Long Extolled Poems
Long Extolled Poems. Below are the most popular long Extolled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Extolled poems by poem length and keyword.
The Rock that rolls away the stone
Knows His very own
Crushed the head with His heel bone
Goes to prepare a mansion in His home
The Rock that rolls away the stone
Different from Rock n Roll and those
who get stoned
His Word is heard from every pulpit
As if it were from where He is enthroned
And every repentant heart’s bemoaning
As the Spirit’s extolled, and sin receives its stoning
The Rock is presently rolling
Amongst the candlestands patrolling
In that day will it be quiet and pessimistic?
No, it will be the loudest and intrinsic
The Rock will roll away the stone
Every tribe, tongue and nation will gather in Zion
So, build your good foundation
on the Good Foundation
Don’t run and hide in a new location
Adam, why didn’t you protect your bride?
Within sin’s fathoms light can’t coincide
But fathom this: The Rock
The Rock that rolls away the stone
Predestines suffering
So that He may provide the growth
So, praise be, for He is rightly to be praised
This Jesus (we need to heed) He has raised
The Rock that rolls away the honed
Is the Church’s Cornerstone
Upon Whom it is built
When on white horse He will assail
With The [S]Word of His mouth
And hell will not prevail
She was eminently qualified in numbers
Held fast to the beliefs in physical objects
Felt every molecule down to her mortal soul
Religion guided Sue through water and soil
Down in the mud of love
Prayer lined up on the side of God
A tool most useful in the invisible realm
If not
She was locked in tangibles
Sherlocked away to wait for Easter
Buried under a stone most uncomfortable
Undetected
To be deduced, from what is and what is not
Thereby order could be restored on Sunday
Drilled down to the atomic level of abomination
Established first by logic in the seventeenth century
Light won't pass through the ways of reason
Being solid as it stands
Where souls split into the Adam unnatural at Evening
All men are created equal to their mortal core
The Iliad and Odyssey are read and dead
In another language long and gone
Sue knows Greek as a 5 letter word
Greek know Sue more than you know
Trojans were of another kind of clan
Spoke Luwian at length
Cuneiform or hieroglyphic characters carved
Souls starved for more attention than misunderstanding
Stood out in their own reflection
Crawled home in a holy hole for protection
Flashlights are not prescribed for reading Homer
We recommend Sue's interpretation of the past
Objects in Archeological pockets are counted
Sins glow in the dark inspected
Calculated to the numerical physicality of being
Extolled by Sue who knows such things
Gold is found without tools to grasp the meaning
Souls unearthed remain with words unspoken
English is not an ancient tongue
Extensions take the dig
Can only go so far
Sue knows who you are
Before it starts
Down the fervent aeons Buddha’s sagesse,
casts its august shroud on benign witness,
shades, shadows, subtle symbol shift,
encompass cosmopolitan and temporal,
incongruous to flaccid predilection feigned,
astute statue of nuance and nicety,
crosses annual acme’s snowflake whirl,
Christmas that propitious seasonable fount,
amid the merriment and jubilation stirred,
can wry dispensation be somehow drowned,
sculpted mould epitomising solemn pearls,
to counter spartan sparkle an uneven match,
for the blissful bubble oft recurrent judder,
though evaluation oscillates on this thorny subject,
palatial gift as lavish token bountiful toward,
unswerving fellow pilgrims of our jagged journey,
despite the avalanche of advertiser’s counterfoil,
triumphant warm rush Burra Din advantage,
can engender migrating episodes deft mutual,
as the Buddha manifests a dovetail harmony,
strained coexistence with December frolic
in the most enshrined but unforeseen locations,
where Buddha influencer might drop wry hints,
juxtapose amidst jollied Christmas victuals,
where bear necessity bordering on martyrdom,
is gratuitously extolled in quaint quintessential quote,
that arrant caustic jibe at the apparently trivial,
the importance of recurring benchmark scope,
as that valid institution built on solid query,
might be seen as an awkward encroachment,
to the much pilloried fanfare of modern life,
changes are afoot when blind pursuit exhales,
has in zoom of instance been Buddha fostered,
if one probes forensically profound into the furore,
where future life burden is an exponential angst,
so abundant amid a sinister spiralling pessimism,
the seeds have been planted in a sprouting urn,
for above the shoulder carry torch consciousness,
a synchronous embryonic Buddha ethos at the core,
one is cognisant of this in zealous online sweeps,
where a budding spirit Christmas mosaic adjunct,
is a Buddhaesque nod on foot of wellness kinship
to concatenate shrouded inkling o’er enduring quest,
on the universal isthmus of humanity plagued by panacea,
one suspends as Buddha meets Christmas on a jubilant,
December day exuding generous exchange across the globe,
it’s a down the centuries dilemma entangled in time,
...Duncan pulled free and sprinted, half-mad,
tears streaming as he made his retreat,
he’d never imagined hell this bad,
and didn’t much care if they were beat.
All he desired was to get clear,
to run himself far away from here,
but as the boy ran his panicked sprint,
lines of provincials marched up to him,
a commander grabbed him, smacked him hard,
said, “Come on, lad, we’ll yet win the day!”
Forced him to march back into the fray,
but as before, they didn’t get far.
How Duncan survived this next attack,
he didn’t know, nor how he got back…
’Twas a beaten army marching south
along the wooded shores of Lake George,
there great advance turned into a rout,
without getting in sight of the fort,
the French would still control Lake Champlain,
and Duncan asked if he was still sane…
One thousand British casualties,
due to that half-wit Abercrombie,
Duncan wintered down at Fort Edward,
and troubling thoughts came to his mind,
he tried, but no reason could he find
for putting all those lives to the sword,
so that a king he’d never chosen
could claim more land, and taxes from men.
Was that what his life would amount to?
Was this the reason he’d come to be?
He did not see how it could be true
that he lived to fluff some king’s glory.
Was that the same reason the French fought?
For the power that their Louis sought?
How could it be so many were damned
to feed the vanity of one man?
The pride he’d felt for his soldiering,
blew away like thin clouds in a breeze,
in not much could poor Duncan believe,
all certainties of old now fading.
He wanted to run away from this hurt,
but knew he would hang if he dared desert.
The next year Abercrombie was gone,
and Lord Amherst had taken control,
his leadership promised a new down,
he’d seized Louisburg, was much extolled.
In July his army did sail north,
the French had only a meager force,
so small that they left their forward lines,
and fled to the fort to buy some time.
Amherst did not make the same mistake,
he took his time, and set up a siege,
the French knew they would not be relieved,
so they fled north by Champlain’s great lake,
but not before a great flash was seen,
they blew up their powder magazine!
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
Rather than crank up the heat...
and ratchet up global warming
like bubbling vegetable stew
with tsk... tsk... heard
courtesy Greta Thunberg,
who would utter "how dare you..."
I bundle with layers to stave off cold
energy efficiency drilled courtesy
me late mother conserving
nonrenewable resources she extolled
now ewe best heed following suggestion
wool worth 3d printing than wearing
a sheep doubled over
along dotted line to fold
cuz expending (fossil fuel)
leaving carbon footprint
would immediately being lectured
by ecology conscious eldest daughter,
(a University of Pennsylvania
biomedical engineering alumna)
who would mildly scold.
Myself and thee missus holed up
here within Highland Manor Apartments
(unit B44 in case you wanna drop me a line)
we're here moost every cold December day
sipping warm cup
of our favorite beverage
exotic coffee latte brew
suits this muttering pup
actually yours truly
a doggone ole
long haired pencil necked geezer.
He can be found moost any given warm Green Day
shuffling along boulevard of broken dreams
overhead skies colored rosy gunmetal gray
occasional huff fro zen cloud slashing solar ray
heating inside cozy nook,
though outside temperature brisk,
nevertheless for winter quite balmy
while I sit here heavily clad,
hence yours truly quite toasty within
perfect weather for wedding,
especially one hashtagged December/May.
After dusk i.e. established misnomer known as sunset
occurs 4:36 Post Meridiem heavens quickly turn jet
black today - Thursday, December 10, 2020 (EST)
whereby darkness lulls one into sleepiness, I bet
dollars to donuts impossible mission
to keep eyelids opened, particularly if sleep debt
necessary to pay the sandman,
who knows maybe you gotta get get
comfortably numb vis a vis temporarily unconscious
state, whereby dreaming of a white Christmas
analogous to eventual Elysian Fields,
where divine creator
conjuring Nirvana and/or
a place called Willoughby
if a believer, said Almighty eventually met.
SNAIL MAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Stu, with his shell brown and bold,
From the forest post office, he slowly strolled.
With letters packed on his back galore,
With slime as his tires, he slowly went to each door,
"Your snail mail's arrived!" he extolled.
“You fool! Haven’t you heard of email?” badger exclaimed
“Of all your slowness, you should be ashamed.
“With the click of a mouse
You no longer deliver from house to house.”
“But, but…I’ll lose my job,” Stu proclaimed.
“Oh, Stu, you’re so uninformed, so old school.
Your skill set you must totally retool!
Have you not heard of UPS or perhaps FedEx?
You can deliver packages and other objects!
“But snails don’t drive. You’re such a fool!”
“Besides, I’m looking forward to my postal pension
Not to mention days without strife and tension.
And all those Forever Stamps I’ve amassed
I’ll sell online or on my webcast.
Then with Musk I’ll travel to space, otherworldly dimensions.”
*When with closed eyes, in autumn’s eves of gold,
I lie back on soft grass and feel the sky's
remaining warmth that emanates from sun,
I think of all the beauty to unfold.
I open up my eyes. The sun has rolled
down in the sky. Now streaks of pink appear
which darken to a deep and purple hue,
for Mother Nature now is growing bold!
There is so much of glory to behold!
The mountains glow, but soon they will grow black.
No matter, at the end of autumn’s days,
God’s gifts by Mother Nature are extolled.
And yes, it won’t be long - it will grow cold,
but in December I will close my eyes
recalling this. . . and I will be consoled.
March 20, 2020
* My line 1 is the 4th quote given as an option to use in a contest
sponsored by Joseph May
Now used May 21 for John Hamilton's 'Your best poem 2020' Poetry Contest
The spiral staircase made her high heels sing
While she ascended to see faith’s work-surprising…
Triumphantly awaiting her was a great blessing
Indeed, an answered prayer, worthy of praising!
“With God, nothing is impossible,”* she shouted
“Dad’s cured from ailment with which he’s been afflicted.”
Miraculously, her father’s wish was granted:
To witness his daughter’s wedding he then waited!
From here the City churches pierced the mist
Announcing festive celebrations from their list
Revealing that the Sovereign Lord does exist
Thus, to seek and trust and Him, man should not resist.
Father and daughter extolled God’s wonders of care
How they worshiped Him for safeguarding their welfare
The father checked his “Trust God” notebook with awed stare
He closed it, and, now smiling, crossed the square.
Midst joy, He offered thanksgiving for their grand state
Saying, “You’re good, Oh, God, and great. You’re never late!”
He’s well to bring his daughter to her altar date.
*Luke 1:37 For with God nothing shall be impossible.
May 11, 2018
7th Place, "One Nine and Sixteen Upgrade Version" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Viv Wigley; judged on 6/20/2018.
Emotional sequestration perseverates
across thine time warped
weft wise wold,
sans interpersonal stagnation
flourishes as oft twice told
tale a boat amidst derelict hollowed
moldering scull - sacrificed stranglehold
did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/
friendships get out sold
agonizingly excruciatingly
jujitsu physically writhing
front row seat occupied -
whereat direct view of scaffold
penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa
plagued decades prior fraught
psychological, neurological and illogical
repercussions steam rolled
natural heterosexual propensity
stifling, stinting, and stymying this old
morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting,
hermetically heat sealed,
tightly bound stinging
straitened yellow jacketed
bee devilish mold
hogtied hold, pig in the poke,
xenophobic-ally
fastened, galvanic hold
wrenching vice grippe
fiercely extolled sterile lackluster
human existence devoid cold
hence, imperative ambition
to act forthright and bold
before advanced age
finds this wordsmith additionally auld.
This solitary reader quests doth newt plead
per outreach need
without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead
dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead
me by thine pug nose,
nor doth this passive heretic - heed
ding perseverance
without selfishness nor greed
aye only seek to be freed,
where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed
sharing soulful travails yes in deed
foster repartee with persons no matter creed
faith, intelligence, nationality breed
united by state worthy charisma agreed?
Severely withdrawn as a doggone lad...
I wanted someone to hear me shout for help
as recently recalled
when yours truly a little barking whelp.
After conversing with Amélie Beth
(yesterday February 26th, 2021)
yes, the same sibling diagnosed
with nodule on her right lung
chatted with said family member.
Her brother (yours truly), could not sleep
last night/early this morning
what would ewe expect
this rambunctious poet do... count sheep?
Okay... wool ye go ahead and lambaste me!?
Ordinarily counting backwards from one hundred
helps trigger rem memorable cycles
(never if ever rarely reaching zero -
cipher, nought, the big goose egg...)
usually does the magic, (albeit cheap trick)
constituting one garden variety supertramp,
who within blink of eyelash nods off to dreamland
succumbing and submerging into subconscious.
More so the latter half
(regarding unsainted) days
of mein kampf
lived more satisfactorily
meaning emotions shared
between yours truly
and family members.
Suddenly important for me
(at approximately 743.999 months
athwart planet Earth)
to finagle acknowledgement
constituting care and concern
regarding welfare of loved ones.
Rather, a necessity to unleash
pent up sentiments activating
"Damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead!"
An injustice to myself
and deprivation to recipient, i.e. Amélie
(who accidentally, inadvertently,
and unwittingly triggered feelings
of grievousness, ire, joy... )
to act adamant and withhold
for whom the bell tolled
valuable unpleasant turmoil
or heavenly bliss within
mine psychological state
most therapists and/
or self actualized individual
would concur if polled
wisest, loveliest and healthiest
personal choice to share
lest internalized heart wrenching dilemma
compromise palpable mutual
(of Omaha) kith thing catharsis
freeing restrained pent up angst
kinship therapeutic as “Wild Kingdom,”
whereby respective psyche
constituting uber brotherly spirit
doth lyft among soundcloud
shutterflying amidst
imagined lilies of field
engendering region knolled
king dome united, extolled
and linkedin courtesy nirvana.