Long Intervening Poems
Long Intervening Poems. Below are the most popular long Intervening by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intervening poems by poem length and keyword.
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Think of me if tear drops, like pastel pearls, kiss your soft smooth cheek
and the music stops, when the wind no more whistles across the ocean dune
for when the sweetness of your song, your tender lips will no longer speak
I'll be thinking of you as the cloak of night weeps lullabies to the waiting moon.
Think of me, when the fragrant petal adorns your satin wind fingered hair
far beyond the rough waters that life's long illusions have swept through you
to a place where vining arbors grow, Plumeria, Spider Lilly, and flowers rare,
where morning star through cloudless sky sips the sweet of morning dew.
Think of me on summer's day when melting sun warmed our cares away
like the breeze that caressed your glowing skin, here today, gone too soon
leaving only fading memories and dark lonely flashes of yesterday,
still, if the light should forget to shine, the beauty of you time can not impugn.
Think of me when the verse no longer rhymes and my words lose their meaning
for the muse that once lived inside of me, now, is but a curse of relic rune
which drowns in mumbled eternity, no voice for love nor life's intervening,
as in my mind, yet your sweet smile, whispers the secrets of the one I knew.
Remember me in the cold of winter past, when rain drenched our skin and soul,
clouds of pain like dagger's edge, against each finger my warm hands would be,
with exhaled breath I tried my best but the rain kept falling and took its toll,
before pastel sunsets untimely death, as thoughts weigh kind, please, think of me
...for I'll be thinking of you.
04/18/2019
gods-book.com
As we become older and unsure of the time we have left,
We reflect on the memories of the legacy that we’ve expressed.
We sometimes question the way we acted when it was unpleasant,
Wishing it was more positive than our memory at present.
But we’ve all acted and done things we wish we could take back,
Using actions and words that could have been better served with a little tact.
The thing to remember is not all you think you did wrong,
Instead, think of all the good and charity you did, all your life long.
The people we touch is probably greater than we can imagine,
Because it goes beyond those who knew you and saw your passion.
Because people act differently from something they saw in you,
Changed their reaction and influenced people, they knew.
In the same way, they were envied and changed other’s views,
And this happened, touching those people and their views too.
You touched someone and changed who and how they are,
And then they too changed others’ making your legacy go far.
No need wishing to change that which we would like to take back,
Because it too becomes positive to those that saw its impact.
If it was something they noticed as negative and unthoughtful,
Wouldn’t it likely keep them from treating others equally awful?
This is true whether our legacy is from things either good or bad,
Effecting countless others who were touched by the life that you had.
Only God knows how many were touched by you, no matter its meaning,
And could be, it was his intention, a reaction from him intervening.
He uses us in ways we may not be able to understand,
To change the way others think, somehow according to his plan.
Our lives are not our own and that is something we should all know,
Because God uses us for his purpose, and he is in control.
Don’t be concerned with how you’ll be thought of after you depart,
Because your legacy is the sum of all the good that came from your heart.
Just know you are loved by all your family, acquaintances and friends,
And your love and goodness will make you remembered long after your life in heaven begins.
I can’t stop for you now
You are holding me by reigns that don’t exist
Why are you holding so tightly?
I can’t breathe—I can’t understand!
I allowed you to take my hand for the ride
I’ve allowed you by my side
But you turn away when others arrive
I feel like I’ve been tugged by the lot of kings
Of cruel beings threatening to chop my wings
I feel tattered and sore
And the journey drags because you always want MORE
What more can I do?
I can’t stop for you to catch up
Hitch on or move on!
If you can’t see that I care
Why are you here? How much more should I bear?
I’m torn without your smile
The extra silence squeezing from bile
I don’t mind the quiet but I hate your screaming
I can’t always be the one to be intervening
I can’t stop for you on every road bump
I’ve got to keep going—I’m sorry
You don’t have to be behind
You can go on ahead—would you rather be dead?
These harnesses are nothing—your effortless frustration kills me
And if you say nothing, what say I?
Must I stay and wait for you to reply?
Must there always be a hello—a goodbye?
WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES
WE ALL HURT OVER WORDS
Why then, can’t we heal over silence?
I awoke within myself.
As all my thoughts fell off the shelf.
An air of conscious discontent.
Slowly revealing what they meant.
The world had turned as I had slept.
And midnight burned as the dawn crept.
Leaving an ethereal sense of wonder.
And curiosity to ponder.
So many ghosts a company.
My soul as I'm not sure I'm me.
Within this moment here on earth.
Awaiting God for my rebirth.
An arrow flew between my eyes.
Intervening my disguise.
A momentary lapse of focus.
Disturbing magics hocus pocus.
So now the road is long and wide.
I'm left to look from side to side.
For now there is no place to hide.
So many choices to now decide.
What can we see in the dark hour?
Where silent secrets reveal their power.
As we are left to carry on.
Into the mystic mist of dawn.
Note: This is the first of a few poems I am going to post here that I wrote when I was in the mental health unit a couple years ago. The stanza of an arrow is about something in the early morning hours out by the nurses station that weirdly interrupted my process so to speak. I was in for depression and I was suicidal. They actually committed me for 6 months. That was a depressing day. But all things considered, it was all for the best. The therapist who sent me there actually probably saved my life as I was Hell bent on doing it the next day after I was done dog sitting for my nephew. Wow. This is not easy to do. But I wanted the reader to know what some of these poems are about. As you'll see in some of the other poems. There are some other mitigating aspects to that situation. Much love to all who read these. <3 Leslie
God has done many miracles
intervening through all my life
being adopted at six weeks
with a stammer to add to my strife
The Lord kept His hand upon me
keeping me safe from all danger
helping me when filled with fears
as life brings you many a stranger
The greatest miracle was His mercy
revealing to me my iniquity and sin
by telling His glorious gospel
that His son my salvation did win
God opened my mind which was dead
making it for first time spiritually living
putting His holy spirit within
so my heart would praise my king
For Jesus died on Calvary's cross
there He ctook all of my sinfulness
paying the perfect secrifice God demanded
so I could receive Christ's righteousness
What a miracle for me!
God's love entirely free
cleansing my soul from sin
so to heaven I'm going in
PD reporting live on the soup, with Worlds most wanted criminal poets.
Standing here with the POETS. MOST. WANTED. Tipsters Host John (What ?)
With an exclusive update on criminal poets, captured and on the run.
Switching over to you John,
"Thank you, Sid, let us give thanks to all the P.M.W. tipsters." alerting the poet authority.
Here we have our lovely F.B.I. agent Andrea Dietrich (Andy) & U.S. Marshal Shirley Harrison
(S.H.)
P.W. Tipsters helped the capture of one infamous fugitive Nikko Palmario, a poetess going
contest crazy.
F.B.I. Agent (Andy) ended the manhunt tracking her down in the Philippines.
(Andy), says" this convicted poet addict and comment crusader, gave us a fun run"
Christopher Brantley, still at large U.S. Marshall (S.H.) says, "This brilliant fugitive leaves no
trace."
A dangerous poet posting comments longer than his poetry. Leaving a distinction of
excellence
in any short form. PW. tipsters Demand him to be brought down to poetic justice.
A tip led Marshall (S.H.) to the most notorious blond bombshell on the soup.
Captured on her vacation Linda Marie Bariana, lost control of her blond moment.
Paralyzing her laptop with sand. Covering to other crimes with too much poetry rhyme.
Her # 1 crime, entering a dark poet contest, too bad for this SWEETHEART who has too much
shine.
Wanted in all nations Lynette Chachere a realistic poetic criminal against reality & dreams.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says"Our sweet Lynn, carries a weapon against all Enigma wonders."
A shameful crime to bring down a poet's spirit with an intervening of her intense poetry.
F.B.I. Most wanted poetic lunatics, Billy the Kidder, with a Mental Poet Disorder.
A maniac on the rampage, a poet who lost it, with a crime slamming himself.
COMMONPLACE PHRASIS part 2
Humble stirrings in our own sphere,
a diary of retrospective truths,of passing
fads of intervening years,a reasonance of
lyrical feelings,hand-penned.These mysterious
centres of thought formed into poetry
pictures,intangible ,but to feel& see,
a speechlessness,a fascination of agreeable
word music,realised &conceived as a talking
glass of emotion&intellect.Moving images writ
large throwing sunlight on the mundane,with
a capacity to evoke emotion,an interest in novelty
colours imagination,encapsulates everlasting truths
striking chords common to all,longlasting,ongoing satisfying.
From Retrospective a commonplace book 2009
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
The Good News is for people
who have a sickness and need to be healed,
and healing starts with a reborn spirit,
but spiritual blindness won't make one look upward,
to ask for forgiveness and becoming whole;
the Good News can give you a new heart
with their revelatory message full of promise...
coming upon you form the Divine Source!
Who has the audacity to blame God
for not intervening in the world's affairs,
whose troubles are too numerous to mention?
Starvation causes incurable diseases,
bizarre and unrestrained sexual behavior kills;
state after state approves of the same sex marriage:
Sodom and Gomorrah lives on
with their merry-making mocking!
And the same individuals who frequent
holy places, in which they worship their god with vain praises,
condone the filth and ugliness already tolerated by society,
making easier for them to express their sexuality
in offensive ways and disobey God's commandment;
two men taking the role of a lovable daddy,
and two women that of a devoted mommy?
Aren't they sending the wrong message to those tiny beings?
If men lay with men and women with women;
conception is denied the joy of blissful birth,
and the screams of babes, coming out of the belly,
won't be heard anymore...what an awful pity
for children not to have mom's and dad's affection:
to live a normal childhood on this beautiful earth!
O lost and uncaring people, receive and hear with elation,
the Good News with their revelatory message of salvation!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
If I don't react the way you expect me to doesn't mean I'm weak,
And just because I don't react doesn't mean I'm naive,
When I see beyond the shadow of a doubt, and refuse to fuel the fire,
It's no game, I justly refused to feed that spirits desire,
If I feed into, or react to it, then there's no way it can spread,
You can keep that filthy behavior, because I will just starve it to death,
When you don't have a playmate to fatten up the feeling,
It will regress and starve itself, a small step closer to your healing,
The itch of the poison stays with you, yet you can't see I walk with the cure,
His name is Jesus, and he intercepts any feelings that knock on my door,
He turns hate into compassion, reassures, confirms, and binds,
He always has a way of intervening to change my heart and my mind,
The benefits go beyond reactions, and humbles point of view,
And proceeds to show the process of why we do what we do,
Love Is free to circulate, there's no blockage in the way,
He seperates and intercedes beyond the words you say,
He will use the silence to heal you, make you see your own heart,
When there's no fuel to flame your fire, the mirror is where you'll start,
A child with a hose is a magical thing,
to her and to me as I look on in love.
Unbridled delight,
a wonderful sight,
as water comes down in an arc from above.
A simple perfection, this flexible tube
directing the water wherever she points:
an unprepared kitten,
her mother, just sitting,
as laughter, like rainfall, her small world anoints.
There’s something quite primal in how it affects us;
so cold and refreshing, a break from the sun.
Restoring and cleaning,
somehow intervening
to wash away troubles with simple, wet fun.
As I watch her play, I am caught up in her world;
I think I’ve forgotten some things she still knows.
So simple, so carefree,
eye opening for me,
true joy washes over us under a hose.