Long Holy Poems
Long Holy Poems. Below are the most popular long Holy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Holy poems by poem length and keyword.
If you look closely, you can
See the pain on my face.
My bones ache deep inside,
Sleep I often chase.
To walk to the bathroom,
Fills me with dread.
My soul is tortured,
Hard to deal with my head.
It even hurts to
Comb my hair.
My two emotions,
Anger and despair.
Depression has a grip on me,
My hands have the shakes.
The messed-up memories,
And all the stupid mistakes.
My eyes ache from
The tears I cried.
My only prayer,
To be numb inside.
All the tears and
A runny nose.
My hands clench into fists
And I curl my toes.
I'm wound too tight,
Have I lost my grip?
My mind runs off on
Some crazy trip.
A road to madness,
Enters my mind.
Every time I remember,
My wife left me behind.
I divert my thoughts,
I don't want to see.
Insanity beckons and
Calls out to me.
Holy crap, I don't need
Things to be clearer.
Reality grips me with
A sudden terror.
Turbo1904 ?
Start
We often come across a certain day
When we cannot find a single way
To replace despondency with hope
Discard the thought of taking dope
We remember God and seek his blessing
Offer prayers and keep guessing
Will He help, or will He not?
There’s no way of reading His thought
We seek the guidance of a holy man
Request him to suggest a remedy if he can
He listens carefully to all our woes
Prepares a long list of rituals he knows
We perform the rituals as he says
Thinking it’ll end our bad days
But, things continue as they were
All the efforts fail to succor
One fine day a comedian finds us
Enthralls us without much fuss
Eliciting laughter loud and clear
Removes depression and brings cheer
There is no better medicine in life
To reduce tension and end strife
Than sharing hearty laughter
And enjoying bliss thereafter
Our earthbound concepts stifle and betray.
By living in the now, our every move’s
testimony to desires wrought in tales.
Our actions marred by spectacular fail,
but many lessons learned are treasure troves,
still earthbound concepts stifle and betray.
From numerous relationships I’ve bailed;
the eager lovers passing by in droves,
testimony to desires wrought in tales.
Often condemned by society, Holy Grail
of idealism that rebounds, and strove
by earthbound concepts stifled and betrayed.
Some friable notions foisted upon hale
and hearty folk who similar’ behove
testimony to desires wrought in tales.
We cleave to original mistake,* nailed
by brazen sillage† of the sin of love
for earthbound concepts—stifled and betrayed.
Testimony to desires wrought in tales.
NOTES
*‘Technically, sin itself was a Christian invention, a mistranslation of the Hebrew word chait, meaning error, a mistake.’ From the novel The Secret Purposes, by David Baddiel.
†Sillage in perfume refers to the aura or trail created by a perfume when it is worn on the skin. It comes from the word in French for ‘wake’ and can best be described as how a fragrance diffuses around the wearer. Sillage or diffusion in fragrances can also be called the ‘projection’ of a fragrance.
What special touches - the eyes, the mouth, his hands.
The brushes illuminate the solid ground - his walk.
Invisible beings painted in, sentries stand by, awaiting
his slightest command. The diablos stands by too,
mocking each mark of Jesus’ path, for he holds on tight
to the wretched and weak beings, the easily tempted,
the hungry beggars, the lame, suffering and sick.
The scorch of Christ’s touch, as he heals Adams and Eves,
the liar does not like this, not one little bit. The release
of light into their eyes, the clearing of their consciences,
bitterness fleeing, wounds sealed up as if they never existed.
The howling of a wanderer in this cursed earth. He recalls
those gentle eyes, those wise words, the beauty of the garden.
The horn’d reject can only wind around weeds, thorns, hollowed
branches - something that would make mankind’s skin crawl.
Christ’s see-through hands, reach out and touch, lepers
and lowly woman bereft of freedom. When his mouth moves
the inner universe of each soul either erupts or folds.
The son’s magnificent eyes made of gold, shine as the Father of lights.
Holy Spirit comfort radiates the passion of warmth and O
when he weeps, the impression of Rembrandt’s plates sear.
Multitudes of destitute and growling tummies follow his beat.
When he speaks of eating his flesh and drinking his blood
the murmuring crowd, much like the Israelites in the desert,
turn their backs, with no understanding of the Mannah’s lips.
The dozen choose him. Who else shall we go to. We know you.
Although one is a plant, a weed himself. Should we feel sorry
for the gold digger? He oft shakes the communal bag, opens
and sifts it like sand, retrieving a couple grains. If he only knew
the cost. O the cost! Did he steal the tithe? The ten percent
would be like quicksand. The devil would leave him hanging.
What special touches - the eyes, the mouth, his hands.
The brushes illuminate the solid ground - his walk.
Christ’s frame humble and confident, his mission to save.
2/1/2021
God is a gentleman
A gentle loving Father
He will ask you always still
Never force you into His righteousness His love
With aligned spirit He would
Gently whisper in your ear, always still
will you allow Himself to soften your heart
He will you allow Himself
To sweeten the part, always still
That the sour spot
Renew His heart He loan you
That you regurgitate, always still
You will you'll allow Him
To soften the stoned hardened heart
You will you allow Him to remove the Pains The strife, always still
Will allow Him to dissolve that which is not
Renewed The mind and Spirit rejuvenate the heart
And soul His love pumping nothing but love, always still
Virtuous juices holy spiritually filled you behold
A renewed Beauty a renewed heart
A renew mind you're His alone special, always still
Is the heart that becomes a new witness
With the love of God illuminating fires from The Father's Heart
Always Still
Hallelujah
3/12/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
("Anagogical Moments Merit Badge" #39, 2011, original oil)
As Above So NOT Below
The tripartite world of material appearance
Sandwiched between the infinite depths
Of the unconscious
And infinite expanse
Of transcendent supraconsciousness
Encompasses all that is and isn’t
Known and unknown
Desired and undesirable….
Confused, turned upside down
By our own inverted perceptions
Most of us contentedly live
Lives of ignorant bliss
Even though it’s more often one of suffering
Nestled securely in the middle
Within the sandwich of two ineffables
High and low.
And then there are the few
Driven for whatever perverse reasons
To escape the safe and mundane
Striving for transcendence
Most often settling instead for descendence
Into the unconscious.
This is the easy path after all
The downward path of gravity
Earth Mother
Universal womb
And holy bhaga.
And so we go
Tempted by The Fates to strive
In whatever way they guide us
For the unattainable
Or that which once attained
Dissolves all other….
And so we rise
You and I against all odds
Against the force of Nature
Somehow turned upside down again
Totally mixed up and thus righted
In our confusion
Breaking for a surface
Which holds the light
A surface dividing
The above from the below
The earth from sky
The Mother from Father
Our past from future.
Rising, propelled with the last trace of breath, prana, chi
To break the surface
And cycle of existence
To finally at last break free.
To take another
And dive again.
(11/23/23)
(2/22/12)
When we argue - I must concede
Because on this the devil feeds.
The devil gets his greatest sensation
When he disrupts any relation.
He is there waiting for the spark to ignite
So we can begin to fight.
He knows that love can conquer all
And waits for us to weaken so we can fall.
Like a lion waiting for its prey
In the bush he will lay.
The devil has many stomping grounds
And you never know when he’s around.
His greatest victory is when we go astray
And to GOD we no longer pray.
Yet he can not tell what’s in the heart of man
When we decide to take a stand.
Since We were blessed at our birth
With his holy water from this earth.
And we were taught right from wrong
And we became very strong
We will fight whatever the devil
throws our way, and live to fight another day.
So to the devil I say to you
With a pure heart there is
Nothing that you can do.
We have - FAITH, HOPE, AND LOVE
Given to us from up above.
The bridge is long, the lake is wide,
the trees are bare, they’ve lost their pride.
and so it goes, as Winter shows its face,
the bears asleep, deep in some hidden place.
snowmen stand tall, in neighbor’s yards,
inside, the elders write Christmas cards.
the children on their aging sleds,
slide down the hills, fresh from their beds.
and me I’m packing, a long road lies ahead,
to where, I don’t know, it hasn’t yet been said.
a soldier’s life, is guided by the rules of war,
to follow with the others, I’ll do my given chore.
and as I’m waving to my son, gliding down the hill,
my backpack holds his photo, my heart does feel the chill.
here comes the bus, I dare not hesitate,
to board it now, no matter what my fate.
and as my wife and child, sleep soundly here tonight,
in some forsaken distant land, I must prepare to fight.
in my pocket lies a rosary, I count the beads each night,
if there’s a god above, he must know I’ve tried to do what’s right.
to follow his directions, through trials and tribulations,
to be a good and better man, a part of his creations.
with heavy heart, I go to battle, some unknown enemy,
to kill someone I never met, disturbs the very soul in me.
and as I stand here at attention, I watch the body bags,
unloading from our waiting planes, all covered with our flags.
as tears fall from these eyes, that have seen the worst in man,
I cannot help but feel the pain, but still I do the best one can.
the scriptures say “thou shalt not kill”, these words we all live by,
but many Christians go to war, and blindly heed the battle cry.
now homeward bound I leave this place of horror in disgrace,
that I have been a part of this so called the human race.
animals in their wild domain, will kill for food and territory,
while we kill for many reasons, and claim we won with glory.
now back home, I hold my wife and child, my love for them still thrives,
in these arms that once have taken, much too many lives.
I swear my hand upon the holy bible, this will be my solemn word,
no matter what the battle cry, I will not go, I will not be deterred.
Continued from Part 1
The City’s blur? A sepulcher for Christians, Muslims, Jews –
Cathedrals, Temples, vacant now, enshrine their residues,
for churches, mosques and synagogues abide without a bruise.
No cantillation, belfry bells, monastic chants inspire
and Minarets, though standing yet, host neither voice nor crier -
abodes and buildings silhouette a muted spectral choir.
A church’s Gothic ceilings guard the empty pews below
and, all alone amongst the stones, a maiden’s blue jabot.
The Saints, in crypts, though nondescript, grace halos now aglow.
Stray footsteps swarm through church no more (apostates that profane)
though echoes in the nave still din and chalice cups retain
an altar wine that tastes of brine decaying in the rain.
Coiled candle sticks, with twisted wicks, no longer 'lume the cracks -
their dying flames revealed the shame, mid pendant pearls of wax,
when deference to innocence dissolved in molten tracks.
Six steeple towers, steel though now drab daggers in the sky!
Their hallowed halls no longer call when breezes wander by –
for, filled with dread to wake the dead, they've ceased to sough or sigh.
The chapel chimes? Their clapper rope (that tongue-tied confidante)
won’t writhe to ring the carillon, alone and lean and gaunt –
its flocks of jute, now fallen mute, adorn the holy font.
No saints will come with jagged tongues to sing a silent psalm
nor bless pale lips with languid quips to pierce the deathly calm,
nor pray for mercy, grace deferred, nor beg lethean balm.
Continued in Part 3
REJOICE WITH ME BECAUSE I HAVE FOUND THE COIN I LOST LUKE 15:9
WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED to tell me the story of how she lost
One of her expensive hearing aids
It sounded similar of the lost coin
Diane described how she had taken care of 5 or 6 errands in a day
During that time she placed her hearing aids in her pocket
When she returned home
One of them was missing
Diane hurried back to all places she had been
Retracting every step she searched for the precious item
Her voice held such amazed joy and gratitude
As she related the moment of actually finding the tiny hearing aid
No wonder Jesus used a story of losing and finding something of value to describe the joy God has over “one sinner who repents
When I hesitate to let go of an old hurt
Avoid repenting of my wrong doings
I hope the memory of my friend’s enthusiastic discovery
Will nudge me to give the Holy One another reason to rejoice
Readings and Gospel
Romans 14:7-12, Psalm 27:1
Psalm 4, 13-14,
Luke 5:1-10
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