Long Kinsman Poems
Long Kinsman Poems. Below are the most popular long Kinsman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kinsman poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything my God is
God's my savior
and Redeemer my God
My deliverer He's the God of Peace
my God my savior God of my salvation
He's great God and savior ruler and king of all Nations
The God of my salvation great God
And He's Savior
Horn of my salvation He's Lord
My personal Savior
He's the Prince of Peace Redeemer kinsman redeemer
He be my Rock of salvation
He's Rock of my Savior
Savior of all men lover of all things
Compassionate and gracious God
God so got a truth faithful Father a compassion always
He's such a forgiving God my God of All comfort
My God of all Grace
He's the God of Hope
God of love and peace steadfastness and encouraging
God ever so gracious and merciful
My God a true loving God
Hallelujah
11/24/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Troubled heart
Its me your kinsman
Life calls for success in businesses and love bound affairs.
I have hope to see the smile of life reflecting in my life,
But,its the the hardest task that keeps on evaluating in my trail of success.
When I want to start a business its the joy of all traders to make profit,
When I take a PSV ride its always everyone's sign of relieve we are assured of safe arrival.
But always on the back of the mind is
It cant happen to me,
None pictures him/herself as a victim of another's mistake.
Yet if its a road accident one is never assured a safe arrival,
But we never take a chance to thank God for His protection in our lives,
The weather pattern chances each and every second but even the micro second is accounted for by God
Why plan how to invest yet you are not involving God.
Why paln to harvest another man's garden yet God could have blessed you with a harvest
Ask and it will be given,question is if I ask for a Mercedes what will God give me
A house may be built but its never complete without God's intervention
Signal of hope are live everywhere we go but none takes note of the signs,
All see the symptoms of life regrets and not hand of God involved.
Shy me away from evil but keep money in my territory,
This prayer I ask the giver of all,but do not take ur presence from my life.
To those I have wronged in life and to those who know the weakness of this poem I dare ask for a forgiveness but to the millions who have wronged me I pray that its forgiven
Unto my heart I clean my body but my image I live the world to frame it as it wishes.
I have no value wishing for others fortune but to me be mine and mine in full..
Chuimunga the poet
ROY OF THE LIGHT
Legend talks of a young boy
the name ROY
tired of being a mortal
he traveled to the land of light
There he embraced the light
He became a creature of light
with ability to move
move at the speed of light
and take any look he fancied..
now Roy fancied.. nay loved
loved them nice girls
i speak of ROY for he grew up in our village
WE nicknamed him WANDA ROY
For a travellor he was
the first of the pilgrims
ROY the just ROY, a mystique..
ROY a defender of the down trodden
ROY a defender of justice
i speak of ROY for he grew up in our village
ROY the one who always saw more
yet admitted too little
they now say ROY roams the big city.. NAIROBI..
And did ROY love them gracious ladies
ROY of light indeed loved them fair lasses
ROY we loved to tease.. the skirt snitch..,
i speak of ROY for he grew up in our village
ROY thou an ordained brother of the church
ROY now a musician
ROY morrow a cop
ROY the next day a movie star
ROY you are but the star of light
ROY a computer wizard
i speak of ROY for he grew up in our village
Unlike kunti the king ostrich
my head is unburried under the sand
dont i know ROY.. ROY my kinsman
ROY who taught me eloquence
ROY the teacher of subtle
and master of martial arts
i believe ROY for we grew up together
ROY a resource beneath the cloud
ROY a variant of norms
ROY a teacher of customs
ROY just ROY..
You loved the feel linen
i believe in you ROY for we grew in the same household
Years come and go
seasons come and pass
they are born and given to be wed
But ROY OF the light..
are you not a resource beneath a cloud
you are the echo of light
you are the beacon of light
i speak of you ROY you are my kinsman
ROY the resource beneath a cloud..
ROY..We knew he was just
ROY, THE JUST ROY
And Israeli our people ROY
Will always remain ROY...
ROY nimo mawala ma israeli.
The lights of Bethlehem still burn,
For Ruth’s mother-in-law to return.
Since her unfettered faith, so strong,
Convinced Ruth, with her, to come along.
Facing bravely the consequences of God’s plan,
Ruth, with Naomi, went to the Promised Land.
To live on in Bethlehem was their decision,
Both seeking to receive God’s provision.
God doesn’t stop being God in adversity
Is what Naomi taught Ruth to believe.
So there in Bethlehem, Ruth sought for a man
To help her with the consequences of God’s plan.
And Boaz of Bethlehem, Naomi’s rich kinsman,
Found Ruth to be both charming and winsome.
So he shared with Ruth the bounty of his field,
When he learned her faith, though foreign, was real.
Thus they became one with the grace of God’s will
And with a prophecy of God their duty to fulfill.
Ruth’s faith in Naomi’s God found reinforcement
While lovelorn Naomi was freed of her resentment.
God’s will it was to give Ruth and Boaz a boy,
And for Naomi to restore her spiritual joy.
For six days, the sky has opened its palms
over Awka, over Nnobi, over the red earth
that drinks and drinks and never says enough.
Today, the rain began in the dark,
while the moon hid her face and the rooster slept,
and now the sun has risen, bold and bright,
yet the rain refuses to go.
It pours like a promise kept,
like the voice of the ancestors
speaking from the clouds,
not in anger, but in abundance.
The sky is a calabash,
and it is not yet empty.
This is the season of the yam,
the first fruit lifted from the ground,
offered to the gods who remember
the taste of sweat and the smell of new soil.
Even in Nnobi, where my people dance
with white chalk on their foreheads,
the rain joins the celebration—
not as a stranger, but as a kinsman.
Let it fall.
Let it soak the thatch and the roads,
let it fill the streams and the song of the frogs.
The yam is fat beneath the ground,
and the rain is its midwife.
This is not a flood; it is a blessing.
This is not a delay; it is a rhythm.
July has passed its baton to August,
and the rain has not forgotten its duty.
It falls on the market women
who spread their wares under zinc,
on the children who splash through puddles,
on the elders who nod and say,
"This is how it was in our time."
So let the sky be bright and the rain be heavy.
Let the new yam be eaten with joy.
For even the sun knows when to bow
to the water that gives life.
And we, the children of the earth,
know when to raise our hands
and say thank you.
For Awka, for Nnobi, for the rain that knows its season.
Chukwuemeka Ezeulukpu
Dear Jesus,
You are my kinsman Redeemer,
without you, I'd be alone, separated from God,
But now I'm atoned, for you fulfilled the law!
On the cross, just before you died…
You cried, “Tet-el-estai! You cried, “Tet-el-estai”!
You said, “It is finished” Redeeming your kin,
“it is finished”, you paid the debt for my sin!
You marked it all paid in full,
Sin's scarlet is cleaned whiter than wool…oh oh oh Thank you…, thank you Jesus!
Dear Jesus
My hope and advocate
Oh ill never forget the sacrifice you've made
You defend me against the accuser
And you always prevail cause he's a loser
You made this perfectly clear when on the cross you cried, ““Tet-el-estai!
Oh yes, You cried, “Tet-el-estai!
You said, “It is finished” proclaiming that I can go free! “it is finished”, There's no judgement on me!
The enemy is just wasting his breath…For you defeated him and the penalty of death…oh oh oh Thank you…, thank you Jesus!
Dear Jesus,
King of Kings and Lord of Lords!
Oh you are coming with fire in your eyes, and a two edged sword…the battle has already been won…Jesus you are the victorious King, and on the cross your work was done.
And you proclaimed this with your final cry,
“Tet-el-estai! Oh yes, You cried, “Tet-el-estai!
Yes you cried, “it is finished, the battle is over!”
“ It is finished, the enemy is no more!”
Death and hell, Satan, sin and the grave,
are defeated forevermore,My children are saved!
And we cry, with our hands lifted high, “Tet-el-estai!
“Tet-el-estai! , “Tet-el-estai!
Yess we cry, with hands lifted high....“Tet-el-estai!
Shudder not, for it’s the language of Death.
Who’s next? —it asks
Going from house to house,
Both of marble and mud
It cares not
Nor fears man, rich or poor,
Warrior or coward,
Whose nest it visits,
His cold arms ready for embrace,
Ready to snatch
Life is just but one lugubrious journey
On sea or on land or on air,
Which must end with the sound of
A school bell signalling the end of a recess.
So rejoice not when one, friend or foe, drops from the line,
For you could be next
And your kinsman next after you.
One after the other,
We drop
Like one old, battered leaf after another, in the
Spell of autumn.
ARISA K
There lived a great king
in the coastal region
the name Arisa K..
A good leader was he....
But beneath the smiles
Oh.. my what a character
Arisa K the slaver of your young sons
ARISA K the sponsor of bandits...
ARISA K the very enemy of his people..
a great leader he was considered...
for few knew the excesses of his atrocities..
Villages burnt down..
villagers retaliating
to their surprise... their lost sons
the very ones raiding them...
Oracles consulted for its taboo -
to shed a kinsman blood...
Oracles spoke..twas night
then fell great arisa k.. three arrows..
Sent from the gods themselves... justice?..
Lewis k Nyaga
vituko pwani..
*Image of Paul Simon SNL by Giphy.
Simple Simon
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Woke up fresh as the day began,
Busy cooking, his wife named Anne,
Made his breakfast in a saucepan,
Enjoyed eating his plate of flan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Filled with it and a bit more than,
Kissed his wife as the best he can,
Came a knock was cousin Tristan,
Kissed her again before he ran,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Walking with his fellow kinsman,
Who was a bit like a Tarzan,
He says, "We'll do as we did plan",
Simon says, "Yes, buy us a van",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
His cousin be an anchorman,
Does things like some sort of game plan,
Says he will talk to the salesman,
Interviews him like a newsman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Let him run the show as one-man,
Naught be a common businessman,
Just glad to be a middleman,
As Tristan drew the masterplan
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Waiting ate a bowl of pecan,
Tossed all the shells in a trash can,
Tristan smiled, "Got the minivan",
"And at a price that cost less than",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Twas showroom new, in black and tan,
Best terms on the installment plan,
Signed, gift his full attention span,
While at the station, thanked Tristan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Drove on home to show his wife Anne,
Who had a guest her friend, Roxanne,
Amused they were with the new van,
The cost, the look, in black and tan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Took wife Anne and her friend Roxanne,
Proud just been a little more than,
Wide-eyed no call by the sandman,
Off from work with Anne and their van,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman.
2020 March 03
*HM*
STRAND CHOICE C,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 March 11
Dear Papa,
Sad, my siblings and I,
Never got to meet with you;
You left us too soon,
Out in this cold, dark and unjust climate;
Out in the deep ghettos and jungles;
In the hands of conmen and wolves
In sheep's clothing;
In the hands of those
Who have turned a house of refuge
Into A den of thieves
With no proof of roof
Over our bruised heads
The fence you mended
Has caved in
Your old, durable coat
Of many colors
Has frayed at the edges
Refusing to be mended
Father,
If we had known
When the thief
Would stealthily saunter in,
We would have guided our loins
Now,
Men have lost their fate
A good name is no more precious
Than gold and silver
Even when there is a way
There is no more will
Men have rolled up their
Goat skin mats,
Tucked away in rafters
To be fanned by smoke
And feasted on by rats
Men have hidden their drink horns
Refusing to tap wine or commune
Feigning to be temporary
Rather than contemporary
The glories of yesterday
Have been washed away
By memories too battered and faint
To remember your charge
Staten Island is being renovated
But they feign ignorance
A grave yard is more presentable, appealing and serene
Than our back country
Dogs now feast on fellow dogs...
Father, please don't look back in anger...
A child's hand is not scaled
By the hot piece of yam bequeathed by his mother;
Only a man who has not been
To his kinsman' s farm assumes
His father's farm is bigger
Mandiba,
Tomorrow is pregnant
We do not know what it will bring forth....
Today is here, alive with us
Our hope lies in the fidelity
That one day,
Perhaps one day, we Will get it right;
Smile and call you Mandiba