Long Joseph Poems
Long Joseph Poems. Below are the most popular long Joseph by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Joseph poems by poem length and keyword.
TO:
VIJAY, CAYCAY , WINGED WARRIOR, PAUL, TOM AND BESMA
VICTOR , ROBERT, SILENT ONE, ALEXIS, AND SUNSHINE SMILE,
PANAGIOTA, JOSEPH , CONNIE , CAREN, MICHELLE, HARRY,
LINDSAY, GERSHON AND NETTE
It is one year since I joined Poetry Soup and have made some
awesome friends. I have been writing poetry all my life, but have
learnt a great deal from all of you. The poets I have mentioned above
have encouraged me through their poems and comments to
become bolder in my approach to writing poetry – thank-you.
I respect you all each one for your individual charms,
We are all together brothers and sisters in arms,
But the poets I have mentioned above,
I pay tribute to and send them my love,
For encouraging my imagery and muse, set off perfect alarms!
‘ Mythology is not a lie, it is poetry, it is
metaphorical. It is the penultimate truth -
penultimate because the ultimate cannot
be put into words ‘.
Quote by Joseph Campbell.
……………..
There are no signposts here,
or a ray of light descending
from the heavens to mark this place
much less a fence to restrict
entry to a privileged few.
Just a small patch of grass,
a clump of eucalyptus trees
on slightly elevated ground,
a freshly painted bench seat
on which I can sit
to take in the view. The river
content within its wide banks,
the bay glistening under a bright
morning sun, seagulls on graceful
wings and way off in the distance,
anchored ships dozing
in a drowsy calm.
There are many such places
where you can stop for awhile
and with reverence, close your eyes
and sense the sacred beneath
your feet, feel its ancient breath
rise up out of its sleep and gently
brush your mind.
These are the well holes
of regions modernity has tried to claim,
clear of meaning and put under
the heel of commerce -
territories that were once occupied
by myth, creations fertile womb
out of which we were born
and came into being.
This place still murmurs
that past, the songs of making
still beckon the storyteller,
the artisan and the poet
to give it voice once again,
a home in the rooms
of our humble art
and speak its sacred name.
The drought had swept throughout the land
But under Pharoah’s dream-led reign
Joseph foresaw, provisions planned
So Jacob sent his sons for grain
And down to Egypt, down they went
But youngest Benjamin remained
Then Joseph, hearing they’d been sent
Then called them for an audience
They came before him, bowed and bent
They had not seen him those years since
Did not discern who he was now
Then Joseph pressed, became intense.
“You come before me and you bow,
Yet you are here to spy my land!”
Then quick were they to disavow,
“We’re brothers, honest to a man
And only here in search of food
With humble posture, outstretched hand.”
The spy charge, Joseph still pursued;
He would not let them off the hook,
And so he struck a bargain shrewd
“Upon your youngest must I look
While one retrieves him, all remain.”
And then he locked them up like crooks.
Once three days passed, he made it plain:
“Do this and live, for I fear God.
One will stay here, the rest take grain,
But I will know you are all frauds
Unless with youngest you return.”
Then signaled captors with a nod.
Their shame and guilt then surfaced, burned,
“He begged us, but we headed not.”
Distress they felt indeed well earned.
In hushed tones, secret, so they thought,
But Joseph, hearing, turned and wept,
In stealth, returned the cash they’d brought.
That night fear, panic, over-swept
Them all on looking at their grain
Seeing their coins then, they too wept.
How it was there, none could explain.
“What is this God has done to us?”
They cried, returning home in pain.
Yes, down to Egypt, down they went
Not understanding they’d been sent.
(from Genesis 42:1-28)
Nós não sabemos
Quando dizemos adeus
Porque amanhã
Só pertence a Deus no céu
Nós não sabemos
Sobre o último olhar
Sobre a última música
Mesmo se formos jovens e fortes
Sobre a última dança
Sobre a flecha mortal
Onde é apontado
Nós simplesmente não sabemos
Mesmo que sejamos amados e ungidos
O último dia vem como um relâmpago
O último suspiro como o orvalho da manhã
Evanescendo diante de nossos olhos
Para trazer dor e tristeza
A vida é uma bagunça fenomenal
Deus ouve nossos clamores
Os gritos de nossos irmãos e irmãs
Deus ouve nossas orações
Deus vê nossas lágrimas de partir o coração
Deus vê como molhamos e encharcamos os bancos
Quando nos afastamos
Nós não sabemos
Quando vamos falecer
Nós não sabemos
Sobre amanha
Nós não sabemos
Sobre o último dia
Nós não sabemos
Quando dizemos adeus
Se outro olá
Acontecerá sob este céu
Nós simplesmente não sabemos
Sobre amanha.
P.S. Este poema é uma tradução de 'When We Say Goodbye';
é dedicado a todos.
Sentiremos saudades da nossa amada irmã Tânia Marissa Joseph Moreno.
Copyright © 27 de abril de 2022, Hébert Logerie, Todos os direitos reservados
Hébert Logerie é autor de vários livros de poesia.
Cornucopia
Trumpet Sounding – abundance Resounding –
A harvest not Empty – a horn of Plenty –
Season bounty Astounding – safe from snowbound Surroundings
Fall Caressing fair autumn Blessings.
Sweet orbs of Green or burgundy Seen
In arbors that Wait grape clusters to Take
Nectars Serene in fermenting Dreams
Dew mists so Fine like sparkling Wine.
Breath of Autumn whispers soft harvest Hymns
Ruffles ripe Fields of grain’s golden Yield
Blades salute skies Solemn - in straight rows, in Columns
Kernel berries grown for Bread - we bow our Heads.
Apples Reside – sweet juiciness Abides
Orchard boughs Seen in ornaments red, yellow, Green
Thoughts of pie Ride as cinnamon delight Glides
Crisp ciders Arrive in jugs and in Jives!
Frosty fall Dells painted in icy Pastels
Leave a transparent Sheen on rambling vines Green
Pepitas in Shells of bright orange they Dwell
In pumpkins and Squash - festive fields Awash
Such flavor Divine – like honey sweet Wine –
Wide bottomed Orbs - sun sweetness Absorbed -
A taste Refined – bliss, sublime, Intertwine –
Pears Appear at the end of the Year!
From blossom Wings nascent in Spring
Sweet surprise Resting in hard shells Nesting
Squirrels seasonal Fling – winter Investing -
Walnuts and Almonds, pecans by the mill Pond
11-16-20
Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Sponsor: Joseph May
Boby Fett’s adventures
I used to be a friend of Joseph when he was a bank robber
when he robbed a bank in Tbilisi, I helped him to get away
the money he said was to help his cause.
One can say he owed me a favour, which came in handy.
There was a revolution and Joseph became a president
that was ok, but he became brutal and one evening
when we sat drinking Georgian wine, we had a discussion
I called him a butcher.
I thought I was going to be shot, but since he owed me a favour
I was sent to Siberia with a bag of potatoes.
Luckily, I had a box of matches in my pocket a knife hidden
in my shoe, therefore able to survive to the last potato.
A wandering Sami people with their heard of reindeers on
the way to Scandinavia saved me.
For the Sami tribe, there is no border.
I took my old name back, Harry Finkelstein, a name I had kept
secret from Joseph, my friend from the bank robber days.
I got a job on the Manhattan project keeping tab of screws
needed to make a bomb, the rest is history.
Nineteen sixties silver modern Christmas tree,
All ours in the throes of 1964.
Mirth abounds, no bogeyman or Simon Legree.
A time of sweet innocence for me
Fearing nothing as I walk out my front door,
Nineteen sixties silver modern Christmas tree,
At twelve I feel loved by neighbors that I see.
Believing compassion is in their hearts galore.
Mirth abounds, no bogeyman or Simon Legree
I lick up snowflakes, loving them, happy as can be.
Christmas season special, one I do adore.
Nineteen sixties silver modern Christmas tree.
I jump in the air, feeling alive and free.
Can my full soul feel nurtured anymore?
Mirth abounds, no bogeyman or Simon Legree.
Plastic reindeer’s blinking red nose fills me with glee.
Wave to Mrs. Nicewander standing in her door.
Nineteen sixties silver modern Christmas tree
Mirth abounds, no bogeyman or Simon Legree.
Written 12-06-2020
Contest: Deck the Halls
Sponsor: Joseph May
God is my Creator* and blessings’ source
With all His grace of great force
Always providing for me in my daily course
Surely meeting my needs from His harvest of provision-doors!
God is my Lord and breath’s starter
With all His love as my caring Father
Always waking me up with His wisdom’s guidance-setter
Surely directing my ways through our fellowship together!
God is my Fulfillment and being’s salvation
With all His sacrifice by His crimson blood paying my redemption
Always rescuing me from guilt’s infliction
Surely assuring my forgiveness along forgotten sins' condemnation!
God is my Life and benefit’s store
With all His supply from His riches’ core
Always showering me His goodness to the fore
Surely bringing my delight unto His generosity's shore!
God is my Guide and becoming’s stability
With all His strength of supreme dominion’s authority
Always leading me to do His will midst tempest of difficulty
Surely perfecting my faith against doubts' shadow and uncertainty!
God is my prayer-Responder and bountifulness’ satisfaction-seal
With all His abundance I experience fully in every meal
Always replenishing me by His fruitfulness of misty freshness’ deal
Surely multiplying my spirituality’s earnestness when to Him I humbly kneel!
God is my Everything and bliss’ sufficiency
With all His joy of comforting divine fervency
Always cheering me up despite gloom of yesterday with its despondency
Surely gladdening my heart with His caring intimacy!
*Isaiah 43:15 I am the LORD, your Holy One, the creator..., your King.
April 10, 2018
1st place, "Ten Words" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 4/23/2018.
Featured as among PS Poems of the Week for September 6-12, 2020.
Sweet heart
Life’s weary when
You part
Please stay!
Can I curb tears?
No way.
Love you,
Hug me before
Adieu
Placed : 1st
Finding Your Musette 2 Poetry Contest
Picture : 1
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Date: 04-04-2021.
“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the malls
there was widespread confusion and hot, frenzied brawls.
Many shoppers were wanting the same bloomin’ gifts.
Desperation resulted in feud-level rifts.
There were four grandmas fighting for one preschool game.
Their ferocity made angry pit bulls look tame.
Jostling shoppers collided and bags hit the floor.
Their attempts to retrieve them caused head butts and more.
Loud confusion—“That’s mine!” “No, it’s mine!!”—could be heard.
Startled bystanders heard more than one naughty word.
Two old geezers that should have been home fast asleep
bumped into a tired Santa; all three muttered BLEEP.
When announcements “Ten minutes till close” hit their ears,
those who hadn’t found all they desired held back tears.
The wild nightmare soon ended, and tired folks went home,
knowing that no time soon, crowded malls they would roam.
All would vow, “NO MORE last -minute shopping for me!”
Christmas morning—well-rested— all smiles by the tree,
they remembered the monsters they’d been just last night
and rejoiced that those creatures were nowhere in sight!
November 22, 2018, entered in Joseph May's Night Before Christmas
contest