Long On occasion Poems
Long On occasion Poems. Below are the most popular long On occasion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long On occasion poems by poem length and keyword.
By Lora Colon and Brian Johnston
Original Poem: Lord, How Hard Could It Be? by Lora Colon of PoemHunter.com
Lord, if you're the Essence of Love,
Why do you find such difficulty
In answering my simple prayer
To send a love with whom to share
Each new day of life you grant to me?
You leave me baffled by this mystery,
Tell me, Lord, how hard could it be?
Your sunsets, Lord, are breathtaking,
A small measure of your grand design,
Splendor painted across the skies,
Healing chrism for pain-filled eyes,
Proof of a Creator most Divine;
But why has no love been designed for me?
Tell me, Lord, how hard could it be?
The night crowns the mountains with stars,
No royalty could claim such rare gems,
Reaching upward though they may try
To snatch Heaven's jewels from the sky,
Earth's stones must adorn their diadems;
Can you not forge a crown of love for me?
Tell me, Lord, how hard could it be?
Trees proudly raise their brawny arms,
Designed by your mercy and your might,
Where weary birds find peace and rest,
A secure venue for their nest,
A stage for their anthems at twilight;
Am I not worthy of such charity?
Tell me, Lord, how hard could it be?
You tend to Earth's necessities,
Yet, you're blind to the needs of your child,
Returning tides embrace the shore,
Winds uplift the birds as they soar,
Yet, from Eden I remain exiled;
Do my needs transcend your ability?
Tell me, Lord, how hard could it be?
December 29, 2016
Echo Poem: In Praise of Praise by Brian Johnston
All your poetry documents longing and loss
And your words spin us all in a heavenly daze,
For they seem to attract many souls who agree,
It seems misery’s message does have special charm.
Makes me smile on occasion, as my poetry
Struggles mostly alone in desire to sing praise,
Is it strange I’m not nursing a love/hate for sauce,
Or that I am not ready to give up the farm?
My concern here’s that misery causes a freeze,
Causes focus that limits your world view to “you!”
Might not “unanswered prayer” be an answer that’s kind?
Where’s your empathy showing God’s love is remiss?
Is the presence of pain “lack of love” in your mind,
Does He mean it to punish or make us review?
Are you missing the forest by looking at trees?
Can “Love” be more than this: World that “leads” you to bliss?
March 23, 2017
Once upon a time
There was a man
Who lost his job
And his home
And his car
And he slept under a tree.
Simpleton that he was,
He never gave thought
To asking the oak's permission.
But the majestic old tree,
Being wise in its great age,
Suffered the unlucky human
To lie there in grateful repose
Between two of its massive,
Outspreading roots.
And there were visitors,
Unseen and unheard
By the man but who,
For their own secret reasons,
Took an interest in him.
So these playful beings
Found a way to indulge
Their sense of mischief
Whilst helping the man
Avoid further calamities
To his person.
The woods where he slept,
You see, were privately kept,
And others like himself would,
On occasion,
Pass close by that spot.
Well, the man was of a mind
To sleep well past the dawn.
But the toilers began
Their day early, so it would
Be only a short march of time
Before their paths
Would finally cross.
So the task at hand
For the imps
Or the elves
Or the ghosties
Or the faeries
Lay in devising clever ways
Of rousing the man
Without ever revealing to him
Their own true nature.
Once, for example, they bounced a
Large, round, feather-light something
Off the side of his sleepy head.
It felt like a giant nerf ball but was
Nowhere to be seen immediately after.
On another occasion, they directed
A friendly little toad
To land with a thud within inches
Of his horizontal face.
But in other instances
They acted more boldly;
Tickling his hair,
Grabbing him by the shoes,
Or yanking on an elbow.
The only time he thought to ignore
Such a silent sort of
"By yore leave, yer slumberin' Grace",
He only just avoided a confrontation
With some early-morning workers.
But Serendipity finally intervened,
And after the passage of a fortnight or so,
This man's situation changed yet again,
And he no longer had to sleep upon the earth.
But a peculiar thing occurred, you see.
Being accustomed to regular attention from
His entertaining unseen guardians,
The man found himself unwilling to return
To the bland comforts of a regular bed.
And thus it was only by
Withdrawing their favors
That they compelled him to
Quit that place for good.
And then, reluctantly, with yet
Further pointless delays,
I finally said my goodbyes
And left that place as I found it.
a ball is stuck in rafters by a pool waiting
as long as I have been coming
for 7 years on tender hooks as clouds drift by
as the drums of time roll and roll
watchful for the person whose air it cradles
an unknown essence left behind and never considered
like a pebble shining in the gloom ...
are there places with pieces of me
unknown lost pieces, perhaps seen and felt
weathered-stained and expecting
my presence still lingering ... suspended
out of sight
gently recalled ... sometimes
pieces of me lost in a sea of nameless faces, unnoticed
my lost pieces just shadows on the wall of time
I remember though I never return
and an encounter with a long ago friend
who holds pieces of me within a memory
an item
something I said
a dance ... embodied
I want to ask who was I in that moment
was I more than air breathed ... a breath gliding
oh, why do people smile when holding a thing
that opens the curtain of memory
that link to the forgotten past and the pieces of me
that tumble in time like a leaf-strewn
in a gale that utters low wails like a violin
I am the breath, the heart of those memories
those are the pieces of me, I existed
Original poem by Dilly Dally before editing...
There's a beach ball stuck in the rafters of the pool, It's been there for the 7 years I've been coming here, It contains air from the lungs of an unknown person, an essence that rests here though they left and likely never consider the fact, I wonder all the places I've left pieces of me, Caught sight of but unknown, Known but not seen, Recalled gently, Where my presence never left a place but I never returned, Sometimes I encounter it with a long lost friend who has a memory or an item I made, a saying or dance I embodied that they kept somehow, There are some people I'd like to ask - who was I in that moment of my life when we passed I hope those fragments are more than the air I breathed on an unremembered day, And are the reason people smile and hold an item in their hands to conjure back like I do on occasion, Small links of the unforgotten, That piece me together as someone who existed.
It took place shortly after and the stage was set
before words before ink before heavenly breath
There was a rain on the parade
of eternal monotony
and the angels were elated
In the Beginning God created... the verse everyone knows
tantalizing phrasing that leaves you on your tip-toes
before grass before plants before earthly foes
And the earth was without form... (and talk about void!)
It was there when it was all lightning and storm:
chaos untamed in watery upheaval,
though the celestial walls were impermeable
Enough disarray to make a grown man weep
And darkness was over the surface of the deep...
It was there before it was given the title: Sea
Before light was birthed with a "Let there be"
Blanketing the earth with cerulean comfort
in preparation for ethereal tickles,
despair happy to take her wings
And the Spirit of God was hovering...
Like a golden eagle dipping down
into azure pools
knowing mountains will soon rise from your depths
... but LOVE is the requisite
... and HOPE is the heart of it
Just like the weather that's about to hit the scene,
before Pangaea performs in emerald green
... and there was morning the Second Day
Can you not hear your doubts just wash away?
---remember what happened on the Third?
I'm sure you do---
As you see Him reaching down with liquid love for you,
longing to invigorate your being
He wants to split you in half
as the Rod of Moshe
made watery walls of crystallization
He longs to enter into your towering trust
(and not just on occasion)
For sometimes the Water of Life is dramatic
Sometimes it's not
And sometimes your fears could use a little irrigation
(right now your eyes could use
a bit of prayerful precipitation)
Remember the ruby water that dripped down
the Face of the Son
that fateful day
Drink it in Become full
Indulge in humble hydration
Your heart will tell you what you should
And behold it was very good...
NOTE: Moshe is the Hebrew rendering of the name Moses.
Written April 2nd, 2016
For the Element Water Contest Hosted by Brian Davey
Six Words Used: Impermeable, Requisite, Invigorate, Crystallization, Precipitation, Hydration
The Joining was one of subdued elegance. Seileach insisted on the ceremony being held in the Keep. Jessica was beautiful, beyond beautiful, she was exquisite. Her long red hair infused with sky blue Blåveis and white bell shaped Liljekonvall mingling in a beautiful waterfall along the right side of her head. Rødsildre weaved through the intricate braids that Chroí sculpted through her tresses, the pinkish flowers softened against the brilliance of the natural highlights in her hair with a crown of fragrant red Vivendel circling the top of her head. When Joulupukki saw her slowly walking down the winding staircase in the vestibule, her long azureus gown flowing like a stream down the stone of each tread, he was struck dumb. As she passed from step to step, the living hand rail bloomed deep violaceous coveys of wisteria flowers, a gift from Seileach's Forest Elves working in coordination with the Garden Elf. The whole ceremony felt like a dream. He listened as her bare feet tapped gently against the stone of the foyer tiles and crunched as she moved into the sand path of the courtyard where she joined, arm in arm, with her father who guided her from sun to shade and without any reticence placed her hand in Joulupukki's and stepped away. They stood beneath the willow tree and pledged their love and loyalty to one another, and, at length, were greeted by the numerous elves that lined the path winding through the Keep from the vestibule to the courtyard and back into the Great Eating Hall, where a feast was laid out for all of the village elves to join in the festivities.
Many years peacefully passed as the Elfin Clans' Council refined their guidance of the elves of all six clans, each clan developing their own council that took deference to the lead of the Council of Six. On occasion Joulupukki was asked to offer his opinion and vote on a difficult issue on which the council was split. There were elves that were elected to the council who were hungry for power but none could muster the votes to gain control before their term came to an end. Eventually Seileach was relieved of his position as Elder Councilman and Ceridfen took over. Lumi, at the request of his friend Joulupukki became a member of the Village Council and eventually the Council of Six.
I spoke, in detail,
Of sadness and pain,
But where there is arid desolation
There will one day come rain
The joys of living are many
And hard to list for me,
Though I shall try,
I trust your patience I will see
My highest high, my greatest thrill,
I suspect only musicians would understand,
I wonder myself, still...
When a group "clicks" into high gear,
And you improvise together as one,
And suddenly four , five, or six,
Become as one, and you do not need any tricks...
I get goosebumps, ecstasy to the max...
No drugs, sex, love, good fortune, or manner to relax...
Can compare with it...and that says alot...
Yes, number one is easy, now it gets real hard...
I suppose you'd think love of a good mate,
Or close family....and that would be hard to top,
but I can think of one thing that does...
The unsolicited, and anonymous help
I have be fortunate enough to provide on occasion,
(I have to watch my spelling or Sue Mason will be on me
like a fly on sugar- a service, I consider, cause she keeps
me on my toes, and I do not resent that- thank you Sue,
hope you're well, and happy holidays!!!!)
Once I saw an old woman, carefully shopping in
a deli, basics, eggs, milk, bread, etc- obviously watching each
penny- I paid her bill in advance,and then some, while she
was busy searching for something. It gave me a high like
I guess heroin does for junkies...I have done this several times,
and the feeling I derive is awesome- and I'm no angel,
trust me. Anyway, back to our poem. All you new members, welcome, and yes, I
am a madman!)
Next, true love with a mate, soulmate, one held in
your arms, who you never want to let go....and close
family.....sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, others...
and this is one male who admits women are far better
at expressing this kind of love, especially for their children.
Religion is up there...although any extremist of any
religion does not know God, no matter what his or
her protestations may claim. (Boy, am I getting my money's worth
out of Sue Mason tonight!!!)
From this point, I think it gets too hazy, too personal,
and we daren't get too persnickety.
But if you are a member of the Soup,
you are obviously two steps ahead of most.
So welcome, and Happy Holidays to all.
To this scene we have gathered on September’s eve
Under darkening sky, where a storm may conceive
Not a sight better is that face I’ve hardly known
So frail and aged in years past he had grown
A tragedy that one with his talents immense
Must be interred so young, still with look of innocence
Too long had my brother decayed under the weight
Of a burden, I’m afraid, that had become too great
And of that blessed curse that I speak
She stands now in the background waiting for her peek
At the man who loved her more than life itself
From the moment they met, he would heed no help
For his eyes had spotted Atlantis it would seem
That girl was no less than a living, breathing dream
And so it was fated by the powers above
The late Ryan Adams be doomed by his love
Young and wild, his heart would stay no cage
At 18, good Ryan as wise as any mage
With the world before him and regrets left behind
The hermited scholar thought the world quite unkind
Joyous was he of his departure from home
To leave for greener pastures where he was free to roam
An artist he was in his heart and his soul
If not to this end, he would never be whole
Paintings so quaint did he stroke by the night
Quietly laboring by the buzzing street light
Mountains snowcapped and rivers of glass
Any nature’s fancy to pay the time to pass
Restless in heart and sleepless in mind
The troubadour knew not what he wished to find
But longing did fester in his young fevered head
And his heart ever ached, beating love as blood red
A man needs a woman, so the heavens made it so
Cloudseated phantoms casting spells down below
Enchanting a fool so to drive him insane
For the purpose of loving another in vain
To squeeze every drop of passion from his being
And blindfold the eyes he could once use for seeing
A hopeless romantic is born in such a way
And so poor Ryan Adams did become that day
The night air was cool and the liquor ran free
Rivers to the gates of hell or a wine dark sea
For the bottle does make demons of us all
If freedom from troubles is a price fairly tall
And Ryan did imbibe twice his weight on occasion
No other could compare to a man of his station
No less than three times in a week did he stumble
Into stupors of hazy, chaotic jumble
She arrived from the big city
wearing a red ten-gallon hat,
and a denim stone-washed outfit
which topped off her shiny new
cowboy boots that were designed
by Tucson Sue.
This dude ranch cowgirl had a secret,
she never rode a horse in her life,
she knew it was time to learn the ropes,
all her life she lived in the city,
the closest she got to a horse was on T.V.,
it was a shame and a pity.
Early next morning she arose,
washed her face, brushed her teeth
and combed her curly hair,
carefully placing her tall hat on her head,
she sauntered into the dining hall.
looked around and decided to sit next to Fred.
He was a cowpoke who roamed from town to town,
grabbing jobs wherever he could working with horses,
the young lady and Fred made small talk,
she confessed she never rode a horse before,
and didn't know the front end from the rear,
he knew she was a city slicker and had to learn more.
Fred took a liking to her right away,
he told her that he had a perfect horse for her,
her name was Ginger, a stawberry roan,
the only problem was that she had a three-legged gait,
would she mind learning on Ginger for her first time,
she noticed that the cowpoke was handsome was this fate?
She told him that her name was Cindy Lee,
he liked the sound of her name and thought she was pretty,
off on the trail they rode together,
Ginger with her uneven trot headed straight into a tree branch,
Knocking off the young lady from her saddle,
She tumbled and fell and wished she was back at the ranch.
Cindy Lee and Fred fell in love while she was on vacation,
he taught her to ride and learn about horses,
she was determined to hang on and not let go,
Ginger was replaced by a quarter horse who knew leg commands,
a palomino with lots of pride who on occasion would throw its rider
against a fence and snort without demands.
Fred and Cindy Lee decided to get hitched,
a September wedding was planned with everyone invited,
all the dude ranch staff and the entire small town,
both rode their horses on their wedding day very much in love,
she wore an old-fashioned lace dress with her boots,
off they rode into the sunset together peaceful as a dove.
Brick had seen his share of hospitals
and had been to Saint Cecelia's more than once,
on occasion, a perp would get banged up
you know, during an arrest... on occasion!
He was just waiting for the X-Ray results
before he made his way home, but he had
to make a couple of calls after he got kicked loose.
First he had to make a call to Bill Lipton,
one of the suits from the 31st had seen him at the hospital
Now it seems that Bill's Lieutenant was leanin on Bill,
guess his Captain was runnin for some office and was
afraid to have one of his boy's involved in the
Shadow vigilante case, in case it didn't get solved
and tarnish his record, Like I would ever let a case go cold!
The second call, was gunna be to a pretty Blond
by the name of Erika La Plant, an EMT who gave him
her number in the bus on the way to Saint Cecelia's
But first.....Brick! the Doctor said as he entered the ER room
look's like you have a couple of bruised ribs there.
Just keep them wrapped up for a couple of weeks
or so, and you'll be fine, if you take it easy that is,
But I spoke with a Sgt. Lipton when they brought you in
and he said you were kind of stubborn and rough on yourself
so it might take a little longer, try not to get into any more fights!
Ok Doc! You got it! Can I go now? Yes Brick you can go!
here are your discharge orders, and a prescription for something
for the pain, I suggest you get it filled, you'll need it!
within a wink of an eye Brick found a phone and called
the Cowboy, the phone only rang once, Hello Bill Lipton here!
Hey Cowboy, I hoped I'd catch you, think you could come
get me, and give me a lift home, so I can get my car?
I may have a date later! Who would that be with Brick?
oh let me guess! the blondie from the bus , right?
Her name is Erika Billy Boy, and yep, that's the one!
Oh hey! what's this I hear your Boss is up your
keester about our Black clad ole buddy?
You ain't thinkin about pullin a runner on me are ya?
Now just hold on to your suspenders pardner! I ain't
a goin no where's we got us a score to settle with our
ole pal. I'm on my way...Click..the phone went dead.........
We're back in the Samauri Saddle, Watch for Robert Dufresne's reply..
Michael, archangel of the realm, instructed Gabriel and Raphael to be messengers of God's word to man. God in his love for man, stepped quietly back allowing men and angels their free will.
He said, "I'll wait and watch for each to find their way and when they're ready, I'll bring the home to me, if that is what they seek."
From that moment on, each was set free to forge their dreams, to build their empires, to love and live their lives.
On occasion, Michael left the earth to converse more closely with God. In those hours, Lucifer displayed his guile. When women and men felt alone and afraid in the desert, on the sea, in the great forests, Lucifer whispered in their ears and hearts of God's abandonment and therein birthed weakness, fear and doubt.
Then they were ensnared, and in their suffering, confusion, sickness, pain and dying, Lucifer poked and prodded their aching and they lost faith.
Rulers and kings, tyrants and dictators waged war despite the prayers of some. God heard their prayers, forgave them and loved them, promising a savior, a messiah who was yet to come. Mankind waited, longing and looking for a king to save them as the life, time and death passed them by.
Lucifer waited too, not as patiently, rising frequently from the depths, tempting both the women and the men.
Many took the bait he laid, breathing in the pleasure of discontent and embracing the temptation. Lucifer took hold over time, though his satisfaction waned. With pride and power, he was sure he proved God wrong.
The woman long ago was gone and there had been countless sons of man.
Living gods had rose and died and there were many more to come. Pharaohs and Caesars, Herods, Pilates and pharisees, and so many unnamed others would take power and wage war, depriving the lesser men of life and liberty.
Through the fearful darkness, the shadowed spectres and the light, hope still thrived and men and women waited, prophesying that a savior, a messiah might yet come and from the overwhelming darkness and despair, un-believed and un-accepted, there shone the light of hope and love and salvation.