Long Feasted Poems
Long Feasted Poems. Below are the most popular long Feasted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Feasted poems by poem length and keyword.
My appointment didn't show up today
So I decided to hang out and play
I circled around Ellanor's Park
wandering about in the dark
and thinking about the road ahead
The rain has just fell leaving mud
and water on the swampy ground
The pokemon go gang was playing around
disturbing nature with their silly sound
They walk up and down the wet grass
communicating with their partners
One by one two by two they showed up and join the crew
As soon as I arrived more of them anchored down
creating nuisance and spreading bad energy around
Luckily the Gods were lingering by to listen to my silent cry
They came down form the sky and spew them out of sight
so that nature could sing and dance about
On by one they jump into their cars
and drove out of Ellanor's park
I closed my car and walked over to an old bulldozer
stationed on the park's ground
the equipment was so old
I wonder if I was still in America
The owner was not around
so I climbed up and sat in the chair
and examined the levers and gears
I was captivated by a certain power
It felt good sitting in an elevated tower
It has been parked there for many days
Rust and dirt was musing on its face
No work was going on and the pile of sand
stood waiting on the ground for the fix it man
The same roads that were repaired
has been dug up and repaired year after year
The paved parts are lean and bumpy
And when I drive my truck rocked side to side
Where are the professional engineers
Cheap labor has sucked every penny out of the mill grinder
And America's roads are in danger
I watched them prowling up and down the street
Trying to figure out my heart beat
But I sat in the big old bulldozer scrutinizing them all over
I felt a sudden rush of power
I felt like a queen in her parlor
And I felt like a queen riding in a carriage
Waving to the magnificent crowd shouting out loud
If the owner was around I would ask for permission
To drive it up and down and through the town
Wolfish influence peddlers
Big belly contractors and poor skills workers
has feasted on the wallet of the county for years
But now I am in the bulldozer and I am getting
ready to run some one over
America needs a constitutional face-lift
Here I am in this big old bulldozer
feeling energetic and strong
I am ready to dig up and tear down the remaining barriers.
I have been convinced for several years now that the worship
team at our church prays and give themselves to God.
They thrive to be a tool in cohort with The Lord. In so doing,
we are able to dine and feast together in our worship experience.
This morning, I said to myself, "Had I been there and seen Jesus in person,
I don't know if I could have contained myself". I considered the woman
at the well and the woman caught in adultery. I thought about the woman
who wiped his feet with her tears, and the man from whom were cast many
demons.
In a moment, I tried to put myself in their shoes as did I with the thief on
the cross. No, the writers and reporters of the stories could not tell it all, nor express all their emotions, but it is clear that surely, they were overwhelmed. In the spirit, I felt in the worship service what they must have felt, and so much more, when they encountered The Christ face to face. They experienced the person of his presence, and for several glorious minutes, I bathed in the spirit of his presence.
In my heart and mind, there was a brief 'casting of visions' of my Savior as I bowed and wept in the pew, taking in and consuming as much of him as I possibly could. This was public worship, albeit, never so private and personal. Words fall short of what I sensed and felt, but I wanted this morning's worship experience to be put in words. I wasn't even sure that I could put such moments in words, but these few words are my feeble attempt at sharing with you what my fellow parishioners must have also experienced. I totally realized that indeed, God is everywhere present, and regarding this morning in our Church's Sanctuary, these words best describe what I felt and heard.
There was nothing canned, frozen, or preserved about what I feasted on this morning. I tell you, it was as renewing as the rising sun, and as fresh as the morning dew. I felt it my obligation to pass this my worship experience on to you.
"... As for us, we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.” Acts 4:20.
8:11PMPST092621PS
My forefathers once poured dry gin on the
green land of Nkporo from the North to the west,
Prayed for prosperity and harmony to their children.
Gathered us under the half yellow moon and narrated
To us the traditions and cultures of our people.
"Ifeoma di na iru, Nke iru ka" they said.
Discouragement and fear is for the weak.
They once lived happily with little or nothing to hold
Onto and yet bounced back on their responsibilities with courage.
Blew the whistle of peace and sounded the drums of oneness
Among the Osu and the Ogbanje down the stream.
They waited patiently for the new yam festivals
With smiles on their broad, sweet black faces watching
The children danced in the village square of Nkporo.
They marked Nzu on their foreheads
Give little to the strangers who visited them in their Obi.
The Omu tightly fixed on their hands and some on thier hands
Down on the sand beside their Obi Agu we watched
Them Keenly, the gods were with us all along.
"Njiko ka Anyi jiri biri" they said in one accord.
Strife, corruption, injustice, embezzlement of public fund, they know not.
But looked up to the gods in Agbala for hjustice.
Nkporo masquerade they entertained themselves with.
Wisdom, they visited with kola nut in their lips,
Cutting it into pieces as they talked with wisdom.
"go to the ant and learn" wisdom advised them
Only them knows why women bend down while urinating and men stands.
Only my fore fathers could tell why The He goat smell.
They worn understanding like a chain round their neck
Tied joy round their waist like a wrapper.
Only them could tell why babies never talk.
When we asked why?
they told us to wait till we have grey hairs,
But the cultures and traditions they never fail to paased them to us with smiles.
Great and mighty they were,
My forefathers, who once matched the Nkporo sand to the south south for war.
Defeated and conquered the Iboms.
Now i matched them as i walked ,
The soil i matched were my forefathers
Death had feasted on them and they turn to mud which i match.Ages past, my forefathers know not matches but they made fire,
Healthy were they in their little world of hope.
Now they are gone, wisdom gone.
Sickness hastened by as good health escape
Centuries passed by when i"ve seen my forefathers last.
I was a planetary climatologist, who studied climate variability and change,
Like sweet variability of stunning, green tulips, in lavish garden rearranged.
Studying the said effects on the biosphere, absorbed so many daily hours,
Like industrious days of fragrant, amber honey, after tumbling into flowers.
My labors impacted energy usage, along with food production and health,
And the survival of endangered species, like golden rays of natural wealth.
Faddish flowers fascinated friends, who flattered them, at my broad fence,
Under fleecy, lemony clouds, fast moving, and orange sun, grown intense.
Famished, feasible family feasted, in lavish flowering fragrance of Fridays,
When fugitive, frosty stars flickered, winking at green garden bonsai trees.
I lived in the house of emerald echoes, in vivid memory of nature's sound,
From birdsong to crickets to evening wind, and brook of babbling renown.
Sachets swept away a sudden sadness, as robins sought another summer,
On my street of starry-eyed forget me nots, like a tune with no drummer.
Nobody knew latest neighborhood news, like my nearest friends next door,
Like chameleon sun, crisscrossing teal sky, wholly ignorant of 'nevermore.'
Pink birds were living high, and red butterflies viewed a world, ultraviolet;
And yellow bees went about their sweet labors, since queen bee desired it.
Strawberry clouds sailed around the world, for clouds ever love adventure,
As dogwoods barked in summer's dog days, during a gold noon surrender.
As I was walking home one day, the sun vanished as skies turned ominous.
There was a lightning flash just before the thunder, loud and cacophonous!
Suddenly, I saw a male face in the clouds, that was bellowing and enraged,
Like blizzard winds through naked trees, howling at a lush year that's aged.
Taken aback, like butterflies in gusts, I had come face to face with thunder-
The mighty, furious face of the storm, and I was filled with sudden wonder!
Then came the silver rains, sideways slanting, at the dead end of drought;
And I raced home like all uneasy nature, in the successive hours of doubt.
Scintillating sun had returned next day, after banishing the tangerine mist,
As benevolent nature was no more angry, its tale ending in an orange twist!
Hello. My name is Nicholas, and you can call me Nick. I also must tell you about Matthew, and you can call him Mat. I once despised Mat and others like him, but now he has become my best friend. I am the Pharisee and Nick is the Publican about whom Jesus gave a parable. There was an occasion when Mat and I went to the temple to pray at the same time. I'm sure you would agree that my thanksgiving prayer left no doubt about what I was most grateful for. My prayer described a 'righteous' person who despised others unlike himself. I was thankful for that. Jesus used me as a perfect example of a person who is 'thankfully righteous' in his own eyes and with those same eyes, look down on other people.
Listen if you will to a short prayer I once prayed that I would never utter again because my life has been completely changed. "OH GOD, I THANK YOU that I am not like other people-robbers, crooks, adulterers, or, heaven forbid, like this tax man. I fast twice a week and tithe on all my income. Now, listen to Mat's prayer. He had no pride nor anything to boast about. "God, give mercy. Forgive me, a sinner." *
It was as if I had a Thanksgiving Holiday Spread filled with everything for my personal satisfaction. i.e. I had an overflowing POT of "I'm not like other people". I had a larger than normal BOWL of "I fast two times a week". I had a commercial-sized PAN of "I give tithes of all I possess". I had a big PLATTER of "I am a just man". I had a PLATE full of "I'm faithful to my wife". My dining table was overflowing with things I feasted on. I was full of it; full of myself. Yet, after feasting on all that I had, I was still hungry and empty, unjustified, abased, and unacceptable by God. On the other hand, the tax collector came hungry and empty but left filled, fulfilled, forgiven, and justified by God.
I later met Jesus and became born again. Now, I despise none and love everyone. And now, like my best friend Mat, I know how to pray, and I understand the true meaning of Thanksgiving.
11122018PoSoup *Message Bible
Mississippi.
Mostly mild, wet, and muddy in winter,
but also chilly, cold, and sometimes snowy.
We feasted on ice cycles from tin or asphalt rooftops;
We screamed and yelled as we fought each other with snowballs; With patience and craftsman-like precision, we made snowmen as mothers watched with smiles, making us the best tasting ice cream.
Late nights and early mornings, we waited to hear from the newscast.
“The roads are too bad, and for the sake of safety, no school today”.
Such words over the radio or television are the only ones that mattered.
But it was not all fun and games in the Northern Mississippi Dixie land.
Rain, snow, sleet, or sunshine, there were always outdoor chores to do.
There was wood to cut and to bring in with the coals to keep us warm.
There were hungry pigs, chickens, a cow, and sometimes goats to feed.
Chicago.
One day out near the O’Hare International Airport, my feet nearly froze.
That was when I was driving a VW Bus that was fun to drive until it got cold.
Let the truth be told, Chicago is not just a Windy city by the lake; it’s icy cold. I had my Chicago share of winters in the ‘70’s.
In Chicago, with hardened and freezing bones,
on short days or long ones, life always goes on.
It was so cold that I could hardly walk.
It was so cold that I could barely talk.
It was so cold, yet nothing seemed to halt.
It was so cold that my whole body would shake, and my ears ached in pain as if they would break.
If New York City never sleeps, Chicago never stops.
In the dead of winter, people on State Street continues to shop.
Mayor Daily’s city kept the streets clear, and the buses kept moving.
California.
This year our heating system was first used on Saturday evening, November 7. It seemed that summer forgot to cool down and depart, or even stall; but ran head-on into fall. My trees are still very green, and the leaves are slowly falling because Winter is calling. It’s Sunny California in the Sacramento Region, and Winter is just around the corner. For a few years now, the rainy winter season has produced much heat, but little rain. Our hope is that this winter will be different for a change; perhaps cold and wet.
11102015PS
After becoming confident
(das ernest frank gent) handled ignition
jerryrigged knobs, levers, motors,
nameless other parts quintessentially,
set registers to “understand” vital www xy zone.
----------------------------------------------------------
A blitzkrieg capstone detonated explosive forcees
generating horrendous instantaneous jolt,
Krakatoa lost mighty noise,
outrageous phenomena qualified regarding
tremendous unearthly violent
whiplashing xing yawping zeitgeist!
----------------------------------------------------------
Imagine; The giant from Jack and the beanstalk, deign
Paul Bun, or the Jolly Green Giant,
straddling an imaginary line
between fall and winter. Therein lied the rub
(a tub tub three men in a tub), a question of mine
if pecking peccadillos peculiar per pretend puppies
engaged in any...Snoop...doggy style spine
tingling homosexual behavior,
no who matter intimated naked playtime also flourished
amidst can dyed cornicopia of good 'n plenty eats
contrasted with paucity,
life and death, Halloween evolved
as a celebration and superstition with wine
woman and song. Such weaning of the hallow,
or hallow of the weaner originated
with ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,
when village people would light vanity of bonfires,
and wear politically incorrect costumes
to ward off roaming ghosts of inept leaders
if necessary rivaling Tarzan impressions
swinging on a vine.
The Mound of the Hostages car bon mot dated
(by this amateur sigh hint hussed)
at 4,500 to 5000 years old, or there about
suggesting Samhain celebrated long before
first Celts arrived in Ireland
about 2,500 years ago with no cleats boot riveting clout
Samhain (pronounced /'s??w?n/
SAH-win or /'sa?.?n/ SOW-in,
Irish pronunciation: without,
or possibly Greek to this doubt
ting Thomas – [s??u?n?]),
a Gaelic festival marking the end,
when pollination ceased to flout
ushered advent of harvest season,
and beginning cust tomb of caw king grout,
discussing the epic winter of Gilgamesh,
or the "darker half" of the year,
when one feasted on giblets and sauer kraut
Halloween rooted er beer reed in ancient biers
caravansari doggedly exhumed along route,
66 (the third beastly 6
Circling above on a sun shiny day
The raven twirls within his dreams
Of horrors soon to be inflicted
Soaring in the skies
The Preacher reads from the holy book
Collections duly collected on chanted psalms
The raven above with a sinister smile
He knew god’s plate was not full enough
Dark clouds from the east flew with the wind
Under the ravens command
As lightening struck the village steeple
Fire and brimstone, hell on earth
Humans who once lived by their daily bread
Became the bread of crows
Telegraph poles free to weep the news
As the crows feasted on the burnt flesh of our sins
The ravens’ heart pleased to share his torment
Amongst the brethren of feathered dark angels
The greed of humans shall be ridden of this earth
Crooned the raven under the spotlight of the devils moon
All were dead, the children too
All but one lone poet, so it seemed
Arms outstretched, clasping at pen and ink
Dying, dying to tell this black tale
Now, in tranquility, lies the village graveyard
Somber, quiet, flowers cover the horrors
Of that unholy day, of the ravens sins
His laughter echoes, echoes the pain
It is said, in the heat of summer nights
Crows sing and dance
As they feast on the remains
Of us, all of us, poets and all
Beside the village in the swamp
On that a very somber twisted day
An alligator lazed upon the shores
She, the only witness, to this feathered fiendish crime
In stealth she watched, scales of justice
A billion years of Gods creation
She slithered towards the stench of death
Teeth primed for an easy meal
A baby, oh so small, shivering in a fog of illusions
Looked into the eyes of the raven above
She saw that hell may very well come from above, not below
She resigned her baby cries to eternity, momma dead and gone
The alligator, teeth sharpened by natures instinct
Darted forth, and jaws stretched, swallows the baby whole
Slithering back towards the swamps shadows
The raven provided this nights’ meals gratuit
She spit out the baby, and licked her cheeks
Providing both substance and loving warmth
Hell may live above
Mercy and compassion may come from the swamp
High in the sky
The Raven
Lost this little one
The Butterfly smiled
"When God given gift is mistaken as self earned power, people become arrogant and arrogance leads to fall" By Poet.
The crow we see, was once a beautiful bird
Sweet as a lark and white as a swan
The world stood in rapturous glee
As he poured out melodies with such elan
Proud and haughty over his gorgeous form
He reckoned himself to be the crown of creation
To all other birds he was a cynosure of charm
And he feasted on their praises of mad veneration
Presumptuously dwelling on altitudes high
He thought the world was revolving round him
Looking at others with contempt and disdain
He wanted everyone to dance to his whim
At morn when other birds twittered and chirped
And sang devotional lays in praise of God,
The crow refused to sing any song
As he deemed himself to be far above the Lord
God wanted to teach the arrogant bird a lesson
A messenger with warning from Heaven was sent
‘Unless you turn humble and with respect others treat
God’s wrath will fall and you shall lament’
Sneering at this and rebuking the terrestrial envoy,
With haughty arrogance, the crow went his way.
By dusk, he flew down to perch on a tree
Alas, the branch gave way to his utter dismay!
Losing balance, he slid down into a can of tar
Disappointed was he as he emerged all black
But hoped that a dip in water would wash away the dirt
And once more he would be, to his former self back
Soon God’s messenger with ire reappeared in a vision
This time, stark were his words of admonition
‘Henceforth you and your progeny will all be black
Ugly in appearance, scavengers you shall be known!
‘In place of the tuneful melody, you were blessed
Your sound will be sonorous and rough’
Saying this, the apparition vanished out of sight
And the crow knew his life ahead would be tough
He waited impatient for the dawn to break
Before all other birds were up and awake
He decided to try and test his sound
And was startled at what came in the wake
“Caw…. Caw…. Spurted the sound from his beak
Jarring and raucous, harsh and husky!
While other birds laughed over and celebrated his fall
The poor defeated crow was left grouchy and dusky
Don’t worry about being thinner
Get yourself off down the pub
Then go home to a good British dinner,
Of British traditional grub
Delicious roast beef of old England
Served up with a thick Yorkshire pud
With roast spuds and cabbage and carrots
Plus gravy in which the spoon stood
What’s wrong with a good stew and dumplings?
Made with some prime neck of lamb
Or a thick slice of home boiled bacon
Instead of that wafer thin ham
Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast
A steak that’s surrounded with chips
Some mushrooms and beans or tomatoes
Can I hear you smacking your lips?
Give me pork chops with a kidney
A helping of wild rabbit pie
With carrots and peas and thick pastry
For which old Auntie Bessie would die
Kippers, smoked haddock or winkles
Mussels or soft herring roe
Jellied eels, tripe or pigs liver
I think I might give it a go
A thick slice of cheddar is pleasant
Coated with pickle of course
Or maybe a plump well hung Pheasant
Plastered with cranberry sauce
Blackberry and apple crumble
A dollop of cream on the plate
This is making my tummy rumble
Give me some quick I can't wait
A big lump of home made bread pudding
Or maybe a nice spotted dick
Served up with syrup or custard
Providing the custard is thick
A stuffed Sheep’s heart makes a good dinner
Or a nice deep-fried black pudding ring
On a slice of fried bread, did you hear what I said?
This is food that is fit for a king
When you’ve feasted on cabbage or brussels
Don’t ever consider you’ve sinned
Just be certain your close friends and family
Are seated some distance up wind
A plateful of boiled new potatoes
Dashed with salt taste exceedingly nice
If you give them a try will you no longer buy
Bean shoots or Chinese fried rice
Avoid all these kebabs and curries
They look like they’ve been eaten before
You’ll be finding them most Sunday mornings
On the pavement outside your front door
Don’t listen to these dieticians
Between themselves they can’t agree
Nobody mentioned cholesterol
Until nineteen seventy three
Make sure all your dinners are British
Now you know the foods that I mean
We never defeated old Hitler
Eating Pasta or Nuevo Cuisine
Form: