Long Mormon Poems
Long Mormon Poems. Below are the most popular long Mormon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mormon poems by poem length and keyword.
Saturday Morning
Crows cawing, seagulls are screaming
Subway trains are beepng. Life is living
Strange noises from afar. The city is awakening
The rising sun looks into my room. Bad cheekily!
Shameless! Shameless! I feel bad from its light!
No sunshine! No! No!! I want to stay in the night!
In the night. I don’t want to wake up. No! Never!
I want to live in all my dreams. Forever! Forever!!
What happened last night? I can not remember
Something, I feel the cool sweetness of the cider
Oh, no memory, but the laptop knows the history
Watch back. I wrote a poem. I can not remember
The sweet cider says, read, read. I read and read
The lines. Last night. The poem. From my heart
Hmm. Oh. Deception of feelings. Disappointment
Why can't the dream feel? The dream must be left
Yeah. Looking for love. The eternal. Home of love
Yeah, the sun is killing me. The poem is cut so far
Sleeping. Dream. Day gone. I slept. It is alcohol
Late afternoon. Almost evening. Grey the window
Down. The day. Dark again. It’s night. Light of life
It’s a life. Three o’clock. I can’t stop the poem. My life
I am a slave of the time. Help me! Help! To be free!
No time. No time in my life. No more cider. Shop. Buy!
Alcohol. Alcohol. Can’t delete your life. The wished time
Time of happiness. The loved killer. Brings. Personal life
Bring, bring. Into my life. Into ours. And together die
Hmm. Together. I can’t die from Saturday to Sunday
This is a poem. My killer this weekend. The weekend
Hoped love, but the emptiness is the ruler. On my time
On my time. In my time. At my time. Be, be my kind
Be my part, be the driver, the leader, the boss in my life
Be the angel, the savior, the muse, the light in my life
The sun is radiating, a devil, I don't like this. Just dark
It is Sunday afternoon. I am full of alcohol. Life, a dark
Just swimming in the past, in the monochrome life
But so colorful, I can imagine all the souls, women, mistakes
I can’t stop this, I can’t create an end. Hmm, I stop now
No alcohol
I am going
By a bottle
Of alcohol
Bye
Hmm, it is Sunday
A beautiful black lady
Invited me a few days ago
On Wembley High Road
To a church. Mormon
I didn’t go
My mistake
I am
Sorry
...It was two days before she lost them,
and an arrow slashed her small finger,
a small wagon train did take her in,
but a doctor found gangrene in her,
chopped her pinkey with barely a word.
Fever set in and it was two weeks,
she got so sick she could barely speak.
At Denver she left the settler crowd,
only to learn that Merlon was gone,
he’d been absent about two years now,
and his trapping has never been strong,
that he would’ve gone bust before long.
Celeste felt that her heart would soon break,
but she heard word he was in Salt Lake.
Once more on the trail Celeste did go,
through frozen and rocky mountains high,
taking hard paths she didn’t much know,
in those cold peaks she often did find
that her stomach was kissing her spine,
lost fifteen pounds in that rocky span,
but finally saw the Mormon lands…
She soon learned where Merlon was living,
rode towards his spread with a smile,
couldn’t believe this was happening,
she’d not felt such hope for a while,
and prayed for rewards for her trials,
but when she made it to his cabin
she saw a woman standing with him.
Celeste froze at this awful scene,
Merlon gasped and ran up to her mare,
he then cried out,”My dear Celestine…
Please, oh will you come down from up there?
You are looking half-dead, have a care.”
Celeste was too broken to shed a tear,
Merle just asked,”How did you end up here?”
She cried,”I came to find my fiancé,”
but said nothing of all the great harms,
the woman came up and Celeste’s gaze
fixed upon a baby in her arms,
she was too broken to feel alarm.
Merlon said,”But I thought you’d hate me,
I’m a deserter, so unworthy…”
She barely heard his words as he spoke,
feeling as if her whole life was done,
she couldn’t breathe, she wanted to choke,
Heard him say,”But I am now Mormon,
and God doesn’t limit wives to one.
Yes, my dear, I think we’ll welcome her,
another wife, to be your sister.”
The wife just looked on, her face quite blank,
Said,”Bring my sister in from the cold.”
“Ah,”cried Merle,”Our family gives thanks!”
Celeste numbly did as she was told,
she was soiled, and thirty years old.
not something most wanted in a bride,
so she let this man lead her inside…
Big, Bold and Sleek
Greyhound Bus
Bus honor
City to City, Town to Town
Observation upon observation
Remembering viewing the Rocky Mountains
Standing tall and proud
Totally Majestic
Being greeted by an Arizona Indian wave
Sitting on a white horse in red and white attire overlooking the overpass
Sight before eyes seeing the Mormon Tabernacle Church in Salt Lake City, Utah
Open Roads, Steep hills and endless mountains
Experienced a young pregnant Woman on the bus go into labor in the state of Nevada
What was supposed to be a 30 Minute Rest Stop turned into 2 hours
Our Greyhound Driver timed the young woman’s labor contractions
A major hospital happened to be across from where we stopped, and their medical team carried the young woman off the bus on a stretcher
Everyone on the bus felt like family as they looked out for one another
Travel for me on Greyhound was always an adventure
North, South, East and West
America and I are acquainted
The spirit and merit
Up close and personal
Through the watch of time
Greyhound bus base
Never any time to waste
Greyhound bus travel
Into the sunset of my mind treasure chest
Hound dog
The ride
The experience.
Mark Halliday
Son of a California Englishman
And a small-town Utah Mormon.
In his youth, nothing extraordinary;
Later served in Europe as a missionary.
Pianist, marching flutist, then a Guitarist;
Enlisted to be an Army Intelligence Analyst.
Speaks French; spoke Spanish, Russian,
Serbian, Croatian, some German and Macedonian.
Has resided mostly in California.
Spent months or years in Makedonija,
La France, le Belgique, Deutchesland,
Kuwait, Iraq; in the USA: Maryland,
Utah, Massachusettes, Kansas,
Arizona, Missouri, and Texas.
Of course, he’s known here as poetic,
But with charcoal, pens, and pastels is artistic.
He’s starting to slow down due to age,
But loves to sing original songs on stage.
During the French Bicentennial, went to Paris,
Where he met his future Mrs.
Has sons Steven and Tony, wife Nelly.
They’ll soon celebrate their silver anniversary.
Like many other military veterans,
He works with Dept. of Defense civilians….
Commuting between Salinas and Monterey
(Defense Language Institute, Presidio of Monterey).
He loves to read (especially military science fiction),
Go to cinemas, and grow food in his garden.
He’s interested in music production software,
And dreams his songs will someday go somewhere.
HELLO, JOE.
Hello, God.
SORRY ABOUT THAT DEATH THING.
Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.
WELL, ACCIDENTS DO HAPPEN.
Apparently. I just wish I had time to tell the people that I love, that I love them.
YEAH, I HEAR THAT A LOT. YOU’D THINK PEOPLE WOULD START TO PICK UP ON THAT.
I guess they’re just stupid, like me.
I GUESS SO. SO?
So?
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
About what?
ABOUT BEING HERE WITH ME?
Nervous. I guess you know that I really didn’t believe in you.
YEAH, WELL I AM A HARD CONCEPT TO GET TO KNOW.
Not, for everyone.
OH, YES, FOR EVERYONE.
But, there are plenty of people who know you.
NOT REALLY. THEY ALL GET IT WRONG.
You mean none of the religions are targeting the right God?
NOPE. HUMANS HAVE AN AMAZING CAPACITY TO MAKE UP STORIES ABOUT THINGS THEY CANNOT UNDERSTAND. ONCE THEY START UNDERSTANDING SOME THINGS, THEIR STORIES ABOUT ME CHANGE A LOT. BUT, THEY ARE ALL STILL MADE UP. PEOPLE DO NOT AND SHOULD NOT HAVE THE CAPACITY TO REALLY KNOW ME – IT IS AN INCOMPREHENSIBLE CONCEPT FOR MAN. I WAS HOPING MAN WOULD CONCENTRATE ON DOING GOOD FOR ONE ANOTHER AND NOT FOR SOME MADE UP CONCEPT OF ME.
What about the Old Testament? New Testament? The Koran? The Book of Mormon? And, others I don’t even know about?
MADE UP, MADE UP, MADE UP, MADE UP AND MADE UP.
Huh. I guess it wasn’t so much the concept of you that I didn’t believe in; it was just the religious portrayal of you that I had a problem with.
I KNOW.
Yeah, I guess you would.
I GIVE MAN CREDIT, THOUGH, HE GOT A LOT ABOUT THE CONCEPTS OF GOOD AND EVIL RIGHT, HE JUST CLOAKED IT ALL IN MADE UP STORIES ABOUT ME.
I guess it helped lead a lot of people down the right path.
AND A LOT DOWN THE WRONG PATH, TOO.
Yeah.
YEAH.
Well, even though I didn’t believe, I still tried to do the right thing more times than not.
YEAH, I KNOW THAT, TOO.
Good. So, now what?
INDEED, NOW WHAT.
another day in the woods. on Strawberry ridge
looking out over undulating green hills to
the next great wall of mountains. the last
morning clouds left from last night's storm
hanging in the valley mistily. the sun eventually
burns them away.
the respect between old Paul Karlsen and I continues
to exist. even though he's a Mormon and I'm a fallen
New Yorker. the work is comparatively easy, lifting
hundred pound bags, so you can just imagine what
we do other days. in fact, it's fun, especially for
young Bates. we get all white (and our lungs dusty).
on the way to and from the work site I read
in Silent Spring, the chapter against herbicides, gathering
inspiration for the upcoming controversy. in the end
perhaps I'll be fired for refusing to lay down Tordon
beads. realizing this, as I drive with Bates,
I see the dark green conifers and begin to miss them.
Rocks and rattlesnakes, bluebells
and mountain daisies, grasses and cactuses, mahogany
bush, lodgepole pine and quaking aspen, lush forest
and dry sun-tortured mountainside, wind and seed
carried by wind, ants, streams, hummingbird
and hawk, deer, badger, ground squirrel, wolverine.
There is a war of rage being waged.
I want to run into the heat I feel,
And fight to save global souls,
Not ease into the frost surreal.
I hear my commander’s voice,
Calling me out to come and see,
This echo cries for unending peace,
Never settling for inhumanity.
I behold the gauntlet of the clash,
And stand up to the vision I see.
This is why we came at last,
In the revolutions of eternity.
I reach out to gather others in,
Taking stock in preparation to go.
We wave our freedom banners in the wind,
“Attack!” is our manifesto.
We are the marked generation,
Fighting for family preservation.
Our hearts bear with ultimate victory,
The work shouldered in exultant delivery!
We are the soldiers of this hour,
And workers of Christ’s power.
Building upon our watchtowers,
We righteously make the Kingdom ours.
Go and read this manifesto,
It will make you a true hero.
It is a holy ancient record written,
Entitled, “The Book of Mormon.”
It feels like the ship’s half mast
Mystery as history’s been recast
The last ghost of Christmas past
Impropriety savaging our society
Notoriety ravaging the entirety
Fake tyrants make migrants an outcast
Primal survival and tribal bible revival
Mormon iconoclasts in Gormenghast
The nub of pub hubbub have a blast
Cloned then dethroned closing fast
Snub our community hub flabbergast
Crowds roared as bands toured
New names explored heaven sent
Adored venues & events floored
Ignored by deplored property fraud
Hysterical dissent & lyrical lament
Landlord hell bent the rent soared
Even cricket’s oldest format now old hat
Temper at T20’s emperors new clothes
Every game the same just tit & more tat
But treasure troves as in roves the droves
Milk or silk for the ilk of that fat cat twa*
Farce of the hospo carcass hospitalised
Reign of the chain stops Mom & Pop shops
Locavore lair despair flair heirs marmalised
Flops grandstanding bland branding pops
Deranged how we are now so estranged
No one mops up the slops Laptops drop
Changed so fast for many trumpets blast
Hark back to the rose tinted halcyon past
As smart phones are overcome by dumb
Aghast say goodbye to the whole AI lie
The forecast for the future well overcast
Last post of the host & ghost of the past
I was driving a station wagon, Dad on my right
Mom, young kids, and dog in back seat
Construction ahead, a warning light
In my mind I keep the scene on repeat
I saw the truck in my rearview mirror
It was going fast, I was going slow
I couldn't accelerate as it got nearer
It climbed on our wagon, in Idaho.
It forced the rear of the car into asphalt
The rear doors sealed, but the dog did a vault
Mom lifted the kids over, seared her skin
Moved sideways and a flame shot up where she'd been.
We all made it out, and Mormons took us in
Kids made Mormon friends, and we regrouped
Took an airplane the rest of the way to the coast
Not a story of which I can boast.
Dad's summer teaching had to cover the cost
But we won something, not just lost
We found strength and friendship where we didn't expect
From people whose kindness I'll never forget.
Now every flashing warning light
Takes me back to that July.
A rearview mirror, one long breath,
The line between life and death.
Besides the Mormons, I also thank fate
Death has to come, but death had to wait.
breathless hush
Beyond dreams
with candlelight burns
Lives cross lives idling
Beyond souls emptiness'
piano speaks
'It's all in one mind'
the trees listening
for they are one
with the universe
Eyes smell flowers and become them
There's a deathless hush tonight
tidal wave sweeps in
breathes and sinks all lights lit
Mormon tabernacles washed away like barnacles
Coyotes are confounded & swim nowhere
An orchestra keeps on playing Handel's Water Music
Horns fill with water float away like lovers horizontal
Loop becomes a rollercoaster
like water glasses mixed with Buddhist brine
watered down beer topped with sea foam
Beau Fleuve suddenly become salt
buried masts of Amsterdam arise
the great wave sweeps
to wash away over-age Camembert
steaming in sea-vines
the washed land awakes again to wilderness
the only sound a vast thrumming of crickets
a cry of seabirds high over
and Indians reclaim their canoes
(Blackout of Wild Dreams Of A New Beginning
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti)