Long Knees Poems
Long Knees Poems. Below are the most popular long Knees by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knees poems by poem length and keyword.
Nets are hauled and homeward go the shrimp boats
rolling slow and easy on a sunset path,
their droning engines chugging
over a rippling seafoam.
In the mangrove swamp
an egret sets its white sails and glides upwards
upon hot winds.
The sky opens for its passage
leading it through a cloudless window.
Cypress roots grip the darkening water.
their knees just above a brackish deep.
Mosquitoes dance in the dank
as shadows reach inwards.
Tonight on the bayou, grills will be heated,
pots filled,
while fishing nets are neatly reefed and mended
by rough and ready hands.
Children will skip and play in the barefooted
calm of late evening,
until carried away to their cots
sleepily listening to anhinga and loon
chant their native calls
beneath a far from sleeping lakeside moon.
Cool and crisp, with a hint of desire.
Desolate spaces, decrepit, derelict; a watchers paradise.
A proffered hand, an invitation into the abyss.
A gift of anticipated pleasure.
A dark path, void of moonlight, the dancers enter the realm.
Buttons defeated.
Skin exposed, her dress slips.
Her underwear, contrasting the depth of nights camouflage.
Revealed.
A honing beacon.
Attracting movement from afar
Guided, the touch of her dancer, brings her to her knees.
Serving her lover, taking all he has to offer, as the watchers enter their domain.
The sweet taste of flesh. Lips pressed against him softly.
Ebb and flow of power against her tongue, he turns her head.
A presentation that excites them all.
Taking her hand, he leads her to the ruins of a once beautiful place.
A calm space, lapped by the lake and lays her down.
The widening of her legs offers the watchers an invitation to view the pleasure she may allow.
The strangers hands, become one with her body, desirous, wanton.
Her carefree nature, trust in the dancer, demands their participation as she takes parts of them.
One by one as others touch.
Her.
Them.
Each other.
An embodiment of souls.
A primal need.
i am reminded of my mother's advice
find a woman with God dearest in her heart
be grateful if she comes to love you
sit at His feet therein and blessings be yours
i am again lost in photos of you
when life held you in precious moments
those perennials you so loved
each as knight errant before your roses
lost in hues from rose, lavender, and blue
butterflies appearing
as they eagerly searched for their drams
wings of white, yellow, and orange
your marrow fills me
now a longing held within
times when i hunger to approach that Throne
upon supplicant knees
offer every blessing life has given
for simply one more moment
in your arms
OKC 5/22
“Love is not love which alters it when alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wandering bark whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken." William Shakespeare
the father in whom you work for to receive,
is your heavenly father above all of these,
no one on earth can give you the same,
to connect you to his heart in so many ways,
the rush in his wind, in his peaceful still on your knees,
that takes you away from all the world's atrocities,
yet together we can see and identify,
his love opens the door to our hearts to realize,
and no greater love is this than to lay down your life for your brother,
for you know in your heart it's done for the love of your father,
compassion leads us to new stages in life,
loves transformations that come alive,
right in the very midst of its moving,
sometimes at a pace so fast, we can't see what's it doing,
or where the wind takes us to change our hearts view,
the turn of the heart stripping us from the old to the new.
Like a devout inside the temple and
the lonely outside, I too aimlessly
look for little notes in the books that
I buy. If they could speak, they'd tell
the story of their being. When they
were there without a promise to be
kept perpetually but with one to
alternate consecutively. They whisper
as if calling my name and I swear my
name becomes more powerful, but I
digress. I found a note today, it was
perhaps, addressed to someone I
might never meet or to someone who
barely existed. It read “my dearest, I
want you to have this book in hopes
that you won't be hoping for me. I leave
you with my love for I don't want to
live in a world where you aren't.” It's
absolutely grotesque how one man's
loss is another man's gain. The
whispers came back again, this time
it wasn't my name that they took, it
was hers, it was Maria's. As the
whispers grew louder, my powers
weakened. The whispers turned into
voices. I looked in the mirror, trying to
make sense of things until I realized
it wasn't my reflection staring me down.
My heart jolted 100 beats per minute,
my limbs making sounds never heard
before. A voice, mouthing something
in the background, trying to run away,
I could tell. Weak in my knees, still
standing. With each beat of my heart,
I gained the power once lost and at that
moment, I realized,
I was Maria.
We have many functions in our body
some helpful, and others are not so
but there's one that sticks out more
even from an early age, it loves to say no
The tongue has the power for good or bad
its tendency is to be bad from its heart
but good can come with the spirit's work
godly marks then are seen in no small part
Scripture tells us about the tongue's poison
with this, it brings evil upon all in its ways
without the spirit's effect ot falls down deep
its language shows evil intent all the day
It's an awful thing considering its power
bringing fear and anxiety upon its prey
we need God's authority to bring it down
which brings us to our knees to pray
Remember, in the tongue is true fruit
that which fully satisfies every thirst
so love this tongue to full effect
then the evil poison will be burst
("Death and life are in the power of the tongue,
and those who love it will eat its fruits.")
Proverbs 18: 21 (ESV)
Look at me for I am here
The lonely life they tried to disappear
The broken person with his broken mind
I live amongst you but you are all blind
Touch my hand and feel my skin
I feel like you feel but for me no one feels from within
I am skin and bone in physical space
Yet my presence is lost in view like I have no face
I walk the street alone, no one bothers with me
I see you enjoying living a life with a family
You catch a glimpse of me in a dark sillohette
Just for a second I exist but then you forget
I can't live like you, I can't love like you
For love forsook my life the day I was born
They broke my bones; I never had a home
They left me to feed on scraps and filth
They beat me when I cried or asked for help
Please look at me for I am here
The scars on my body will never disappear
The war in my mind of life and death
The whispered words I only talk to myself
Are just wasted breath
Look at me for here I am
On my knees begging for anything
Why walk past me? Why help me feed?
For to you who has everything
I am no one and no one is me
Crushing defeat,
failure beneath my feet.
How will I rise to my feet . . . broken,
I am on my knees.
Failure hits my heart like a knife piercing through my skin,
like a fire removing flesh
Believe me, there is hell on earth
There is no rising sun today, only black thick clouds covering my soul.
Fighting the storm in my head playing a familiar song "you can't win "
the drumming grows louder each time the voice sings 'you can't win"
I have given my pain wings to fly.
Only defeat can hear me cry
I am praying for the rising sun to remove the darkness from my eyes so I can hear the glory of the morning singing a new song of
hope ..."I shall win"
defeat will die
The sun will rise
I will smile.
A friend sent me a spinner
Which turns gently in a breeze.
It needed some assembly,
So I got down on my knees,
Removing all the pieces
From the box where they were packed.
I looked at the instructions
And then noticed that I lacked
Part D, which had connectors,
So I couldn’t quite begin.
Without those parts, the spinner
Wouldn’t even get to spin.
Although it came from China,
It’s through Amazon and so
Returns are pretty easy,
Which I’ve lately come to know.
My friend got me the code
And I will head to UPS,
If my cramming-in-the-carton skills
Are met with some success.
Oh my Grace, where art Thou now, my inspiration and power?
Why hast Thou turned Thy face, against my brow?
Art Thou now gone, or dost Thou bow down before dumb idols for naught?
Could it be my unanswered, under achieved, wasted life, sought for but not caught?
May I find my course’s reason,
But for mankind’s very own treason?
Could the way before, though it be not mine,
Be for consumption of both heart and mind?
For heaven’s sake, please feed me a supper’s plate,
Which won’t leave me filled with hate,
But instead, bring me love and retreat,
Which just might, through might, I might eat.
For I am empty, eaten, through starvation’s words,
Strategically placed near the slaughter’s cross, cursed.
I await my eternal turn, to follow mine, a martyr’s tale,
To defy all the rest of my life, remaining true, yet to unveil.
Grace is a gift of the strength of the power of God,
Bestowed upon all those who look upon,
The Lord lifted up, who grants redemption,
Given through faith, unto our salvation.
Jesus took the fault, eternal punishment, pain, and fall,
Bearing with it, all the trials, turmoil, and withdrawals,
Accumulated and manifest, from all our falls.
The Perfect Lamb, slaughtered in shame, pain, and blame for all.
My Lord, Your Grace, be engraven upon my hands, knees and face.
I do not dwell upon Thy grief, but to find relief, in Thine sanctified, hallowed grace.
My heart shines now, I do adore and bow, causing my woolen robes to be exquisite white.
Thy life in mine, I humbly vow, My Grace, Thou art my true delight!
Nothing so excruciating could ever be done,
For souls whose fatal corruption in enmity, could ever be won,
But by the saving, sacrificing, righteous love of the Holy Son.
Do not ever mock what God has wrought in crushing agony, for fun.