Long Oblations Poems
Long Oblations Poems. Below are the most popular long Oblations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oblations poems by poem length and keyword.
36.
The Rose
The garden rose by Nature's brush
Seems the perfect flower.
It sleeps before the autumn moon...
Is reborn of April showers.
I feel an empathy and compassion
For other flowers as they grow...
With their aesthetics somewhat muted
Compared to the glory of the rose.
The End
37.
The Daffodil
The daffodil in spring will rise
And in the garden grow.
It will slyly peak its head above
The last sprinkling of the snow.
Its appearance is a comfort
As a tired wintry corpse expires...
Giving way to a vernal transformation
Only Nature could inspire.
The End
38.
April's Blessing
April's sly peculiarities are a blessing
As the dregs of March are born away.
Cleansing a tired Nature's tribulations
Before the warmth of gentle May.
It gives source to seed and germ with
Unfathomable colors to flaunt the eye.
It plays mischievously upon my senses
To humble an enthusiast such as I.
Nothing contrasts to Nature's bounty
As she releases now her gentle showers...
Where orchids give rise to expectation
While still meadows bare their flowers.
Children... no strangers to April's booty
Find joyousness in all her grand oblations.
Splashing and sloshing in hooded dress
In puddles that stoke their imagination.
But April fills me with blissful consternation
As she makes bold her diverse complexion.
Because I... being me, have done nothing
To deserve such encompassing affection.
The End
39.
Half a Ton
Hate must weigh a thousand pounds
While love will weigh but one.
There are those who find it amenable
Ferrying the weight that's half a ton.
They seem devoid of sense and reason
As to why they persevere... soon
Learning the manifestation in the mirror
Is all they truly fear.
The End
40.
Bucket Full of Stupid
There is a bucket full of stupid
Giving voice to maddening crowds
With no obvious rhyme or reason
Why they wear a Reaper's shroud.
Such times seem justly merited
With common sense in short supply
Considering the state of education
And the inane hebetude it provides.
The End
enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
* * * * * *
A Senior Moment - written months ago commemorating
the graduation from a vaunted charter school
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend -
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
* * * * * *
Valedictorian treads across makeshift platform
i.e. most likely auditorium stage marked
by hushed audience inhaling, notating,
and regaling gleeful lightness of buoyant feat
(but me Yeats heavy of heart) feted for 2017 Redmond
Enrichment Academy graduates, who attained,
a milestone vis a vis earning their
high school diploma, and ready to launch
bountiful daunting challenges, yet sure
footed each young gal and/or guy
will exude joy and sorrow upon grasping their
high school diploma aware a sound education
sent each on their own future path
while pomp and circumstances issues forth
by adroit musically talented underclass
* * * * * *
man, which emotional celebrated achievement
evoked by keynote student speaker,
but also underscored via that well worn mortar
board, linkedin, kickstarter, Joyus
tune (composed by Sir Edward Elgar –
subtitled March Number 1) acknowledging
cheers, eliciting grownups immense Kleenex
moistening overpowering quintessentially
simmering ululating wrenching yowling
as tassels flipped (maybe in conjunction with
a non twittering uber bird) to the left side
of the caparisoned newly anointed future
Dharma Bums, professionals and/or trades
persons momentarily stung with sadness
to depart favorite classmates and teachers
who voluntarily cosseted, ferried, and
* * * * * *
capitalone did flickr imperceptibly, kneaded
and leavened LivingSocial, and massaged MineCraft
outlook plenti full confidence, faith, and inherent
lettered oblations serve as snap chatting,
The doctor asked, “Any bizarre thoughts occurred to you?”
Mr. Trexler, the patient, had many since age two.
However, as he would mention with hesitation,
“Bizarre” was the psychiatrist’s reiteration.
The patient noticed the analyst’s keen scrutiny.
Despite all the thoughts, there was no spontaneity.
He felt pressured to produce answers in a hurry
Trexler’s mull would be, “How about the rhesus monkey?”
This patient had realized the doctor’s time was short.
He wondered which item might elicit a retort.
The Madison Avenue bus incident would stall
any possible response from the patient at all.
Mr. Trexler responded to the doctor’s question.
“No bizarre ones” he said with some slight inhibition.
This patient’s session dragged on for twenty minutes more.
At the end, the psychiatrist let him know the score.
“You’re scared,” said the doctor. “Do you want to know what for?
You have pushed your chair away from me across the floor.
Moving back a few inches is an indication
that you are overcome with a slight trepidation.”
They shook hands as the patient showed a mendacious grin.
As Mr. Trexler left, the next patient entered in.
A previous experience would pass in review:
This was riding the bus on Madison Avenue.
A week later, Trexler was back in the patient’s chair.
For many weeks thereafter, he would find himself there.
He began each session with thick vapors in his mind.
Other physiological symptoms he would find.
This man harbored neurotic feelings of the worst kind.
They were all too common and each rendered him resigned.
The doctor asked, “Have you found something giving relief?”
Trexler replied, “Yes, a drink” was his answer quite brief.
The patient saw each time had almost no difference.
He would soon assume psychological transference.
By placing himself within the psychiatrist’s stance,
Mr. Trexler soon discovered pattern resemblance.
This proved to be nothing new to this doctor’s patient.
Vicarious events came from things that were latent.
Trexler might see himself in other occupations
as a barber, cab driver, or priest with oblations.
To be continued
The Planet Of Hate
creatures with zombie type features in are underground
long hanging viscious fangs dripping blood off side of mouth
there flesh is of overt vexation of pivotal excess seeking self to please
they can't help you cause they can't even help themselves
evil mind that plunge into sore vexation dauntless & spineless
heartless minds darkened stench of manure as there carcasses rot
vulture plunge with maggot infested feces in the extremities
darkened spots having holes with narrow minded thinking
blind leaders of the blinded who will soon fall into a ditch
can't help you cause they can't help even themselves
come to kill, steal & destroy as there chief dead end aim & ploy
the smell of menure in piles of sewage through there deranged portals
vanity of vanities all is vanity for this is the one you worshipped.
the false god of sin, self & Satan
ready for the eternal over of affliction
spots with eyes having holes bridge the gap in Hell
falling creatures in a desire for blood masked in superficial pain
the mentally insane filled with ellusive torment of money whore mongers wasted
blood stained ceiling with an audience of deep habitation of darkened caverns with dungeons...
alone you will be silence with the forever memory of vain oblations
the cavity of neglect frozen in your feeble minded mutant brain
lest I refrain another door then the one the leads to hate...
*****, pout & complain
idol fantasy of chosen damaged convenience that leads to your death
the gloom of frozen embodiment of pulsating screams throughout duration
come up for air only to be silenced once more lest I implore
running to & fro in circles marked on a blotted page yet not clearly intact
working to hard can give you a heart attack
onto the climax of 666 with a twist of haunted vile memories of helter skelter
yet this is the path you have chosen welcome to Hell's door !
Most Beautiful Christmas Poem 11/25/22 Based on the Messianic Prophecies
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Christmas Rose
The Christmas Rose bursts into bloom
As echoes of midnight’s final chimes resound –
Precious Bloom of Perfect Prophecy inhales a first breath
Of winnowing starlight foretold
The Prince of Heaven steps into our blemished creation
New lungs fill with aromatic fulfillment
With bursting refrains once heard in Eden.
Torrents of roaring grace
Smash narrow portals of garden betrayal
Eras, ages and eons of sneering dominion
Stumble sideways in vertigo
Temptation’s false victory turned upside down
Smug visages fade into imploding arrogance
The missing piece of the human heart
Vibrates again in unison of Emmanuel’s Eternal Beatitude
With the tenor of timeless oblations
Heaven’s trembling preparation of holy delight
Explodes in triumph with the New Genesis
Through the breathless comma of anticipation
Before defeated wraiths of wildness
Gorges shatter, valleys level
Avalanches of obliteration raze
Buttes, crumbling cliffs and ridges of desolation
Midnight’s last stroke of domination
Turns a beastly reign into a flailing whine
Gone the plaintive elegies of exile
Heralds of angels harvest flowers in the desert
Gates into everlasting broad highways open
First Born Mystery in swaddling clothes smiles
In desert blooms of sweet frankincense
With everlasting scents as joy blooms in Eternal Laughter!
Eden’s new age of Exuberant Truth strides into time
Writing beauty’s signature on mountaintops
Leaving incense where insolent decay
Abandons ashes of deluded victory
Sweet scented perfume of grace overpowers putrid
Baby conceived in Anointed Advent, gird in Gloria, arrives!
I feel the scorn;
white lies, beneath,
alabaster, undaunted, cold.
Remaining unborn;
not to be reached,
entombing the windows to soul.
It is content;
head bowed in rage,
to drown in its own contention.
Intellect bent;
decorating cage,
comforts of creature's invention.
So; it's apparent,
echoes of crucial,
logic is stoic release.
Is it inherent;
questions for mutual
self destruction of peace?
Yet in the thunder;
I shall not quake,
promises hide in my smile.
Amusing to wonder;
the ways I could break,
solace for a little while.
Memories scream;
nightmares testify,
spirit is wired for sound.
Deep in this dream;
lost in the sky,
detesting the notion of ground.
Push; pull, tug,
caress, fight, hug,
labyrinths to navigate.
Droned incantations;
loud mute oblations,
whisper,"please salivate."
Still in the end;
my best brightest pleasure,
as geisha survives to kneel,
submission, the trend,
varnishing treasure,
slowly loses appeal.
Resistance; my flow,
it transcends this broken,
I fail to edit your pride.
So feel it grow;
misery unspoken,
replacing what I choose to hide.
Skin that is parched;
refusing to weep,
though blood drips from your crown.
I stretch to arch;
my wings while you sleep,
I'll die before laying them down....
January 24 Scripture Meditations Based on Leviticus 6-10
Key Verse – Leviticus 6:7 And the priest shall make an atonement for him before the LORD: and it shall be forgiven him for any thing of all that he hath done in trespassing therein.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR FORGIVING ME
Thank You for forgiving me and my trespasses
While purging me with Your blood that cleanses
Likewise restoring me in Your fellowship-embraces
Thus, in Your presence, my soul sincerely confesses and praises.
Thank You for forgiving me and my iniquities
While sanctifying me against impurities
Likewise refreshing me from fatigue caused by pursuits of vanities
Thus, in Your holiness my spirit finds serenity’s divine qualities.
Thank You for forgiving me and my transgressions
While washing me from idolatry’s abominations
Likewise renewing me against corruptions
Thus, in Your altar I offer my thanksgiving oblations.
Thank You for forgiving me and my deceitfulness
While purifying me from every aspect of filthiness
Likewise revitalizing me with Your righteousness
Thus, in Your throne does my heart sacrifice with humbleness.
Thank You for forgiving me and my lyings
While anointing me from mockery, scorning, and defyings
Likewise reviving me to speak truth-sayings
Thus, in Your Word I rely for wise teachings and prophesyings.
Thank You for forgiving me and my arrogance
While pardoning me from pride with lustful extravagance
Likewise rescuing me from hypocrisy’s appearance
Thus, in Your grace I delight joyfully along Your constant assurance.
January 24, 2022
February 6 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Leviticus 16-18
Key Verse – Leviticus 16:2 And the LORD said unto Moses, Speak unto Aaron thy brother, that he come not at all times into the holy place within the vail before the mercy seat, which is upon the ark; that he die not: for I will appear in the cloud upon the mercy seat.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO APPEARS UNTO BY HIS MERCY
Praise be to God for appearing unto us by His mercy to:
Accept our offerings and oblations
Approve our optimistic openness
Affirm our orderliness midst oneness
Answer our oppression against oppositions
Acknowledge our obedience toward obligations
Assure our oath by His ordinances
Apprehend our offences along obsessions
Leviticus 17:4-6 Praise be to the Lord Who
exhorts us to offer a sweet savour unto Him:
Trusting His grace
Thanking His goodness
Triumphing in His greatness
Testifying about His generosity
Toiling with His gladness
Telling about His grandeur
Taking His guidance
Leviticus 18:2 Praise be to the Saviour Who tells us,
“I am the LORD Your God” and Who:
Builds us up to walk in His holy ways
Bears us to do His will
Braces us to wake up to His warnings
Breaks us to wait with humble willingness
Binds us to cleave to His promises of great worth
Beautifies us to waste not His strength in our weakness
Blesses us in our wants while being vigilantly watchful. Amen!
February 6, 2024
Thou hast brought Me no sweet cane ...
thou hast wearied Me with thine iniquities
Isa. 43:24
Bitter is the sweet cane
We offered our God none,
thus came upon us this awful suffering
We withheld the fat of our sacrifices,
kept to ourselves the blessings God gave us
Refused to give the Lord of the earth His due,
but gave it to our false idols instead
When we saw those in need,
we shared not our corn, wine and bread
What we didn't eat, we didn't give away free:
we cast away the food, and spilled the wine
Gathered all of the grapes on our vine,
didn't let the hungry soul glean,
no, we greedily kept everything
Greedy dogs with swine hearts,
caused God to cast us from His holy land ...
we've been vagabonds ever since
Bought and sold from kingdom to kingdom,
cursed and drove from nation to nation
Bitter is the sweet cane
We offered our God none,
thus came upon us this terrible suffering
We cried to the heavens;
but why should God hear our prayers,
we gave Him no gifts, none of our oblations
Oh woe are we indeed,
heavy is our misery
We offered God none of our sweet cane,
the sweet savor that was required on every sacrifice,
in order for Him to accept our offerings and prayers
Bitter is the sweet cane,
a most bitter rum of our own making
It is the crop we first sowed,
long ago foretold in the prophecy
It is the crop we first reaped,
with hard labor in our New World slavery
(for: ’niyi osundare)
the goldness of those eyes,
like the eye of the earth –
beaming, mirrors the secret softness
hidden by the ash-like depths of our souls!
many of them, brother, so learned;
o! carrying shrines of empty superiority,
as they coaxed the lads
to believe the new deities of half-truths,
and bring sweet-smelling oblations
to each black prof who looks and speaks at us;
’niyi, my brother, you know these well!
yet, when we saw your inner complexion,
we knew it well:
we, the celebrate sons born at the niger’s banks,
you’re a prof: a black prof: a twin of us!
the preciousness of those sharp eyes,
the ever-ruminant seed of that heart
which almost marked your pen, a ruffian!
are these the ingredients
in those soup of our radical celibacy?
your presence like other presences
in our village:
spoke tranquility and hopefulness
to a village full of raw anxieties!
then you twinkled away from us
not forever, no, but for a while!
brother, while our eyes, almost in cessions,
are down-turned in supplications
to the brightest eye of the earth;
our ears in remembrance with our eyes
seeing the sacred lips gaping in admonitions:
‘whenever the muse in ferocity comes:
then strike the pen as a hunter in his primes!’
yes! when we heard this lexicon,
we knew it well:
we, the sad sons suffering at the ant-hills,
you’re a prof: a black prof: a twin of us!
Form: