Long Foreseen Poems
Long Foreseen Poems. Below are the most popular long Foreseen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foreseen poems by poem length and keyword.
Weeping walls of heralded hallows,
Sweetless seam of darkening shadows,
Seldom son of sickening honour,
Shall bring, shall bring, this darkening hour.
So sweet, so sweet, this tallowing cower,
Shall bring, shall bring, his darkening hour,
So come, so come, the cowering power,
Shall cry, shall cry, his towering pawer.
Thee of sleep, shall sing this song,
Sightless sleep hath slept too long,
O tears, o tears, hath wept this song,
Doth cry, doth cry, the doe of the somme.
I see, so see, this sickening power,
So seen, so seen, the hark in the flower,
Foreseen, foreseen, forecome in the shower,
So cry, so cry, the lord of fought power.
Seeming sleep, a wail of the hall,
Falling fawn, a sound of the soul,
Soulless soul, so seldom sought,
I see, so see, the fray of the whole.
Thee of sleep, shall sing this song,
Sightless sleep hath slept too long,
O tears, o tears, hath wept this song,
Doth cry, doth cry, the doe of the somme.
Fallen and fallaced upon the other,
A Haunting gaunt of terrible power,
All hailed and failed tire of taut tower,
A swearing swear of seamless cower.
Shall bring, shall bring his untimely hour,
So fought, so fought, all power in the shower,
Shortened sleep, shall see power for power,
And tears, all tears, caught the hark in the flower.
Thee of sleep, shall sing this song,
Sightless sleep hath slept too long,
O tears, O tears, hath wept this song,
Doth cry, doth cry, the doe of the somme.
Honour sought, once sought, so sought,
A blade one caught, hath caught, so caught,
Forbade in the shower, for power, lost power,
So seamlessly fought, long fought, so fought.
The son hath fought for rights, for power,
So sing the song of lasting hour,
A doe sun drenched, in laughter, so sour,
The bitter of gall, for all, in all.
I see thee still, so sickened, for pills,
So seen for fear, in liqueur, still sickened,
A cure for the gall, a hole in the hall,
The father of thunder, sonless sleep of the sun.
(Thee of sleep shall fall in the gall.)
A little prayer was spoken,
In the middle of the night
Before the heart was broken
Knowing of a love so right
A little dream was seen,
A dream so sweet and true
The kind of dream foreseen
By those who need a breakthrough
A little note was carried,
By one who heard God’s grace
Love that won’t be buried
Trembled so time wouldn’t erase
A little smile was treasured
By someone who could see
Beyond the summer’s pleasured
By leaves, floating so free
A little light was glowing
Across the heavens, so still
Beneath the shadows, knowing
This heart love would fulfill
A little joy was given
By love so worthy and kind
Our sins have been forgiven
Oh, but once I was so blind
A little life was blessed
So I could find the way
Beyond the dark, pressed
To pray these words each day…
Jesus, please believe me
Your love brought me through
Because of You, I see
My heart, Your spirit drew
So now I know the meaning
The Presence of His love
My life was in need of cleaning
So He came from heaven above
Writing hope into my story
He told me faith would grow
So that I would find the glory
In giving into the sweet flow…
His blood covered my sin
Leaving peace in its place
His love flows deep within,
It’s a joy no fear can erase
A little life was changed
So that there is peace and hope
My heart’s been rearranged
Despite my tears, I can cope
A little life was remade
By a Savior who died on a hill
And this memory will never fade
Because He arose, my prayer to fulfill
A little prayer was prayed
By a heart in need of sweet grace
Although He was betrayed
He offered love nothing can replace
A little heart was broken
So that it could finally believe
He is the One who’s love has spoken
And every fear He can relieve
A little faith will remind
That love can win any war,
And if we look at what’s left behind
We’ll know things are better than before
And God has given us a way
To seek, to find and to know
He’s the answer each time we pray
With Him, my cup will always overflow
[A slight rewrite of my 2018 poem]
In your modern nation
Your civilisation
Is under a threat from miniaturisation
’cause one day they’ll make it and someone will fake it
A nice compact nuclear bomb...
That Clips on a rocket
That fits in your pocket
And no one cares where it comes from
A copy, a knock off, with bits that will drop off
Just hope the damned thing don’t go wrong
Global destruction
With basic instruction
For people in banks, shops and farms
Wherever they’re working there’s somebody lurking
Demanding the right to bear arms
Your forefathers voted
And thus it was noted
(In spite of a future not reckoned)
They’d keep arms resplendent, and wrote an amendment
And this one they numbered the second
But when they discussed it
Sword, cannon and musket
Was just about all that they’d got
Rather less keen, if they had foreseen
Machine gun or multiple shot
If you need to clobber
a thug or a robber
Here’s what I can’t help thinking of
One shot at a time can stop them just fine
So, what’s with the Kalashnikov
So when they invent it
And fakers have bent it
And nobody cares who it harms
I hope you have fun with your nuclear gun
’cause you have the right to bear arms
21 April 2021 (A slight rewrite of a 2018 poem)
Contest: Guns
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
You arrived the way breath arrives
without announcement,
without asking,
and made yourself essential.
White as the silence between lockdowns,
you crossed the threshold the way light crosses a room:
not invited,
not refused, simply, completely present.
Cloud-pawed, pink-nosed sovereign,
you chose Chaky's lap the way a river chooses its course,
not by permission but by the quiet insistence of gravity,
of going where the warmth was.
You sat in the window's crosshatched light
and watched the world contract to our four walls as if you had foreseen it,
as if a small white planet had already mapped this orbit,
had always known this was the house it would fall into and call home.
Between lockdown and lockdown,
you were the open door.
Meowlu: small declaration,
the way a candle declares itself not by shouting but by burning
I live here.
I matter.
I stayed.
And so,
because of you,
because even the smallest warmth holds something larger in its light,
so did Chaky.
All is hidden within, preparing the mind individualism of fallen
free of the evil which perceive us
Will power strong domination to peace, law created for the good
of man by man in hopes
Master of peace, music to calm spirit of the soul give light
Empires fall while new rise according to poverty, wars around the
world, riot sweeping destruction
New nation rise in belief foreseen to reign, tempt show there
is control over the being that reside
United nation, infiltrated witchcraft to undermine the eye
that creates mayhem of communism
Socialist idea to new world order for peace, among their
journey gain; chaotic society in need of change
Life not your own, manipulated by freemason of secret
society to a knight's order
Left wing catholic, world found by ancient tradition, light
which enlightens the ego's survival of time
Essene bloodline to dark side of truth or mythical belief
save mankind in good faith
Fountain of light to realistic existence to wisdom for
all is light of world, universal cosmic spirit
Blind servant, divine essence create fire in us, we are
the God's to light of Christ
Working for the man, hidden master to WW3 to egotism,
brotherhood to psychic revelation of vast power
Is one leading his own or light fallen darken greed
to which grave meet our demise
Or perhaps descendants of past inhabitants we follow,
all hail to the republican
Hope holds my wrists,
with ribbons that feel like chains—
gentle,
yet impossible to break.
I pace the bars
made of maybes,
counting instances
of what-if, could-be, and if-only,
each probe a step forward.
I press the soft faces
of my restless dreams
through the bars
of tomorrow's mirrors,
fogging the glass,
yearning with my breathing—
too close to see,
too far away to feel.
Some nights
fear rattles the locks loose,
and some negative whispers
seep into my bones,
but I will not stray.
For hope
is the only captor
I trust—
the one who feeds me light,
even through keyholes,
when all else fails.
I could flee these bounds,
and call it 'Freedom',
but I’d rather remain—
smuggling miracles of hope
foreseen through distant cracks
in midnight’s seems.
I'm a Prisoner.
a Prisoner of Hope!
In what seems, can be?
In the cracks of my being!
In a deep night, when silence becomes a muted song,
And my thoughts spin in endless circles,
In a world that weeps, groaning under the weight of the unknown,
I rise from my bed, frightened by the shadows of tomorrow,
And head towards the forest where the lake reflects the blind stars.
There, in the heart of the wild, where nothing is planned, nothing is foreseen,
Where wild ducks float on calm waters like lost dreams,
And great herons feed without worry, without knowing human fear,
I find my refuge, my peace in the silent eye of nature.
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds,
And the night whispers secrets only the wild can understand.
I sit by the lake and feel time come to a standstill,
How silence spreads like a soft blanket over my troubled soul,
And the stars, those unseen stars by day, await their turn to shine,
In this peace of wild things, where pain has no place,
I rest my heart, calm my mind, and am free.
I surrender to this stream of consciousness, where thoughts flow like rivers,
Where melancholy turns to magic, and fear dissolves in simple beauty,
Of beings living without knowing tomorrow, without knowing pain,
I find peace in this wild world, and feel whole again.
I pass those old pine trees in the park often,
where we liked to just lay talking- holding hands;
I stood frozen when they lowered your coffin,
now just a sad girl with tangled hair who stands.
You would so love it this year my darling,
everything is quite green and lush and serene;
there is a bird song- oh, it is a starling _
this destiny I could never have foreseen.
Inspiration "Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay"
_a line by Eve Roper
___________________________
April 6, 2020
Poetry/Rispetto/Our Destiny
Copyright Protected ID 20-1241-686-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for Poetic Lines From A Poetry Soup Poet - Eve Roper
sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
He told them all so in saying what would come to be
Of great suffering and woe 'that will be cast upon me'
He foreseen His Fathers Way in carrying our own cross
In each word He would say the Apostles felt only loss
As Peter would then stand in offering up his own plans
But then did Jesus brand for God's Way is not mans'
By saving life shall it you lose, yet in so giving it do you save
It is all about what you choose and accepting what He gave
For even if you obtain everything one still will not profit
This world being so vain that no one is willing to admit
But what Jesus said at the end "of those who are ashamed of Me "
Such a powerful message to send of how He said it is going to be
For all things are already known as the final prophecies are fulfilled
His Glory and Power has shown for it is what the Father has Willed
Ashamed? Are you kidding me, for I will always celebrate His Name
For it is Jesus who set us free to not praise Him is just a shame
Many do say, the Lord I just don't understand
If I may, for the Lord is just far too grand
Stop trying to figure Him out with your simple mind
For it is when you end doubt that His Glory you shall find
Mark 8:31-38
The Old Zappa song
"More trouble every day"
plays on in my head
every time I turn on the news
and see more trouble every day
as Frank Zappa noted so many years ago
"no one can delay
the trouble coming every day"
Frank Zappa died too soon
before the horrors of the Trump era
that he would have foreseen
if he had lived on
he was truly a prophet
crying in the wildness
while making money
as" an over night sensation"
as he saw the "slime
oozing out of the TV sets"
he proclaimed that we will do what we are told
for the rights to us have been sold
And Jesus too
has been sold
to the highest bidder
nothing but a business deal
in America
the land of the constant deal
where everything and everybody
is nothing but a commodity
to the masters of the universe
and so I turn off the TV
and realize that as Zappa
once sang so many years ago
"the torture never ends"
"the torture never ends"