Long Heavy laden Poems

Long Heavy laden Poems. Below are the most popular long Heavy laden by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heavy laden poems by poem length and keyword.


City of the Son

There is a hiding place from all life’s woes
                   A city, where the weary and heavy laden may go.
                    A resting place where from the world, I am free.
                A sanctuary of grace that welcomes all inside its gate.
                        A place where time must yield to eternal day, 
                          and all sorrow and tears are wiped away.
                       A city where streams of blessings flow and no 
                            pain,  or heartache shall we ever know.
                          Sweet solace for the soul; how I long to go!
                       The gates of the city stand open night and day
                        refuge for everyone; life eternal in the city of the Son!


Premium Member Raging Skies

Raging skies with the thunder cracking within its midst
She treads heavily ahead as the storm on her persists

No moon tonight, just the lightning breaking her darkness
With shards of brilliance against this backdrop of harshness

Her small body numb with the coldness, she’s heading home
This the only peaceful sanctuary she has truly ever known 

Where she can kill the monsters wrongly placed inside her head
Casting off all those eerie ghosts that follow her at last to bed

Pained by all others ignorance seen on her ever so tired face
As guardian warriors protecting her, follow her in every pace

Behind her the raging skies still persist . . .  

Carrying his hate for her, he’s relentless, he wants her life snuffed
But listening not she carries on; of his hatred she has had enough

Reaching home with every light within it lit, she arrives at the door
Once inside her own sanctuary at long last her troubles are no more

Standing at a window she waits for the raging skies to subdue
Consumed within his own ego she whispers “I still love you”

At last the raging skies disappear as his anger then implodes
An inner peace granted she once yet again on him bestows 

She pulls the heavy laden velvet curtains on a night long gone 
Within the cracks a new sun rises from the horizon beyond 

He awakens inside whilst her tired soul then goes to sleep
Feelings provoked between them not forgot, still run deep

Still run deep . . .
Form: Ballad

Brooding Nimbus

Quote by author: "Its as if an angel wept and left behind all the tears of heaven's sorrow"

The floodgates of my thoughts wide opened 
and out came an outpouring of love and compassion 
from the font of my wicker nebulous heart* 
I saw him with my naked eye fighting for his life  
struggling for re-entry into God's kingdom; 
His mother cradled him softly in the softest enmesh of her 
aching arms, over and over she repeated his name  
like a sacred mantra.
He was born with a congenital heart defect 
and wasn't expected to live over the age of one. 
She walked him to the window and inside the sky 
she saw a crepuscular light appear just before the sunrise
As the child was bathed in light two blue eyes opened 
and a cupid mouth shaped an O, though nothing came out 
but a deep deep sigh; 
His chest heaved and with his eyes lifted to heaven 
he was taken by a brooding nimbus cloud that appeared out of no where. 
The rain began to fall gently from a heavy laden sky,  
his soul saturated by love, climbed to heaven without even once having had the chance to ask God, Why? 

#3 Brooding Nimbus

Premium Member Come Unto Me -Matthew 11:28-30

Jesus issues out His holy call
to those whose life labours are sore
they are heavily laid down near beat
unable humanly speaking to take anymore

But the good Lord offers His rest
a gracious peaceful divine antidote
to lift them up from life's battles
wrap them round with His graceful coat

God's word tells them what they need
to put on His perfectly fitted yoke
learning from Him what's for their good
for He can heal whatever is broke

This God is gentle and lowly in heart
here is found their soul's true rest
the Lord is full of love and grace
one that gives so you'll be blessed

So come unto me He says
His yoke's easy, His burden's light
this world can't offer such a thing
as this Lord's presence is sheer delight


("Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”)
Matthew 11 vs. 28-30. (ESV)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Lost in Nature

Shade from the leaves lies on the grass
    so silent and peaceful
My eyes and my senses will trespass
    For that, I am grateful

The shimmering day glistens with beauty
as a half-moon hangs in the morning sky
like a broken button on a blue coat
tied by a bright belt on the horizon

The Eastern sky is burning red
    the sun slowly rises
the last thread of the night has fled
    dawn reveals surprises

A relaxed welcome is felt in the moment
breath becomes quiet to welcome the day
I'll keep my movements to a minimum
as my eyes dine with Nature as I rest

Eyes heavy-laden with Nature
    the beauty it can spawn
Nature to me is no stranger
    I'll watch as life goes on
Form: Verse


Now, Falls the Snow

Heavy laden this mix of rain and early March snow
  listing in the wind down to the un-expecting earth below.
At first, a barely visible mix, cold and chilling throws
  where once peeking daffodils and tulips grow.

A tease set deep upon the earth
  when spring was thought to be rebirthed
but now comes the wind, the chill, the bitter cold
  blinding white scenes of stories of old.

Children will remember this
  where ice and snow chiseled an icy kiss
and footholds are carefully tread
  beneath the trees snapped and widely spread.

A flash of light, untethered blue
  followed by  thundered rumbled stew
snow thunder heralds loud and through
  the fall of eight inch drifts accrued.

March surprise, entered in like a lion glidinf
  storm adventures brewing undenying
wait for the warm, chill factor disappearing
  spring will return with  blessings more endearing.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Urge of My Soul

URGE OF MY SOUL:

I always feel some urge inside of myself,
Although I can't describe exactly how it's shelved.
It's supernatural and so great,
And it pushes me to walk with strong faith.
So I trust in the existence of this Sovereign God,
Who birth the universe with an accord.
Yet, my own eyes have never seen Him before,
Nothing stops me from getting God adored,
As my soul keeps singing these words to the creator as an applaud,

"The name Jehovah is so divine,
His Supremacy is totally everlasting.
All His creations prove He is really kind,
And He gives rest to they that are heavy laden.
In fact, He is the sage's utmost desire,
And in His goodness, I'm gracefully hidden.
So why should I idolise mere humans,
Whose ambitions are carnally planned,
Or why should I worship a graven image,
That would profit me nothing but gabbage?
It's only the fool who doubt Jehovah's existence,
But believe in unnecessary stuff beingness..."

Premium Member Shizumanu Taiyo

A moonlight silhouette ... of a sleeping mountain.
A living forest ... tall trees in fullness.
Underbrush heavy laden ... a patchwork of paths.
The moon is hiding ... the stars are hiding.
The night air stays cold ... light touches of frost.
All creatures are in stillness.
Unnatural noise awakes ... mountain forest creatures flee.
Darkness astir to bright light.
Chaos tangles a forest ... tall trees and brush full of pain.
Heard by dazed small life below.
Burning light shows the horror.
Moaning, groaning, crying screams ... most are unable to move.
Few hanging in trees ... subtle movements here and there.
Bodies of living and dead ... scattering midst the debris.
Time is of no use.
Many cling to life ... many more to hope.
Desperate prayers for help.
Cold, the enemy of life ... reckoning befalls.
Heartfelt prayers for loved ones.
Devout ancestral prayers.
Many sleeping peacefully ... prayers swept to memories.
Opens a book to scriptures.
A time of Oneness.
Descendants join ancestors.
In a place far, far, away.
Five hundred twenty ... are joined with their ancient past.
The realm of a Dynasty.
Four holds on to life.
Fate chooses for you.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Happy Labor Day

Whether the work-load is manual or high-tech exercises; 
Whether it taxes our brain, leaving us without answers;
Or dirties our entire body with dirt, dust, and grease;
Whether the tasks stress our emotions to the max:
Or compel us to take prescription pills to relax;
We all labor so that we may reach a point of rest and ease.

This Labor Day, I am inspired to consider One who has already
labored on our behalf and pointed us to the entryway of eternal
rest. The workload of laws, rules, and regulations; the religious
taskmasters of do's and don'ts have been nullified and set aside.
Christ has taken our laborious job on the 'work your way to heaven
train' and set us free from all the guilt, shame, and pain.

So, on this Labor Day holiday, if not a Christian, consider the
possibilities. If a Christian, meditate on the reality of One taking
away all of the heavy lifting that has been driving and promising us 
much but yielding only losses and no gains. Consider Jesus who says, 
"Come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest". * May we cease from spiritual labor, and enter His Rest. Happy Labor Day.

090123PS
*Matthew 11:28
Form: Verse

The Gardens of May

The garden now
 recovering from winter's barren ice cold
 begins to grow in April rain showers;
lush with a multitude of greens
 a grace of earthen decor releases colors
 and scents floating in the breeze.
Seaweed brightens into pickled crocodiles
 while juniper moss proliferates 
 to olive sage pears;
shamrock green glisten like emeralds 
 in the chartreuse lime mints
 each wafting on the breath of lilacs.
Lily of the valley peek up
 rushing in on heavy laden dew
 as honeysuckle blossoms aromatize the fields,
a sea of lavender dances between mayapple and pear
 where wild mustard clusters in the in between
 with white, yellow, purpled violets rising everywhere.
May is born anew
 a spring blushing in the shadowed light
 picture perfect awakening the garden in May.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

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