Long Keenness Poems
Long Keenness Poems. Below are the most popular long Keenness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keenness poems by poem length and keyword.
Temporary nirvana (albeit elusive),
nonetheless I strive to access
attaining bliss mine soul bless
exceeding exhilaration winning
(with fewest moves against
deadly opponent) bittersweet game,
where life analogous playing chess
mortality embraced hesitantly, I confess
gnarled, knotted, pitted... old fingers
wrinkled mottled flesh doth dress
unavoidable senescence
upon body politic mortality doth express,
though severely myopic,
yours truly eyewitness
self positing query,
asper meaning of life
oft times rhetorical question fathomless
lacking satisfactory resonance,
this mind strives to second guess
time spent probing haphazardness,
asper gaining insightful purposefulness...
coalesces, sans clarity when idleness
experiences Zen, albeit approximately
inducing light trance smooths jaggedness
inviting mindfulness, lucidness, keenness...
absolute zero distraction eases lamentableness
assuaging, deepening, massaging
psychological state with limitless
ascendence toward manageableness
decreasing mental din and clangor
allowing, enabling, providing...
cerebral nearsightedness
to escape into temporary nothingness,
a foretaste of eternal obliviousness
free from preponderant woes,
incessant sweaty palms, a painless
dimension unfeeling unimaginable quietness
impossible to envision raptness,
when death be not proud reiterates stillness
silencing roiling tempestuousness!
It comes to me in wondrous visions...
when my untroubled consciousness
is at its highest and mellowest peak,
I watch it soar over the gleaming deep.
It's an eagle with strong beaks, keen sight
and long, wide wings that define its entity,
and I hold it very sacred incarnating its spirit:
so courageous, unyielding and stealthy.
If I observe eagles in their environment,
they will definitely impart a stunning truth:
they are as smart, alert and wise as I am;
and if they could talk, I would have a chat.
Is it wrong to confide in an eagle and be alike it?
Mankind has taken away their language with vanity...
by dominating them like other animals who fear them,
and they hide, refusing to communicate in any way.
I entrust my safety to the keenness and shrewdness
of my eagle: watching every movement and step I take,
and it returns with a new message for me to meditate;
and by assuring its survival, it promises me its guidance.
In each dream, a new vision unfolds and more revealing words
are spoken, showing me my destined path in life...the journey
I must take and soar on high as if it were reality, not imagery:
another sky so immense and bright is mine to discover with gladness.
Return eagle, and speak to me through nocturnal dreams...
warning me of threats and dangers from unseen, evil spirits;
I'll incarnate the same spirit, which God breathed into your distinct body,
and in accord with nature, our friendship will propagate more harmony.
The lockdown is over, all finished and so the
unfinished jobs should be done,
indoors painting ceilings, outdoors borders weeding,
and everything under the sun.
A toilet not flushing, a pipe outside gushing,
all fixed and now working just fine,
patio slabs needs fixing, some mortar needs mixing,
the Garden of Eden's like mine.
But now, after so long, where did it all go wrong?
There's so much I still need to do,
the patio I've bungled, the border's a jungle
and can't still use one of the loos.
The answer, I fear, is when having a beer
in the sunshine, and those days were many,
instead of just one, I had more, 'till they'd gone
and the jobs ticked as done? There weren't any.
My keenness was flagging, the missus was nagging,
each job I'd not done just glared back,
the rows all then started, surprised we've not parted,
if I worked for her, I'd be sacked.
Out comes measuring tape, for there's now no escape
do each job on the list 'till they're done,
One day I'll get a beer, but it will be, I fear
mid December, and there'll be no sun.
My beautiful body is another divine creation,
every part, so perfect, is guided by this wisest, most sinless heart,
which will not make it err when temptation
tries to weaken it by making it remember the bitterness of regrets.
Nudity imparts its own beauty when it's considered the temple of purity;
nonetheless, it came from God's thoughts and artful hands;
so why should we be ashamed of it, if it is shown accordingly?
Many have exploited it for monetary gains and this is the plague of our society!
My image is gladly seen in the clearest mirror,
inducing awareness, amazement, and gratefulness,
never thinking of defiling it with unworthy offers;
even Satan is plotting against me and waving war!
Immoral persons won't hesitate to show their lewd interest,
thus taking advantage of someone needing the desperate break;
these people corrupt any soul to rob it of dignity by their kind amenity...
where's your sense of keenness, when it comes to viewing your sexuality?
My beautiful body is another divine creation,
wonderfully and perfectly made to use it adequately;
glances of admiration by others may be full of inequity,
and adulating words will not flatter me, knowing their deception.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
June 4 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Job 16-18
Key Verse – Job 16:20 My friends scorn me: but mine eye poureth out tears unto God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD TO WHOM WE POUR OUT
OUR TEARS UNTO
Praise be to God to Whom we pour out our tears unto for:
Joy of no joke
Justice midst jesting
Joviality against jitters
Jubilation beyond jackpot
Job that jolts us to jolly journey
Job 17:15 Praise be to the Lord for assuring us hope in His:
Kingdom along His gracious kinship
Kindness with His granted knowledge
Kingship, governing us along our kneeling
Keenness, guarding us from being knocked-out
Keeping with His gloriousness beyond kindling kaleidoscope
Job 18:18 Praise be to the Saviour for His light:
Leading us to His love
Livening us by His lawful lessons
Liberating us against lamentations
Lengthening our lives for lovely legacy
Letting us listen to and laud His loftiness for our learning. Amen!
June 4, 2024
June 14 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 11-15
Key Verse – Psalms 11:7 For the righteous LORD loveth righteousness; his countenance doth behold the upright.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO LOVES RIGHTEOUSNESS
Praise be to God Who loves righteousness
and for instilling in us His:
Kindness along His truth
Kinship around His triumph
Keeping to be trusted during trials
Kingship with His testimony against terror
Keenness that teaches and trains midst tests toward thanksgiving
Psalms 12:1 Praise be to the Lord for helping us by His:
Love that settles us from falling
Leadership that subdues our fretting
Look that surrounds us against faltering
Liberty that strengthens us in our frustration
Light of His life that satisfies and suffices us forever
Psalms 13:3 Praise be to the Saviour for
considering and hearing us:
Monitoring us against distress along His magnificence
Meeting us in our discouragement with His mercy
Managing our days midst devotional moments
Ministering to us by His marvelous miracles
Melting our despair by His might
Psalms 14:6 Praise be to the Almighty for
being our refuge Who:
Nourishes our souls
Nurtures our spirituality
Nestles us in His salvation
Negotiates our sanctification
Navigates with us in our Scripture study
Psalms 15:1 Praise be to the Holy Spirit for
letting us abide in His tabernacle with His:
Openness for our worship
Omniscience midst His wisdom
Omnipotence along His wonders
Optimum offer for our workmanship’s worth
Omnipresence ordering our ways from worldliness. Amen!
June 14, 2024
IN THESE BABYLONIAN TIMES PS
(A Palming Allegorical Rendering)
With elephant ears,
And the keenness of giraffes,
Let’s become as owls:
Divine wisdom and guidance,
Eagle-winging us justice:-
In our life’s nature,
Trials and tribulations come:
So does conquering:-
In Babylonian times,
Seek your new Jerusalms:-
Jesus rode an ass,
We now have one riding us:
Time to buck him off:-
Leaving no palms to catch him,
Let’s burn away oppression:-
With ashes of hope,
Let’s anoint liberation
And coming justice:-
Let us get to palm swapping
Injustice from our pathway:-
Ever be mindful,
God helps those who help themselves:
Wisdom in their palms:-
Having empath palms is bad;
Not seeking to fill them, worse:-
We’ve overcome worse
Sodom’s and Gomorrah’s trials;
Wisdom guiding us:
Necessary means revealed;
Injustice palm-slapped away:-
Despair wallowing
In apathetic dismay,
Is self defeating:-
With palms of wisdom guiding,
Let’s be self liberating.:-
Also known as May Eve, May Day, and Walpurgis Night, happens at the beginning of May. It celebrates the height of Spring and the flowering of life.
Colors are the Rainbow spectrum. Beltane is a festival of flowers, fertility, sensuality, and delight. Selena Fox
In the cosmic blast, eternal fires create the cosmos.
An incensed mind is like a tarot deck close.
Awareness of human feelings' everlasting nature
soul-igniting, head-raising, flame-purifying feature
Beltane, a Pagan festival, goes by the name of May Day.
It occurs between the equinoxes of Ostara and Litha.
The festival commemorates spring in the best way.
An event tied firmly with fertility in the pagan era
It occurs three hours after the sun has set.
worn a wild beast to depict earth, fire, water, or air.
Toasting nature, life, and future by fire dance minuet.
A fairly grim festival that may aim out of a dare
Event held in 2020 during the COVID-19 shutdown.
Had put all who participated in the COVID threat.
I feel it is unfair, as holy sites are closed in each town.
It is not moral to leave others out of this event yet.
The keenness amid the eternal inner stillness
Ignites God's everlasting flame upon reality.
I travel in the light of heavenly happiness.
which is the vowed road to the vivid hall of deity.
Written: March 04, 2023
Which fire is eternal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Call girl of Thulhu?
I smiled at the voice at the end of the phone.
Not been in action for many years, but had a keenness for a kill.
Sure is, I said in my youngest voice.
Happy it did not crack or give my age.
You can do some delectable things for five hundred? A question.
I said “six” to see if he would bite.
A slight hesitation
We negotiated to five fifty.
Agreed to meet at the Slingback, a seedy motel.
You could torture someone here.
No one would call the cops.
They would not show up in this divvy place
Too scary.
More than one cop had probably
already been murdered at the Slingback.
Run by Mama M,
Nickname: Mama Mortician.
Got out my knives and lovingly polished them.
They had not seen daylight since ’85 when I took out several men
No idea my trick was polishing his knives too
When drifting water of the river Hebrus murmurs
a heartrending cry surges from the bottom of the river,
and when this cry reaches the midsummer night’s sky
the stars echo and a lyre in the constellation by Zeus’ throne
plays sad music. And when tone adds pathos to deepen the darkness,
a nocturnal bird soars in the dark air, too, singing a sad song over
a grave in Libethra.
The reason the river weeps with a plaintive requiem is,
not because Erebus is too far or Styx is too wide,
but the stern ferryman denies Orpheus’ passage
to netherworld where he once passed with the crowds of the dead.
Although he once made the Furies cheeks wet with tears,
won a Proserpine’s sympathy and made Hades himself gave way,
why Orpheus has to cry a heartrending cry over Eurydice again
with his plaintive tuned lyre and song of touching story of his beloved wife?
It’s because he couldn’t cross Styx for second time.
He cried through the weeks of sleepless nights,
regretting why he turned his face back to assure
Eurydice followed, and therefore, heard her last cry of farewell.
He called Eurydice’s name for the weeks of agonizing days and
nights without food stretching his arms in air as if trying to hold her,
though she is not there.
Since his second farewell to his beloved wife on the dark and steep passage
of Erebus, Orpheus played his lyre and sang sad songs unceasingly. He sang
to tell his regretful experience on the way to this world at Erebus to the rocks
with melancholic but touching tunes, he chanted an account of the tragic life
he underwent with a gloomy but moving sound to the trees.
A viper, therefore, struck Eurydice with its sharp fangs again,
a horror that of the Maenads’ desire to capture Orpheus
tore him limb from limb.
And when the river murmurs, Orpheus’ limbs fell in water
parted from his body call to one another wishing to come in one again,
Orpheus’ keenness to see his beloved Eurydice grows more and more.