Long Near death Poems
Long Near death Poems. Below are the most popular long Near death by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Near death poems by poem length and keyword.
Should I in wealth and fame reside
And there no “needs” appear;
Remind me Lord, in Thee I hide
Abiding, keep me near.
Should I in comfort lose the view
Of Who it is Who reigns;
Remind me Lord, that it is you
And you, I must proclaim.
Should I in health and strength persist
To think that I’m sufficient;
Remind me Lord, that I’m a mist
While you remain omniscient.
When I in lean and wanting days
Forget how I adored Thee;
Remind me Lord, of countless ways
Your faithfulness restored me.
When I in pain and sickness cried
Desperate for reprieve;
Remind me Lord, you’re by my side
You’re He who never leaves.
When I near death, become remiss
and think of only flaws;
Remind me Lord, the chief is this…
I’m hid with Christ in God.
There's an inimical solemnity
dissolving the loveliness
of the last day of spring;
I sought solitude and awareness
from the very beginning,
but this farewell won't depart from me!
Along the the shady and dusty road so solitary,
I pick ripe strawberries so fragrantly dainty:
these are precious gifts of Mother Nature held out
to my grateful hands...never wanting to stop!
Gentle butterflies swirl in frantic swiftness
to land where I am standing;
I step aside to let them in,
allowing them to savor the same sweetness!
Winding paths lead to emerald and vast meadows,
guarded by a brilliant sky scented by daffodils...
there the fragrance enters freely into the nostrils;
there only the sultry and mysterious night of June
can hide its frightful shadows
under the translucent gleams of the argent moon!
From the corners of a small island
alienated from the human mind
and ever overlooked by the haziest sky,
voltures hover briefly,then descend abruptly
to feed upon a wounded,wriggling deer,near death,
unable to fend himself off!
Distant gallops take a quick rest
as targeted rifles line and blast,
shrieking creatures plunge down,lifeless,
into the weedy grass...
as their helpless,drooping wings
and expiring eyes
strike the thristles with their bloody heads!
The pitiful predators lie moribond in exile,
to show their bleeding wounds...
of imprudent eagles
to the wild!
when she was down and low
when her life was bleak .... and darkness was her veil
and she could not see a future ahead
and she closed her eyes to all family
and friends ...
~ he gave her a book called the Bible, a book
with books within
and that has made all the difference ~
the book has become so meaningful to her
for all the answers are within the pages and pages
each day she reads the book and is enlightened
each day her future looks brighter
for she has embraced the words written ...
thousand and thousands of years ago
~ he gave her a book called the Bible, a book
with books within
and that has made all the difference ~
the Psalms and Proverbs bring her comfort
from her despair
and Solomon's Song inspires her as does ....
the Lamentations
she loves the Old Testament the best and all the passages
yet, the New Testament has so much to teach
and she gathers insight ... to help her on her life journey
~ he gave her a book called the Bible, a book
with books within
and that has make all the difference ~
it happened one day
when she was recovering from a near death
walking alone .... wandering ... lost in dark thoughts
she happened to enter the hospital chapel
and the book was there ... waiting
~ and she opened it and that has made all the difference
for the "he" was God, and the "she" and "her" are me ~
and the book is the Bible ...
______________________
June 6, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/He Gave Her A Book
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1361-596-06
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, He Gave Her A Book
sponsor, Mystic Rose, Rose, Judged 06/10/2021
First Place
she had lost the plot long before in an insane labyrinth of her mind
trapped in the rat race of high speed and the volume on full blast
incarcerated shackled and straight jacketed thumb screws and all
contorting denial delusion and psychedelic support to no valid avail
and the wall of her self-imposed prison was barbed with wire of pain
the maze of synaptic connections discharged commands of unreason
torturous wheels of cognition failed to balance fierce contradictions
twisting and hurting she succumbed to a myriad of fake solutions
turning the tourniquet tight to receive the message of brown sugar
winding serpentine paths misconstrued from temptation and promise
and still the garden remained a wasteland of intemperate indignation
she had fallen off the wagon so many times that the engine had stalled
sinews lay bare under a sinuous array of purulent scars and punctures
a tattered puzzle of perplexed bewilderment awaiting the ultimate shot
the heroine submerged in near namesake poison in face of the needle
as the epitaph neared completion and the funeral cortege proceeded
she prayed and surrendered to a white knuckling ride of withdrawal
dragons danced with cold turkeys on her tomb stone but they refused
to relinquish hope for affronted vultures puked at sight of her ghost and
she recalls near death experiences and abstinence as a miraculous gift
25th June 2020
The cinnamon red rooster lost
His place in the pecking order
Of the flock where another rooster
Battled him to near death
Leaving him with one eye pecked out
And the other swollen shut
Like a boxer who had gone too many rounds
Against the superior contender
That old rooster, forlorn and isolated
From the majority of the group
Found ways to entertain himself
On barn scraps and hay bales
Awaiting the just right moment
To forage for food and go for water
When all the other birds were away
Nibbling at foliage and insects
Dissecting whatever creature
Happened into their territory
The barn, where they grazed happily
Discovering gourmet rats and worms
Little things that make chickens cluck
Months after the rooster was handicapped
By his sparring partner who ruled the roost
There came a hen, a dainty mushroom colored
Lady who had been pecked at until she was
Swollen and hurting, awaiting demise
Leaving her near the rooster
Where she might find solace from the flock
There came a day when it was clear
Her heart and his were as if only one
They shared more than the loss of eyes
To the frenzied pecking of their dangerous kin
But discovered solidarity with one another
Forming a companionship that was quite beautiful
Together, their eggs grew suitable
For precious and graceful chicks
Who would be, despite their past pain,
Healthy, happy and bustling with pride
Chicks who would find pure delight
In sharing this wounded pair’s insights
Together, they grew stronger and more alive
Than they’d ever been because they were learning
What it means to give the gift of friendship
To another who shares your life experiences
Together, these two grew wise and found solace
In cackling and clucking through life
Perfectly content to avoid the strife
That comes from giving into nasty pride
Humility is sometimes the greatest joy in life
Faith is a cat, treading softly,
with delicacy, with hesitation,
unlike the dog-like dogma
(so aptly named) which seeks
to hold fast a believer in its
proud, fierce and steel-like jaws.
Yes, faith is beyond reason--
how could it not be when the
mystery is more than any mind
can seize and hold and eat....
And faith is a tease, a hope not
fully formed but heavy, unlike
its correspondent, the soul, so
light no scale can weigh it, no
meter can measure--but faith
sweats and breathes and lives
in fear of its own death like the
fragile body and life it inhabits.
Faith can be mocked so easily
by those resolute like stone
whose hearts are sealed and
walled against wonder, magic--
the magic of the world, of air
and sun and moonlight grace.
The deep, deep magic of two
who meet as strangers, then
meld into friends, then bind in
a power greater than death,
a power cloaked in mystery:
'Why do I love him?' and
'Why do I so long for her?'
This power, this mystery will
never be contained, either by
time or place or memories--
it will transcend even eternity.
Thus faith is the child of love,
real love, love unbounded,
fierce, heedless, far beyond
its greeting card counterfeit.
Faith is found in the cracks,
when reason is overwhelmed
and hope seems near death--
then faith, never easy, never,
never truly simple-- then faith
will be tossed and turned and
sometimes die, but more often
thrive as it makes the soul one.
we always complaint about how bad we have it when we should look outside
how many people have you pass today that could have last night almost died
we gripe about the small things all caught up in our selfish pride
while there are so many hungry battered children being constantly pushed aside
you see that man with the sign begging to even work for a meal
yet we chose to turn a blinds eye and never even yield
and what about the woman we saw who husband had beaten her to near death
we'd rather just leave it all up to the law than to offer just a little help
don't forget that little boy smelly dirty and clothes all tethered from behind
we would actually rather sit back and watch him be bullied
than to allow someone see us being kind
now think
that man yesterday died from cold and starvation because you didn't care to yield
the life you could have spared by just sharing a meal
that woman passed away last night due to one more of her husband's brutal attacks
the life you could have saved if you had not turned your back
that little boy took his life due to harsh words and constant torment
a life you could have kept from perishing if only a little time was spent
we find it so much easier to just look away
than to take the time to be nice
then we have the nerves to say
that we just cant wait to see CHRIST
*This is NOT meant to be morbid, alarming or negative. Most people who have seen my poems, know that I am positive often. It is realistic. I am a factual person, so it is based on facts, not panic. It is regards to the Coronavirus (Covid-19)
Over the years, I have had Cancer, Lyme disease, Head traumas and I have a heart issue.
Realistically, I know that if I get this, it is nearly or will be a death sentence for me
I have had many near death experiences in my life and I am fortunate to survive, I am a fighter!
I am also a survivor who prepares with action for any crisis and with faith gained strength to do so
So, I have been watching the Covid-19 virus evolve and spread around the world quickly
It is the most contagious illness that I have ever witnessed and it seems to be uncontainable
I also know what our hospitals are like where I live, which has often been very poor treatment
So, I am facing truth to what may or may not happen, as I prepare as best as I can
I also know what it is like to lose someone suddenly to death without a chance to say goodbye
This leads me to speak out today to everyone here and thank you all for your kind support
This does not mean I think I’m leaving for certain and if I escape this, I will certainly celebrate!
I hold onto gratitude closely in my life and I’m grateful for every bit of support I receive here
Thank you for reading my poems, becoming my friend, taking the time to leave nice comments
Some may ask why not wait to see if I am diagnosed with this first? Why rush to say this?
Because, I know by then, I may not be able to write this and I would never want it to be too late
I love this site. It has helped me through many things and taught me a lot too. It has become a part of my life since I found it.
So, thank you again with love for now and prayers to everyone here and I will keep writing!
Heidi Sands (*I am not leaving. I am just saying what I feel and will continue here, as usual)
3/1/20
I meander past a rippling stream,
my hair blowing in the wild wind;
was that my name being called, softly?
Did it sigh in the tangled trees above,
I twirl and swirl to only bird songs;
my name is but an echo, fading.
Mother where are you, mother?
Wait, wait, I am coming, wait for me;
but only silence sighs, whispering.
I wake suddenly in my hospital bed,
lost in a sea of pain drifting;
gasping and struggling, still breathing.
I was lost in a vivid dream,
where I was searching and seeking;
then, I find myself back in life, moaning.
____________________________________
July 22, 2012
Poetry/Verse/'The Dream Still Lingers'
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1185-401-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written after a near death experience.
All the happiness's of her life having long since past
As all of her own lots in this life have now been cast
Seemingly so all alone in that dark and cold hospital room
Most of you too would get this sudden sense of doom
But she was not alone on that particular day
As Father Shapiro stopped by all in a moment to pray
Opening the blinds and so filling the room with light
As all the trees and birds were now revealed in sight
Yet still not a movement of sort or any such kind of sign
As Father blessed her, noting, "Mary, all will be fine"
Blessing her body with Holy Water while saying a prayer
I could just sense the Holy Spirit emanating right there
No she was not alone on this much discernible day
For the Lord Jesus had come and He had had His say
For that room was just filled with His Glory and all of His Grace
And Mary knew His Story for I could see it on her face