Long Manner Poems
Long Manner Poems. Below are the most popular long Manner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manner poems by poem length and keyword.
1 Thessalonians 1:5 – For our gospel came not unto you in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance; as ye know what manner of men we were among you for your sake.
His light flows down from above,
A shining example of pure, sweet love
Stirring my soul to remember the hope
Growing inside, assuring me I can cope.
His grace pours out on my heart and soul,
Reminding me that He can surely make me whole
His wonder is beyond what words can reveal
His love brings assurance that He can and will heal.
Whatever comes in this life that I know,
There is the promise of love that will grow –
Whispering light across my worst doubt,
Teaching me that He’ll always make a way out.
His life was given on a cross of wood,
To save me from the dark, offer me good
Silence my fears and wipe away all my tears,
Prepare me for a time when the mist clears.
His promise to my spirit is that love will save me,
And I need not worry, because His love is free.
I never have a reason to listen to the devil’s schemes,
Because His love will fulfill all my wildest dreams.
He is hope and faith, love and amazing grace.
While there are things I need to chance, I embrace –
The wonder of His unending love, love that saves
Love that reveals the light of One frees the slaves –
Offers His hope to the heart who feels such pains,
Destroys the darkness that ties the soul with chains.
His love is beyond what words can honestly say.
He is the beautiful that comes to the heart who will pray –
For a peace that surpasseth any peace known to man,
A peace from the One who was here before the world began.
I will never say that I know everything about His plan
But I know His love and grace will save every believing man
I'm rooting for intellectual sex
where we all go to bed with glasses.
And foreplay is just a few little words
from Einstein and one of his classes.
Where everything's done in a manner of space
where who did to who what did done.
And nothing you've said is as dirty to some
as who taught you relative fun.
Where all of the night can be filled with love
when a bookworm can stay up all night.
And the sex that you have is equation to none
over pages for learning the light.
That the evening can end in the click of a light
with a darkness to deafen the bright.
When the turn of a page brings the end to a book
for the rest you'll be turning all night.
When a stranger becomes stalker, the life you lead comes into question. Was it something I said, that someone took offense . Was it your objection or endless rejections to suitors seduction that fell short of enticing and sorely lacking in suspense.
For what you can’t have, you’ll take in due time. Building up fluids to be spilled upon me, your wine.
At first you did frighten, enough to lose sleep. But, now I am learning, your patterns. Your needs.
Are you ready for me? I’ve something special lined up. I’m certain you’ll approve. It’s all those things that you love!
I’ll be home by 9, but you know this already. Having studied me carefully, unnoticed by many.
But, I quickly caught on to the times you invaded. An intruder made himself comfortable and in the closet he waited.
How cold was that blade when it entered your heart? Were you scared when I continued to snuff out your light?
Are you cold? Of course you are. Your dying. In the very manner you’d planned for me.
Sirens are getting closer. As for you, you’ll cease to be
Born into tragic reckoning,
We understand that all the bliss we have is but a moment in Creation,
Elation and tragedy come to nothing beneath the last breath our body takes,
And death opens wide to swallow us into that great mystery.
Born into tragic reckoning,
We try and create a memory that lives beyond our countenance,
But that memory is hollow compared to the touch of loved ones,
We grow and live knowing that someday we will lose our parents and friends to that dark dominion,
And yet does death still sting as before?
Born into tragic reckoning,
A man lived in sorrow, hoping and reaching for a better tomorrow,
Born into poverty and oppression,
A man refused to accept the limitations of his age and grew to become like no manner of man that has ever existed.
Born into tragic reckoning, a man grabbed the hand of God and demanded life,
And when it was his time to die he embraced the abyss,
Three days later he rose from death’s clutches and said, “I am that I am.”
The great dream of tomorrow beyond the sting of loss is real and it is rather the sensation that things end which is mistaken.
For there was and is a man, who will ensure that tragedies are transformed into triumphant reconciliation.
For there was and is a man, who guarantees that even in the height of despair there really is no end and all mysteries give way to beginnings of blessing.
Oh Death, because of a man who was, who is, and who will be where is your sting?
Or sorrow where is your victory?
For death can rule no soul.
So into the great beyond, go with courage dear sister, go with courage.
1)Bind your eyes with a scarf. Do not cheat, allow no light to pass through.
2)Pick a quiet place with just you and the following; your paints, your paintbrushes, your easel, and your canvas, and collected items from across the world.
3)To ensure that you select the appropriate colours of his eyes firstly you need to go on a journey to the Carribean in hopes of replicating his human canvas exterior. Gather some fresh ocean water in a vial. Examine the manner in which the light passes through the deep blue life liquid, like a dolphin's back cutting across the glass surface of the ocean at sunset.Capture the memory of that colour, tuck it away, without this appropriate representation you will not do the piece any justice at all. It would be like Da Vinci giving Mona Lisa hair that was gray. Try to stop your mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like to swim through those eyes and be lost in his visual paradise. So captivating, and full of his pure hearted desires. His blue eyes speckled with Silver are reminescent of the moon. The wolves cry woefully because they are too far away to feel his lovely grace. His gaze so penetrating like steel rings, is truly comforting. He is the protector, he is a lighthouse, and his heart will always be your shelter.
4) Capture the next flight to Greece. Run your hands over the marble, memorize the contours of the milky Statue of Angel Icarus. Feel the muscles of the upper arms, to recognize what it is to create a man out of stone. Sit cross legged on the floor, at the feet of the Stone Angel. Icarus is a cold vision of a man, but Tay is full of warmth, beauty and compassion, it is obvious that the winged image of a Greek God could never manage to compare to him. Tay is a modern day livng breathing sculptor, with a microphone tattoo uniquely etched into his skin. Just remember how wide his arms are for hugging. His cheeks so flushed with joy, you will need to gather the grapes from Italy. Climb the highest tree in the Orchard. Find a handful that is so rich in flavour like his pernality. His taste from his lips are aromatic and intoxicating.
Form:
Sixteen years old and in a world of her own
Confined to life lived in a wheelchair
Ever since birth, doctors don’t know what went wrong
But, it was like no one was at home in there
One summer vacation with the other kids in tow
The family visited a Kentucky horse stable
They left her alone in a sunny grass meadow
While off riding with the children who were able
While sitting alone in a catatonic state
Staring out somewhere in space
A gelding that was grazing, Mr. Truly Amazing
Came up and licked her on the face
The family returned to a shocking surprise
Seeing the wheelchair left unoccupied
They looked all around, then couldn’t believe their eyes
When they saw her standing with a horse by her side
She was petting his nose, feeding him an apple
And seemed to be whispering something
They were frozen in their tracks not believing the fact
That their Jenny was no longer a nothing
The mother walked up, in a delicate manner
Not wanting to interrupt this miracle’s course
When Jenny turned to her and in a shallow voice
Whispered, “Look, Mommy, I have a horse”
No matter what you think or do
God has the final word you see
Because He's your Creator
And He decides what's best for you.
So no matter what road in your
Life you choose to take.
God has the final word in the very end
No matter what decision you just make.
But at the end of your day
Don't blame God when things go
Wrong or when nothing for you is working right
After all is not His fault and this you know.
Sometimes things are inclined to go bad
And often times the best doesn't always show.
All we need to face things as they often come
And take responsibilities when things go wrong.
Acting in a responsible manner
Will help you do something about it.
As you face and try to solve the problem.
Keep your head high and never quit.
At the end of your every day
Focus and keep your head high
Pick yourself up and seek God
You know you can make it thru!
Oh baneful yellow Moon in fullest rounded sphere,
Bright as Summers Buttercups in abundant yield,
Coldly riveted upon Winters beaten, thin silvered panels;
Thereof: By ye mighty hammer doth great thoth wield!
For what fearful trowel gouged out thine far flung valleys
Whilst piling high upon yon monstrous heights?
Wherest, scattering the bare pebbles, a ghostly sower
Coursing across vast cratered plains under Selenian moonlights.
Here once didst thou swelling tides ever invade long vanished shores
Dragged upon by some dwindling, exploded, far distant star;
An atmosphere girdling, warming and nurturing -
Torn from this barren rock and cast way out afar!
Eternally ostracized and deviled, adorned in black swirling robes;
Drifting angular grains heaped - raked by hot solar winds;
Your desolate kingdoms lit in all seasons under heavenly lanterns;
Worshiped and foully cursed upon: for any amount - and all manner of sins.
And ere did erstwhile lovers that ever come forth on bended knee,
To traverse the pale beams that twist about the crooked stiles,
Pledge well intended oaths beneath high, impossible windows:
Their grandly draped balconies and balustrades bathed in luminosities wiles.
When across the recorded centuries of histories misted-veiled years,
from the quill of the old sage, from the high lilt of the bard,
Your pensive countenance disaffected and of a cheerless tilt -
Hanging upon sharply crested vestiges of reckless disregard!
–What Manner of Love Does- QUELLE MANIÈRE D'AMOUR FAIT— French Verse
QUELLE MANIÈRE D'AMOUR FAIT— Quelle sorte d'amour est,
Est-ce..
Le Père nous a-t-il accordé?
Que nous soyons les Fils de Dieu
Quelle sorte d'amour est venu avec moi
embrassant divertissant avec moi l'étranger
Qui juste un ange, un ange déguisé…
Quelle manière, quelle sorte d'amour est…
C’est le Père, le Fils et l’Esprit
C'est ce que fait l'amour
Liken au cerf et à l'étranger;
Ne vous souvenez plus que de votre naissance, puis de votre mort,
dans votre dernier souffle;
Il ne reste plus que l'éternité ailleurs Quelle sorte d'amour est Rappelez-vous juste sans lui Jésus vous serez en danger
Dieu est amour et il aime ses enfants;
Quelle sorte d'amour est Le Père nous a accordé tout ce qu’il nous a donné;
Amour et nous sommes ses enfants, son fils Jésus est mort pour nous;
Sur la croix… quelle sorte d'amour est
C'est la manière de faire de l'amour.
Dieu est la réponse à tout amour et Nous devons toujours croire en une joie et qui est cette personne à qui nous devons faire confiance; Dieu le père et son fils Jésus;
C'est ce que l'amour est…
Quelle sorte d'amour fait;
10/1/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. & arranged music by Jonathan Kabore©2010
For Kabore Praise Music
From Anthology “Johnthan Kabore, Kabore Praise”
He had a master’s degree in English literature,
his voice flowing with words like a river in spate
made him an accomplished speaker of elegance,
an acumen he displayed for people to endure.
My first encounter with him was an exploratory one,
he had asked me what did I do in my spare time.
My interest I said was to write poetry in English,
the way I spoke he said I was a poet he knew.
To respond to his request I thought he made sincerely,
couple of poems I had to recite reluctantly for him.
He was exuberant praising the theme and the rhyme,
said I’d soon become a famous poet in the country.
Of my position in the literary scene I was well aware,
but when we’d meet he’d hail me as the poet of fame
in his usual manner of expression of linguistic flair,
and to me an obsessed habitual teaser he became.
As a student of literature how much he liked poetry
I wanted to find out to satisfy my sheer curiosity.
My offer of presenting him a few books of poem of mine
he didn’t take, lack of time was the lame reason he gave.
November 11, 2020
Contest : Judged By A Jury Of Your Peers
Sponsor : Mark Koplin