Long Moulding Poems
Long Moulding Poems. Below are the most popular long Moulding by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Moulding poems by poem length and keyword.
Another lost noon,
engraved as unforgettable
memoirs within my mind,
I’m rethinking of rewriting
and rewinding revoked
reflections of a love rekindled.
My eager heart
is now hanging in the void,
yearning to swirl
through desert dunes
to exhale one more
dandelion dream
in the same air as you,
where quill and paper
were no longer needed.
For times that I
was inking
meaningless phrases,
were buried
deep down under,
as you were softly
scribbling dewy verses
of desires upon
my desolated skin,
rescuing darkness
with starving sincerity,
illuminating and hydrating
my urges with
prolific praising,
moulding every
imperfection of mine
into an abstract art,
naming them
with prismatic gems
on the night of confession,
beneath a sky full of stars
that were burning.
I’m now left with no
adjectives to alliterate,
how this sunflower
soul’s cry bloomed
within your
healing embrace,
where hailing
emotions were eased;
I knew then,
that’s where
I’ve for so long
wanted to belong.
The whirling gusts of
greedy gardenias
may say
roses aren’t fragrant,
but why am I yearning
to be the Juliet rose
in your graceful garden,
where petals glow
like rainbow-hued stardust,
I’m on a virtual venture,
wishing I had
Aladdin’s vintage lamp;
to grant me my
dose of you and I.
If only I could ride
above Arabian valleys;
on an amethyst
magic carpet,
stitched with
crystalline crescent sequins.
If only you could feel,
I’ve been dreaming
of daisy meadows
and dahlia lawns,
where memories
are fatal,
pushing me into a
labyrinth of
mourning magnolias,
searching for
balanced brightness,
although you
still wander
through a
foreign land~
faraway from “us”.
I hear your wings
adorned with
orchestric ornaments
ascending into
the celestial fields,
leaving me in an
astral connection,
with a jar of memories,
where I still keep
falling for you,
time and time again,
as you are my
beginning and ending,
the amorous poet
that wouldn’t
take love for granted~
like the pirates of
this heart-shaped odyssey.
And I shall forever be reliving
the fabulous February,
spent in your golden presence;
although, days together
were somewhat short
and nights were long,
we will rephrase this romance
relentlessly
into an everlasting love story.
Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.
Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.
Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.
To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.
On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.
Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.
Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.
Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.
Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.
Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.
We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,
Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.
Born into this world as a humble, helpless Babe
Christ increased in wisdom and stature
Grew up in favour with both God and man
Baptised publicly by John the Baptist
Tempted by the devil, but overcame him
Preached the gospel of the kingdom of God
Befriended the publicans and the sinners
Turned the water into wine, did miracles
Cast out demons, healed all kinds of diseases
Backed up twelve fishermen as His disciples
Taught them, led them, and washed their feet
Spent three and a half years moulding them
Broken, He prayed in the garden of Gethsemane
His sweat as blood, such spiritual agony
Ready to do the will of God and drink the cup
Beaten and scourged on the way to Calvary
A crown of thorns placed upon His head
Spat upon, mocked, and smote by the soldiers
Bruised, He was crucified on the cruel Cross
He hung there with no form nor comeliness
Reviled by passers-by wagging their heads
Bereft and forsaken by His own Father
Carrying the sins of the entire world
He suffered and bled, but forgave and loved
Beseeching His Heavenly Father to receive His Spirit
Lord Jesus Christ gave up his ghost on the Cross
And the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom
Buried in a new rock sepulchre, the stone was rolled
The tomb was sealed and the watch was set
But on the third day, as prophesied, our Lord rose up
Behold, there was a great earthquake
The angel of the Lord descended from heaven
And rolled back the stone and sat upon it
Bewildered, the women heard him saying,
“Fear not, ye seek Jesus who was crucified,
He is not here, for He is risen, come see where they laid Him”
Brutal death could not chain our Lord,
He overcame it and appeared to His disciples
And was carried up into heaven
Believe on the Lord Jesus, He was crucified for our sins,
But He resurrected from the dead, never to die again
Now He sits on the right hand of God, interceding for our sins
Beloved, He will come back one day
Not as the Lamb, but as the Lion
To take His loved ones unto Himself
Before it is too late, accept Him into your heart
You will enjoy peace, love and joy, which this world can’t offer
Repent, believe and rejoice for the Lord Jesus Christ is alive.
9th April, 2022
For Regina McIntosh's "Easter" contest
If I have to talk about love
I don't think I will be able to
As I don't believe I have fallen in love yet
The powerful, all-devouring and most importantly requited kind
The warm hugs, late-night conversations and the days spent together kind
The kind that I yearn for - I haven't found it yet
But if I have to talk about love
I'll talk about the butterflies I felt in my stomach when he held me for the first time as I stumbled
I'll talk about the electricity coursing through my veins due to the slightest contact our arms made as we brushed past each other
I'll talk about the hours I spent waiting in the crowd for the slightest glimpse of him
I'll talk about the bus rides and our conversations - short-lived but still a reality
I'll talk about the way my heart was beating as I spoke to him for the first time
I'll talk about the ecstasy I felt as he tried to hold my hand
I'll talk about the sleepless nights I spent replaying each and every moment I spent with him in my mind, until he disappeared, and only his memories remained
But if I have to talk about love
I have to also talk about falling out of it
I'll talk about the butterflies I felt in my stomach as he raked his eyes over my body after I wore something he wanted me to - only this time, the butterflies were accompanied by an incomprehensible anxiety
I'll talk about the times I sat, listening to his advice knowing damn well that everything he said was an attempt at moulding me into the kind of girl he liked
I'll talk about the moment he refused to speak to me, for reasons beyond my knowledge or understanding, reasons that will forever evade me
I'll talk about the way I cut my eyes away after seeing him, even though I spent an hour in his wait
I'll talk about the triumph I felt when I gathered the courage to delete his leftover traces from my life - and it felt like an achievement
I'll talk about the moment the realisation dawned on me that I was never loved, just used and manipulated - and the shame I felt after
I'll talk about the day my heart let go of him and I finally became free from the love I felt for him
I'll talk and talk and talk
And in the end, I will make myself believe that it was never love in the first place; just lust.
It can kill you.
The more you feed it, the more it craves
you. You try to control it, but the chemistry is
too heated up, so you are hypnotized
with it’s ability to energize you.
It makes itself clear- with it’s bright colours
and all that, but you forget to look
anywhere else, so it compresses your life into
a bizarre mess of illogical decisions.
You thinks it clarifies you, but it just
blurs everything else in a haze of ignorance,
so you lose track of size, and colour,
and time, and make yourself blind.
Sometimes you wish it was less
intense, and that you didn’t have to
always put on a show, and stand in the
centre watching them watch you.
You thought it would make you better, more
substance means more life, but it just takes
over you, so what was you, is now a tiny
fragment of it, which just keeps getting smaller.
You can’t mix with who you want now,
you have to compromise, you can’t be free,
you have to stick to it until it has completely
changed you into something different.
Sometimes you feel so small and submerged
that you can’t breathe any more. It spins you
in circles, but you’re tired, and hot, and you want
to think without it’s thoughts moulding you.
But it’s too late to break the bond you made
that time when you wanted to dance. It’s too late
to change your mind now, and pretend it never
had any effect on you. It’s too late to put it out.
So you’re stuck with it’s snakes of arms too greedy
to care anymore, and that heat long too hot,
so it scorches you alive, and that colour, which
you blindly agreed to share, when you were you.
But you ‘re used to it now.
You know that you can break free if you try
really hard, but it’s you who’s too scared to leave.
You think it will stop you, and burn you, and eat
you, but it’s you who does that to yourself.
You remember when it was the answer to
everything, and when your body was big enough
to make decisions, but your heart, too selfish.
You remember those times, and you cry.
And you think again, and you open your
eyes, and you clarify life, and you free
yourself. It may have burnt your senses,
and your thoughts, and your heart, but,
It can’t kill you.
Only you can kill yourself.
The old ruin sat near the brow of the hill
it had been there for centuries forgotten
none now knew for what purpose it had been used
not even the elders who had many suggestions
A not unattractive looking building of stone
and that in it's self only added to the mystery
for these stones were not locally quarried
the nearest place being over 170 miles away
Yet here they had been dragged, then hewed
wrestling them into place quite some task
an imposing building nestled in the hillside
and the views surrounding it post card perfect
Inside was airy and light with most of the roof gone
a strange hearth in the corner of the main hall
large enough for a man to walk into upright
Bread ovens built into the walls and a sitting niche
This was all that was left apart from one roofed room
in here it was dry and warm even a single trundle bed
admittedly very rockety but still it was usable
I decided to camp out the following night, it would be fun
The following evening I climbed the hill as the sun set
tonight it would be a full moon, already the air chilling
I settled in with my few belongings and lit the fire
soon it was roaring, with crackles, hissing and spitting
It was a fine clear night and the heat wonderful
so I made up a bracken bed in front of the fire
I laid back enjoying the stars and a comet shooting past
lazily I slipped not realising into a strange sleep
I found the building restored though it's use still not clear
only a long table and chairs in here, beds in the rooms leading off
then a man came into view, he did not seem to notice me as he passed
he stirred the pot cooking on the fire and set the table
Soon more men came in and sat down to enjoy a hearty meal
I realised from their armour that these were soldiers
so the ram-shackled ruin had once been a lookout post
I woke in the morning well rested remembering my dream
As I walked back down the hill I looked back at it
drenched in sunshine it seemed to gleam a wisp of smoke
curling up from the chimney it looked as if once more alive
not an old forgotten ruin moulding slowly into the landscape
I used the word ram-shackled recently and it struck me as a good theme
for a poem so I wrote this.
Seduce me in Black and White
You reach toward my face
and touch my lips
Tracing the slightly raised pink curve of them
gently - lightly - before
the urge to kiss me seizes the opportunity
Surrealistic sensations immortalize
as our lips seek and lock
Interchange of strange, new emotions
flow as our tongues entwine
Sun having a siesta under his canopy of clouds sends
sombre golden light slanting through the old colonial blinds
Enough for me to see ~
I want to see ~
Caressing fingers don’t stop as kisses linger
moving in seductive circular motion
Circling - tracing - moulding
twin peaks to unashamed pertness
Tantalising ripples course my body
Like the soft waving flutter of butterflies winged kisses
creating sensuous ripple upon ripple
Of pure undulating pulsating
I want to see ~
Fingers urgently move now to my navel
circling, tracing, tinkling
Like a pianist on his keys
of black and white
Are they really only two colours?
Why then do they lilt a rainbow of colours to my ears?
On my fevered skin caressing fingers script my Rhapsody
The slow whirring beat of the ancient ceiling fan
picks up a harmonic note
of a solitary flute
Wanting to add to the sultry scene
It lends its own mysterious charm
A tantalising urge to arch
I want to feel ~
Impatient now for them to move further
Fiery Desire entices curious fingers to touch
dew that cumulates dusk to dawn on my awakening rose
Exciting, enticing emotions
The aromatic rapture floats me to you
a tortuously slow feeling to satiate
Propels bodies to engage
I want to feel ~ I want to feel ~ I want to feel you
A frog croaks discordantly outdoors
Snapping me out of my reverie
Startling me out of my romantic fantasy
Eyes fall back on monochrome words of my book
I long to dwell in this erotic moment
Weaving the music into a mesmerising crescendo
However
The old wooden blades of the ceiling fan
resume back to the rhythmic measured clickity clack
The spell now broken
I reach for my phone to call my lover
He awaits my call …
Video Clip - Yanni - Romantic piano
June 21 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 144-150
Key Verse – Psalm 144:1 Blessed be the LORD my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY TEACHER
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who settles me in Your eternal salvation
Thank You for Your polishing as You refine my faith’s function---
From falsehood, I’m delivered toward You truth’s action
So privileged am I to abide in Your strengthening compassion.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who supplies me well by Your goodness
Thank You for Your upholding as You satisfy my spiritual zealousness---
From hell, I’m ushered me to Your kingdom’s greatness
So eager am I to praise You in Your holiness.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who exhorts me to honour You with all my soul
Thank You for Your moulding as You help my spirit to be fully whole---
From doubt, I’m brought to Your certainty I trust in my life goal
So peaceful am I to submit to Your reign for my servant-role.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who builds me up in Your magnificent ways
Thank You for Your caring as You strengthen my stewardship-days---
From brokenness, I’m bid me to Your healing rays
So desirous am I to testify about Your grace always.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who commands me to exalt You sincerely
Thank You for Your leading as You guide my walk circumspectly---
From gloom, I’m brightened by Your light cheerfully
So humbled am I to come near unto You intimately.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who makes me rejoice in Your name
Thank You for Your gladdening as You radiate to my redemption-fame---
From nothingness, I’m filled by Your contentment-frame
So blessed am I to commune with You as Your promises I claim.
Lord God, You are my Teacher
Who exposes me to Your power’s accomplishment
Thank You for Your working as You regard my earnest commitment---
From amazement, I’m carried to You acts of excellent fulfillment
So awed am I to live for You with my ministry-involvement.
June 21, 2023
So my dear mum,
If I shall dearly come,
As I shall yearly gives you joy,
You shall not relent neither shall you
stop.
I shall surely come,
But secretly deformed.
You will have to keep remoulding my
tongue,
And to keep me in form.
I shall come as a baby crying.
You will to lend me your breast to feed
me.
To help my thinking,
So that I can properly respond to your
teaching.
As a baby I shall be acting so stupid,
You need to keep moulding.
To keep on removing,
And be never tired of adding.
The growing shall not be that easy,
The flesh shall come pushing.
Remoulding me might to cause me lots
of pain,
It might have to move your hand with
cane.
All I wanna see in your face is that petty,
You'll have to mix love with that beating.
All to keep me in shape,
So shall I not bring you shame.
With time shall I grow so old,
Me you won't be able to grip or hold.
Then, will your words mould.
Twll help my conscience to grow.
If I shall truly bring you joy,
Then the choice is yours.
The wind of this world will against me
blown and I shall not be turned.
All because your words have made me
strong.
Don't be tired of me,
Am still that your egg.
Don't give up on me,
Even if am the ach in your head.
Even on your dyeing bed,
I still want to be there.
Those words you will say,
Will continue to keep me in shape.
When you're in grave,
Your words will be much more alive.
Then shall I say 'like my mama use to
say'
Those words shall bring you back to life.
To become a mother is more than leg-
spreading,
I doesn't end by giving birth.
You have to keep telling,
Till you'll be successful in moulding a
good conscience.
The work of the finder is less,
The moulder have to do more.
She doesn't need interference,
She doesn't need to be disturbed.
Moulding is very delicate,
When mistake are made,
This mistakes becomes an eye-saw,
And the moulder feel the pain much.
You need encouragement,
In order not to be too tired.
You need loveliness,
You need a good finder.
As I look at the land where I was born
I search far and wide for years now gone
When every waking moment was ripe with hope
When to reach for the stars all you needed was a rope
Where the days were a flurry of scenes so sweet
Where the night was just that, a time to sleep
And the dreams were filled with happy thoughts
Coming true in haste and not always sought
I remember the height of my life would be
To just lie on the beach and then swim in the sea
The sheer excitement in my face when my father showed
The train tickets to the northern peaks all snowed
Oh the soothing calm of a walk in the lane
With no thoughts or qualms or worries or pain
And the wind so kind on the body caressed
Just a gentle reminder of a land so blessed
And then one day in a blink of an eye
What I thought was mine till the day that I die
Was consumed by a fire raging hot and bright
Like a blinding flash summoning a dark endless night
And in that fleeting moment, my whole world changed
Bringing grief and sadness and a nation so drained
Deforming the way of life that we knew so well
Quoting religion falsely to have their needs propelled
And with such brutal force did the tides turn
Not just villages and towns but whole cultures were burned
Crushing love and tolerance all values in psalms
Moulding a whole new way, a new version of Islam
Preaching hatred against all, no one left to escape
Forcing a veil on life, the real teachings were draped
Fearing only the truth which could alter their fate
Using might and terror against the challengers to their faith
I look away, holding back the tears in my eyes
Wondering how a land so rich and wise
Could lose it all in such haste, such a small space in time
Why the leaders let it happen, such a heinous crime
And it dawns on me the reality of things
That there is nothing more important than what education brings
As a nation we have failed to pay our debt
Having bred illiterate fools than a country more adept
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