Long Mary Poems
Long Mary Poems. Below are the most popular long Mary by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mary poems by poem length and keyword.
We find ourselves with you in time,
Thoughts of you are roaming our minds
Angels playing music at the Gate
Heaven will be Home; let's call it fate.
Do not be weary or troubled, my friend,
With words I write but not to offend
They are written down to help us, too
It's become part of our plight with you.
You'll always be this ray of light,
In our hearts, you're one of a kind
But when that day comes around
It will break the hearts of the abound.
We'll always celebrate the life we shared,
So, please, Mary, do not be despaired
We're closing now with this in mind
You're almost Home: The Angels are flying.
The Gate is open, a reception has started,
Music's playing for your departing
God's arms are open, ready to embrace
Your presence here was not disgraced.
*Special credits and thanks:
Co-Author & Sister, Deb Kellison
Since there was no stone to close Jesus’ death tomb
According to modern Christian myth, it had vanished,
But as of the Gospel version of this story, boom,
In Luke 24:2 the stone was rolled away - astonished?
Matthew 28 verses 1 to 6 tell us squarely, no tact,
That an angel appeared to the two women, the Mary’s,
To the next of kin in Jesus’ life, mum and partner, fact,
Which defers upon these two people the quandaries.
Jesus had caused such a kerfuffle amongst professionals,
In the medical scene he’d had an important remark,
That the poor should also receive treatment, nationals,
Did it in public even, brought medicine out of the dark.
So the continuation of this new strand of medicine,
Had to be engineered, and the two Mary’s saw that,
So, I detect, they told a lie about the internment scene,
Because they suggest strength by angels having hat.
When you do exercises too much or strain excessively,
You can see an angel if you believe in them, reflection,
So I deduce that Mary and Mary moved the stone actively,
And cremated his body without guilt or hesitation.
A lie can often hint the original truth, when you tell one,
And so the real story can be deduced, concluded, traced,
And the Gospel states that the stone was set aside, tonne,
Not disappeared implying god had resurrected and aced.
Extreme fundamentalist parents tell their kids smugly,
That the stone had vanished without explanation,
But you can see clearly that Christianity was born really,
From the two Mary’s and the gardener’s cremation.
Seeking solitude, through glass doors I ventured into the forest.
Led by a path of thickened brush.
At winter's end, temp' sixty strong, it made for a pleasant stroll, enhanced by the whistles of the mild wind
Captivated by the walls of flower and green scenery whilst inside, I stood motionless
With the leaves blowing in rhythm, and the whistling singing
"Like a candle in the wind" ...
I tilt my nog' to the earth beneath my feet
While standing on stone; I thought
I noticed it was a headstone with faded and dulled letters
"Mose and Mary- 1884" it read; I trust
With a chilled spine- I wondered...
Was it them, who whistled me here to their home
I sat for hours celebrating with them,
In rhythm with the leaves
While the wild wind whistled
"Their Anniversary"
I assumed
* For Mary Kathleen Lessard Caithness *
~
cast tie-lines to shadowy depths above
meteors to plunge the ocean of suns
kick off - tally-ho! from the pier of known
a scoundrel's nod to the skull and bone
vast skies uncharted now beckon ahead
a dusk of dreams splashed yellow and red
naught but astounding, the adventures be
an endless sojourn 'cross a sparkling sea
the sky-palette waits for a score of tales
come a warm solar wind to puff the sails
all worries and why's now, abaft the beam!
set our course due for a foolish dream!
a celestial tempest to bend the jack
to his tasking a-hold the kicking strap
stem the tide, aye, mind the moonbeam drift
spread her wings wide and give her lift
the sextant's now set to the Milky Way
(we'll grave her clean on a windless day)
to port side, a wink from the Seven Sisters
off starboard, the gleam of nebulous vistas
we sunder the clouds with our wake of mist
now dark matter deep and heaven-kissed
tossed by the waves through a sea of night
we gasp for the void, yet we drown in light
our spirits denuded and paean-versed
we dare constellations to do their worst
for now we all pull to the labor at hand
to chart the expanse of this boundless land
at the bidding and mercy of a rapturous breeze
three prayers for fair winds and following seas
'til our hearts are sated and our marrow torn
and we drop our anchor there, worry-worn …
on the sands of time, we'll commend our dance
and return our dust ... to the great expanse.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Sky" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausen, Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Best Rhyming Poem 2018" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ at Poetry Soup.com, awarded February 1, 2018.
We all seek our parted or living mothers
when another night descends on our lives...
as Paul did in his lonely youth
and discover a beautiful truth!
Paul's mother, Mary, was his muse of earth and beyond
who inspired him to write a memorable song conveying
wisdom while she spoke very wise words!
When all around him there was darkness:
he sought a light and a laughter that could be very amusing...
even today we sing his lyrics and feel that unbreakable bond!
While listening to " Let It Be, " great emotion overtakes me, remembering
my own mother who had a bold but vibrant personality:
she was kind, stretching out her arms and brightening
up my gloomy night with her sweet smile that imparted immense serenity!
Entered in Broken Wings's contest,
" Trashed #4 " on 12/1/2015
Written by Andrew Crisci
on 11/13/2015
As I look at the Christmas tree
in the branches what do I see?
Points of light like stars in the night;
baubles and tinsel catching the light.
Focusing closer up there on high
a cherub with wings there I spy
among the needles strangely still.
What if it should fidget until
it fell? Then spreading wings to fly
up and away into the sky.
Looking upwards I see the star
guiding the Magi from afar.
Peering below under the tree,
beneath the branches what do I see?
Fallen needles covering the floor,
adorning the crib and so much more:
Shepherds with Joseph and Mary,
also a lamb, a holly berry
hung on the crib, there's the infant
radiant with promise. A moment
with Mary I ponder, and wonder
at what is to come, under
the orders of Herod the king
sending his men for dire killing.
I looked above from crib to tree
pondering the branches, to see
through the needles a young forest
cut to the ground, slaughtered, laid waste;
all but one that was left to grow,
sheltering creatures in each bough:
insects and birds living free
fed by the lofty Saviour Tree.
That tree holds up all creation,
remnant of a forest nation,
then hewn and cut to make the cross
on which was hung at what a cost
the infant Jesus as Son of Man,
the refugee from Herod's plan.
He the hope of mankind's story
teacher and healer held in glory.
For all to see the Saviour Tree
adorned with love for you and me,
holds aloft upon the cross
Jesus as Christ our gain not loss.
Looking afresh at the Christmas tree
more clearly I see how to believe
through little things revealed to my gaze.
Now I'm alert to offer praise.
Destination love
Romance being all the above
It was Greyhound Bus Schedule 101
Journey with a direction
The place being Los Angeles
The trip started from St. Louis, Missouri
Two passengers in particular were Mary and John
Those names I want to look upon
Mary and John sat together on the Greyhound bus
They were sitting side by side
Wait until you see how romance came a provide
It would be a long three days ride
Mary and John unknowingly had their heads leaning on each other
While they were asleep
By dawn, they woke up together and realized they had slept on each other the whole time
Mary apologized and so did John
That is how the romance got started
Conversations into continuous conversations
They really got to know one another
Comfortable in their reclining seats
They both reclined into each other’s heart
Mary was single and had no boyfriend
John on the other hand had a Girlfriend, but broke up
What a coincidence?
The Greyhound bus still maneuvering to its final destination
Love seemed to be on Mary and John
Everywhere the bus stopped for a break, you would find Mary and John together
Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner was a calling card to both
One would think was this an oath
Los Angeles they finally arrived
John was in Los Angeles for a Lawyer’s Convention
Didn’t I tell you, John was a Lawyer
With all the romance and conversations that was going on I completely forgot
Perhaps it was on purpose
Mary on the other hand was on vacation from her Fortune 500 Corporation as an Executive Assistant to a Managing partner for two weeks
John was going to be in Los Angeles for two weeks himself
Somehow love is going to get even closer without warning
It did, they started dating immediately
On and On and On and continuous
They would often be seen holding hands and kissing
It was Greyhound bus connection with no transfer of love
Mary and John got in touch with each other’s hearts
True highway love
Arrival into romance
Now are Love Mates
My flesh unharmed, my soul broken in twain
The call christened my soul with five seals
And I sealed the phantom to a crevice
I climbed out of the valley’s shadow
And was quickly banished into a cave
To escape the mist that veiled the world
Love and cherished by few, smothered by none
I saw all things as flinting shadows
Earthly victories and mortal eros
Mere shadows cast by fleeting fires
Everything I saw and knew since my birth
Crafted shadows of an unseen land
Dead to the world and all its promises
And dead to any passing faint dream
The call of life echoed throughout the empty cave
The call of life from the unseen Pleroma land
As the world mist cleared, I saw the morning star
Calling me to her fiery arms of divine love
I recollected the arms of Anne
And remembered her tight, sheltering love
I kept hearing the call outside this cosmic sea
Far away, a sweet fragrance of life for me
Now within the homely arms of Mary
Who is Sophia in flesh, who called
Called me to holy labour and gnosis
She whispered into my gentle heart
Hope of heavenly wisdom’s victory
Faith in a hidden reality
Inner love to do the commands of Christ
Knowledge to fashion stained glass mirrors
To reflect below the sublime wonder
Poetry, art, flags, and ponderings
As well as ringing church bells up above
And watering plants down here below
From the pangs of hellfire and childbirth
I gave birth to my authentic self
My mother handed me over to death
My true mother raised me up to life
I recollected the tight arms of Anne
Now seeing them as a distant dream
Fading away from the pleasant daylight
Barbelo’s light that opened my eyes
many are called but few are chosen it states in the Holy Scriptures
and a real encounter with Jesus will give you the full gospel picture
when a Samaritan woman had an encounter with the Lord Jesus Christ
it was a moment that would forever change her life
she was given a testimony that was so powerful in its scope
that she ran and told all of her people she meet the Messiah and was now full of hope
many encountered Jesus of Nazareth during the course of His short stay
Mary with the oil, the woman who bled and the father whom for his child prayed
they all encountered Jesus the Christ, they met Him face to face
and a miracle occurred each time empowered by His mercy and grace
a real encounter with Jesus made everything all right
as they all desired to walk by faith and not by sight
Jesus will know who you are when a relationship with him you pursue
for the light of true belief will then come shining through
so meet Jesus face to face and encounter Him this day
develop a relationship with Him and to Him continue to pray
so welcome Jesus into your heart and embrace His spirituality
for a real encounter with Jesus can change your reality
What is it about her grace, her face to face,
whilst sitting there so sure?
Why is she so different from me, who tries nothing left to do,
or done that is done poor?
Why is she commended sitting at His feet, while Martha’s work is tended
in kitchen sweat and heat?
Surely this is time to sup, to sit to sup and eat?
I feel without sufficient grace to model Mary’s better place.
Yet, I feel quite certain. Yes. This is surely what I think,
though Martha’s sister’s grace seems also to have missed her,
these words that balance love and faith, most carefully were sent.
John commits them, pen and ink: ‘Jesus loved both Martha, and her sister.’