Long Kingdom Poems

Long Kingdom Poems. Below are the most popular long Kingdom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kingdom poems by poem length and keyword.


The Ugliest Poem

The worlds Ugliest Poem

Think chaos will become the new norm
in this world where life and words are cheap
think there'll be bodies littering the streets
and blood rolling into the gutters
from people killing their neighbors
just to get a little something to eat
and a place to lay their heads at night to sleep
think their'll be rioting all around
scorched earth the only ground
will we cry out unto God
or will we simply blame him
I wonder what things will be like
for the innocent little children
Oh how I wish we could stop right now
before anything like this happens
and it happens
yeah, it happens
mostly in war torn nations
and those that are so very poor
and what makes any of us think that we are better than them
think our nation is not filled to the brim
it could happen
yeah, it'll probably happen
because we don't know how to live
and our ministers preach personal salvation
how can we inherit the kingdom of heaven
if we forsake our own nation
or are we forsaken
by the leaders that we trust
are they are part of us
or have they become so rich and full of pride
that it's time to knock them down to size
before this happens
because it happens
Oh my God have mercy
for I fear this time there'll be no place to hide
here I sit writing and typing
it's all I can do all balled up inside
filled with fear and anxiety
and I type and type and I type
striving to warm them and explain to them why
yet it seems all of my words are in vain
it's as if
my work is little more than a strange curiosity
and sometimes I wonder if it's me or the world that's insane
they prefer lies so nice
I guess it makes them feel like everything is OK
don't lift the Vail or just might see me
and who wants to believe that their'll be hell to pay
for all the children starving in the streets
that have no place to stay
all dirty and full of disease
how can we turn them away
and some of these are angels
think they can hear you pray
at night before you go to sleep
without worry or pain
it happens
yeah, it happens
and it could happen to you
think your life is fool proof
I wonder if chaos will be the new norm
I wonder if it already is
at least to some extent
cancer is on the rise
and how can we possibly fix this
maybe I just worry to much
maybe I should just turn on the TV
and watch something fun
while it happens
yeah, while it happens
© Mark Beal  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Nobody Likes a Know It All Part 2 of 4

Nobody Likes A Know-It-All

(Or ... I Know What I Know)


(Prov. 1: 29* / Prov. 1: 22-33 / John 15: 19 / Matt. 7: 3-6 / Prov. 3: 7 / Prov. 9: 7, 8)




Nobody Likes A  Know-It-All
They Either Get On Your Nerves
Or Make You Climb Up The Wall

They Come On Like Squalls
Their Opinions Sprawled
We Shake 'Em Off Like Tattered Shawls
... Nobody Likes A Know-It-All


So, If I Happen ... Across Your River To Row
I Don't Mean To Come Sounding Like An Old Crow
Or Waste Your Time If You Say No ...
But Listen ... I Know What I Know ...

I've Read & Studied & Meditated
Perused & Pondered & Got Educated
In Reason & Rhyme - I've Ruminated
My Thoughts Into Rooms Are Relegated
Raised Questions & Quizzed & Investigated
(Even Made Some Folks Uneasy & Agitated)
but GOD Said That 'That'  Knowledge Would Be Hated
(John 7: 7 / John 17: 14 / John 15: 17-20)

So With All Due Respect -- So and So ...
... I Know What I Know

... of Innocence & Intelligence
Ratified Ideas & Reference
Cataloged Diligence & Resilience
Always Bravo'd The Beauty of High Brilliance
In Conventions' & Congregations' Confidence

& Assemblies & Achievements' Evidence
In Citadels of Archives' Residence
In Colleges & Scholars' Licensed Competence
In Trust's of A Counselor's Expert Guidance

and In The Word of GOD's Reverence
With Lessons' Continuance' Vigilance
In Meaning of Life & Purpose & Spirit's Significance
and Carpe' Diem When Possible and Patience ...

So, That Even In Philosophy's Status-Quo ...
... I Know What I Know

... From Countless Hours - In Half A Century of Years
In Conversations From A Constellation of Peers
About Life & Death & Future & Fears
About Love & Passion & Lust & Leers
About Laughter & Joy & Pain & Tears ...

About Mercy & Justice & Truth So Clear
About Fame & Fortune & What's More Dear
About War & Peace As World Totters & Veers
About Freedom As Kingdom of GOD Draws Near
About Why We Cheer & While Others Jeer...


(Part 2 of 4)

            Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/20/2013 
             by:  MoonBee Canady



(Part 2 of "Nobody Likes A Know-It-All" is the serious side of  addressing "Knowledge ... ... So, this free verse is really about Godly Knowledge, Biblical Learning and Spiritual Intelligence ... (first) ... and then about education and different areas of study in an academic way.  So when reading this write - that should be kept in mind, to get the most out of it ... MoonBee

Premium Member Ballad of An Unsung Hero

Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium. 

Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.

He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.

His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes, 
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.

Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.

Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.

Charcoal clouds rumble, 
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.

Before him platinum priests preach, 
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.

To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king 
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.

It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.

Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen. 

In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
 Sold to the biggest idiot!

His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.

Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.

Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.

Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.

Silent One
25 July 2018
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Big Ticket

* For basketball legend Kevin Garnett *

           ~

intensity ... defined
excuses were for gods and gamblers
(lesser giants with fairer feuds)
HE ... was of a wholly-invested mettle and mind
the conscript of a checkered court
dauntless defender of glass and lattice
and the pride of a kingdom
grand and green.

     chilled steel above
               warm wood below
                    the thund'rous awe
          each mightied blow ...

adversaries wept for his fervency
ability, focus, effort ...
at levels unequaled and as yet unseen
a vitality and resolve
that at times seemed immeasurable
expecting the utmost from his confreres and allies
yet far MORE from himself ...
of rare devotion to his cause and kind
a jaded gypsy who had found his home and heart -
the hallowed ground
worthy of his marrow and blood.

     one honored hub
               a stronghold land
                    worth ev'ry wound
          each knuckled hand ...

he was clad in shining-yet-simple armor
- béni avec cinq -
that he wore with a generation's honor
and wielded a sword of sinews and strength
noble and knightly, but of ferocious intent
with a dignity, dark ... outspoken
mindful, selfless ... monstrous and mad
the grace and guile of a mongoose
with the hiss of a snake ...
the childish charm of a leprechaun
with the wild howl of a wolf ...
and a heritage that coursed his veins, veridian.

     those demons, green
               that spurred his dance
                    brought each his foes
          naught e'er a chance ...

his fortress now stands empty
but the ramparts still tremble with his ire
the ether within those sacred walls
yet echos his roar
and strains to press a cheek
all for the sake of his standard and spoils
and thus, soon ...
yes, soon enough, indeed
those rafters will roil with a banner his own
and a kingdom, blessed, will bow in reverence
for his consummation and creed
and the green blood that still stains his flesh ...
and those proud parquet floors.

     one day that land's
               bright sun may set
                    still, flames will burn
          the name ... Garnett.







~ Honorable Mention ~  in the "Completely Your Choice 2, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Ever Returning/Departing

I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw  Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.

I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.

And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.

That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.

And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.

Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest. 
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
© C Sowder  Create an image from this poem.


Living and Leaving a Legacy

what will you be remembered for when you have passed away?
what do you think most people will probably have to say?
what things would you like to be most memorialized about?
what things about you would your friends and family shout out?
what have you accomplished in life? what good works and deeds have you done?
where you a devoted servant of God or a disobedient one?
what significant mark on this world do you hope to leave?
will there be anyone around who for you will mourn or grieve?
will you have touched any souls or enriched any minds?
what type of lasting and living legacy will you leave behind?
when it comes time to take that final ride in that black stretch limo
what of your life's accomplishments will you want people to know?
for as naked as the day that you first appeared on this earth
what bare facts do you wish people would remember about you first?

a lasting and living legacy, your entry in the book of eternal life
will it be a legacy as a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ
to have been a member of the family of the Most Holy Lord
to have been one who was called to come and get aboard
for you can't bargain, you can't scheme and to Him you cannot bribe
to have a place in God's heart where only truth and goodness reside
so as you travel your life's journey keep God always on your mind
don't sweat the small stuff not buy into the devil's lies

now turn to your sons, to your daughters, nieces and nephews
the future generation you need to reach out to
the children, the continuous legacy of our very lives
our children, the next generation of servants for Jesus Christ
introduce them to the Lord and leave a faith in them so strong
show them that your life was a living testimony to the Kingdom of which you belonged
let the children know that God has given them love, power and self-discipline
show them that there's nothing to fear but fear in the end
help them discover the gift to them that God did give
their true purpose, passion and destiny for which they should live
tell them that this faith has always been in your family
the inheritance of belief a lasting and living legacy
pass the baton of faith so your memory will keep on living
fan the flame of faith that which to you God has given
a strong belief system that you will  pass on down the line
by living and leaving a legacy that will be remembered for all time
Form: Epitaph

Riddle

The Truth is the Gift of Gods Word
for it's understanding the habitation has stirred
softly upon spirit we listen to it's call
comprehension to it's voice like a seed is small

Can you understand the wise man's riddle
apprehend interpretation the narratives trail
from beginning to end surround the middle
without understanding it's Truth you may fail

Upon the Truth are your heavens fixed
the hearing upon earth with lies are mixed
to many have reached a state of complacency
the cares of this life has choked ability

You lead upon paths unknown
a flight those having wings have flown
I tell you upon the rise of each day
that you must lead and show us the way

Oh Shepherd like a lamb you guide me
for I am lost to the flock without thee
My Lord and my God you have called us out
faith in you but confidence in self do doubt

With every gesture you affirm the way
yet evermore before me do my sins lay
I look around upon those I do see
whose lives are worth much more than me

The seventh day Jehovah has blessed
where mankind will enter into his rest
abundance of joy will fill the earth
as Gods Kingdom has given birth

The fruit of her labor is worldwide
she will wipe the tears her children have cried
Gods woman has brought forth Life
she will train the children remove their strife

You are God from the womb of my mother
have preserved me from violence of brother
your handmaiden as captive I serve
given more than anyone here deserve

I listen to the music of your call
understand I grace given since fall
for to live is Christ and to die gain
and within the hand of your Love remain

Forsake me not when I reach that hour
frail woman in mankind has not power
give me courage so I don't therein cower
for I have beheld the future from your tower

Oh my gentle Lord your path holds no discord
our seas turned to glass when we do as asked
neath your wisdom do kneel as truth you reveal
all thinking given you and insight given true

Hold me close and in your arms
for hear I do the trumpets alarms
you have signified my death
for those you love I give my breath

Hold my hand on the path you take
for I am weak and easily brake
a thing that is soft and frail
for those you love like Lord impale

Now I know the path to you
by example your loved showed true
willing I am to give you my life
like anointed Son did for wife

source JOHN 3:16 Romans 12:1-2

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
Form: Rhyme

Thanks To You All

Thanks to you all
Thanks to those who come to 
poetrysoup.com, practise poems, 
write, read and share poems 
and comment on others

Thanks to those who read my
writings, do comments, follow 
me, avoid my poems, block
and ban me from their list
Thanks to you all

I’ve no eternity here, all of me
from least to chest, best to edge,
sharpen blade of new paddy leaves
jeopardize my torn nib of ink
in the field of writings graph  

Maybe I couldn’t write any word 
for beauty and stunning young girl 
in comprehension, in passion and 
in my fashionable heart

Maybe I couldn’t write charming note
of flower’s petals, striking fragrance,
in my perpetuity lake of quills

Maybe I couldn’t draw the sexy body of 
rose, lotus, tulip, sunflower, orchid, 
lily, daffodil… etc in my vulnerable
reef of poetic expression

Maybe I couldn’t draw the colors magic
of rainbow in my infatuated fallen 
soaked feathers with November rain

Maybe I couldn’t inscribe the nature
the cosmos, the solar system, the ocean, 
the black hole, the space, the sky, the stars, 
the planets, the galaxies, the meteors, the
gravitational power…etc in my slumbering 
wings of writings

Maybe I couldn’t plant the meditational
tree into the pure heart of words, I couldn’t
select the seeds of immortality in my
ascetic madness and magma script

Maybe I couldn’t greet the autonomy flying
of Cockatiels, Parakeets, Canaries, Finches, 
African Grey Parrots, Budgerigars, Cockatoos, 
Conures, Macaws, Poicephalus…etc in my 
unintelligible incarcerated language 

Maybe I couldn’t hail the abode for Labrador, 
Bulldog, German, Poodle, Beagle… etc and
Maine Coon, Egyptian Mau, American Bobtail,
Ragdoll…etc in my materialistic 
harvesting terminology 

Maybe I couldn’t sleep with power of poems,
dream to be a finest classic or modern poet
in my kingdom of pen, paper, ink, writing
table-chair and lamp

Notwithstanding all these, I thanks to those
who come here at least one time daily, 
erratically and read, write, share own 
thoughts and comment frankly 

Thanks to you all a lot. Thanks and love you
all. From me always ready the rose without 
thorns and love for you all, although you bleed 
my heart by thorns stinging 


-November 14, 2018 Chattogram



////

DEDICATED TO POETRYSOUP.COM and ALL POETS-POETESSES OF THIS ESTEEMED LITERARY SITE

The Monarch Who Thought He Was King

The Monarch Who Thought He Was King

Once there was a butterfly
	who fluttered by a gate. 
The gate was closed, that’s when he said, 
	“O shucks, now I’ll be late!” 
He danced and pranced and shouted 
	and did not hesitate, 
“I demand,” he said with power, 
	“please, open up this gate!” 

To his surprise before his eyes
	the gate did open wide. 
“A lovely thing; I am the king! 
	I’m surely qualified. 
I had no choice so with my voice
	the command I simplified: 
‘Just open up this gate! 
	I need to get inside.’”

He told to all who’d hear him: 
	“I am the King,” he said. 
While some bowed down and listened; 
	some would not turn their head. 
They huffed and puffed and scoffed away,
	“We’re sure that you misread.
To open up a gate is easy;
	like falling out of bed!” 

His shoulders drooped, his forehead sagged; 
 	his eyes filled up with tears, 
“You cannot make me less a king
	with your scoffing and your sneers. 
I am the king,” he fluffed with pride, 
	“the ruler of my peers.” 
Then off he flew without a thought
	of all their laughs and jeers. 

He fluttered to a purple bush; 
	the hue fit for a king. 
And there he sat to contemplate
	and other kingly things. 
“I’ll show them all; the small and tall, 
	and all the scoffs they bring. 
A proclamation for my nation:
	we’ll hold a royal fling.” 

From low and high, from far and near
	they gathered close to see
the monarch make his grand command
	and show his identity. 
A thousand monarch butterflies
	watched with frivolity
with five or six ambassadors
	from the queendom of the bees.

And there he came with pomp and pride
	the self-made king to share
he was a monarch butterfly
	and worthy of their care. 
He preened his wings and listened for
	the sound of his fanfare, 
but all he heard was rustling wind
	which threw him in the air. 

He crashed and tumbled to the floor; 
	they could not believe their eyes. 
The kingdom they had counted on
	was built on fibs and lies. 
The king was crumpled to the ground
	ashamed in his demise.
He let the rain fall down on him
	from clouds in the gray skies. 

And then he woke up from his nap
	and turned inside his bed.
He saw the flowers of his home
	of purple, blue, and red. 
Right then and there he promised
	and to himself he said,
“I’ll be the best of butterflies,
	than to be king instead.”
Form: Rhyme

Mathew 6: 12-13

"mathew" 6: 12-13
“and forgive us our debts”
(not only does a sheep get 3 squares a day,
but it is also believed that if one begs the
sky enough, one’s problems will just
wash away---this is to be the subsequent
consequence of ALL humans following
suit & getting down on four legs, growing
their thick coats & chewing grass)

“as we forgive our debtors”
(as the sheep thinking that their problems
are solved by an imaginary listener in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky,
so do the sheep continue grazing with a
sort of “live and let live” mentality,
until they are picked off by hunters)

“and do not lead us into temptation”
(so, the same imaginary listener who resides
in that imaginary trailer park, who seemed
to be the one that all the sheep were
comfortably baaaaa-ing to, now is
something to be feared as well?  perhaps
that which one feels the need to submit
the whole of their will to is the same
corrupted core inside that would come up
with such a ridiculous hoax to begin with,
as found in the schizophrenic comment
here in the command to oneself (a baaaaa
into the mirror, if you will)
 
“but deliver us from the evil one”
(the EVIL ONE?  is not the concept of
evil just that which goes against the
simultaneous baaaaa of the herd in the
grassy field?  was not the GOOD ONE
just told in the last line to “not lead us
into temptation,” thereby being the only
“one” which can do so?  make sure when
getting the ladle of kool-aid dumped into
your dixie cup, that you ask if said
dumper is EVIL or GOOD…certainly at
that point it will make all the difference in
the world)
 
“for yours is the kingdom and the power
and the glory forever”
(there is no other imaginary listener, whose
two-faced multiple personalities, residing in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky, handing
out its ladles of kool-aid, whose overwhelming
passion could be heard any louder than that
which dwells within the very heads of the
already brainwashed sheep baaaaa-ing out
the rest of their days, dissatisfied with the
actual physical world around them &
waiting for the end of what they deem as
a great big thorn in their side---that is,
the rest of us who are not convinced, and
who are not baaaaa-ing with the rest of
em’)

“amen”
(right there, in a nutshell, the whole lie
itself was conjured up by “a man,” or
a few men---all who had way too much
time on their hands & a rather limited
imagination).

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