Long Fourth of july Poems
Long Fourth of july Poems. Below are the most popular long Fourth of july by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fourth of july poems by poem length and keyword.
My heart is broken for our dear Texan dears
Happy campers
Then flash flood washed way
in earth's tears
Words escape me as I write my heart
That grieves with you whose hearts are torn apart
The yellow rose of each precious soul
A childhood dream was summer camp's goal
And oh, the glorious Fourth of July
Turned from delight to "Oh, Dear God, why?"
What words could I lend to each of you
I pray that God will see you through
In tears I reach across the miles
That somehow God would gift you smiles
Of those who now in heaven's wake
Above the heartache's of sorrow's quake
Gaze in glorious wonder and awe
At Christ Himself and angels they saw
Far beyond earth's pain and deception
The safe Haven of Heaven's purest joy
and elation
Father God, comfort dear Texas tonight
Give them heavenly visions
God, hold each soul tight
In Heavenly Father's sweet loving arms
Above sorrow and pain and earths
Flash flooding harms
Please hold them dear Father,
All those mourning here
Give them comforting visions
Holy Spirit, draw near
Far above sorrow of valley and glen
Our prayers reach to heaven
Again, and again
I pray Thee, send comfort
In Your Name Lord
Amen
I was a marvelous ophthalmologist, impacting how others saw this world,
As tomorrow one day sees yesterday, on lanes where hued leaves swirled.
I corrected hazy, crazy vision problems, with eyeglasses and with surgery;
Like a second look, evoked by raspberry rose, to verify beauty's certainty.
I also did frequent research, on hidden causes and cures for eye disease;
Just as reasons for rainbows and stardust, lay hidden in nature mysteries.
I had once studied cosmetology, and I loved the art of applying makeup;
And I never left home without it, like opening red tulip, at sunrise wakeup.
Friends fascinated like fire opals, bringing fetching colors into a vibrant life;
And we relished flaming, flamboyant Fridays, under maroon skies of strife.
Flavorful fruits were fanatically ripening, when feel-good family visited me.
Fiery red raspberries and fat blueberries, fell beneath puff clouds, so pretty.
I lived in the house of sudden mists, in oranges, pinks, purple and scarlet,
Where any day could be right for lovely visions, before the sky grew starlit.
Snap peas and sweet potatoes grew in the gardens, along my sunny street,
In days of searing, scarlet sun salutes, and gold hours of pause and repeat.
Nearby noon gave nectarine notice, as neighborly neighbors came visiting,
When green nature bore a heatwave, like the nesting woodpecker, knocking.
Pink fairy wings bloomed fantasy gardens, as the yellow tiger lilies roared;
And the dragon lulus breathed fire, like ardor cooling for one, once adored.
Brain cacti meditated summer greenery, whilst toad lilies attracted insects;
And pink bottlebrushes swept away sad blues, scrubbing aside dour defects.
I was attending a Fourth of July cook out, hosted by the fondest of families;
But the makeup I'd ordered was late, forcing me to put aside pure vanities!
By the time I left for the plum, pleasant party, I was feeling oddly liberated;
And family and friends did not notice my lack, like stars, clouds obliterated.
I had a lovely time that rosy day, when martins sang like the Fourth of July,
Amidst mauve festivity and lemon sunshine, and bellflowers ringing nearby!
The lesson I learned that vivid day, is to glam up or not, according to mood,
For people are still loveable either way, like faint dawn moon, briefly viewed.
I Dont Give A Fig About The Brouhaha...
of new year's eve,
yet yours truly does consider
at least one singular plum me facet by Jeeve
er...Robert (or Rabbie) Burns,
a profoundly poignant poem, he did conceive.
Anyway, this wordsmith fascinated
by historical lyricist whose unbelieve
hub bull lee brief life, nonetheless
made a lasting contribution,
a psalm burr tune folks across webbed
wide world sing to grieve
of recent sorrows past, plus pay
homage to joys summoned from
deep within core of soul bellowed
forth with an exultant heave
perhaps unbeknownst to most Robert Burns
(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796) did leave
his lasting legacy, sans (as national poet
of Scotland celebrated worldwide)
particularly the classic traditional chestnut
auld lang syne rendered in many versions
waving white capping
New Year's eve celebration proud
accomplishments one did achieve.
Coincidentally, "Auld Lang Syne"
and "America the Beautiful"
at which juncture, I interject
a historical grace note to mull
how latter named above patriotic
song in the United States,
(lyrics written by Katharine Lee
Bates saw many occasions
after music composed by church organist
and choirmaster Samuel
A. Ward at Grace Episcopal Church
in Newark, New Jersey) dull
lighting oomph and pizazz, extant
since early 1900s, origin gin null
intent format arranged as poem,
"Pikes Peak first published
Fourth of July full
edition of the church periodical
The Congregationalist in 1895,
now sung by mull teat hoods at Super Bowl
every year since 2009, and appeared pull
say ting stadiums at some sports events
after the 9/11 terror attack hull
lob bell loo in 2001.
The song comprises four verses,
one of isung before kick-off
in NFL's showpiece game.
Just by giving cerebral activity free rein,
this inquisitive mind of mine
learned how twenty first century New Year's
celebration include auld lang syne
linkedin with feted mid eighteenth poet
laureate, whose death at thirty seven, his spine
tingling spirit issues forth to give
him immortality almost divine
everlasting longevity within the pantheon
of August artists who humanity did assign
an eternal place future generations will
revere such metrical design.
How small we were sitting in the backseat of that mammoth car. We were dwarfed on the giant sofa-like bench waiting like a great amusement ride about to start. While we waited we explored our new surroundings. The lining inside the cavernous car was short-hair and smooth and as we ran our small hands across the surface, it felt like a young boy’s scalp after his first summer haircut. It was grey, the color of an elephant toy that had been won by our uncle last year at the fourth of july carnival. We explored the shiny chrome ashtrays. You could see your reflection in them like a mirror and we wondered if the owner used them to shave in the mornings as his chauffeur drove him to work. They were spring-loaded and snapped viciously at our little fingers. They smelled of foul ash and stale gum. There were large cranks with polished brown knobs, handles that controlled the windows. Turning them took all our strength like cranking the hand pump for water in the kitchen at Grandmas house on the farm. There were baby windows beside the big ones and they closed with little widget clips, swiveling inward so you could control the direction and amount of air that rushed in when the car was in motion. Too small to see outside, we sat dwarfed in the backseat watching the tops of trees go by and playing with a doll and a green plastic soldier. The doll was homemade from an old sock. The soldier, alone, separated from an army of plastic soldiers that came in a bag we could not afford. He was found, as most toys were, in the gutter or on the schoolyard, abandoned by the more affluent children. Small, simple toys that would not be missed from a rich kids over-stuffed closet. We knew we had to be quiet, for to make noise would be to draw attention that would come in the form of punishment. A slap on the bare thigh of a young boy in shorts or a young girl in a dress would leave a red welt for hours. The ride always seemed so very long that soon our patience would give out and a bump in the road would trigger a tidal wave of emotions; a push escalating to a shove, a pinch and then a shout. The crested wave would end in a crashing roar with a parents’ curse, a stinging slap, and a whimpering cry. Only puddles remaining, tide pools composed of wet pants and tears.
I was waiting to see if you would come to take a bath in the island sun and throw your towel on the sand and soak your winter in my pleasure.
I was hoping that you would come to celebrate the Fourth of July with me and sample the island’s white rum.
You can taste our chicken jerk, their dogs hot, smoked hamburger and barbecue resting on the shoulder.
You can have a long glass of cane juice and escovitch fish served on a platter, and when you are done, you can walk with me about the yard and warm yourself in the island sun.
Come and celebrate the Fourth of July with me, and bring your friends, coworker, children, spouse and family.
Come and celebrate the Fourth of July with me to honor congress declaration of Independence of the colonies' and their separation from Great Britain; come and celebrate the fourth of July with me to honor George Washington and Joe. Biden’s legacy.
Come and celebrate the fourth of July with me to remember all the lives that were lost and those that paid a brutal sacrifice in American war of Independence from Britain.
Those brave men and women gave their lives for a free America to have a cup of tea in peace and to trade their coffee without taxation; Adams, Thomas, and Jefferson were significant deal breakers in American war of Independence
April 4th 1776 was an historical day when Britain and America went their separate way and the tea taxation war was over, but Britain and America still maintain that special relationship.
Come celebrate the fourth of July with me and watch the fireworks mounting up from the earth and exploding in the sky in a spectacular scene that surreal.
This American tradition is enjoyed throughout the land; families always gather together hugging and loving one another while they watch the fireworks parade in the sky lighting up the world. This magnificent view will make your dream come true.
Come celebrate the fourth of July with me and erect a make shift table in a hot balloon; we will float around the world and stop in France before the meeting begin.
You will gather the young protesters together and take them out for supper, tell them that you love them and declare that the war is over. Come celebrate the fourth of July with me.
I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
dehydrated...I
i think of you
I wish someone could turn the
moon back on, turn the dimmer back up
on the stars. I can't stand these dark
black nights void of even one tiny ray
of light. I am tired of walking blind through
the evenings of my everyday life...I
i think of you
Yesterday I dreamt the night sky exploded.
Bright white pinholes of light appeared .
It was as if an invisible hand was holding a huge
Fourth of July sparkler against a waterfall of black gold.
I watched the oil well blaze. The whole Earth was on fire.
The world was burning hot. Without fear I walked through
the flames warm, comforted as if I was being held in his light...I
i think of you
Still in the grip of my sleep suddenly an ocean appears.
its water rises and shapes itself like the head of a dragon.
Its neck is shaped like a Chinese silk fan. At the same time
it is just a huge wave. The kind surfers expect to find in heaven.
There is nothing threatening about this apparition.
Quite the opposite like the fire it feels as if it is a part of me...I
i think of you
Do I miss you?
Miss you? I died with you!
There's a knock at my door but I'm not here.
Life's going to have to wait. I'm in hiding.
I feel safe inside my walls. In reality my bedroom light
is all the outdoors I need. It is my Sun. I hate here without you.
So I lie in my bed motionless starring into my nothingness and I...
i think of you
(Frozen!)
As time passes...introspective...I begin to understand.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water all the elementals are him.
(I begin to thaw!)
He is with me even in my ignorance he has never left me.
You can take the lord into your heart without a word by accepting his light.
(Slightly cold!)
A deeper, purer understanding. A trust that rejects the dark no
matter how black. I am a part of all, a part of one as you are. A part of me.
(Warm!)
I open my curtains...watch the dark exit
hurried as love rushes in. Firmly in his hold...I
I think of you...
Once again with you.
Fully! We...the power of one...I
I think of us.
The Beginning!
March 25 2015
Armand
It’s Valentines Day full of cards and kisses
Wish you were here covers all of my wishes
Easter is here and were celebrating our lord
Each day that passes I miss you even more
It’s been seven years today since we said, “I do”
It seems longer than that since I last held you
We all gather together for the birth of our land
It’s the Fourth of July and your not here as we planned
It’s your birthday today marking 34 years
When I think of you celebrating alone, it brings me to tears
Now it’s thanksgiving and the families all here
The rooms filled with spirit and still your not here
Out of habit I set a place at the tables head
The kids leave it and “Soon Mom” is all that was said
Santa is coming and kids are full of cheer
I try to keep smiling even though you are not here
Pictures with Santa and the lighting of the tree
Smiles on Christmas morning I wish you could see
We gather to wish good tidings to all
I sit and wait by the phone thinking maybe you’d call
You have missed a great deal in the year you’ve been gone
Jason had a great time at his junior prom
Katie turned seven and Chrissie turned two
For all their birthday wishes- they just wished for you
At night we all get tucked into bed
We snuggle up close and then bow our heads
Dear Lord please keep special watch over our Dad
If anything happens to him we’ll be so sad
He’s over helping the other country grow
Doing his job as you already know
He’s helping other little boys and girls
Opening their eyes to a whole new world
We are so proud of him and hold our heads high
But each night we hear mommy lay there and cry
We all miss him more than you know
Yet during the day we don’t let it show
We have to be strong and keep the faith
That soon he’ll be home with us and be safe
We are proud to hang that flag up high
We are all so full of American pride
We pray for all the soldiers’ safe return home
We pray that there are no more families left alone
Dear God for this Christmas please hear us pray
Bring our soldiers home where they belong, where they’ll stay
Form:
Dear Lady Liberty get down with the modern times,
Are we not the land of freedom, let the new rheum
Fill your scents, and let us all rock on!
The world is spinning with a harder edge beat, and
We as Americans thrive on its high power over drive,
The bigger the challenge the smoother the rolling stone!
These times here are rough they say, but a nation born
From this tough working class, just grins deeper, and sings
Louder our praise for the red, white and blues!
Toils tears are soaked within our Levi grains, as we play,
Born in the U.S.A. on those sacred radio waves!
Give me Liberty or give me death, is a history phrase,
We still believe in today, as the rocks blare and burst
Against the nights sky on the fourth of July, and in the
Back ground sound it’s not just noise, but it’s us American’s
Getting it down!
Blaze forever onwards slamming it ever onwards, the rhythm
Of the people, for the people of this nation of Rock and Rollers,
Die hard individuals that make this land worth living for, working for,
And believing in, the message lives on in our words of lyrical pride!
Sun down you better take care, for foreign invader better beware,
For we are the generation of Mr. Lightfoot, and here we don’t
Play fair!
Brothers and sisters gather beneath our flag of honor,
Blessed by God, in fortunes favor, let the golden eagle
Soar forever free above this nation Gathered together
In liberty, and justice for all!
Let the storms rage be as a thundering bolts reckoning,
We are the strong, the people of pioneering generations,
The enduring, the surviving, so just bring it on we’re
Ready for the fight, as we rock the night with our
Torches lit bright, for we are the Americans, standing
Tall and proud!
So let us rock forever, join in the hard core beat,
Can’t you feel those good vibrations, chiming from
That cracked bell, it echoes down those majestic mountains,
Across those amber waves of grain, behold the ties that
Bind us together in a timeless rheum, of humanities
Brotherhood!
Dear Lady Liberty get down with the modern times,
Are we not the land of freedom, let the new rheum
Fill your scents, and let us all rock on!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Where did this world come to. Their are many prophecies in the Bible that came true. Sin has entered in this world because of us. Where was your loyalty to your maker and trust. Now we have deaths and diseases but still we have Jesus. Many earthquakes rocks your lustful dates and still you wonder about the many lives you left for fate. You ask yourselves are we living in a dream? You travel to space but yet their is still darkness it seems. Don’t forget the unborn babies who are dying everyday; if they were old enough and living, wouldn’t they have a say? This virus is a never ending story and yet people still celebrate it with an unmask glory. Pride takes its course but wouldn’t you want peace and a change in reverse? We lost Kobe Bryant, a determined basketball star and father who had a wife who he loved and made stronger. You think about tomorrow before you take your first breath. You think if you would have a good day today or if their is anyone left. Fourth of July is on its way but what are we celebrating when all we can do is pray. Distractions are a midst in everyday storms. Their are so many people who are dying and so many lives who’ve been torn. Divorces and break ups are always a discussion. Their is no time for make ups and help but more destruction. So many tears are falling down the ocean’s shore. Their is too much water for our little eyes to store. Imagine if this world was a peaceful place. Imagine starring at Jesus with so much love face to face. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want that true fact? What about George Floyd, didn’t he have a choice? Maybe if we took off all our blinders and start putting on our seeing reminders. A reminder that Jesus Christ has never left you nor forsaken you. A reminder that when things get weary everything he knew about you was true. Love, peace, happiness, life, laughter, a beautiful smile, kindness, gentleness and a heart filled with gold was always in the Bible and was always told. You are somebody and we all can make a difference in choosing the right way and sharing our hopeful deliverance. Let’s all make this right and love one another. Let’s all make this world a better place. God Bless your beautiful souls!
I was born and raised in my house, which isn’t home.
At heart, I am from the orange brick house in Westridge Farms
Where I never even lived
There, the pawprints I stamped on the driveway may have long since washed away
But I still left my mark
Even if it was just in the eyes of the horses that watched me walk the gray, cracked road.
I am from the frozen breakfasts we thought were homemade
And still loved all the same
I am from pancakes mangled by the state-of-Nebraska, star, and heart cookie cutters
And the orange juice I drank from a sippy cup long after it was appropriate
Because where I’m from, there was no getting old
There were only butterfly-shaped cookies and Sesame Street volumes.
There was only spending hours outside making pottery out of mud.
There was only picking aronia berries and pursing my lips at the bitter taste before feeding them all to the birds.
My love of cats sparked from the strays I would name and call my own.
I was sculpted by the way the sun shined through the shades in the living room, making it impossible to see the cartoons that always played in the morning.
I am from the uncomfortable metal chairs resting on scorched concrete
Where we sat watching colors explode over the Nebraska sky every fourth of July.
I am from the old picket fence i would climb over
To watch the sun set over the cornfield.
I am from the pine trees that raised me.
The one in Gretna that hid me,
The one in Waverly that sheltered me,
And the one here in my hometown
That put me on top of the world.
I am from two weeks of school
And dancing around the living room
Followed by months of patio visits six feet apart
And spontaneous “I love you” cards in the mail,
Shipped to the orange brick house in Westridge Farms.
I am from 24 and the blacklist
After family dinners every night.
And the only people who made my own house feel like home.
I am from playing flashlight tag and hide and seek
While running around barefoot because I refused to put on shoes.
I am from the family that I found without needing to look,
And the days we spent taking risks, riding bikes, and climbing trees until the sun went down.