Long Laity Poems
Long Laity Poems. Below are the most popular long Laity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Laity poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, esteemed clergy, heed to the lament,
Of laity's voice saddled with virtues not lent.
So also grasp the virtues and never go askew,
We all misstep, but confront the truths you knew.
Pride is tacked with injustice and palls of deceit,
Assert no purity from a tongue of the same suit.
You preach of love, yet starving us of that light,
You assert faith that still craves a discerning sight.
This is not animosity, but a call to an upright quest,
So you would thrive in honesty away a worldly jest.
Truth waver not with altitude; retract the craving for affluence,
They seduce until shadow of death draws to a confluence.
Be converted to convert the laity with words of delight,
It's only when you're true that God heals our
plight.
Rights Reserved
Calumny is a sin which consists in maliciously attributing to another faults
detects which he did not posses
A person commits the sin of calumny or
slander when by lying he injures the good name of another
Laity is a member of the Church that does not belong to the clerical
religious state
Unity is what all people of God is supposed to be in His only Catholic
Roman Catholic Church.
Mass is given from Jesus Christ only Roman Catholic Church
New Covenant is the law and dispensation of Jesus Christ
opposed to the Old Covenant of Moses which it infinitely surpassed
superseded
fulfilled
Yahweh refers to the proper name of God
"WHO AM"
12172011
A straight line, laity,
And crooked one quite weighty,
In topsy-turvy
A poetic metre’s world,
Friend, why be such a straight bird?
And why so long winding
Where a crooked line softness shows,
One straight, harshness and stress,
In world of woes, oh warped that goes,
Where a crooked line softness shows—
In such an awkward world of woes,
What use straightforwardness
Where a crooked line softness shows,
One straight, harshness and stress!
___________________________________
Triolet |12.07.2023| poetry, world
Poet’s note: What Tanka takes five short and sweet lines, a Triolet takes eight and longer ones.
Slow and serene could I walk at the jheel
If wore on my visage a pleasant smile,
Relaxed to core, deep-set laity to feel,
When weary thoughts were left behind to pile.
A seed of joy within sprouts peace and love,
What a perennial source in life it is!
But not for me in rush, ever on move,
Ever on rise a buoyant sea to seize.
Life’s leisured walk, a sprint nor blindfold race,
If to reflect I opt for peaceful pause
That puts me in prime touch with inmost face,
Where’s joy in chasing a gossamer gauze?
Too bad, it dawns to me on a late day
That there's no way to joy, joy is the way.
_______________________
Sonnet |03.08.11, revised January 2025| joy, journey
Poet’s note: A jheel (Hindi) is a shallow, sprawling lake.
In contemporary society, doctors & scientists for example, are considered to be experts in that they hold a body of dominant knowledge that is on the whole, inaccessible to the layman.
How I feel about the vaccine, its nobodies business
When I look around I find tons of brainers on the subject
Half of them scientific experts who know it all (yes) 100%
Half of them scientific experts who know it all (no) 100%
Just like politics and religion now we have a 3rd subject
that has become taboo
I rather focus on a cure for the world at large
stay positive, don't pound your opinion on either side
"They say never throw away a Layman" was originally used to distinguish between non-clerical people and the clergy.
It soon was used to distinguish non-professionals from professionals in a field (such as law or medicine). In a similar fashion the collective noun "laity" originally referred to non-clerical people, but came to also mean "persons not of a particular Profession.
In my opinion, most of us can be considered layman
so why are we so quick to act as Doctors or Shamans
How do I feel about the vaccine is an opinion too costly to say these days
you got it ? you didn't ? you ! gamma rays ! I'm in a daze
Birth of an infant, a mom's victorious pain
From monosyllables to phrases to sentences
Speech takes the place of shouts and cries
Actions replaces the moans; coos and tries
From crawls to strollers, sturdy legs stood up
From dolls to cars, who could have thought
Later from afar, some "plays" could leave a scar
or some games will give you one or more stars!
Myriads of people come and goes in life
Who will dare to stay, care or leave a strife?
Pinnacles and woes there will always be
Yet, this the beauty of life one could have been
For each teardrop fall, hails and molds a soul
For each mistake, numbers large blessings
For each joy and success, paves to motivate
For each step and decision, leads to a better self
A top billboard list, one can be
Blockbuster live movie of life, one can also be
Best selling unwritten book, one can also be
Or the least a kind laity that one can be
Our life, may either be at peace and of bliss
Or the other way around, at war and of pissed
They say: "live life to fullest.."
But who can ever say: The hows'
For our life comes from God
No one can readily predict
When it will be last or gone
Or when exactly is death?
By
olive_eloi
4:01 pm
03/13/2014
CONTEST: LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT
SPONSOR: DAVE WOOD
9TH PLACE (TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY)
---------------------------
Pray For The Mistletoe
or
In My Church? Get “Outta” Here
By: Tom Wright
9/22/99
Some laity, crowd Churches,
affixing themselves to pews as Mistletoe to a tree.
Always there, but barely clinging to Spiritual life.
If fruit is borne, it is, as the Mistletoe's white berries --
small and poisonous.
As Mistletoe, they rely on others,
for the nourishment sought during this weekly feeding.
Let another preach, or teach, sing, and pray.
Being selfish, an appearance on their behalf,
is thought to be quite adequate.
During the week, as Mistletoe, they're content to "sort of hang around",
spiritually fasting until feeding time again.
While some, may quickly tire of the menu,
and feel "Led" to detach and find another Spiritual tree,
others remain, and watch their numbers grow.
Churches often become places for social gatherings,
and entertainment, rather than places to worship a risen Savior.
These churches become as Mistletoe inhabited trees in dead of winter,
cold, and frequently struggling to hold their own,
then later appearing void of any appreciable life.
Don't become a parasite in your Church,
stay active in your study, prayer, and stewardship.
Make daily quiet time to pray for your Pastor,
and oh yes, don't become as the Mistletoe!
be holy for I am holy
our Lords spoke to Moses
of priests
&the holy
sacrifices&
cleanliness
&laity in worship
orientated for all
our Lords spoke to Moses
of the presence
of God
permanent
yet localised
a tent of appointment
a visual rendez-vous
to tabernace anew
our Lords spoke to Moses
to be holy
not commonplace
purified
sanctified
a perpetual call
to all
our Lords spoke to Moses
of sacrifice for sin
supposing of blessing
&curses
a twin
our Lords spoke to Moses
of allegiance&redemption
in
covenant&pledge
changing of ways
&
reciprocation
instead
our Lords spoke to Moses
in
scripture inspired
of love
to others
neighbours
heartfelt
with strength
mind&soul
to
seek out
completeness
divine grace
face-face
Old Persian expedition of eight ships
Eight hundred soldiers on board with whips
Traveled and vanquished Aksumites of good gesture
People of worship, peace and humane nature
Aksum of ivory and gold
Many stories, forgotten and untold
Ripped of faith, freedom and sold
Queen of beauty blazed houses of the laity and cold
Forty years all devouts left defenseless and bleak
On the frail grounds under scorching sunny peak
Yet stones of faith stood tall over the weak
Images of the Cross on coins, strong faith
of the banished people speak
Cairns of unnamed heroes and heroines of faith
Christians of unity, subjects of the saith
Above all afflictions and tribulations from the cursed breath
Bright lights dwell on good, strong souls
chained by shadowed wraith
From hunting comes
From hunting drums
From hunting hums
All bright stars
Near and far
In New York or Trafalgar
Those stars in skyscrapers
Those dazzling gold vapours
The government shapers
The controller of all papers
All go on hunting
And keep counting
And measuring sometimes too
In the treasury
Keep your eyes open
The lids may shut up
Keep the cup wide
You will see everywhere
Ensnaring unaware
The tiger killing the helpless deer
Deer who love destiny
Who worship deities
Members of the laity
Dependent on goddesses and gods
In their odds
Fall very easy prey
To the hunters obsessional play
Their God has no say
In the decay
By hunters in dust they lay
Shrunk tottering mewing aching
Finally breaking down
Into the absolute immobility
Thanks to the myriad kinds
Of the guns of the hunters behind
I perk up my ear
In the civilized forest
And hear the guns
Nuns and monks are in readiness for nursing
Churches mosques temples towering for services
What a grace
My every molecule encapsulated in attention
Hears the sound of the gun
And feels the consequent death
The blue sky we love so much laughs nonetheless
The ground underneath
Is moistened in crimson red
Black velvet
First hunt the doe, a decoy
Leopards and tigers follow in joy
We are all pretty toy
In the hands of the hunters
We look on in wonder
Of grandeur of the capital
Take or surrender
You may grunt
Fruitlessly
Willy Nilly
You have to join the hunt
____________________________________________________________
30/10/2016
Not for contest since the lines have exceeded the stipulated limit which I failed to notice when I first read the contest details.