Long Likening Poems
Long Likening Poems. Below are the most popular long Likening by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Likening poems by poem length and keyword.
Your love is likening a bed, at home;
With four posts as legs represents the world you see;
And the sheets on top are the skies, (blue skies)
God you are the bed I want to lie in;
Covering my lot, filed with trues;
Your the blanket that keeps me warm;
As the comforter
You keep me secure
And the blanket keeps me worm as the comforter releases its own;
From the sun to the vast reaches of space;
God you're the bed I want to lie in;
Because you keep me from danger and all harm;
In my lot, filled with the trues;
And I don't want you to stop;
No, NO, No;
Your love is liken a bed at my home;
You keep me rested safe and warm;
Father, God you are the bed I want to lie in;
And the blanket keeps me warm as the comforter releases its own
From the sun to the vast reaches of space;
Your like a small plate a springtime, breakfast with bacon and eggs;
God you're the bed, the bed I want to lie in;
So that you can keep me warm;
Lay down my burdens;
I lay down my troubles now;
I rest here and I am no longer tired now;
Your love is liken a bed at my home;
You keep me safe and rested and warm;
I just want to be blessed and received;
God you are the bed I want to lie in;
written by James Edward Lee Sr. Aug 10 2011
taken From my anthology " The Writings On the Wall" 2011(c)
I gazed upon the familiar dirt road, partially submerged in the narrow ditch.
Every inch of its hardened surface was damp to the touch, causing my lips to tremble with uncertainty.
The darkness that surrounded me felt imbued with mysterious enchantment, reminiscent of soft white magnolias and crushed velvet.
Within the confines of my bedroom at night, a silence hung in the air, as if it resided within the very essence of my home.
I had learned to cease my futile resistance, for all that remained was a chilling anticipation, saturated with cold moisture.
No one seemed to believe that I had no control over the forces that resided within me.
My gothic neighbor, however, provided an explanation: during these prolonged encounters, it was best to refrain from taking any action.
Each rose, with its firm grip, filled my entire being, as if it had made a conscious decision.
In the depths of my inner mind, I warned myself not to find pleasure in this experience, likening it to the pressure that opens soft nuts.
It felt as though I were perpetually falling, searching for the perfect description.
Like a mighty wave retreating to the shore too soon, its impact was only felt on the inside of my thigh and lower leg, where it converged.
Time after time, in every direction imaginable, it pushed aside all illumination, focusing solely on the scorching heat deep within me.
Life is too short, and night, with its clandestine nature, becomes a song I keep secretly hidden within myself.
The night sky, adorned with brilliantly burning stars, witnessed the moon elevated high above, isolated from the rest.
Each night, I engaged in a wrestle with these forces, akin to slender tall trees releasing their grip on green verdant leaves.
As sleep overcame me, wide awake, I could not speak of that.
"Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it." ~ Charles Swindoll
Earth is a template by God created,
wherein I am caught in crosswinds of fate,
praying to powers that be that I may remain elated,
even if soporific soothsayers sorrowfully state that is too late.
"Life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it",
is the telepathic wisdom that one morn did suddenly so dawn on me,
that living in the here and now, if but to God’s will I do submit,
my consciousness is magically untied from mind’s tree.
Likening earth life to be somewhat like a lucid dream,
wherein I am both the actor on stage and director backstage,
enacting my ordained role, I dance with joy atop love’s moonbeam,
to the jibes and taunts of myriad shape shifting forms taking no umbrage.
In silence I invoked bliss magnetism, which now in my heart strums.
I know I am not decaying organic body-mind, I am not this,
so with seeking ended, I am nonchalant to outcomes.
“Made in God’s image, I am love, light and bliss.”
I have nothing better to say
Than Alhamdulilah on this special day.
Many years ago when Mama gave birth to me,
She knew a success is what I'd turn out to be;
Kiniun the King of the jungle,
Akoni ti o care about those wey dey grumble.
Heart of a lion, heart of an empathetic,
When it comes to vomiting rhymes-
Y'all know I'm energetic!;
Emaa bami kalo through the pages of my story,
You'll understand why I give God all the glory.
In the times of yore some wrote me off,
Likening me to pertussis that causes whooping cough;
Rejected, neglected and probably hated,
I knew God is watching and so I waited.
And on bended knees I pleaded with Him:
Ya Allah position me with the creme de la creme;
I prayed with tears upon my orbs,
That He should bless me and any begotten cubs;
And so I claim longevity, I claim wealth,
I claim prosperity, I claim health.
I claim sabr, Ya Allah I claim Your mercies,
And guidance against worldly fantasies;
As I add another year to my sojourn,
May I not have any reason to mourn.
Be with me, throughout my days in Dunniya,
And when in Akhira accommodate me-
In Jannah, a place of joy, and no fear.
Niggyraslife Da Poet!
Blavatsky said space is God
but pause we her give a nod,
consider: where is God not?
Contemplate thus, be self-taught.
Wisdom Leadbeater affirmed
and Annie Besant confirmed;
koilon: a term coined for space,
they both recognised by grace.
A quick google search will show,
there’s more to space than we know
oft whispered of in folklore,
this vastness is heaven’s door.
Straightforward are words we state,
known to those who meditate,
likening space to a womb,
that doth existence entomb.
We may claim soul’s ascended,
when space-time is transcended,
which we can if we be still,
to God surrendering will.
With presence animated, thoughts at rest,
we are then both the wave and the ocean,
viewing myriad dream forms manifest,
heart tranquil in midst of life’s commotion.
Forged from the elements borrowed from earth,
held in an open cage of space and time,
we as a divine spark, have taken birth,
to feel each rapture spasm of bliss beat’s chime.
Poised in the knowing that is free from doubt,
we find now no value in the trance state,
distanced from source, where ego cravings grout,
feeling helpless as a plaything of fate.
Karma may have dissolved but life rolls on ~
Threads that once tethered us are almost shorn
Threads that once tethered us are almost shorn,
which is to say completion yet awaits,
so with each life breath as we are reborn,
the bar is raised to enter heaven’s gates.
There are no goalposts yet horizons shift,
as it appears owing to parallax,
in life’s maze we yet find ourself adrift,
knowing not why the moon does wane and wax.
Epiphanies dawn comforting our soul,
where truth absolute is instantly known,
so we plod on playing our ordained role,
silence and stillness, the way we atone.
Likening earth life to be but a dream ~
We know deep down things are not what they seem
We know deep down things are not what they seem
and that we are spirit, not body-mind,
so we let fears that haunt us let off steam,
nonchalance making them loosen their bind.
Tempests of ignorance in time are quelled,
without any doing done on our part,
save recognising God’s name we misspelled,
for all our one and no soul stands apart.
Consciousness expands, engulfing the all
and we become God’s breath, breathing all forms,
where standing tall, in stillness we recall,
illusionary are imagined storms.
The truth is known when ego is undressed ~
With presence animated, thoughts at rest
**A WINNING POEM**
That night, my heart pleaded i should
Wait over and pass the night at grand pa's
Old inn.
Enormous was my concern to reach home
And see Constance La France.... the rambling poet.
About "create your own form, may be?"
I embraced the night and darkness mingled
With my eyes;
Yonder are night workers,
Here and there they wander,
Seaching for who to plunder,
Oh! what a mighty wonder.
Look at that supermarket,
And a man with a mask,
Gun and matchet,
He most be a burglar,
Oh! i must be undercover,
Or else i step into danger,
For the night is in dark anger.
"Ahh! ahhh!! ahhhh!!!" the cry of a victim,
Something must have wrought a cry,
Who will be the rescue?
For me, this night walk must linger.
Look at the police, having me as an
Accomplice, they need my identity and money,
Yet yonder is the victim crying....
Look over there! drug users
Assembling in dark corners,
Swaying like feathers,
In the midst of their daily rituals,
That is never beneficial,
Oh! blind earth leading to an open death.
Group upon groups, stationed in their post,
Looking so malicious, looking so vicious,
Brandishing weapons, ready for the slaughter,
Gun shoots clatter as a group fight starter.
Charles melody has seen wonder
And endless palaver.
Knives mingled with flesh, blood and bone,
Men eager and bold,
Heads bounce like ball,
Suddenly, calmness......
Gba! gba!! gba!!! another trigger's verdict?
Lord when will these pass over?
For i am likening to salt in water,
Never to calm and ponder,
The night walk seemed not to be over.
For the night is in dark anger....
BY CHARLES MELODY (Lightening Ink) **14TH PLACE IN
CONSTANCE LA FRANCE CONTEST,
WITH THE THEME; "DEEP, DARK AND DRAMATIC".
===============================
The form of this poem is called,"stream of consciousness."
i formed it so because the thought kept coming
like a stream or river of consciousness in my mind,
i was conscious of the dangers i knew, especially in my Little
African village and the war that covered it.
For "Constance La France, the Rambling poet's contest.
Narrow and shallow shining laser focus
into chasm while teetering on brink
akin to scurrying thru microcosmic burrow
of microscopic Manhattan skyscrapers
wink'n nod and blink,
this ace of spades heart (diamond
in the rough) poet digs club billy shallow
sometimes forced to spelunk
thru crawl space chink
hunting down gamesome dodging
catlike whim elusively outpaced,
yet webbed, whorled wide net
nonetheless doth cap cha alive
agile adept idealized rat fink,
which unseen quite quiet mouse notion
gives hardy fellow run for his money,
within scrunched brow mental chase
possibly connected to a preceding pondering
or appearing randomly
viz, non-sequitur conscious kink
said quarry i.e. whimsical thoughts
frequently vanish without a trace
quick as mental cogs and wheels
generate snapchatting, riveting, twittering link
process allowing, enabling, and providing
albeit easily distracting ability
to grasp awesome zinging, lightening,
fleeting brainstorm within windswept
mind space *****sapiens to think
shimmering insight cognizant ability
likening ode on Grecian urn vase
frieze depicting elusive capture
thought process lifespan shorter than a wink
via third eye blind of
comfortably numb beatle browed face
to locate source giving rise
king inducing minor frustration at inability
to nab (albeit painlessly) shimmering zinc
like inception, deception, taking wing
within fifty plus shades swing
and conception of consciousness stir ring
nanobyte size quisling
gray matter housing chromosomal ping
pong pin balling genes summons King
kong of Leon intrigue, jing
gull ling, where disparate
ideas linkedin fling
pollinated neurological network ebbing
and flowing, sans during
writerly blitzkrieg thread ding
provocative point of pinterest bing
proclimation emancipation pensive predilection
to contrive a means and ways
to corral mischievous mental minions
who seem to vanish without a trace
holographic after effect or image evoked
from virtual reality, the latest modality
to pair dime a dozen stray cats re:
untamed cerebral creatures tempting
contemplation to occupy hours.
Somethings are like a miracles
Somethings are likening dreams
And when you awaken
Does it seem
It does not seem
Some can not see the flowers for the trees
Some may see the little frogs within the leaves
But can others see the Christ in you, in me, in deed
Can they see the Christ in you and me. . .
Somethings are like, are like are like that
somethings are like, are like are like are like that
And what of it, what of this do you wanna quit
Stand up and grit, your teeth don't spit
Don't git sick the only requirement is you fall on your knees and pray. . .
Somethings are like a miracles
Somethings are likening dreams
And when you awaken
Does it seem
It does not seem
Somethings are miracles
Somethings are liken a dream from above
Somethings are love, just love
And when your awaken it doesn't seem
To be real it's more than a feeling
Somethings are miracles
Somethings are liken a dream from above
Somethings are love, just love
And when your awaken it doesn't seem
Somethings are like, are like are like that
somethings are like, are like are like are like that
And what of it, what of this do you wanna quit
Stand up and grit, your teeth don't spit
Don't git sick the only requirement is you fall on your knees and pray. . .
Some things are like that
Some things, somethings, somethings
Some things are Like that
03/27/07
Bloody leftist a wrist tuck crat!
Fingers of left hand cried freedom,
detached themselves and declared
mutiny gesticulating thumb thing
awful, than furiously haughtily
prancing, skittering, zipping,...
as self important independent digits
indiscriminately deleting one after
another email, mine eyes gleaned
subject pertaining to boldface all
CAPITALIZED notification urging,
indicating, beckoning... immediate
reply regarding... yours truly... huh
me (Matthew Scott Harris) arbitrarily
designated lucky random winner of
... some large dollar figure sporting
countless zeros left of decimal point,
I wept inconsolably intuitively aware
foregone irretrievable message haint
spam, but authentic bonafide one in
bajillion monetary sweepstakes drawing
impossible mission to recall subliminal
communique, and resorted to hypnosis
to jog mine memory and access lost data
which hoop fully convincingly explains
temporary absence, yea... understandable
skepticism induces furrowed brow, but
honest to dog Ott's well known selling
exotic plants also provide Asian mystical,
herbal, and celestial therapy, yet if unable
to successfully tweezer out valuable key
information locked within subconscious,
courtesy specially trained experts tending
rooted prized nuggets likening jewel heist
forager determined to plunder loot, the
mind will feel comfortably numb, which
allows, enables, and provides cathartic,
holistic, opportunistic... modus operandi
to accept permanently zapped chance of
lifetime to experience wealth (poof! gone
within a flash) instant karma at the least
managed to evoke fickle, nimble, and
worthwhile poet to build splendiferous
castles in the air.