Long Followers Poems
Long Followers Poems. Below are the most popular long Followers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Followers poems by poem length and keyword.
Carolyn is a fabric artist, she has a rare gift
I watched her work, her fingers are swift
She was making a wild flower the other day
Colorful and pretty, it blew me away!
The patterns were beautiful, her machine was a buzz’n.
I am glad to let you know that she is my first cousin.
She has a blog with followers from all over the world too.
Her gorgeous art will lift you right out of the blue.
The wildflower is finished now, she is working on a dog.
She has made a raven, two cats, a pelican and a hog.
Her ideas are plentiful, her gift is amazing for sure.
I watch her working in cottons, linens and fur.
Universal Dialogue
Tears from fears to cheers
‘you are the moonlight
and cinnamon bark
incense and citrus peel
in your intimate places.’
(Tai)
‘I am simply a reflection
of your sun in me my places
are your places
the earth and your soil
is spinning caressing
touching fire and water
inside and out and
in between the stars
thank you Sun-God
for shining your light
and her light into
my heart and my soul’
(Kai)
Moonlight and sunlight
and two dedicated followers
of Taikaiweanism reaching
for the stars and beyond
and still going strong
28th July 2016
Three Stanzas - Three Only
sponsored by 'Broken Wings'
The apostle Paul here brings his word
addressing those seekers to follow God
speaking here with confidence and boldness
living the life of God he will plod
Paul here shows Christ's approval of him
for he calls all that to God profess
to indeed walk keenly in his steps
for Christ's approval they should confess
The apostle himself shows his faith
for to please the Christ is his aim
so he points others to likewise direction
that they follow with similar flame
His exhortation comes from a full heart
telling his followers to also follow
keenly towards the ever living Christ
for that road brings no sorrow
So indeed heed Paul's true word
make it your absolute inward desire
to go after Christ for evermore
proving yourself with godly fire
('Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.') 1 Corinthians ch. 11 v. 1 (ESV)
There's a symbol for our justice,
Holding scales while she is blind.
Yet it seems the 'MAGAteers' have extended
This further, adding deaf and dumb to their mind.
Because they have made the choice not to
See, hear, or think, as they ignore reality.
While they follow a corrupted voice, laden
With false notions and irrationality.
This conviction has seduced their soul, with
Visions of fear and lethal consequence sustained.
Using a barrage of powerful fiction, giving faith
To a utopia without discord ... but they're ordained.
The stupidity is clearly seen, as they avoid
Any facts that disturb their view.
As these followers become so deeply entrenched,
They can't escape the shadow that's untrue.
Having seen the danger progress, while a
Fragile democracy wavers on the brink.
Watching a majority come under constant attack,
And a privileged minority tries to silence those who critically think.
Rode around Essex with murder in mind
With evil followers from town to town
Matthew Hopkins was the worst of his kind
Hunting for witches that he could take down.
Towns people would say that woman's a witch
She'd then be tortured until she confessed
Then hanged until death and thrown in a ditch
Hopkins got paid saying she was possessed .
People believed his work was of the good
Earned a large fortune from superstition
By ridding' evil 'from the neighbourhood
Claimed witch finding was his holy mission.
Three hundred murdered in his killing spree
Were all tortured and charged with sorcery.
Written 1st August 2019.
Sent from my Windows 10 device
Gasoline tears
The truck
Plows forward
Into the masses
Blood and destruction
Morality hijacked by abduction
Evil deeds pervade these cloudy days
Compassion is tossed into the sea in place of the devils seduction
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Satan’s followers shall face the garrote, headless will be those boa constrictors
Do not be fooled by silent ones and men behind masks disguising their petty angers
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Rays of the sun, the glow of the moon, and the beat of loves heart
Flower gardens shall grow tall, on the soil of the rotten evil ones
Goodwill shall peak behind the clouds, hugging humanity
Compassion shall dance on angelic wings
Love and passion triumphant
Plows forward towards
Eternity
Did Jesus Exist?
Some say 2000 years ago,
A man called Jesus walked about;
But I say, not as god or indigo,
But as a medical doctor stout.
Jesus was an Israeli name then,
And there maybe was one man found,
Of that name, with a doctor’s ben,
Who knew the poor, who did abound.
And I say that big occasions grand,
Make for good sex, for mind focus,
So Mary and Joseph had their hand,
On the country’s population census.
Something happened like on Star Trek,
When Jim Kirk was born light speed;
All nature and the stars fused in spec,
When the pair felt no frown or creed.
This would’ve produced a bright one,
A real whacker and the perfect child,
And so I believe Jesus existed, a son,
Like some say he did and so tiled.
I believe he set a stealthy example,
For other doctors who were for the rich,
Who became followers of Jesus, ample,
Endeavouring the Roman gov to stitch.
A doctor’s job is within legislation,
Within the people’s thinking sphere,
Not without the gov’s validation,
Not out with the majority’s ear.
So I think a man called Jesus Christ,
Was put to death by the people,
Ignored by the government, heist,
But loved by a few friends, his steeple.
But he was taken on by many brothers,
By the profession, medical and strong,
By Luke who had rich men as forevers,
Because he treated their kids, belong.
He tore society’s norm gown in two,
Right down the middle plateauxed;
Luke said no to his old way to go,
Suffered barrelled rejection foretold.
Luke was key in Jesus’ career and legacy,
Determined his acceptance, full or part,
Such that Jesus was thought no fallacy,
To be accepted with all your full heart.
This only meant something to his work,
Not to god or divinity transcendent,
But because in temples he did lurk,
So healings were upon god dependent.
There may be no historical documents,
Out with his friends witness reports,
But I am content that the populous,
Was treated medically, had no retorts.
Watching.
Staring.
Filming.
But,
Not -
Seeing.
Stopping.
Preventing.
The art of being a bystander -
Is not art, but bloodshed,
It is an act of inhumanity,
To watch Black bodies fall,
The modernised version of lynchings,
Where everyone is complicit -
And no one is innocent
The world’s cruelty knows no bounds,
Where the spectacle of Black death -
Brings people together as one,
From different communities and cultures,
To share the moment - where a Black life is gone
When it comes to the death of a Black person,
The world becomes desensitised to the horrors,
That are done to us -
To them it’s a way to gain followers -
A way to boost their social media platforms
Even videos of animal neglect gets more sympathy,
Their empathy extends only to animals,
But when a Black person is tortured -
For no reason,
The world claims it was our fault
The bystander effect was just an excuse to hide from -
Being held accountable,
Of being complicit - an accessory to murder
Tiger’s contrasts are seen in her stripes
kind and intimidating, turbulent and calm,
charming yet frightening when frightened
Her yin energy promotes her female side.
She is charismatic, well-liked, often spoiled
By her followers, who become minions by choice
Overindulged? Oh yes, not her fault really.
Spoiled? Dare I say that? I give her a glance
Try to discern her emotions of the moment.
She can be turbulent and change moods in seconds.
Impulsive when tired, making decisions in error.
Naturally majestic, but unpredictable, a quick-change artist.
Tiger will not back down, can become aggressive when threatened
A carnivore, she will want to see your throat occasionally.
Be brave, dear one, her charisma persuades you to show her.
Best invisible neighbours, up on the roof play music for followers.
A long beak instrument for the best ears to listen, for lovers that understand the meaning of those notes, played by the nature of every sound that we don' t appreciate anymore.
They are there all the time for blind eyes to see, for deaf ears to hear. Still there playing the same song, following the rhythm of life with us.
We aim for a big mansion and the best cars, when what we really need is a little house and a land with vegetables and fruit trees.
Those trees where we can still find those birds singing for tomorrow and our best neighbours to be in touch forever to be seen.