Long Lifewater Poems
Long Lifewater Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifewater by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifewater poems by poem length and keyword.
What is Real? I ask myself
Is it only that which you can taste, touch or feel?
Or is it not the obvious but only the quiet poundings of one's heart
Those of sensibility, those which all of wondering humanity must endure.
Could it be in the quiet whisperings
Which hang upon a lover's breath?
Could it be in the silent feelings
That which cause my true heart unrest?
Could it be in the long lost memories
Of the beloved that have come before?
Could be in death's eternal silence
Never to speak again evermore?
Could it be the muriad of ideas
That go racing through my mind
Like ships that have crossed the oceans
Fearless travelers seeking to find
Seeking to find that which has not been sought
Seeking to think that which has never been thought
Seeking to create unique individuality from within
Infiinitely seeking...through hardships and loss.
Could it be in the miraculous act
That makes a plant grow from a seed?
Could it be found in the remarkable story
Of how mankind came to be?
Could be in what makes the sun shine
And creates the wind and rain and snow?
Could it be where rainbow's treasure really resides
Will one ever know?
Is it hidden in the quiet snowkflakes
Which flutter untethered through the skies
Could it be contained in their complex frameworks
In which it could microscopically reside.
Magical structures of which they are
Their infinite uniqueness amazingly clear.
From water to air
from air to snow
from snow to water once again
Is this one of the infinite cycles
Of which what is real evidently appears?
Could there be real?
Can it be found?
What is real?
Is it in sound?
Could there be real?
Can it be sown?
What is real?
Is it a fact, is it known?
What is real?
Is there such a thing as real?
Is there a given contract?
Is it a solid deal?
Is there really, really real?
Will real ever cease to be?
Is there really truth in real?
Is there really, real in me?
(December 3rd, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
LEGEND
we are all legends no matter who we are
cruising, and confusing ENIGMA to bizarre
I am a legend, no need to be a star
I am a legend ,with no need to travel far
In and out like the sun
I am a legend, I' m not the only one
living this world with one quick run
we are still a legend, we control the gun
drinking all the water from the dam
drowning in a lake is what i dram
a legend I made the river where I swam
after drinking the water from the lamb
legend when our hearts are lost in the ground
legend we become when we are found
legend we are all destine to bound
legend by the weight of the smallest pound
legend down to the bone
legend even when you're alone
a legend does not always carry a nice tone
a legend is your name engraved in the stone
by : p.d.
The rooster crows early in the Zambian morning.
With subtle sunlight starting to appear on the Horizon, ten year old Dikembe begins
has journey to gather water for the family from the Luapula River.
With water buckets balanced on the ends of a bamboo stick he carries across his
shoulders, Dikembe returns to find his Mother starting a fire to fix a sparse
breakfast for her three children. The morning sun already beats down on the dusty
village now alive with life. The ever present flies are already pestering Dikembe and
the sores on his limbs.
Dikembe sees the white man on the horizon entering the village by foot, carrying his
bag of medicines.
Women and children start to form a line at the small hut he will use as his office on
this day. For hours, the white man examines one patient after another,
administering what little medicine he has and offering healthcare advice that he
knows is not understood and/or will go unheeded.
Dikembe sits in the corner of the hut, watching it all with curiosity.
At the end of the long day, the white man packs up his bag, walks over to Dikembe
and hands him a piece of gum. Dikembe smiles and mumbles, “Thank you” in broken
English.
As he puts the piece of gum into his mouth, Dikembe remembers the stories one
white man once read to him from a book called the bible, and he thinks, “I love,
Christmas. I hope it is this nice again next year.”
Living water makes those soft splashing sounds
As it courses from its source to spread all around
Flowing outward to feed all who come into its bounds
All God's creatures are drawn hearing the course it takes around
The grass springs up by its side where deer can feed
Trees grow tall and healthy offering nesting sights for birds and bees
Living waters start from a small source spreading just like a sound wave
Coursing, running, spreading, nuturing, growing and a place to bathe
This living water is a place to come to nuture and completely restore ones soul
Oh that land where the living waters flow