Long Mother theresa Poems
Long Mother theresa Poems. Below are the most popular long Mother theresa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mother theresa poems by poem length and keyword.
In a perfect world
Money would grow on trees
And I’d just reach up,
Pluck off a leaf
And buy anything that I please.
I’d buy toys for me and my friends.
If only grownups could see (like a child)
Everyday’d be Santa’s Day (without end.)
No one would sleep and eat off the floor
We would live in sandcastles high in moonbeams.
Roam without fear and be Things that are wild
“Money Tree, money tree, make us all smile!”
I’d sure smile (to the ends of the Earth and roam)
“Come one, come all! All who are needy!
Come to the tree of plenty!”
We house the homeless, feed the hungry
In the land where there’s no need to be greedy.
If everyone everywhere would just eat
Some ice cream of Hope
Even maybe you would play
Act like Mother Theresa or the Pope
So, eat happy thots, for a good happy breakfast treat
My dove, come perch on a branch sturdy and strong
And learn not to hate ‘cause love’s never wrong
And come plant seeds of money
In the ground we call home
So, us poor souls can leap and sing songs (like . . .)
“Money Tree, Money Tree
Grow tall for me!
Extend out your shadow
And set us all free!”
Original, Ja is the original that never diminishes, s/he is love herself, the infinite, El Shaddai, Ruach Hakodesh, Ja, they are all one. What are we? we are but the limits of infinity, precious nothings in the womb of our great mother, wisps of love, fragile, delicate and cherished, know that when you look down you look apon yourself, from the tiny butterfly to the mighty tree, from mother theresa to judas we are all one, every single one, we need not even believe we need not even faith enough to achieve a breath for all we need is humility enough to ask or even just to wait, we need not know to pray nor food or time of day, Ja is the name all else is naught without Ja
Heaven could be like an infinite holiday
Without grief and the burden of war.
Without physical or emotional pain.
A family reunion every day.
Bathed in the purest light.
Manna nibbled from crystal plates.
Heaven could be like a tide pool.
A place where cracked limbs grow back.
Where hearts are gently put back into place.
Where children play on trampoline dreams.
Where everything is glazed in the spirit-Godspeed.
Heaven could be where secrets of being are revealed.
Where peace is accepted naturally.
Where sin is gleaned, rendering the soul pristine.
Heaven could be trimmed in cherub knickknacks.
Made from the messiahs' precious hands.
Heaven could be a place where you finally meet,
Leonardo -Vincent- Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King.
Heaven could be just a melting film reel, in an L.S.D dream.
Man-woven from the matter of everything and nothing.
Back and better to be together
With Phyllis Babcock my mother Theresa,
She is so refreshing like coca-cola
And really medicinal like African cola.
Back and better for James Fraser Mr highlander,
For poet destroyer, please don't destroy me
Could you be my builder?
Dear Dr. Ram, i still hail your nib,
Where's Royal Trevino? i always know you.
Constance la France is a silent night
There's power in silence,
Show me Andrea Dietrich, the currency in
My wallet.
Did anyone see Sara Kendrick? am looking
For her with a microscope,
Sydney Hall, Mr mad poet, take pity on me,
Am only a cool guy...
Deborah Guzzi is an enlightening haiku,
Hello John loving, you set a pace of love,
Annalise Brigham, the Caribbean beauty,
JSLambert Esquire, your ink is melodious.
Carolyn Devonshire, thanks for being there,
Audrey Carey, carry me all along,
Dorris culverhouse, you're a rare gem,
Dane Ann smith Johnson, how i miss you so.
Is that nette onclaud? i salute your talent,
Garri La Budda, a builder of lines
Carol Brown you are always a mentor.
oh! Linda Marie... sweet Marie,
You're a crown, a mother crown,
Am back and better for poetry soup.
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She rocks like Tina
She rolls like Donna
She entertains like Diana
She cures like Maria
She paints like Edmonia
She kicks like Mia
She runs like Wilma
She throws like Lisa
She boxes like Laila
She dances like Anna
She skates like Surya
She invents like Patricia
She revolts like Angela
She influences like Condoleezza
She paints like Edmonia
She smiles like Mona Lisa
She loves like a mother
She protects like a tiger
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like momma.
Dear readers, you can add more
A natural woman is never poor
Please, beloved friends, be kind
To come up with more in your mind
She tumbles like Simone
She philosophizes like Simone
She quilts like Betsy
She laughs like Whoopi
She jokes like Leslie
She sings like Marie
She speed skates like Maame
She flies like Mae
She exercises like Gabby
She educates like Mary
She fights like Dorothy
She explores like Stephanie
She sounds like Winnie
She creates like Margaret
She dares like Harriet
She runs like Marion
She entertains like Josephine
She legislates like Maxine
She sows like Catherine
She teaches like Gwendolyn
She lifts like Ernestine
She acts like Diahann
She reports like Diane
She speaks like Michelle
She is serious like Michelle
She is strong like Althea
She is talented like Augusta
She is defiant like Cicely
She is brave like Shirley
She is normal like Marilyn
She is fearless like Maxine
She is relaxed like Rosa
She is inquisitive like Barbara
She challenges like Phyllis
She swings like Chris
She plays like Alice
She is talented like Venus
She is pretty like a flower
And she is like our mother.
A natural woman is not perfect
She deserves honor and respect
She needs love everyday
From trouble, she never runs away
Please add more to this poem
And do not curse or blaspheme
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like our mama.
Copyright © August 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
The train pulled out of the
Clouds singing
Harmonies
I asked the conductor for
Some change
He said "son don't you know?
Nobody's payin'"
I said "sure but the stoplight is
Ahead"
Thunder and lightnin'
Lit the outline of faces I had
Known
Not one
Knew the tune
Playin' in my head
I'm sure I saw the face
of
Mother Theresa
A smile I thought
Just around the
Bend
About then the ride came
To a tumblin'
End
Next thing I knew choirs were
Singin'
And butterflies up in
My head
The fields they went on
Forever
And sunshine from who
Knows where
My soul what was left just
Started dancin'
And prayers once just words
Were
......... shooting stars
"You see"
I said "no one is listenin"
That's when I knew
The time had come
For
Me
To
Fly
© All Rights Reserved
(1934-2025)
Equally inspired by Dr. Doolittle and Tarzan as a child
Jane’s zeal grew to heights she could never imagine.
A shy girl with dreams of making the world a better place,
she had no clue how but she let her mission drive her passion.
Jane loved Africa with all her heart, feeling the forests pulsate
with spiritual power of man, beast and wilderness intertwined.
This pioneer saw a planet on the brink of disaster and could not stay silent.
Its urgency demanded that she raise awareness and help local communities
but most of all find allies to carry on this most critical mission.
Jane Goodall became the activist dubbed ‘Mother Theresa for the Environment’.
Jane would have much preferred to stay out of the public eye,
stay anonymous in the sanctity of her beloved Tanzanian jungles
amongst the chimpanzees she studied and called friends.
Instead, this visionary, whose fervency was contagious,
felt intensely responsible to speak up and stir popular commitment.
This advocate inspired world leaders and children around the globe
to choose what impact, as individuals, they would have
and actually step up to be active stewards of the earth.
One by one, exponential action would lead to hope for a better future.
It’s hard to imagine a world not influenced by the late great Jane Goodall.
AP: 2nd place 2025, 3rd place 2025
LOVE LETTER
My letter of love speak,
My angel, daughter of the morning sun.
My flower shining without condition,
Looking beautiful with a blue eye
Like the cloud.
Your beauty radiate like the sun,
Kind like mother Theresa.
Let the daughter of the earth praise thee
Because you are not be compare.
Your voice, like the angels,
Your melodious voice heal the soul,
Your sweet voice sound sweet
like birds of nature.
“sing my love”
Your voice waken the dead soldiers
“sing my love”
Your song calm the angrily soul
“love my love”
For your love bring peace
To my soul.
BY ANIEMEKA NATHANIEL
"The melodies of Life"
Melodies that excite an old Tymer to think he is still in his prime! Perhaps he is as old as he desires to feel? I have no idea but these melodies are remedies like broken codes to a connection with no Earth!
Music lets me write stories Mother Theresa would have wanted to tell , perfect fairy tales that inspire life so each and everyone can sparkle. Rihanna was right , we are indeed Diamonds and we shine bright! My Radio silents tornadoes trapped within.
I groove , l move , l choose not to lose ! I am a brick! Tougher than the nails and hummer of negativity , the Voice of Sia or Adele heals the headaches of next week's exam , dad 's excessive drinking , Jason's inner demons ....the guitar of sweet Tropical Blues like Santana meets Elvis , Rock feeds my agression l am ready to face the devil and say l , l will not stop ! These melodies bring rain on a dry day.
Music is my life!
The world is quiet here
Yet growing louder by the day
Renting paradise from vultures
Split amongst two flavors of instability
I clamored and dreamed for that golden armor
That title that would cement my name in history
To be a "hero" to someone I'd lose contact with forever
Scars fade, and eternity is short
I saw my dreams given flesh
No gaps left to fill with fantasy
Universally agreed upon perfection
Yet we all clamor for the imperfect
Through them, my dreams were given flesh
Warmth on warmth, fear on tenderness
To be able to understand but not empathize
In a way that mattered enough to keep dreaming
The consciousness may forget, but the body remembers
Every molecule tattooed on my gray matter
Screaming for familiarity in that paradise of dreams
How cruel the unconscious mind may be at times
Ego death and carry on
Memories I can hardly call mine when it feels like I died
Piloting a stranger's corpse with his own baggage
Who were you, Derek? Why do I dream your dreams?
Redwood, redwood
The perfect antidote to tradition and trauma
So why does the latter grip me so
When it makes such a poor foundation?
The flower girl piloting your body is a mass of contradiction
Clinging to your first word, your fervent dream
A redwood ship battered by your cresting waves
Die a better death and quit clinging to your remains
I wish you were me
As anyone wishes they could do it all over again
I know your pain better than you do
Even if it meant I would die, I'd grant you that knowledge
Mother Theresa burns in Hell
Knowing there's nothing noble about suffering
The modern king's cruel facsimile of Jesus' word
Would make that poor carpenter weep in sadness and rage
You needn't have feared, poor Derek
For in choosing to hug over maim
You were far closer to Him than anyone
Who blindly listened to the charlatan on the pulpit while you slept
You were blindly resilient, sweet departed
So grant me that tenacity and simplicity
If I grant you the peace you desired
Will you grant me the peace that I do?