Long Finality Poems
Long Finality Poems. Below are the most popular long Finality by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Finality poems by poem length and keyword.
Grievous battle with carnality
Sore spiritual vexation day and night
Beseeching victory’s finality
I yield to God* to reach righteousness' height!
Vanquishing self-glorying dominance
In arena of service-stewardship
Midst self-esteem’s prevailing arrogance
I cleave to the Lord’s zealous partnership.
Overcoming lustful provocations
I’m driven by prayed-braced holiness’ bout
Though fainting, to soar against temptations
Holding on to faith’s sword, conquering doubt.
Self as foe, I face, thru my great Fortress
Treading down flesh, anchored on grace-buttress!
*2Corinthians 2:14 Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ, and maketh manifest the savour of his knowledge by us in every place.
January 15, 2019
6th place, "Best Sonnet 2019" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton; judged on 7/10/2019.
Dies Irae, Dies Illa:
Day of wrath and day of doom.
So begins the chorus
Of Verdi’s Requiem Mass.
Taut vibrations of the violins
As drums roll in a crescendo of sadness.
It had to be so unfortunately,
For we must all eventually die.
A tear falls down my craggy cheek,
I still remember the sadness of her demise.
Despite that she was riddled with disease.
Such is the finality of this wretched life.
Now Lilian is at peace.
Not I though.
My yearning for her love
Hurts the very essence of my being.
I look at her photo.
So many memories for she was my rudder,
Steering me sturdily through perilous paths
That were straight though narrow.
Five years passed and how I long
To join her in her Heavenly bliss.
God’s infinite mercy is boundless.
Still I learn that life is not in my hands:
All with ups and downs,
I can still picture her laughter, falling,
Dancing, loving, cherishing.
And then her own painful death.
Patiently I wait
Alone,
Until one day
My lovely Lilian and I will be joined again in happiness.
Goodbye leaves an emptiness inside
it feels like an ache so hard to describe
only by experiencing it can one know
the lostness and loneliness to ascribe
Thinking of the words goodbye itself
is there anything about it that's good?
bye has a finality about it so real
it means an end to what has stood
In all our life's we've spoken these words
so very often and without a thought
not realising the effect it can have
on many persons the misery it's brought
There's a sound that fills the air
much of it so polluted leaving a mark
like a sharp knife with a real cutting edge
cuts the material off instantly all so dark
But one day there's a final goodbye
to life here as we all; know it
then the creator will ask the ultimate
did you believe truly? if not you can't sit!
Updraft
by Odin Roark
He sees the journey endless
Yet knows well of endings
He senses the other side of heart
That way station of life
Where respite or more challenge
Follows getting beyond
Yesterday’s beauty and pleasure
Perplexed with what to do
He rejects conceding as not enough
After all
Who will hear the melodies
Blood’s ebb and tide ripples
See rainbow vibrations
Atop a sparrow’s whistling breeze
Smell the freedom of flowers
Opening by dawn’s fraternal light
Taste longevity’s savory consciousness
Touch anxious brush-strokes of dreams
Still seeking canvas?
Restless
Aware the final movement
Of life’s symphony inexorable
His spirit soars above the clouds
Not yet willing to embrace
Dead air’s finality
Patience smiles
Another updraft rises
You lift me from mundane reality,
with wondrous flights to lands of poetry,
where there, my simple visions come to be
expressed with chosen words of imagery.
Implanted in the heart and soul of me,
your brilliant gems become the words I see.
My clouded concepts there to you transferred
to be refined through vetting of each word;
to shape so artfully my thoughts conferred
that mirror passions of my heart incurred...
reanimated with your words preferred.
No turning back once our sojourn begins;
surrendering...the only choice that wins.
The hunter and the hunted, we like twins,
bind close together through the thick and thins
as words and thoughts unite in final goal...
all fragments melded to create a whole
and we together merge in heart and soul.
You soon present your gift of polished thought;
each word alive, well-chosen, sorely sought...
so bittersweet...my muse...poetic art.
My poem shines in your finality;
a diamond, honed from visions undeterred.
Through mazes, it encountered many spins
composing imagery through word control,
until your tranquil spirit knew you caught
that inner feeling deep within my heart.
How oft had I slipped in life,
Sliding into slimy oblivion,
Until my spirit was crushed
Almost beyond repair.
Yet I learned the hard way
To fight back and win.
To see the truth in your mortal deceit
To admit you do not deserve
The compassion and lust that
You crave so much for.
You hide behind long faces
And mimic with your shaking hands
As if you're in despair;
Misplace your voice with floods of sorrow
To hide your ugly nature of abuse.
Stop this illusion, fly away from me
Seek other pastures,
For I cannot abide your cheating tone,
Or the deception written on your face,
Not anymore. Must I succumb to you?
Now I am whole, alone and worried
But am determined to survive your loss.
It's hard I know to linger
Into the lonely, dreadful, sleepless night.
To wait for the promised dawn of a new life,
A dawn that seems so far away.
But I'm determined to wait.
For when you're gone I'll find asylum
In peace and harmony and truth
And live the simple life I had once treasured
Once more I'll smile and laugh
But I shall love no more.
FICTION
My breath rises beyond
a trail of sacred space...gliding ,
deepened by silence immense
where peak of light anoints
my soul union with divine rhythm--
the grail of non- resistance widening
Beyond a path illimitable,
a haloed center drifting on
meditative realm unmapped by this world:
I am at risk of a swarming flight
into nothingness
shapeless,
changeless: there is no finality
in this final release... only a blaze of discernment greeting the god within...
that in the absence of mind's overtures ,
an inner sanctuary wraps me quiet...
that void emptying. cleansing
my marrow , my bowel of gut
while I become nothing but whole.
Is the soul to a human
What the seed is to
A dandelion - a vessel
Of the continuum?
Both are readied for winging;
One swept, unknowing, clinging
Upon the vagaries of zephyrs,
One ticketed to sail the ethers.
The seed carries an embryo where’er blown
Prepared by its mother to grow where sown.
The soul by the Father sown, without misconception,
May be redeemed at will from any misdirection.
The seed may rise a weed or wine
As chance may take upon to dine,
If in lawn or vineyard find,
To its fated end resigned.
The soul may be proscribed or saved
As promised by the One who paved
The Way; choose or deny finality
And thereby spend eternity.
Copyright Paul Thomson 2021
The back room
of creation
where much of life
is spent
Victim to
the waiting game
where doldrums
reinvent
All dressed up
and ready
with nowhere
clear to go
Waiting for
that flash of light
to put me
— in the know
*****
Reality Preying
Not killing
time
Time killing
him
The hourglass
drains
As life
grows thin
Slaying the
dragon
A fantasy
still
Reality
preying
On folly
— distilled
*****
Stepping Out
More than a
lifetime
Unmeasured
by years
Enlightenment
prospers
No doubting
or fear
Stepping out
of the circle
And into the
light
Dimension
is truant
With reference
— contrite
*****
One Slip
Life
on the edge
where finality
threatens
Hope
meets disaster
both tightening
their grip
Never
look down
with redemption
above you
One slip
and the promise
of glory
— submits
*****
Darkness Retreating
Writing
to a standard
new standards
are drawn
Light
disinfecting
a bevy
of wrongs
Writing
to a standard
the truth
is upheld
Darkness
retreating
deception
— expelled
*****
To Bask In Its Presence
Writers
have a double edged
courtship with time
Cutting both ways
past and future
defined
But the moment’s
unwritten
unspoken unrhymed
To bask in its
presence
— you live it sublime
(The New Room: June, 2026)
A sliver of horizon, stiff in hand,
it bears no city, street, or promised land.
No inked direction on its back is set,
a silent promise, a forgotten threat.
It is a vessel built without a helm,
a ship adrift in a vast, indifferent realm.
Its message, trapped within the pulp and dye,
a whispered secret passing readers by.
It speaks of all the words we leave unsaid,
the phantom letters in the heart and head.
The “I forgive you” or “I love you too,"
they’d never find their proper avenue.
It is the bridge that ends before the shore,
the key that fits no lock upon the door.
It holds a sunset view, a painted sky,
intended for a specific, single eye.
Its life is one of stillness and of wait,
a transient object sealed by silent fate.
It knows the sender’s hand, the stamp’s brief kiss,
then plunges into the communication abyss.
It lies inside a drawer, or on a shelf,
a lonely testament unto itself.
A metaphor for chances cast away,
a sun-bleached memory of yesterday.
The postal system, in its structured might,
delivers day and navigates the night.
But this card breaks the code, the golden rule,
a rebel item, a stateless, wandering fool.
It mocks the logistics, the sorting machine’s whir,
a phantom address with no destination, sure.
It is the story told to no one’s ear,
a bell that rings where no one is near.
Perhaps its power is in the void it keeps,
the silent promise that within it sleeps.
For while addressed, its journey would be done,
beneath the gaze of a specific sun.
Unaddressed, it belongs to all of us,
this little card, this wordless, world-less fuss.
It carries every possible reply,
a universal, silent, hopeful sigh.
So let it rest, the unaddressed postcard,
a little piece of life we’ve held unbarred
from finality, from being truly sent.
A perfect moment, perfectly unspent.
It is the poem I write that you won’t read,
the planting of a universal seed,
awaiting recipient, could have been,
a memory in time that no one had seen.