to the pile;
the three hovering stealth-like companions
glided to the ground; gracefully, the feast began.
As the sunset closed down another day,
the law of nature had again been executed.
On the side of a dark green mossy rocky
Mountain I came across while walking an
Actual rock head sticking out of an aperture.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when it said
You have now meant one of the prominent
Creatures
That live here in this mountain on your
Adventure.
I couldn't help but smile his voice was filled
With such merriment.
On the side of a dark green mossy rocky
Mountain I came across while walking an
Actual rock head sticking out of an aperture.
Are you the daughter of Mother nature?
Yes. I am here to talk to you about
Co-existence
With other creatures.
Are you an amateur?
No. I have experience.
On the side of a dark green mossy rocky
Mountain I came across while walking an
Actual rock head sticking out of an aperture.
Are you a connoisseur
Of how rock people have a permanence?
I have been informed about you wonderful
Creatures
And your amazing culture.
Your Eminence.
On the side of a dark green mossy rocky
Mountain I came across while walking an
Actual rock head sticking out of an aperture.
Who turned out to be a delightful creature.
Incurred a higher price
we couldn't resist they were
unquie and near perfect
the cost of hiring this Musicail Marvel
could, should and would
prove to be Musicail genius.
the skill level of the musicains
impressed all." The right people smiled"
one person said. The studios reputation
bought a certain level of eminence.
Eigenharp and Hanagon are new instruments
we wished to incorpate them into
our sound. Rhythmic influences and catchy beats
with a smooth groovy sounds. with recognizable
topics thatput the listener first. An apprecation of music
with topics that speak to love and disappiontment..
"the Love Tween Us"
was contracted and was written with
instruction to detail. The composer of the music and the lyric writer
would fuse a soulful sound
but with lyric thaat are often accoacaated with pop music.
"she Rerhersted Her new Name" is a song about
a man and woman preparing to marry. Actors were used with scripts
to make sure the words
were perfect for what the product represented.
Gating to rid the sound of noise.
But He didn't like production Lingo due to it's negativity.
They redefined certain words and gave classes at the studio,
editing defintions to
filter out the overall nbegative aspects of dealing withtalented people.
Today I undertake to put on the highest cloak of humility.
To consider myself as an offshoot of Grace.
To act in the lowest denomination of pride.
As much as place other before me in love,
to place every human above my one unit cell of self.
To uphold the pre-eminence of Christ while He increases as I decrease.
I pledge to cancel out all forms of carnal competition which births in the me envy and pride.
And rest in the only favor our Lord supreme places in my realm.
I have decided to bend low to life and in life.
So that His strength will pull me on to honor, glorified in His righteousness.
I therefore declare, that I am nothing without Him and need His sufficiency to add flesh to my inadequacies.
I will let God completely have His way.
For if God claims me in my state of genuine pure humility, He will work it all out Himself,
As He is the one who works in me to do His good will and pleasure.
Oranges and oil
old smells like burning wires
Black cryptic desires
An iron hand upon the velvet
oranges and oil
static noise white hot glows
Softly in the night
Ominous
opulence
oblivions volume
even higher
oranges and oil
Blue oxygen runs
onyx tubes
brighter memories expire
An old man
a dying prize fighter
Conspires
An Eminence of oranges and oil
As objects
ornate
Obsolete
regulate
tangled in Barbwire
oranges and oil
a burnt smell
like twisted wires
deep infinite fire
visions of white noise glows lighter
Of oblique imagery resonates
An old man with an iron hand
Wrapped in velvet fire
Memories desire
as objects oily
with afterthoughts
designates
detonates
resonates
With essences old
Of oranges and oil
My life as a spiritual seeker
I am a bless child, A spiritual seeker, I live my life with gratitude and appreciation for humanity, all manner of life is precious.
I embrace the good, bad and ugly that is part of being human, we are all capable of doing evil things, the creator gave us free will to make a choice, on which path that we will follow. Everyday I make a conscious choice to take full responsibility for my words and actions, stop look and listen moving forward with the truth and the courage of my convictions, with love and services for my fellow man and woman.
We are all on a spiritual journey, to find our true selves which leads us to the creator and our spiritual community.
A spiritual seeker is known by their sweet words and their telling of the truth, which is an offence to those who do not want to hear it, followed by their good deeds, virtues and services to others.
Beware of the person who's sweet words blind you to their greed and dangerous corrupt deeds.
The human race has lost its way, we have become computerized, bionictized and metatized.
We do not connect with one another in a spiritual or human way any more
We are losing our ability to think for ourselves with our conscious mind
We are out of balance with the creator, but by the grace of the creator and spiritual seekers world wide sending out prayers every second that humanity and this planet survives.
A spiritual seeker embraces all persons beliefs, knowing that love is the common goal, there is but one creator, who created all things and love is the key.
I have had the privilege and honour on my life's journey to sit at the feet of Sathia Sai Baba, in his ashram in India, spent time in the Canadian mountains with a native Shaman, time in the jungles of Costa Rica with a native Shaman my greatest joy was spending many years in the company of my good friend His Eminence Abuna Yesehaq Mandefro, Archbishop of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, in the western hemisphere and South Africa, everyone of these spiritual teachers that I have traveled to came to me in recurring dreams over several months and years, before I found the courage to go and seek them, not one of them tried to convert me to their beliefs, they all welcomed me as a child of God.
I do not go any place unless the spirit guides to that place or person
I am a spiritual seeker
The color blue the color of sky
On a bright sunny day
And the warmth of memories
The power and presence of a grand mind
The eminence of one
Blue the cool and soft hue of delicate pools
Bright eyes the color of blue
The depth of Indigo the color of Endless Skies
The color of souls dark and aszue
Blue the color of a soft hues delicate in touch,
Pedals n wishes or some such
Cast in to Wells
The Hues of soft blue; Prussian nights
In lands of snow bounds czars
Sparkling cobalt mornings running as a youth
Plays into hazy summer days, indigo
The waves became dark blue cold as ice
Sharp as blades blue steel flashing, keen
Stark wickedly mean, the coil of passion
The dying in the bright light, waiting
To a soft Hues sapphire, fire
Blue is the color reflected in Chrome
A washed in red of drying flash
The bruises are shades at rest
Lingering, still on the floor.
Bright as a newborn sky full
of warmth and Memories,
power and presence
Of something grand
the image of the infinite
The blue hue of indigo
and futures, new!
At the epicenter of the Birth.
Reality changed in complex Design.
Time altered for Nations and Man...
The eminence of the Grand Unknown
Graced the Ancient face of a Fleeting Earth.
A thought of Creation...
A dream of an inquisitive inventor.
The Mystic Architect's Sun Rain's
Ethereal Power of modern presents.
At the center of Reality a Birth occurs!
At the start of Recorded time a Man
the word word made flesh Dies....
A creation of blood and bone...
A Soul; the Infinite born...
Nails in wood on a barren stone.
A skull lies from Adam's Reign
Spear pierces the rib...
Blood of righteous flows to suffer creations Pain.
To wash sinful apes of elegant
thoughts in Fountain's floods.
A wound carved by a hateful hand.
All the Grand Schemes come full cycle.
The enigma of master's passing thought.
The Riddle of the ages...
A dream of a sleeping entity.
At the epicenter of his Birth.
Time changed in a complex way.
Realities would never be the same.
A dream of an inventor
A thought of an infant mind of grand time.
Nihil Obstat
What is this wave of floating currents,
Which enter the dark side streets
Like far-reaching rubbery tentacles?
It is your resigned reach for something
Infinitely beyond the staid and the shrill;
Your grasping of one moment in flexing time,
Your attempt to save a universe out of whack,
By donning your costume made of plastic fire,
With flashing sun medals signifying eminence.
What is this jaundiced atmosphere I inwardly sense
Within skinned temples made of bitter cortex,
Here in the bulrushes, wearing a feathered cap?
It is the silent pulse of a forest lacking an audible voice,
A meadow with green eyes that scratch the skies,
Looking to erode for all-time the blindness of hate.
Drowsy vertigo thoughts losing their substance
in the spirals of deafening maelstrom black waters,
my letters—my ruins—my Sodom
becoming the cries that
never reach bottom—
—never reach bottom—
never reach bottom—
now becoming both absence and presence,
lurking among their ashen, disintegrating essence.
The stubborn nails doomed in this sinking box
restoring their vileness, those rotten thoughts
somehow find themselves looking up—
looking up—
looking up—
dizzily, dismally, dishearten by the luminance
never again to be reached—
absence and presence and eminence
engulfed.
In time,
Mnemosyne alone
witnesses the damned
parts of me
die.