Long Honoring Poems
Long Honoring Poems. Below are the most popular long Honoring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honoring poems by poem length and keyword.
I have spent wasted time on feelings
ignored the warning of useless healings.
I was left in need
With a lifetime of misery to read.
I am not afraid
I will call for help.
Someone out there will say I love you
Someone will be true.
For a while, it will be heartbreaking
Until the ache begins fading
With toil and patient endurance
The quiet heart leads to peace.
You will find a new awakening
Like hearing back your voice speaking.
Time become my comfort
Every breath expels the dread of death,
I am not afraid of being broken
Hope reaches into dreams spoken,
It will be a new challenge opening.
Towards new life for healing.
I am not afraid anymore
I am a versatile striving conquer.
honoring love and more
Crossing deserted shores to explore.
Winter cold moons its way
through my bedroom window.
Frosty beams glint off Dad’s photo,
a standing sentinel
to memories of a live ill-lived.
Wooden-framed seductive smile,
handsome rugged looks,
bely the sad inside his mind.
“Regettsive behavior” I called it.
Regret for not loving our mom more,
for not honoring their marriage vows,
for not being a good, good father
to four daughters who idolized him,
yet hated the pain we saw in our mother’s eyes.
Winter cold moons its way
into the depths of my soul
reminding me of childhood days
filled with paternal love insecurity
balanced with fierce protective mother love
that gifted me with resilience.
Resilience to release to the clouds
what was, what can’t be recreated,
a naïve what-wasn’t-ness that lulled me
into thinking things were better
than they were.
Winter cold moons its way
into the darkest corners of my mind,
illuminating the cold truth of life.
Icy moonlight rays remind me
photos are not true pictures of the past,
prodding me to relegate the smiling father
to the pile of faded photographs albummed in my heart ...
faded memories, faded hurts, faded reality.
But with deep-down, cold-moon clarity,
I know he loved us.
THREE BRITISH ANGELS
Three daughters of Britain, in a dance class,
their lives were viciously taken!
But, sadly, for many of us, you are, in our silence,
inhumanelly forsaken!
You see, as poets, our hands, forced to pen of things
only positive and uplifting?
Dare we do otherwise, many our weak-kneed readers may
halt liking us, and do a “quick-kill, downshifting!”
And so~ now, good, honorable Brits, are being jailed.
for protesting our young, bloodied,precious loss??
The removal, the matter of civility is lost, and honoring
wild anteduvians, no matter what the cost??
So, we think that…..we in other countries are safe?
I know the lying media, relishes brainwashing you!
We are no different than the three ballerinas~
Knives of “cancel culture” are out to lie and silence you!
But in or generosity and goodness, now must be silent as trees?
And we are now raped, beaten or killed by merciless, killer-men.
The bells in towers still do ring, government tells us we are free?
But the wise know, freedom is taken, by loons with government pens..
So be fearless, and do pen with your heart of deepest truth.
Sing you, songs of beauty and courage, but of course!
Stop, oh stop, seeking popularity’s meaningless friuit!
May you not live in this world, thinking you are wrong and full of remorse.!
Be then, who you are, no matter what the cost!
If you choose not to be brave, you are hopelessly, lost.
God Bless Britain
8/10/2024
A land of virtues with cultural grace
For myriad religions, a home place
A peace loving paradise by nature
Honoring traditions, its grand feature
Many a scholar hailed from this blessed soil
Reformers made it renowned with their toil
Assorted branches of knowledge flourished
Awe-inspiring arts and cultures cherished
Invaders tried to grab this divine land;
And aimed to deface its glorious brand
The brave leaped into the great freedom fight.
Protected its legacy with much plight
The soil, water and breezes are pious
Adorned with the crown of Himalayas
Handles all hardships with no compromise
A true faithful friend to all its allies
Truth, justice, kindness and love are its stands
For global peace, it always stretches hands
Evergreen is its heritage story.
With a lot of joy, I praise its glory.
Place: 4
If Your Birthplace-country was a poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date:02-06-2023
Honoring Sacrifice
By: Tom Wright
4/24/04
For country, they chose to honor a call,
now, the piercing sound of a rifle’s report.
An echoing trumpet, sadly says it all.
let us hero our young as a last resort.
No image portrays our freedom’s cost,
like that of a flag draped casket.
A mental souvenir of war, un-tossed,
on display from memory’s basket.
It serves to remind of a hero’s place,
should we treat it as a mere statistic.
For each had a home, name, and face,
harboring dreams that were realistic.
They abnegated those dreams for a chore,
accepting that vitality might be tried.
Death isn’t made a contrivance of war,
but a mental souvenir from those who died.
A twenty-one-gun salute seems to say it all.
I sit and watch the evening news and am inundated with war news,
body counts and flag draped gurneys. I always try to look beyond mere numbers
and realize that these were real people with real hopes, dreams, and families.
People who had volunteered, for one reason or another, not allowing thoughts to creep in that their return home might be via body bag.
“Honoring Sacrifice” was written in remembrance of those
who have had their lives cut short for a cause?
The drop of water on the grass,
on the soil, it makes it sprout...
let the green
always be the novel paint,...
do not burn the earth!
hearing the bird sing
its free corner in the air...
I ask, let life live,
let beauty rejoice!
Praise the singing,
applaud the magnificence,
say thanks for the creation...
all come from the sun vibrations
of light that come out of the sky
to the earth since
and the start and forever...
real gift from the divine,
heavenly bounty...
let us praise with glory,
let us vibrate with the honor
of being special...
we are prime expression
of completeness....
Minimum, maximum replicas
from the highest...
May all the best,
Everything comes from the Lord...!
Suggestef song https://youtu.be/h5D3LEjGF8A
Morning HAS broken From Eleanor Firfean
sung by ORLA FALLON
II. Nature's Cyclical Dance
End is not death. Changing into something new is good.
A leaf falls, then goes back into the dark soil.
Next year's flowers sleep under winter's quiet.
We fear the end, but nature shows us it's not bad.
Death is a new start.
My Anishinaabe mentor Little Deer laughed at my wide eyes.
That first forest walk, as he plucked a bright trillium —
"Cherish her fleeting beauty, but mourn her not, my friend.
This flower's death will birth a thousand more to come."
His people know life dances on; death is rebirth.
I hear them now. Those ancient voices riding wind's breath.
They speak through birch and pine... calling me back to the way —
Honoring and not fearing, the seasons' turning tides.
Each dawn's first birdsong and each brook's gentle murmuring
Echoing the rhythm pulsing through this wild...
and wondrous earth.
Let me join this cycle, rooted but free.
I'll welcome death and the return of life.
Like the forest floor, decay and new growth mix.
With every breath, I'll connect with the source.
This cycle of life, death, and being born again is a gift.
----
"The Sacred Forest, a Nurturing Mother, never lets life die, / But reclaims, recycles, and rebirths in her eternal lullaby." - Daniel Henry Rodgers
She came from a life of obscurity
Pushed into the constant scrutiny
from the locals and around the world.
No longer allowed to be a simple girl.
She used her popularity and fame
Treating everyone the same.
She showed compassion to the dying
Held children that were sick and crying.
She rolled up her sleeves and dug in
Helping to bring supplies and medicine
to the part of the world most never see.
She knew her status could bring publicity.
So the world ould see plights of the people.
Hoping that more aid for them would be helpful
Now those moments are nothing but a memory
Captured in writing and photography.
She's the example that we should follow
Never being afraid to let our feeling show.
Treat others as our equals in life
Whether it's a stranger, or husband and wife.
she raised her sons to do the same
So they carry on the work honoring her name.
I try to have courage, to remain strong
and protect the weak that are treated wrong.
I think of her often when I meet people in need
and know this is someone She' gladly feed.
I am comfortable doing what she'd easily do.
though I don't need the whole world knowing what I do.
In memory of Princess Diana. Who used her status and her heart to show how true royalty should care about the people around them and not be afraid to get dirty once in a while or help dress a stranger or give food to a hungry child.
they forgot what caring was really all about till she left the royal palace and became a queen to her people. No need for a crown and status. They gave their devotion to Lady Di.
I have always thought of people the way she did. Often putting away my on needs for the needs of others and knowing the difference between who we are and what we are and that needs must always come before the wants in life.© 23 hours ago, Bonnie J Hollywood-Cutts
SPIRITUALITY
Sensing seeking supreme spirit within
Perception beyond physical and mental contour
Inner quality of introspection to know self.
Realization of Nature and human on universal prospect.
Inquisitiveness to explore immortality of soul
Talent to understand and explain philosophy of life.
Utterly free from personal desire and interest.
Aspiration to resonate in melody of aria sung by soul.
Liberal with love and loyalty for Universe.
Inherent intuition to assess purpose of mortal life.
Tempted to venture sublime spirit devoid of body and mind.
Yearning for eternal ethereal wisdom in ecstasy.
04/27/20
Third Place
'A Poem Honoring Spirituality' Contest by Caren Krutsinger
Hearts are like snowflakes, no two alike.
Beating so very cold at times
as to freeze an angel's wings
in goblets of devilish wine.
The Heart is like a monkey.
Swinging from vine to indigo vine.
Leaving a smile or a scratch
on the eaves of a hopeful face.
The Heart is like a firefly or star.
Breathing life into sable skies.
Pulsing a lover's lavender soul
with a lute made of fading scars.
The Heart is a raft made for one or two.
Birdsongs sewn from frosted glass.
A beauty to be remembered but never to last.
The Heart is like a garden or maze.
Casting a million gossamer rainbows.
Always leaving a melancholy memory.
While honoring the spirit of the rain.
The Heart is an orphan made of silk.
The charred soul of a runaway king...
A whispering zero-echoing.
From the granite walls of infinity.
The heart is everything's everything.