Long Incased Poems
Long Incased Poems. Below are the most popular long Incased by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Incased poems by poem length and keyword.
sitting there, the flower incased amung weeds,
will she ever see another flower when she's surrounded by these?
blocking her world, blocking her view,
smothering her beauty that's supposed to shine through,
until one day the gardener came, and pulled out those weeds,
she felt the wind gust through her tiny soul, for now she could finally see,
a small ray of light but with just enough view,
as she leaned in towards the sun, she felt her spirit grew,
just enough hope to be able to see,
to grow stronger and taller, to know she was free,
and as she poked her head out, the gardener could see,
to pull the rest out, so that she could breathe,
the space that she needed in her field was anew,
and with time and in season her new heart grew,
her essence spread wide as the wind carried her seed,
to replant and replenish for more beauty to be seen
Form:
and your young men shall see visions and your
old men shall dream dreams.
—Acts 2:17
She stood unflinching,
a silver figure in the heart of a waterfall.
I gazed in wonder
my frail form shaken by the roar.
A winged lion flew out of the raging rapids
its outstretched claws plucking me off a high ledge.
Carried upon a disappearing sky
I thought of my son
how he foresaw this dream of mine.
Now in my infirmity she returns to me
incased in an argent fire.
I knew then that we had delivered a child
who's spirit would melt this iron kingdom
and I then must dwindle away.
Your mother has grown younger
you are ageless.
Now you look from a shining mirror
seeking an aged
long spilled seed.
All Praise-praise Hallelujah to God Elohim most High I am Energized
He held your hand as you descendant
Energy cloud un apprehended
Swimming through the birth canal
Birth out physical
You are now spirit, energy incased in skin
Heavenly body now wrapped in vessel
Cursed from the womb to wear this skin suit
Cursed to live alive, yet saved cleanse by grace
Of Jesus Christ birth to live to die
To rise again victorious glorious
All Praise-praise hallelujah to God Elohim most high
All Praise-praise Hallelujah to God Elohim most High I am Energized
4/5/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. © 2024
I lay, half asleep in the dark morning, listening to her get ready for work.
She opens the door to the dressing room, turns out the light,
and cautiously moves in the darkness to the side of our bed
where she feels her way with her hands up my body,
accidently caressing my ********,
to find my face and give me a good-bye kiss.
“Have a nice day”, she whispers;
I groan in a sleepy reply.
I hear her go down the stairs and into the kitchen.
I semi-consciously listen to the sounds of a quick morning breakfast being prepared.
I hear her gather her work-day stuff;
open and close the front door;
and open and close the door to her car that I imagine is frost covered
in the still dark driveway, illuminated by a lone, fog incased street light.
I hear the sound of the car choking to a start and drift away down our lonely street.
I relapse into a deep, morning slumber.
Awakened by the sound of the front door opening again;
I wonder what it is she forgot this time.
I follow the sounds of steps coming up our stairs and
feel the slight smile being painted on my face
anticipating another good-bye kiss and, perhaps,
another accidental brush against my still erect member.
With eyes still shut by left-over sleep, I mumble, “Forget something?”
The quick, bright flash of light accompanying the loud bang from the loaded weapon
are the last sensations I experience in this life here on earth.
Whether it was her;
a paid assassin; or,
a random crime -
I will never know.
i see myself in you and its kinda strange
coz thats the only time i love myself when im in dire straits
ya see i have this diesease sometimes i lie awake
and wonder why im a piece of **** with all of my mistakes
but one day i'll change it i'll make it and flip this
until that day im making a difference making
a conscious decision to take what im given
no slave to the way that im liven
and these are more than words this is my testimony
most if it i wrote for you so when im gone ya never lonely
they say only god can judge me but who is he
i feel at times that by design for real the only god is me
but im a basket case who cant escape the darkest place
inside my mind you'll find my heart replaced incased in armour plates
half my traits are like a dog just looking for a car to chase
barking mad starven carven scars upon my arms and face
and this is hardly fake but something that i can't erase
my darkest days my casket waits to take me to a calmer state
US ARMY, ER NURSE
They are not the “War Fighter Soldiers”
yet they have seen more blood than most.
They wear the gladiator garb, stand tall
at taps in stiff salute to flag at end of day.
They hear the screams of war’s demands,
exacted without prejudice, see only war’s
true colors in the drying shades of red.
They see the mother’s faces as they speak
unknowing words, treat the wounds of
innocence incased in harsher world.
They are a soldier’s last defense against
war’s final tally, the nurses that will
care for them, become their final ally.
They suffer from the pangs of war,
its loneliness and fear. Return to us
with hardened hearts that could no
longer bear the sights and sounds
of war’s contemptuous disdain.
They carry wounds that can’t be seen,
save for their tortured faces,
hide their memories, and pain,
in duties failed embraces.
John G. Lawless
7/30/2014
For Carol Eastman
Unsung Hero Contest
The ideal time to record a citing is when you see it,
Because it seems that everything out there in God's
vast domain is on the move and never waits for the mood.
But it's better to share something later than nothing at all.
Some three hours ago, around the 4 AM hour, I looked
out the windows. Facing the West, there was only DARKNESS.
I then proceeded to my Southern window and saw plenty of STARS.
The BLACKENED SKY waved at me, and the host of stars shouted, "Hello!"
But what captures me most both day and night is the SOUND of the WIND.
The site of pure darkness, back-grounding a host of stars, is not a trivial matter. Moreover, when heaven's art museum opens your eyes, your ears require a melody. In this rural land of beans, corn, cotton and rice, the songs are nice and varied. Incased within a Meca of TREES, WETLANDS, and a few SWAMPS, this area of trees provides plenty of fuel that encourages the wind to sing songs to me.
She sings what and when she wants to, and allows my heart to blend with her melody. She's pure and natural, requiring no assistance from chimes. She replaces with great taste the cites of big city lights, and the dreadful sounds of sirens. And when she sings, unlike city sirens, no one is hurting. And unlike sirens, she's healing me.
When I consider this day's DAWNING, I am reminded again of the great balance of NATURE. The darkness, the starry night, and the whispering sounds, all felt right at home. And so did I.
050622PSCtest, Your Favorite Poem From The First Half Of 2022, Julia Ward
Spend five hours on Resurrection Sunday
At the cemetery
Left at Twilight Visited my loved one who are not there
Their remains are there but their true self with the Lord
But yet they were laid to rest at sunset
For an instant they were taken and placed in the Father's arms
Leaving us here alive and only crying some
Whoa!!! to those who forget their memory for even the trees Replenishes their leaves
But one day, one day again we will see
See them in Heaven's Glory
Holy-Wholly this is mine Resurrection story
Thanks B to God
For those whom we love
But now there are incased in the Father's arms
We miss you so
We're sad to let you go
But you're in a better place
For to be birth is to cry and to die in Him is to Rejoice
Forever more as I leave this place
This is not your space
Only your remains are there beneath the ground
I praise the heavens
I Praise My Father God
For all that He's done for it is in glory
Each and every one of you lives on
Oh and I don't know if you can hear I love each and Everyone of you
Hallelujah
And may the peace in my heart be still
To God be the glory
BLESSED GOOD NEW DAY IN JESUS Resurrection story
Dedicated to
Joseph Lee Sr
Velton Brown Sr
Lorenzo Gunther Sr
Annie Bell Lee
Carmen Lee Brown Lee
4/9/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23 (c)
Alive in me,
A crystal sea.
A growing tree,
It needs to be.
Incased in flesh,
A Spirit's breath,
A vine, a mesh,
Past time or death.
Words flow,
I know sometimes,
They're mine...
Others though seem
So sublime.
Where do the springs
Of poems flow from?
A universe of awesome things?
They flow, they fly
As if on wings.
Words wake us,
Take us,
Lift us up,
They pour out
Onto paper cup.
We drink them in,
We sing a hymn.
We sink, we fly,
To depths or high.
A poet's life,
Through joy or strife,
Poured out to see,
Complexity.
Let the seeds grow,
Sow and plant.
A joyous song,
A tear, or rant.
The living ink well,
flows through a pen,
It ebbs or swells
In us again.