Long Munificence Poems
Long Munificence Poems. Below are the most popular long Munificence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Munificence poems by poem length and keyword.
At a time when a vital organ of mine began to fail,
I thought that was the beginning of the end.
The miserable mind plunged in the abyss of despair,
for modern medicines seemed not to work.
As I reached the fading edge of optimism,
receiving the destiny’s signal for departure,
I submitted to the benevolence of the Almighty,
prayed for His blessings for miraculous cure .
I found in the gloom of the dismal nights,
His light illumine the darkness of the future.
My soul sailed in the sea of faith as never before,
and my organ got the divine healing touch.
I got a changed life as the epiphany dawned
with new sunrise in the firmament of consciousness,
my senses felt the essence of His munificence,
and I realized the power of prayer.
______________
August 27, 2022
Contest : The Epiphany That Changed Your Life Forever
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
A cartridge filled with a horde of shackled emotions, am I,
Trifle feelings loiter within me, until she elicits them out,
Wizened by time, she knows that otherwise I might turn mordacious...
God guides my pen and has assigned her my way,
~ She is the vociferous voice of my heart ~
She knows my malleable moods and masterfully makes magic
By weaving whispers into wistful words,
~ She is the byzantine boon of my being ~
With cogent candor she cajoles me to compose poesy,
She and I share a companionable camaraderie...
In the mystical moondust of Maker's majestic mercy,
I acquiesce to her ingenious genius,
~ She is an efficacious eclectic enigma ~
For sometimes, she plays truant tricks,
Her surreptitious evanescence is a conspicuous conspiracy,
Abandoned, I have to await her august appearance...
The soft stardust of her sartorial splendor,
Renders me a mere puppet of her puissant prowess,
~ She is a phenomenal Phoenix ~
For she encourages me to endeavor towards excellence,
Her alacrity aggrandizes my acumen,
Having faith in her fortuitous favour, I flourish...
~ She is my God-given "gift of grace" ~
Her multifarious munificence is a monumental mystery,
She has transformed me from a fruitless flibbertigibbet
To a fulfilled female fount with her unfailing finesse...
~ She is my mysterious, magnanimous Muse ~
Feeling forever grateful to God for her grandiloquence.
5th January 2023
In the undulating landscape of confused existence,
I walk my confounded life on the path of illusion,
chase the mirage of endless desires.
I wander disillusioned in the wasteland,
seeking the sense of being in the ethereal domain,
I am trapped in the web of mortal quagmire.
Trying to be free from the mundane clutch
of the karmic destiny of captivity,
the perception of divine conscience suffuses me,
and transcending the limits of time and space,
I implore God to show me the path of journey inward,
for perpetual bliss I yearn to embrace.
As the bud of my soul serenely unfurls,
blooming the divine flower of awareness,
I perceive the grace of His bequest,
saturating me with aura of felicity.
I then discern the beauty of the enlightened life,
blessed by the benevolence of God.
In the tranquility of heavenly consciousness,
like the limitless sky of His munificence,
I soar like a bird on the wings of devotion,
float in the boundless cosmos of eternal peace.
My liberated soul flies free
in the euphoric firmament of ultimate salvation.
______________
April 17, 2023
Word Chosen : Ultimate
Contest : Writing Challenge - "U" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
The sky sneers at me through the curtain of clouds
I strain in vain to see if a star is flickering
The night stands stripped of all munificence
As I turn and twist on my bed,
I know for sure insomnia stubbornly
Keeps her reins on my poor self
As I lie sleepless with my torso weighing a ton,
Whispering my anguish onto my pillow
With darts of pain stinging out from my swollen eyes
I know I have lost sense of every passing hour,
But intensely feel every moment….
My ear drums are slit by the sirens of ambulances
Their blinking lights flashing in darkness
And scrawling strange graffiti on the walls
Down in the patio, I hear the swish
Of paper flung by the paper boy
Thank God! The night has ended.
But is it not for another night’s painful litany?
Yet I dream of a bright dawn
At the end of every night of distress!
"The wait is over,
the northern wind whistles carol,
for Christmas is in the air." - Quote by Poet
Merry Christmas time is in our joyous sight,
embraced by the frosty December ambiance,
as the sun-starved days fade away fast
in the gripping fold of the freezing night.
The leaves of fir trees flash as the stars shine
with the gloss of the gleaming splendor.
In the firmament of our enchanted hearts
elation shimmers bright with the divine light.
The northern wind whispers the winter tune,
mingling with the church bells that toll in solitude.
With the elated children the sleighs slide
on the buried pathways of the meadow white.
The cadence of the carol melody floats
in the air from afar with the heavenly flair,
rides the whirling waves of silent snowflakes,
sparkling with the sequins of mesmeric moonlight.
The portals of our minds will open to insight,
perceive the essence of His boundless kindness
permeate the cauldron of our devotion,
we’ll offer Him from the core of our devout souls.
The sinned will be saved by His munificence,
glittering as the star of the ornate fir tree,
that will glisten with the radiance of kinship,
inspiring us with the belief of Christmas spirit.
Our minds flitter like the beguiled butterfly,
collect the color and scent of sensual flowers,
filling up the cornucopia of delight to the brim,
that we offer Him with dedicated soul full of joy.
The lighted candles will drive the darkness away,
the star will descend on the Christmas tree,
that will glitter with the patina of happy time,
making our hearts pulsate with the festive rhyme.
The wretched wearers of this mound of shoes who once walked free,
And enjoyed The Creator's munificence, life and pursuit of liberty,
Are now but scattered ashes with their shoes cast in a gruesome heap,
By ruthless and mocking tyrants who considered life so very cheap.
To the "showers" men, women and children were shamelessly led,
Unaware of what they faced when their clothing and shoes were shed.
With the promise that "Work Will Set You Free", they were deceived.
Their brutish oppressors cared not one whit that they were aggrieved.
What might these souls have become had fate not dealt them so;
A doctor, a scientist, a teacher? Alas, we shall never know.
We must never forget and that macabre heap of shoes should remind
Future generations of the cruelty that was perpetrated upon humankind.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 7 in Abe Lopez' "Innocent Leather" Contest - June 2010
When growing up on the farm in Indiana even at 'round the age of three,
I began to notice simple yet beautiful things that surrounded me.
Strange though it seems, I found beauty in grumpy bumble bees,
And was fascinated by the gold and crimson foliage of autumn's trees!
Golden fields of wheat undulating in the breeze was a beauty to behold,
As were luscious apples ripening on laden trees in hues of red and gold.
Bright green fields of corn that were to provide roasting ears bye and bye,
Were crowned with gilted, dancing tassels reaching for the sky!
I saw beauty in the gamboling of a newborn baby calf,
And the antics of squealing piglets that really made me laugh!
I caressed fluffy yellow baby chicks with my innocent paws.
(The threat of the fussy mother hens rarely gave me pause!)
I had the joy of capturing elusive lightning bugs on languid summer nights,
And delighted at the awesome beauty of the eerie Northern Lights!
I saw beautiful displays of lightning as it flashed across the prairies,
And from afar saw magnificent golden eagles preening in their aeries!
I gently caressed the beautiful peonies that my Mother grew,
And inhaled the fragrance of her roses glistening in the morning dew.
Though I'm in the autumn of life, in all things beautiful and bright
That The Creator in his munificence has provided, I still take delight!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I was waiting still
Wandering, dreaming
in the frozen tundra, communing
with echoes of unformed shadows
each season, I swore that this
Silviah will surely come someday
As angels share dreams
so are our tendrils twined
each node, an inch to sunlight
What solace you bring dear heart
What cheer and glee awaits our
flamed souls and charmed corolla
This August you come,
for us to become a vine of glory
your graceful ankles guides thee
to our hillside chapel for a mid day kiss
You have healed me dear Silviah
for the chambers of my heart bubble
with the munificence of your soul.
The crucible of your affection
has yielded endless hope,
sprouts of adorable sunflower
Happiness is sweet and warm,
you now contain all my fires within
furred nest, waxing, with scented mist
May the sun be clipped to sustain
this dawn for evermore
The year ends with the Christmas time,
freezing in the festive December air,
as the sun-soaked days fade out
at the glacial edge of the lasting night.
The celebration panorama draped with stellar dust
will glitter with the luster of grandeur,
as the star will descend in our enthralled hearts,
that will gleam bright in the divine light.
The melody of church bell and carol will hover
in the air from afar with heavenly flair,
herald once again His arrival amongst us
with the benign message of benevolence.
The portals of our minds will open to insight,
perceive the essence of His kindness,
filling up the cauldron of devotion,
we’ll empty for Him from our devout souls.
The sinned will be saved by His munificence,
shimmering in the star of the ornate fir tree,
that will glitter with the radiance of kinship,
inspiring us with the tenets of Christmas spirit.
_____________
December 9, 2022
Contest : Christmas Spirit
Sponsored by : Regina McIntosh
Written: August 4, 2026 for a contest by Silent One
Quote: "All opposites unite, All that is profane becomes sacred again." By Rumi.
******************
I move through the dusk
where the air feels half-holy, half-feral—
a thin-veined shimmer
trembling between grace and grit.
Some nights, the mind cleaves
like a slow-burn seedpod,
one part stretching skyward,
one part anchoring in dark loam
where old impulses hush and hear.
A drumbeat in that place—
A firm, orotund thrum
like aureole tracing archaeology of rust
like a breath caught
at the threshold of ardor and augury
I've felt the infinite in finite foofaraw
a faint flare of a fancy
that flouts all fetters
the way a memory falters
and still summons song.
the way serendipity sidles sunward
And sails, steers by secret stars
And I've peered past the profane.
in the pellucid, pearl-lit moments:
a misshaped munificence of misery
a molded by mourning mercy,
a trembling truth that teeters
but never topples.
Both breathe beneath—
the balm and the bruise
the straight line and the stumble,
the silence and the thunder.
I walk with them
as if they were twin shadows
weaving at my heels,
each whispering
its untamed vision
of what I might become.