Long Hymn Poems
Long Hymn Poems. Below are the most popular long Hymn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hymn poems by poem length and keyword.
A quiet life right by the sea
No thoughts of war to trouble me
Sweet rendezvous with poetry
I wonder, will I then be free?
The touch of flirty summer breeze
No one to bother or appease
At one with sand and sky and trees,
but will I be content with these?
To hook my dreams upon a star
Hear nature's hymn, not sounds of war,
My wishes galloping so far
Will I forget this telling scar?
No matter where my gypsy heart
will guide to make a fresh new start
My trauma will not ever part
A change of scene but not my heart
For I have stories I must tell
Now rest here for a little spell,
and if you choose to listen well
together we'll escape from hell
You cannot run away from you
For where you go, your past goes too,
So every day, this vow renew:
"Survive and thrive, that's what I'll do."
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Survive and Thrive
April 8, 2025
When solitary quests for TRANQUILITY I thirst, Pikes Peak I will ascend.
Ah! The SPLENDOR of that majestic mount nothing will e'er transcend!
As I mosey amongst its rugged tors and its towering heights,
I marvel at the ELOQUENCE of God's magnificent sounds and sights!
The soothing WHISPER of gentle zephyrs WAFTING 'mongst the spruce,
Contrasts with the DULCET bugling for a mate by a pining moose!
The FRAGRANT scent of the LAVENDER bush is a bonus for my pleasure.
A stroll through the grandeur of such panorama I shall ever treasure!
The LILTING melodies of birdsong lighten my languid soul.
The melodic hymn of a rushing stream gladdens me as I stroll.
How could not the poet enraptured by such unsullied BLISS,
Capture the moment in flowing verse! - He would surely be remiss!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 6 in Word Warrior Challenge Contest
Wherever you roam, the shadow of death,
Keeps dancing upon the rhythm of your breath,
As and when the rhythm ceases its measure,
Your life dissolves into the black shadow of death.
You work day and night for some hollow delight,
You sacrifice your rest, consumed by restless nights,
Every fleeting moment poured into empty pleasure,
At the end of the day, you find yourself prey to decay's diet.
Histories and all the stories hum a hymn of glory,
For which every life became a black and white story,
All heroes got no chance to dance upon the songs,
Of their epic and immortal tales of glorious victory.
The souls are intoxicated by the drug of the maze of life,
A husband is dying to satisfy his beautiful wife,
All the wives are making efforts to control their husbands,
Childhood dissolving into oldness follows the mortal rite.
foreshadow through the wind
softly is the beginning of a hymn
eyes closed but open minds
the future yields to time
voices heard but never seen
souls yearn for deeper meaning
sight is blind but fear is near
chanting whispers fill the air
one by one before the sun
masses gather as if one
heads bowed tears shed
the earth moans from it's dead
sun so bright the sun supreme
lights up all and everything
hands held and lifted high
faces up embracing the sky
one voice one song
each to all all belong
from the stars they did arrive
to the stars we shall survive
we are us they are them
stone temples sing their hymn
when will they come back again
when will we become like them
eyes open images fade
voices still clouds shade
yes they will return we shall go
into the light foreshadow
(A gentle–prophetic, classical liturgical poem)
I. The Land Beloved
O Slovenia, cradle of my first breath,
You, Emerald Valley, cradled by mountains,
You chalice where the rivers of childhood
whispered their psalms among the pines—
How my heart still kneels before your beauty.
For in your winds I once heard angels,
And in your stones the footsteps of our saints.
Your fields were rosaries of golden grain,
your villages' small tabernacles
where every evening bell
wove heaven into the dusk.
II. The Turning of the Heart
But now the twilight grows heavy.
The silence of unbelief
spreads like fog over vineyards and rooftops.
The altars remain,
Yet the hands that blessed them
grow weary,
and the children who might fill them
wander along other paths.
O homeland, beloved and bewildered,
You walk swiftly into the arms of strangers,
forgetting the One
who stayed with you through all your storms.
You turn to new idols—
comfort, power, the soft lie of self-sufficiency—
and call them freedom.
III. Cry of the Child
And I, your child,
stand like a lone sentinel
at the edge of your sleeping forests.
Not with anger—
for love has no room for such fire—
But with a sorrow that prays.
I do not accuse you, Slovenia;
I weep for you.
I gather your wounds into my hands
as one gathers fallen leaves
to warm them by the hearth.
For what else can a child do
When his mother grows cold?
IV. Benediction for a Homeland
So I bless you, Slovenia—
even in your wandering.
May the One who walked our battlefields
and cried our forgotten tears
call you gently back to Himself.
And when dawn comes—
not the dawn of politics,
nor the dawn of earthly power,
but the dawn of mercy—
may you rise renewed,
like the forests after rain,
like the mountains after snowfall,
like a mother who remembers
the child she once held close.
Amen.
Not the grand hymn sung in the vaulted nave,
Nor the candle flickering bright and brave,
But the whisper of love that none can see,
A heart that bends to the lowly and free.
Not the weight of words in sacred prayer,
But the silent hand that lifts despair,
The bread you break, unseen, unheard,
The comfort found in a gentle word.
Not the crown of thorns you proudly bear,
But the cross you share in another’s care.
Not the purity of the creed you claim,
But how you speak another's name.
Do you forgive, as the Master taught,
With love as free as the lilies wrought?
Do you weep with those who weep in the rain,
And feel their loss like your own pain?
In every child, in every face,
Do you see the light of saving grace?
Do you hold the earth as holy ground,
And in all things God’s love surround?
What makes you a Christian good and true
Isn’t in what the world can view—
It’s the secret deeds, the quiet cheer,
The tender mercy, year by year.
In love’s small acts, in joy's sweet art,
There dwells the faithful Christian heart.
We always wish holding our hands tightly
and walking a mile..
feet to feet,toes to toes,along an alienated lane,
getting drenched in the drizzling rain,
pouring out each other's emotions & pain.
Never do we desire to miss our smiles even a while..
At present as we are in distance..
I've carved out few verses in my mind duly signed.
To invoke him ..I chant these everyday same as a hymn:
My aching heart needs an embrace from you,
Please come and hug me for my isolation to fly,
worries to die,
and my tears to dry.
I don't understand why I feel so attached,sentimental and also selfish a little when it comes to you..
I'm starving myself empty for you to come
and occupy that space...
Would love to scream out your presence with grace
by gazing at each other's face
with a heart beat race.
Kindly come soon and evoke me
without missing a pace..
My days are completely seeking for your love..
Amidst all...I just feel even seconds are too long to miss you..
So hear my dear,
For heaven sake assess me for all these symptoms
which has been an abrupt sprout in me..
And prescribe me the necessary medicine of love..!!
I can sense his response to the hymn..
echoing in the air
without any blare,
Approving & confirming his arrival
To continue our smooth love rhythm..
5-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Note1:*Regal Royal Relationships Poetry Contest*
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
15-5-2020
Note2:*BRIAN'S CHOICE F,any form,any theme Poetry Contest*
Sponsor: Brian Strand
16-5-2020
Weakness
It is said that he was weak because he would not
conform, could not subjugate his will, would not
let them imprison his mind, cage his spirit. Weak
because he stood alone and not with the milling
mob. Weak, because he would not speak the
words they desired to hear. Weak, because he
smiled when others wept, laughed when others
wailed, stood tall when others bent beneath the
toil of life.
They prayed for him to come to his senses and
become as they. He, though he didn’t pray as
they, desired the same for them. He knew that
there was no strength in the coalition of the crowd,
no truth in the mumbling of old truths, no love
in the demands of unconditional love.
He appreciated their prayers, they did not so
much appreciate his. He would listen as the
sound of the choir filtered through the air and
caressed the trees and wonder why the
vibration stopped when the hymn ended,
why the sermon stopped when the preacher’s
voice stopped echoing in the apse.
He would sing the song in silence as he walked
the village roads, roll the preacher’s words over
in his mind, smile at soaring hawks and old
barn cats, straighten a fence, remove a stone,
bid good-day to those who thought him weak.
He was not rich nor was he poor, neither wise
nor foolish, he just was. And so he shared his
weakness with all who thought themselves
strong, his loneliness with the friendless,
his thoughts with those who sought to teach him,
his spirit with those who allowed their spirit to be
caged.
It is said that he was weak by those who never
dared to share his weakness.
John G. Lawless//10/15/2014
Submitted to Verlena Walker contest
My shortcomings are overwhelming; however, my strengths are defeating them!
Broken fragments of my memory, scattered across the floor after you shattered my perfect image. Scattered reminisce of unwillingness to change for me even when you know you are wrong. The edges cut my feet as I walk out because I can no longer take the constant feeling of talking to a brick wall when you just won’t listen to me at all. I'm tired of always having to be the one to call because it feels like you're ten feet tall. So high above my eyes, I have to scream, scream into the sky, so you’ll listen. For once please just take a seat and listen. Please at least act like it. Act like you care what words will come next like you are on the edge of your seat in distress—waiting for the next important thing I’ll address like it is the best. But I know that will never happen. You will never treat me like a voice worth hearing because the only one that matters is you right? The world revolves around you and the only reason to wake in the morning is to appease you. Isn’t that right? Am I hot or cold? Because it seems like rhymes won’t help you realize that you are blind to the world around you. You only see what conveniences you and anything else must just be see-through. But I’ve lost the point entirely, you see it’s easy to get lost when I constantly have to decipher your maze of emotions and pick you apart with caution so as not to trigger a loss of composure. But, I am tired. The cuts are starting to bleed and my heart is beginning to scream. A solemn hymn of sorrow said to ring throughout is borrowed just for our self-centered Pharoah. But I'm sorry. I went too far now. We can't risk hurting your feelings even a fraction of what trauma you have caused as I feel like I'm walking on lava. Sinking into the pain and all my acting is in vain because you won't refrain from your ignorance. But no matter the weather we will stay together because you are all I have tethered to my broken pieces.
There begins here in timeless now:
Love steers good cheer... being endows!
There is a tale that conceals truth;
Beyond this veil, ample with proof.
There is a void clearer than most:
A nameless void that transcends boast.
There is feeling where no words touch;
No explaining can cover much!
There is a blur that knows all stuff:
All-knowing blur that shapes all stuff.
There is a voice that speaks so soft...
If I by choice heed what's aloft?
There is a sense of knowing, still...
Beyond all tense, a divine will.
There is a song: strains of beauty
Where truth speaks strong in ecstasy.
There is a place: beyond, within...
Where time and space collapse, unseen!
There is a smell fragrant with peace
Beyond mind's spell: love floods all ease.
There is a scent fragrant and grand
That heaven sends to ease ascend.
There is a sound: eternal, true
That hints and grounds, and calls to you.
There is a glimpse where stillness peeps:
Void beyond dreams... deeper than deep.
There is a pulse beyond this rhyme
Where no impulse can match each chime.
There is a gap where sleepers know
That strange sure map that knowing knows!
There is a time, timeless not frail
Where pulse and rhyme can't walk the trail.
There is non-sense that contains all --
All save pretense; where ego falls.
There is a naught that contains each
Yet void or naught that's hard to reach!
There is no-thing that holds all stuff
In change and fling, more than enough!
There is a place beyond this face
Of worldly pace, beyond all space.
There is a fount cascading all:
Where plain and mount change, falter, fall.
Here wayfarer, now homeward bound:
Be true seeker, watch what comes round!
Here light-bearer, set your true sights:
Know wayfarer, witness the light!
There is a bliss: no body-mind...
Not that, not this! Here love designs.
Follow your heart, let mind be calm;
Let soul impart true hymn and psalm.
Follow your feel, in-sync with soul;
Love comes to heal, to make you whole.
Be bold, be brave, be true to you;
Be seer, be knave, be simply you!
Leon Enriquez
28 Feb 2014
Singapore