Long Hem Poems
Long Hem Poems. Below are the most popular long Hem by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hem poems by poem length and keyword.
Caravans all covered with sand;
Release the agent's contraband;
Eat hearty children all over the lands;
All bloated bodies human beings;
~
My trust is not in man;
My trust is not in man;
My trust not lost;
But it is in Him;
And the hem of His garment is my trust is in Jesus
It's just the touch of Him I feel I'll be healed;
Yes! By the touching of the hem of His garment,
I shall be healed,
By the touch of His garment
I shall be healed;
~
Devotional idols are with our minds
Sometime it's based on what we spend times on
All aboard to this ship
You don't want to miss this cruise I'm in
~
As I peer through the port
I see a man walking on the waters
With arms hands reaching out to me
He says come my son come out and join me
~
My trust is not in man
My trust is not in man
My trust is not lost
But it is in Him
And the Him that reaches His arms out to me Jesus
As He walks the sea, Jesus
It's just His touch I need
Yes! By touching the hem of His garment
I shall walk torrent rancid waters
I shall be healed by the touch of His garment
I shall be healed
~
O' if I could just touch the Son
If I could just touch Jesus
The Christ, everything in my life in front of me will be alright
~
So I keep my eyes on the prize
So that I won't fall under
I put on the Lord as my garment with him, I Prevail
I won't fail my trust, my trust is yet and still in front of me
My trust is in Jesus Christ
2/22/14
Written words & arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr 2014, 2021
These shaded scars may alarm,
Yet in my eyes, they are surely painted.
Scorned love that which won’t harm
In my sigh of relief I cry to this, tainted.
Fire lustfully denies the everso carnaging fate.
Torn apart by the advantage of its flaws,
I am morley sewed up in these lion claws.
I am surely bowed up in famen i did cause.
Take my flower
And take my name.
Don’t leave a crumb.
Don’t leave me numb.
Apologies won’t phase
In this love-land daze.
Bruises I Hem, in which shade,
Paint over the pale flesh I jade.
Flying in a strong state of contentment,
I turn back to find my eyes are closed.
I am nothing but a seeping resentment
In a life of dreary follies, now disposed.
“as both this form and boundless space
cravings of ego negated
awake, vibrant yet nonchalant
bliss drenched heart remains elated”
Unseeking Seeker
Create in me oh God a clean heart
Burn the impurities cast the vanities
I know You as Creator of me flesh art
You saved from depth of insanity
Fullness in emptiness I wish to be
Baptized in the Spirit and the word
Like a new wine skin first empty
Flowing over with holy sermon heard
If I only touch His garment hem
I can be free of what ails my soul
For the Lord hears my cry my whim
Healing my heart body making whole
Fullness in emptiness I aim to be
As new wine skin before blessing
TOUCHING THE HEM OF BEAUTY SEE
Beauty of a beautiful brunette
Brings me back to a brittle moods
Bright eye, eye bouncing
Along a blind alley
I counted the moon that rises
As the farthest of galaxy, making me to
Dawdle to talking broach of a royal bird that struck
My heart pendulous
Thus daunting the processing of my dating agent
Still in my brittle mood
The mood that moves
Pure as the starting glory of the day break
Singing the chorus of the dawn
Her winding air are numbered
Piercing my inner mood
With the thought as Damocles
I filled, head over heels, with love
With her vibrating self
Whereas her head dress head casing
The head hunter which all coming to touch the hem
Of her flowing garment that heals the lovesick
Another day, i saw her
In a close lane
I saw her, keeping her head down
In all her all attractive elegance...
So i planned my request
The muted discuss that reincarnate in thought
My deep shy feelings was en covered
Giving me much words that woos.
I have pieces of sewing machines all over my house.
Most of the pieces are there, but not all of them,
Of course I do not discover this until I want to use them.
One is missing the front dial,
Another is missing the thing that holds the bobbin in.
A third is all there except for the pressure foot, which is sort of needed.
Pieces which were taken off by curious children, or lost by me.
It is hard to say which,
Missing pieces nonetheless,
Annoying when I want to hem something once or twice a decade.
So off to the store I go when I want to fix something or make something or something.
To pick up another sewing machine.
As you can imagine, I always buy a cheap one.
I’m flabbergasted at how the streets are thronged
Could You be the one for whom twelve years I’ve longed?
Oh say, a Physician like no other before seen?
Different from the kind to where I had been?
Could Your timing have been more impeccable?
And Your approach be more unbelievable?
But I’ll undoubtedly put the last of my trust in You
I have much to lose, yes, indeed that’s true
But out of options I’ve finally run
And now even money, I truly have none
So I will find my way to your garment
So You can put an end to this bloody ailment
With an old blood-stained dress
I start out and on I press
I hurry through the deafeningly noisy crowd
Each one giving a careless, yet imploring shout
And it feels like You move further
With every step I take to get closer
“Please, if You are the Saviour”, I think,
“help me to press on, for I’m at the brink
Of breaking down, about to forfeit
I’m helplessly at the mercy of defeat.”
Not only will I touch your garment
But You will make my life to Your goodness a testament
Finally, after pushing past the multitude, I see an open space
To my advantage, in the other direction, is turned His face
Unworthy I am, so I really do not have to talk to Him
All I truly need to do is swiftly touch His hem
The hem of the Saviour’s garment, that’s all I really need
And then from this sickening bondage of blood I’ll be freed
I touch His garment, and it really was not my intention
To in any way catch the Saviour’s attention
I find it strange that no change in me I see
Until that mysterious Physician spots me
And confirms soothingly to my soul
“…thy faith hath made thee whole.”
So not only will I touch the hem of Your garment swiftly
But I will praise You from the bottom of my heart sweetly
Not only will I touch the hem of Your garment as I said I would
But I will ever bear in my heart of hearts to my Saviour gratitude
Not only will I touch the hem of Your garment, but strife
I will, as I hold onto You, Lord, for dear life
Not only will I touch the hem of Your garment with my finger
But in Your presence I will overstay my welcome and persistently linger
Not only will I touch the hem of Your garment as scary
As it may seem, I will cling to You, oh, loving and lovable Redeemer of Calvary
I am functioning but broken,
I still answer the calls.
send the emails
and keep the days moving
because life does not pause for pain.
To everyone looking in
I seem like I have things under control.
Inside, burnout sits on my chest
like a heavy bag of cold, wet sand.
It turns the simple act of getting out of bed
into a cold, solid, concrete wall that I just cannot climb over.
I lie there in the quiet...
watching the light shift across the wall,
staring at the dirty clothes,
the unwashed dishes
and the dust gathering on the sill.
My mind a rollercoaster of emotions flying on a loop.
I wonder how I am supposed to keep going.
Will the medicine kick in
because I ran out of strength three weeks ago.
How do you choose joy
when you are carrying a shattered heart in a working body?
You stop pretending you can lift that weight yourself.
You just lay your head back on the pillow
and let the Lord step right into the cluttered room.
He doesn't stand in the doorway shaking His head.
He steps right over the pile of unfinished work,
walks through the dark corners of your mind
and sits down on the dusty floor beside the bed.
He reaches out with calloused hands,
places them right over that cold, wet sand
on your chest.
Pulls your shaking fingers into His own.
He breathes in slow.
Teaching your lungs how to take the very next breath.
Joy isn't pretending the mess went away.
It is looking down and seeing the Lord
sitting right there in the dirt with you.
His sleeves rolled up and His palms warm
against your skin.
It is Him gently turning your face away from the wreckage,
wiping the sweat and tears off your cheeks
and letting you know it is okay to rest
while He sits guard over your soul.
I am functioning but broken, yes.
I am standing in a life covered in dust and scattered pieces.
We are in this together now,
walking this long road side by side,
taking it one single step at a time
as I reach out to touch the hem of His garment.
SO THAT WE MIGHT TOUCH HIS HEM
heaven’s masterpiece
steps down from His throne
no fear of a baby born here
we identify with our own form
our Master gentle and kind
the Creator shows us the way
God’s perfect mediator
Himself incarnate
still we look up and see the stars
look down and see the orb
we stand on as it hovers in space
not easy to explain
His holy kiss
the washing of feet
the tears and hugs
the transfiguration—
the A-W-E of God
walking on water
the W-O-W of God
this newborn babe born in Bethlehem
will be called
Wonderful Counselor*
Mighty God
Everlasting Father
Prince of Peace
At His awesomeness we fall like dead men at His feet
As a starlit babe we view Him in a way we can understand
both Man and God, Deliverer and Judge
Christmas day upon us, may we hold His hem, kiss the Son
Let us stand, raise our hands in awe of Him, who commands
12/23/2018
Isaiah 9:6-7 Old Testament prophecy