Long Nun Poems
Long Nun Poems. Below are the most popular long Nun by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nun poems by poem length and keyword.
Is a rhyme poem about rhyme
the heart it fill
or the thought in mind
Is it pointless if it forced and fault full
though it rhymes gets slated as not thoughtful
yet can be credited if filled with words in shortfall
and devalued by common words more normal
If a nun found a gun
on a day most glum
a day sunless and she undressed
Nundressed ponder the pun less
then she went for a run a fun run a nun fun run a nude nun fun run
and she was the one that won becoming the new champion
as the nude nuns on the fun run finished bum by bum
causing her to excite jump and fall bum first
as she had never come first as her dizzy eyes see sights
though the day dark as night
fooling the mind to a new height
a new high a nude high a new nude nun high
not for everyone mind but nicely above old heights
feeding a fear that sees her shoot a dear
The bullet bang so loud and clear
witnessed by many surrounding near
piercing ears can’t hear
yet this sudden ending
Chistu uaglione 'nquiet che guard luntano e aspett...
sta c'ercan chella femmena sincera che tut
e pene fa frni: quanno a speranza nun s' trova;
bella uagliona, a chi staje asptann chesta sera?
T' poss fa' cumpagnia e ferma' a paura toia?
L'ammore amaro nun divent maje doce,
cchiu' zucchero s' mett, cchiu nun ha sapore!
L'ammore amaro nun divent maje doce...
quanno tut a tristezza rimane dint o' core!
Chistu uaglione 'nquiet aspet a nott pe' vede a luna,
e cammin pe cheste strade silenziose senz a paura;
chistu bel uaglione chiagne comme e sciur ro' mattin...
cercame, t' aspett cantand e suonand o' mandolin!
L'ammore amaro nun divent maje doce,
chello che voglio e' scennere da chesta croce
e cumincia' a vivr cu tant sole e ammore;
si staje vicin, famme s'nti sta' bella voce!
Translation:
This restless young man looks afar and waits;
what he wishes for is a sincere woman
who can take his misery away and ease all pain
when hope is not found on dark, silent roads;
beautiful girl, who are you waiting for tonight?
Could I keep you company to end your fright?
Bitter love can never turn sweet,
the more sugar you pour in your cup,
the more it loses its wonderful taste;
bitter love can never turn sweet...
when all bitterness shows up
and makes sweetness leave in haste!
This handsome guy waits for darkness and walking
on dark and silent streets, he seeks the dawn...
to cry like flowers towards bright morning;
sweetheart, I'll wait and sing and play the mandolin!
Bitter love can never turn sweet,
my wish is to stop this hopelessness
and start living with a lot of sun
and love whenever life lets me down!
Bitter love can never turn sweet...
all I like to hear is your voice of tenderness!
Written on 4/5/017
When I was very young, Dorothea a Nun walked in. A holy lady, a gift of God was she. Scared by her habit, I ran and hid under the table. As I peeked under the long table cloth, I watched Dorothea walk around. Being so young I did not know she was a Nun, I just thought she was scary. I wish I had talked to Dorothea, at the party that day. If we had talked then I could say, I had talked with a holy lady. As I got older I learned what I missed at the party, I missed a gift of God on that special day.
Date Written 5/17/2020
You know death dun scare me nun
Unknown things not known about
Invisible forces not attainable
Don't believe in ropes but yet and still they did hang us
Must forgive them ALWAYS them folks who use to and still hate us
In the blink of my travels I remain sober
Don't believe in ghosts but there are spirits
Death dun scare me none
Death dun scare me none
So I will rise
Yes I will rise
Rise above my atricities
I will rise above my adversities
Our eyes for my eyes open wide and my arms spread out wide
I will rise to tha skies
I will rise I will be alive why
Cuz I fear no one now
Wise while I rise
I will see His eyes
He will hold me and I will understand why
I have risen I have not died
I rise I have risen high
I am done my work and worship on this tearing land I had bleed and cried and serviced just passing through traveling
Oh how I have risen and tolerated mistreated and been in division not pass on to Glory side I have risen I have rised I haven't died I'm alive and guess what I fear no one now guess what I've risen arose I rise death dun scare me now
Do what the words in the Bible say and believe they be true if I repent of my sins versus grace shall come in for death I be not afraid of you yes sir death
DEATH DUN SCARE ME NUN-Hallelujah
Glory
Selah
There just ahead she stood in line with just two customers to go
I already knew what I wanted on mine, lite on the onions though
And now it was the Sister's turn as my own mouth began to water
Oh but the lesson we would all learn as I went to place my own order
With her order in her hand she walked over towards the back wall
Confused, we didn't understand but it sure caught the attention of all
There was this man on the ground... I really didn't even notice before
Oh I do always see them around, but usually I just simply try to ignore
But the kindness she showed in how she knelt down to him so meek
In this certainly not being owed such volume did Sisters actions speak
Now all eyes were upon her, people now feeling what they had sought
Yes there We all were, but why did so many of us need to be taught
In seeing perhaps our sad sorrow or sensing that we too wanted to try
She murmured something about tomorrow, that she can't make it by
That man ate well that next day as some of the same people were there
In going about her daily way Sister was in turn just teaching us to care
The midnight clings to dwarfish kings
while robot drones, adorning thrones,
kneel, bowing to the Old...Guard.
Arrhythmic clocks and wooden box
grace FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
The diplohacks, like melting wax,
have swept along the clueless throng,
some dying for a life...guard.
And Nun, alone, has beached their bones
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
Beyond the streams, a raven screams
at loser fish that swarm and swish;
Nun slowly drains her dreams...jarred.
There are no thanks along the banks
near FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
While FRiar smiles and prowls the aisles
the hierarch obeys the bark
from maw that oozes pure...lard.
There's much ado throughout the zoo
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
Well, FRiar’s pets are in a sweat;
he calls the tunes near burning dunes
and taps his cloven feet...charred.
They roast in rooms, their future tombs,
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
His myrmidons, they drool and fawn
reciting verse near FRiar’s hearse,
extolling wild the van...guard.
Remote controls abet the trolls
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
With faces straight, in bent debate,
they advertise their empty lies
to every passing re...tard.
Grey zombies groom white flies in bloom
in FRiar Small-Bro’s grave...yard.
continued in Part 2
She no longer wears a habit, our nun.
Does this make her less holy?
Certainly not.
She has been called penguin, our nun.
By those who have not been called to serve
And are confused by her faith.
She does not seek extra attention, fortune or fame.
She works selflessly
Helping others
She spends her life mothering children not of her loins
But all God’s children, for she believes we all are.
Sometimes uplifting them more than their flesh mothers
She works tirelessly, our nun
Even if we are not Catholic, we can claim her.
She belongs to the world, a proponent of Godliness and the trilogy.
Written 5-23-2020
Contest: Nun Poetry Contest – free verse
Sponsor: Julia Ward
~ Mary Fields…
Was born into slavery somewhere back east
she thought it was Hickman County, Tennessee
Growing up, she had learned how to read and write
though she'd spent her childhood in captivity
Came to Montana to live life as a nun
but learned she was better suited for fight'n
She stood six foot tall and weighed two hundred pounds
wore a six shooter she could draw fast as light'n
She had arms and hands looked like battering rams
she towered o'er most cowboys here in the west
She smoked cigars and chawed a tobacco plug
a flask of whisky hidden under her dress
She came to fame one day when a green cowpoke
said that no black woman could be his better
She'd laid him out flat when he went for his gun
Mary shot him before he could clear leather
In her left hand she could hold the reigns of six
of the orneriest horses you'd ever knew
while shooting a shotgun with the other hand
and could still keep them horses a runnin' smooth
She'd out shoot, out fight and out drink any man
Was mean, stubborn, cantankerous and scary
Specially if you was a meaning to steal
from a wagon driven by Stagecoach Mary
One day, She looked and saw what I done
For tomorrow is fine, now I’ll follow the Nun
She caught me acting up and having fun
She gave me detention, so I’ll follow the Nun
And now the time has come, to detention I’ll go
I will get a concussion and my poor rear end will hurt so
One day you’ll find that it’s no fun
When you stay after school and have to follow the Nun
And now the time has come, to detention I’ll go
I have a sore rear end, when I sit I hurt so, oh
One day, you’ll stay, and wait until I’m done
You can go home now cause today, I’ll follow the Nun
Beatles tune, "Follow The Sun"
For John's contest
A nun and her station wagon go far
In one direction on the road of life
With no brakes and a loaded gun
On their way to heaven of course
Camped out in the cemetery at midnight
Protected in her habit and giant cross
Made of metal and wood of course
Like a coat of armor to stop bullets
From people like you and you and them
A nun knows what is best in cemeteries
At midnight with a full moon on display
Tomb stones laid bare with names and dates
Secrets beneath crucifixes blessed
Nuns know what is best for death
Pray for the sinners and all that rest
With or without bullets in their chest
Authors note: I invite you to read my short story posted here on this site titled “Incident At The Bay Wharf.” It is lots of fun with guns and bums and nuns.