Long Fire Poems
Long Fire Poems. Below are the most popular long Fire by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fire poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a special day and he’d hardly said his vows
When some gory militants struck in the northern part,
The groom’s suit he replaced with the soldier’s uniform
And the merry radiance faded to reflect his troubled heart.
As the journey north spiraled into the prickly thickets
He still heard the cheery songs cut short by the duty’s call,
The charm of his newly-wed’s kiss hung on his drying lips
And still could hear the echoing claps of those in the hall.
“The soldier’s portion is as bitter as gall…”
He thought as the precarious road got rougher.
The soldier must pay for the civilians’ peace,
By being self-denying, and sacrificially tougher.
And so our soldier and his mates were ambushed
By the enemy fire that caught them by surprise.
The newly-wed wife anxiously awaited the news
Of the operation that led to her hubby’s demise.
This unfortunate guy’s fate is what a soldier daily faces
Simply to guarantee the civilian the happiness he chases.
The in duration of pain,
have many colors to gain.
Tattoo’s, scarification, piercing,
are some hues of pain liberation.
Every competitive sport has its threshold,
for the intimate courage to be bold.
The pain in the ass not to mention,
holding many saints to attention.
The bliss by pain taken too vain,
in many pictures over written,
come with the notion of ‘insane’.
Endorphin enriched body’s survivor,
testing ground for the spirits glowing halo.
The fire element in compassion,
carry the scars with an impression.
The fear of pain and its struggle therein,
is a very bankable character and another ’insane’.
The invisible pain of the broken heart,
is a undeniable ghost with its live draining art.
While in the same time providence,
and its fragile motion of miracle, creates relevant.
Elements of fire need a container,
for all souls on earth as operator.
Natural equilibrium as promised,
with gratitude observed.
The stigmatic pain and its takes,
to keep the divine balance secured.
The cry of birth echoes through the galaxies,
turning the hour glass once more to exist.
The palate of pain has much texture,
for the individual dna, to get the right fixture.
The search for love is another painful lure,
while the divine order, provides every thing to adore.
Behind time existence and no more pain,
are the worlds of the souls and its light to gain.
Such a harsh gelid sprechgesang
filled with such soprano snowflakes
bitter whistling but so very beautiful
melodies change with the temperature
emotions fall and form a blizzard
the wind’s echo is never too sharp
a masque for a glittery wonderland
eyelashes made electric with silver
backup singers for an icy smile
knives sharpen themselves on the air
putting an end to the reticence
seasonal recluse finally set free
that first scent sparks out of control
swerving all over on black ice
lips on fire at the thought of danger
flushed with the breath of condensation
the stutters and chatters have eased
wrapped in this quilted blanket
an unequivocal need to cover up
Sprechgesang, so hard and gelid
After an appointment with one of many specialists
My husband and I see regularly,
We both felt a little depressed.
We decided to go for a coffee at a quaint old shop,
In Port Elliot, about half an hour's drive from where we live.
We have not been there for over two years because of Covid.
It has been raining more than usual this year in SA.
And the weather has been the coldest for years.
It had been raining all morning, but the sun began to shine as we
approached the old cafe.
The cafe is called "Jelly".
It is in an exciting street called: "The Strand."
It was a feature in the Australian film "Storm Boy."
Outside Jelly stands an old-fashioned barrow,
Filled with organic veg, fruit and fresh flowers
Which is new every day and gives authenticity
To this cafe of yesteryear.
Sadly half of the shop is now used as a post office
And the old fireplace and mantle shelf has been boarded up for
a while.
We have had coffee here many times, and it was strange,
Not to see a cosy fire burning in the hearth.
They still sell delicious coffee.
After a welcome, sit down and chat,
John and I went to pay at the counter,
And to my delight and surprise,
The pretty young lady serving gave me a beautiful bunch of
poppies,
That she took off the old wheelbarrow outside the shop.
She graciously said as she passed them to me; we are closing
early today
And these are for you.
Any negative thoughts. That I had felt or moaned about,
Melted away, vanished into thin air.
The sun was shining brightly with no sign of rain!
My Muse
This muse – personal trainer of my pen,
This restless spirit pacing in imagination’s sanctuary,
Gathers fleeting moments into anticipation’s tabernacle
Swaddles divine laughter, brooding gloom and holy fire
With scented leaves from her perfumed garden
Hallowed space clothed in inspiration
Where my love and loss embrace in genesis
Shooing away paralyzed procrastination
To transcend into creation lyrics and lines
In a cloistered hermitage of rhymes and rhythms
Drifting through defiant midnight in dopplers
With ultrasound colors of fading rainbows
Like pinpoints of ice or fleeting romantic dews -
Drawn from vaults of the eternal’s benediction –
Waking my insomniac meditations
So in my deafness I may hear her abiding presence,
In mystical and magic lines like prisms glow
Follow through
Dusky passages of visions
Poetic shame tattooed in rust
Enthralled by
Her faceless sacred songs played in my heart
So we join hands
Then lift our tousled words in nude prayers and pleas
In the unbroken sacramental circle of life
Cried to the four winds, seas and oceans
To praise the infinite everlasting.
1-4-23
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The One riding on it is called Faithful and True, and He judges and makes war in righteousness. His eyes are like flames of fire, and many royal crowns are on His head. He has a name written that no one knows except Himself. Revelation 19:11-12
Seriously America
S e r i o u s l y A m e r i c a,
soothing l a - l a ‘s rage
as I r e f l e c t in the mirror;
feet on ten and two,
though now we are s c o u n d r e l s
u n l e s s we steer at nine and three.
The sun’s on top of the sea.
Drenched land holds me up.
I grab the ragged b a c k b o n e
of the H O M E I L O V E.
My b e a t of days in the heat,
waiting for protrusions, to escape.
Kodachrome of freewheeling albums
that caught daydreams in recollection.
A new name, the Lord knows.
I’ve forgotten who I was, who I’ll be.
America’s carried around the bend.
The Lord drops off those who pull the cord.
A few stay on for the wild ride.
I’m wild like a barebacked horse
and F R E E, my certificate said so,
but I let the r e i g n of God
hold my attention, place my feet
on a high rock.
America is my homeland,
but Christ is my Home,
therefore my trust is in Him
whose rainbow halo crowns
above this blue planet.
One day I will break free
and fall into the arms of the One,
with so many names, we know,
except the one he keeps to Himself.
He knows my name, and will give me
a new name befitting my time on earth.
“Known as His,” will be good enough,
for I don’t need any accolades - that crown
of feats will be tossed at His worthy feet.
When black would rule each day
and white compete for fire-crossed night
Degenerate monopolies
without room or time for color's nuance
cooperative slow truth and beauty harmonies
outlasting endless distressed dissonance,
surprising lack of resolving intuitions,
absence of inspired re-investments in cooperative intent,
When dark climate clouds rule each potential thanksgiving day
and white supremacists compete in post-millennial nightmares
of jihad terrorism
against healthy multicultural communions,
Against resonant nurturing nuance,
Against resilient democratic process and co-empowerment,
For fueling competitions in stressful dissonance
between loyal thanksgiving truths
and matriarch-wombed experience of hope
Then grateful sensual beauty
of full-octave Father shining sun days
outcast our wealthy capital reinvestments
in full communion EarthTribe stage
with 2020 light of day
bright for ultra-nonviolet night.
I write of heartbreak, fears and tears
But then somedays, His love He shares
I hear His kindness in the voice of rain
He’s the wonder that comforts all my pain
Beneath the echoes of my deepest prayers
Shadows and feelings, blessings and cares
Beneath all the yearnings, are praises galore
For the One who created me, the One I adore
I write of dreams, still breath of spring and fall
The voice of winter is found in each distant call
But, mostly, I believe He touched my very soul
With love that reassures, love that makes me whole
I write to you, my fellow believer, my brother
I write of this joy and peace found in no other
He is the answer to every need, every desire
His love is wise and strong, it’s like a burning fire
Beyond the tears that seem to overwhelm me
There is a blessing of His grace, making me see
He tells us of His kindness with each rising sun
But nothing is more wonderful than His only Son!
Migrating to America
In the age of Aquarius
Envisioning the best from the
Land of opportunity where it’s been said
Streets are paved in gold
Everyone has a white picket fence and
A Chevrolet too
The corner hop served burgers and fries
Soda fountains and milkshakes at the Five and Dime
Teens danced the twist and the mash potato
On American Bandstand
And kids played under open fire hydrants in the city
Black is beautiful…
Short afros large afros and James Brown
Tell the people “Say it loud, I’m black
And I’m proud” Bill Withers on the radio
Singing ‘Lean on Me’ and
Shaft is a ‘Bad mo fo… watch your mouth’
Watts turned into ash driven by black rage combustion
Fed up with police brutality still fresh on everyone’s minds
Jesus Christ is a superstar on Broadway
Harry Krishna and the Moonies in orange
Garbs and shaven heads trying to transcend souls
With their tambourines
Flower children preaching peace and love
Pot is something you smoke
Hot pants are short shorts
Worn with boots made for walking
And Uncle Sam wants you
He’s giving a free round trip ticket to Vietnam
While young men dodge the draft
Welcome to a new dawning in the age of Aquarius
Migrating settling in a new land
Leaving behind adolescence and easy island living
For a future to fulfill dreams in a concrete jungle
On migrating to America.
I walk through life like a shadow unseen,
Because they treat me like I’ve never been.
No chains can bind me, no laws confine,
Yet they whisper doubts as if they’re mine.
Why do you fear the faith I hold?
Why does my truth leave hearts so cold?
Is it my wisdom that shakes your ground,
Or the strength in me that won’t bow down?
I have seen the darkest nights unfold,
Where silence screams and hate takes hold.
Yet through the storm, I stand unbowed,
Resilient still, never cowed.
Through the veil of hate, I stride,
Unfazed by scorn, untouched by pride.
For in the fire, I forge my way,
And rise anew with each new day.