Long Nurturer Poems
Long Nurturer Poems. Below are the most popular long Nurturer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nurturer poems by poem length and keyword.
A soiled foul foil, this dirty 'blade'
A truthless slithering renegade
A ruthless spineless conniving man
No of him, I was never a fan.
I saw him through the many years
I turned the T V channels over
I said he is not as he appears.
No I was not taken; I was not had.
I saw through his false charms
I noted the bracelets on his arms
I detested his rose coloured spec's
No I knew. I saw, the trap he set.
I had visions of him seanceing
I saw he spoke with dark spirits
I knew him; as wholly unclean.
No others scoffed he is so good
I said see; his style itself it is a lie
He is dressed as if he is 25.
I pointed ‘its a ploy for the young’
‘No’ others said, ‘but its harmless fun'
I am so sad for his victims of crime
I am glad though they are known
I am hoping for better all the time.
Yes call him evil for it’s the truth
Yes he was such a twisted brute
Yes an abuser; yes he was a fiend.
But to give him a good name
Could it be done?
In the light of what we've seen?
Your answer is in a winsome word
Child nurturer even carer protector
Oh yes you have rightly so heard.
(Paedophile deciphered)
It means all those things.
I ask you is it more fitting to ascribe
This description to a goodly king?
Yet for a lowly slinking brute,
this gutter-scum of men,
to name him so it makes me puke.
He'd place the odd blackball
I'd say
To bar ‘unworthy' men, back in his
Day.
I bet he loved those black tie do's
A charity 'thing' in glistening shoes.
The cash the power the contacts
Grand
He was called a just and upright man.
Yet lucifer led 'sir jim' right then
He was within the grasp of his hand.
©Joe Maverick 17-2-2018
Everything that is given
It's so long to me for a reason
For just the season
I am too cold and cultivate process receiving
Guide and substain
I am too be a partaker of it the gleanings
That I've been covering it with I am a sole processor maintain
I plant, I water, I watch over it these trues
These are the things that I must do
In essence to help grow up right ever so more futher
I am watching, I am a caregiver, I am a holder, I am a nurturer,
Behold I go, I hold for this reason
I care for what God has given me this season
8/18/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2022
I needed someone in whom I could trust
to let me know of my three strongest suits.
I asked my daughter; instantly she gave
a quick summation of my attributes.
The first she named (my easy-going ways)
I had not quite expected, but in her view
since I’m rarely ruffled, I am at ease.
The more I think about it, that’s very true.
I’m tolerant; not much will set me off.
Forgiving and relaxed is how I am.
As Popeye the Sailor Man was wont to say:
“I yam what I yam, and that’s what I yam!”
The second trait my daughter mentioned was
I’m fun – an easy one for me to guess.
Housework I will shirk if there’s to be had
a good time! I’ll just leave the house a mess.
Fun and easy-going go together.
What reason in the world is there to be
too hard on others or on my own self?
I love to laugh and often I’m carefree.
I like the last thing that my daughter said.
Of scriptures, it would be my favorite one,
which starts out with the two great words “Be kind.”
“Be kind to one another,” said God’s son.
I’ve never been the perfect nurturer
as a mom, but I feel at least I’m kind.
To know my daughter thinks of me this way
gives me much gratitude and peace of mind.
Passion or Desire is not pure potential seeking manifestation.
It is the manifestation of Life's flaming sword, runic capital letter of the sacred word.
A spark that has been sparked,
the flint that struck it's mark.
A self illuminated Ray of light piercing the dark.
Of nothingness, it appears or so it seems, but the problem with that is you don't get something from nothing.
So what lifts on it's wing?
Is it the designation retracing its flight?
The deja Vu wizard at the crossroad,
that fights the good fight.
Against Apathy, to help the lost at sea.
Like a lighthouse at night?
Nonetheless, it is indeed of the light
visions designation, interestingly enough, taking flight, as
both path and destination.
The calling, calling the bluff
with no hesitation.
For when the going gets tough.
It is the drastic measures of the spirits measure plumblined sublime.
Subliminally flashing divine coat of arms of a kind.
Adventurer- nurturer- divulger of the sepulchre.
An endless quest fore-treasured as Holy Grail and counted by the heart's ledger like Braille is for the blind.
Of the heart's quill unquelled, determination at its behest, unquenchable fire.
That never fails the test.
Of time and
the germination of seed, against backdrop of dusts.
The Will's litmus test against need.
Activation or bust.
See. It is not potential anything.
It IS everything.
At least it's the best.
For in God We Trust. In deed.
~ Jude Fernando Herrick
She came down from heaven;
Father reign her down;
Her soul literally radiant;
Showers love;
Daughter of the Highest God;
Father reign down on her;
Wonderful;
SHE REIGNS DOWN BEAUTIFUL
She’s a child of the King;
Most High Queen,
Her soul literally radiant,
A nurturer;
Woman caring for;
Encouraging development growth;
Within the Father in her;
Full of encouragement ethics integrity;
For her brothers and sisters on earth;
Full of encouragement ethics integrity;
For her brothers and sisters on earth;
SHE REIGNS DOWN BEAUTIFUL
She came down from heaven;
Father reign her down;
Her soul literally radiant;
Showers love;
Daughter of the Highest God;
Father reign down on her;
Wonderful;
Full of encouragement ethics integrity;
For her brothers and sisters on earth;
SHE REIGNS DOWN BEAUTIFUL
3/11/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
They called us witches to keep us silent,
our words curling in smoke. They held
our heads under water, tied feet to a stake;
judged those without children or mark upon
skin. They accused us of misleading children,
that poor crops were due to our sin. Crone and
whore, bossy and loud; battle-axe and tart,
frigid and shrew. They called us witches to cover
our screams, they called us witches to hide
our power. They called us witches to spread myth,
they called us witches to dispel our magic. Strong
and independent, courageous and true; brave and
united, nurturer and proud. They call us witches?
A name begets importance. We call them, nothing.
Auntie
In her lofty ways, she was always
the best example of
the stars out-shining the moon.
Her ways of doing things always
correct and proper
she was a student of the Queen.
Place setting and
the china on the table all had to
be per the law.
And no PHD could outwit her with
her twelfth-grade education.
She though dignified and learned
always quoted un-biblical quotes
from other bibles.
"Cleanliness is next to Godliness ".
I would say well didn't
God make dirt too!?
Don't be asinine she would say-
Seemed as if the emphasis
would be on the "ass"
I would laugh... and when
she thought
I was not looking
she would laugh too.
Auntie could hardly
pass up a good humorous
exchange no matter how
ostentatious or outrageous.
Her well-groomed and well
manicured demeanor
was not just for Sundays.
She served her God faithfully
in words and in deeds every day.
I have never known her
to beg or borrow.
Never seen her complain as
"Arthur" took his toll on her knees.
She was faithful to the end
and though she had no
children of her own,
she was nurturer of all us
children whom were
blessed enough to be
corrected by her or to
eat a slice of her lemon
meringue pie.
Anytime I think of her
I remember the sweetest
music coming from
the piano that displayed
her mood with music-
Her piano voiced her
thoughts in pitch and
range; as she became
one with the keys and chords.
There was no room for "I can't"--
and no excuse not trying.
She finally gave up on me
playing the piano -
That ruler had taken
its toll on my knuckles
and even if you failed at any
attempt to do things as right
as she wanted:
After a hardy reprimanding
Auntie was sure to have my favorite
food and clean bed waiting for me.
I loved her so much that
every now and then
I must write about this amazing
Sister to my mother.
Her name...
Rosella Faye Graham Derrickson Myers ...
And yes, she would say her whole ''title"
if you were to ask her, her name.
Her spirit lives on...
In all the lives that she has touched.
With a call like a Kuia,
the wail commenced our ride.
Gently bathed by mighties
Marama and Matariki,
our path lay clear and bright.
Ko Te Tohoraa, the nurturer,
hikers nestled nicely by her nipple.
Strolling on with Te Tohoraa,
on a breathless yet perfect stride.
Honoured journeys
both near and far,
are lovingly remembered with aroha.
Memories remain with such sunny smiles,
and a staunch salute to
Te Tohoraa.
______________________
Ika Moana: Traditional name for a Whale.
Kuia: an elderly woman, especially a female relative or ancestor.
Marama: Clear, light, moon.
Matariki: Matariki is the Maori name for the cluster of stars also known as the Pleiades
Te Tohoraa: The Whale. Also, the name affectionately given to a 1998 Toyota Dyna - campervan that I recently had the utmost pleasure of driving (and holidaying) for 1300km. Hence this tribute!
Aroha: Love
SONG TO MOON
Moon ! Light of Shadows
Luminosity of strengthening black bows
tears of trite nights
and blundering blights
tears of a trillion thorny flights !
Moon ! Mother of Souls
of wayward wonderings, Rise !
release us from festering fears,
ancient grids
of obsession, greed, forgetfulness
Moon of my navel, my breasts
my convoluted gut
embellish our bodies to offer our Selves
Moon of phobias, of parodies, of paradises !
Dissolve our self created shackles
our cemented barricades, steely borders
Receive Earth’s germinal gems
germinating geraniums
garland grains as you shine on gateways
Let us flow freely frankly
Flow and fly where wild freesias prevail
let us ride on dazzling rafts airborne
dripping dripping gurgling giggling
Let us dwell inside you, above you
in God’s warming womb
to fall in a splintering of shadows on
wet grass embracing !
Moon ! Moon Grandmother, Moon Mother
Moon Sister, Moon Nurturer, Moon Wisdomkeeper
Absorb us into your magnificence
You are Here in my Song !
So hold us dear in our slumbering
Sojourns…
©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song2006
My grief riddled mind is racing
my heart is beating fast
and my breaths are shallow
as I wake up from a troubled dream
And I remember that my son is gone
I can't even remember exactly what
was troubling about the dream,
but reality hits the moment that
I fully wake up
My son is gone
I suspect this will happen daily
until it really sinks in
that I have lost 1/4 of my
immediate family
Because my son is gone
The nurturer in me seeks
out my husband to see how he is
handling the new day and we
realize that neither slept well
Because our son is gone
Facing a hard day with little sleep
is something we are used to now,
almost a week since they pronounced
the death of our youngest son
Our sweet son is gone
Losing a child is a kind of pain
that you just can't explain
and I pray that most of my friends
and family don't have to face
A son being gone
I keep telling myself to put one foot
in front of the other and accompish
what must be done to get ready
for the funeral
How can my son be gone?
How is this real?
Questioning reality does not help.
so I try to move on but I wonder
how my world will keep moving
After my son is gone