Long Pass Poems
Long Pass Poems. Below are the most popular long Pass by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pass poems by poem length and keyword.
Fate Of Mankind...
(this prognosticator ordains,
which if came to pass no brains)
necessary to impress any
goo goo dolls, nor swains!)
Cited in crosshairs of thermonuclear warfare
quite an about face from bursts of creativity,
yet omnipresent palpable threat everywhere
unlike sangfroid hermitage within Abbey air
habitués hosting religious peacemongers care
ring about spiritual well being, nsync by prayer
regular quotidian discipline dissociating scare
re: global apocalyptic genocidal holocaust sear
ring significant sinister malevolent electioneer
macabre mushroom clouds vitiating atmosphere
burnt offerings charred flora and fauna cohere
glommed together undifferentiated pulverized
conglomeration bespeaks devastated biosphere
survivors (if any) few and far between gallows
humor, sans mockery former Amazon billionaire
irrelevant wealth superfluous banked nightmare
*****sapiens like mummified zombies blinded by
light, eclipsed contaminated heavily sheltering sky
succor solemn deliverance bombed appallingly revere
inescapable damn earth bottled genii raiment austere
foretold prophecy regarding Doomsday clock spare
ring extra crispy char broiled ribs aplenty profiteer
awaiting her/him able to make a killing apprenticed
savvy entrepreneur opportunity, though no cashier
to pay, hence former Trumpeting strictly volunteer
job with bone fried benefits superior than Medicare
accompanied by death as fine companion buddy sincere
need not be grave concern, so minus annihilation and air
choking stench, viz total extinction moonscape sphere
flora obliterated only scorched landmarks thoroughfare,
humongous bajillion shades of gray cremated vaporware
vague hint former edifice Taj Mahal wanting consigliere
so opportunities galore to look as smoking hot fleshpot
overactive imagination helpful to conjure all in the
family Maude Lynn good times MASHup of yesteryear!
October 24 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 5-6
Key Verse – Luke 5:12 And it came to pass, when he was in a certain city, behold a man full of leprosy: who seeing Jesus fell on his face, and besought him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
FAITH IN GOD WHO CAN MAKE US CLEAN
God can make us clean with His compassion
While healing our infirmity-caused transgression
Also transforming us from wickedness-oppression
So that we can live by faith along His divine vision.
God can make us clean with His holiness
While sanctifying our souls against sinfulness
Also pardoning us along His forgiveness
So that we can walk by faith onward for righteousness.
God can make us clean with His mercy
While purifying our conscience by His truth’s fervency
Also correcting us in our hypocrisy
So that we can straighten up by faith for honest persistency.
God can make us clean with His Word
While enlightening our minds through His Spirit’s sword
Also correcting us against pride’s discord
So that we can continue by faith along His ministry-accord.
God can make us clean with His truth’s settlement
While harnessing our stewardship commitment
Also upholding us for our service-settlement
So that we can keep on by faith toward heavenly achievement.
God can make us clean with His leadership
While guiding our choices along His partnership
Also directing us for sincere worship
So that we can glorify Him by faith in our discipleship.
God can make us clean with His victory
While guarding our testimony from frustration-misery
Also reminding us of our salvation from hell’s misery
So that we can exalt Him by faith as we share His Gospel story.
October 24, 2025
To Do Or Not To Do?
by Odin Roark
To do or not to do?
That is the question
He asks each and every slow day
And
He is slow
One-finger typing
Today’s beginning
Anticipating
Today’s ending
In between
He will stroke his cat
Gaze out the window at passing cars
Occasionally caress the faded photo
His beloved past
Forever vibrant
Sometimes
He listens to Debussy
The turntable periodically pausing
Reminding him slowing down
Doesn’t mean the end
By mid afternoon
His book is open
Another page to edit
Perhaps two
Then
He pauses
Does nothing
Minutes pass
Sometimes
Hours
He dwells on early day attempts
When sun’s first rays are so promising
Trying to get things done
You know
Things that others tell him
Need doing
Late afternoon appears
He often takes a slow walk
The institution’s grounds are friendly
Tree and bush greet him
Offering as usual
Peace
No demands
The leafy details move gently
Some lose their grip
Fall to the ground
Some days so many sadly fall
He often considers gathering them
Transporting them back to his room
Dying alone seems…
Another day closes down
Sun finds sky’s end
His one-finger typing
Finds little to say some days
Years pass slowly
Like his one-finger typing each night
But
He is thankful
Knowing continued life
Offers so much not to do
Leaving him the time
Not to do it in
War for our souls
Inexplicable reason crying foul,
Final war for - the soul of man
The ironic scarcity of happiness
Mass contract killing sanctioned, tho allowed
And simply, all, just because
- they can..?
Search for neither limit bound
Across the Earth dimensions fold,
For spiritual trap - nonetheless
In pictures, movies, of Cabaal
Trickery, sorcery forever sold
manufactured wars through constant lies
Promoting, funding - of all sides
Conflict of purpose truth be told
Ignoring victims and their cries
Banksters printing, Profit making
FIAT currency usuary system
Maintaining undue persistent stress
Corporates in unison with
government a formality
This their form - insipid totality
Choosing their vehicle to oppress
Pandemic nonsense lying stats,
why would they want this - for us?
Revealing, but exposed no less
We cannot carry on in this way,
cycle of torment to ourselves
Prediction now of man's success
All wars satanic so they say
But most poignantly now, this final one, though it never relented, it never went away..,
Are all deniers idiotic then?
Or does their salary then depend
on such intended pay for play..
Rhetorical license words suspend,
All the things that however defile us, including private and mass hysteria,
And disbelief - amongst other things, to which there appears no end,
Freed from mesmerised compliant inertia,
For spiritual Gnosis be regained,
But willing and able all shall pass,
Protect oneself properly, the one true intellectual property, that always had remained,
Entire matrix paradoxical lies
Nothing is lost, but yet forbidden
to the unknowing crippled masses,
- remember..
All is possible
Although it is yet,
all..
- still hidden.
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
During covid 19 lockdown
October 2020
The PoetTree on Telegram
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Music. Shared
We started as 8 with the unique zest of life in our own way, but it was not to be for eternity for the first come in was the first to leave. This began for each of us a deep long look at our own mortality. Not many years later with a sudden surprise another left us grieving as they traveled to their resting spot high up in the sky.
Now 6 remain so we hold on to each other so tight In hopes that many years pass before another takes flight. Hugging each other we don't want to let go because we have no knowledge when one of us will be the next to go. Each of us knows the ones that have gone have made it to a place where our previous loved ones were waiting at the gate, but it doesn't make our hearts grief less great.
All we can do is cherish those left behind and hope and pray time goes slowly by, so the 6 that remain don't feel the loss of yet another take flight for many years so we can have more hugs and hold each other tight.
We were playin’ shows in mid-Tennessee (dodgin’)
Biblical storms like we were sailors at sea
Found a great place to eat in the town called Ville-de-Nash
Where they serve great coffee, fried pickles, and hash
Drinkin’ strong southern coffee to pass the time (I’m)
Swappin’ stories with some friends of mine (when)
I looked up to a big smile talkin’ down to me
“How y’all doin? The refills are free”
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
I was king of my world but in one big haze (now)
I want your sweet smile in every one of my days
Café girl, you really changed my ways
The band went onto Memphis, last show on the road
I stayed in Music City thinkin’ all systems go (but)
After drinkin’ enough coffee to sink a ship
I just couldn't help it and out it slipped
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
“I’m your Rhett dear Scarlett”, she laughed in my face
Wasn't the reaction I’d imagined for days
Café girl, you really changed my ways
After a pause she saw the hurt in my eyes (and)
Said “ok Rhett” to my great surprise (but)
Told me I’d have to work harder than that (sayin)
“Do I look like I need kissin’ badly and that?”
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Who knew she was in a band in past days
Singin’ the lead till partin’ ways
Café girl, you really changed my ways
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Let’s hit the road and see how it plays
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Let’s hit the road and see how it plays
I imagine the path to heaven is lined with dewy sun-grown flowers and blooming shrubs,
Exotic colors,
Unparalelled Fragrances
Wafting around the returning soul,
Encompassing, loving it, in a gentle, healing way.
I imagine those who pass can sense the angels, before they see them, and can communicate
Without knowing how or why.
Well wishes, welcoming thoughts,
Familiar feelings of being cherished will surround the spirit.
I imagine a celebration that features feelings of joy and love so intense, they
cannot be visualized,
Replicated, or imagined on any other plane.
Feelings reserved for this holiest of places.
Hearts joined in holiness, merging into spiritual oneness with the Holy
Father/Mother as the soul, is reunited with our magical source,
and gloriously welcomed home.
“Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition”
The Jihadist have one thing right...
One does not die, but lives always:
one's immortal body, the spirit of his
predilections. What they have wrong is,
no virgins and banquets...only the
continued fires of hell....
And we others, the so called
moral righteous, protect the body, as if
it were not a temporary abode, and the earth
no battlefield, though jointly created,
by friend and foe,
outside the roses exhibiting
moral depravities indignant of our shared
anemia – 1 percent proof, when it comes
to Spiritual development –
Like it or not:
No one gets
to true paradise
before
everyone else.
I pass it every time Ava has a home volleyball game
and It makes me wonder about fate..
It’s a tree…growing outside my old classroom…planted in 1988.
It was for one of my Autistic students that this one tree came to be…
A wonderful student, his name was Eric…he had muscular dystrophy.
When Eric first entered my class…he walked on his tip toes…with great care.
Eventually his muscular dystrophy would put him in a wheel chair.
But he also entered with a reputation…I was told…all he did was cry…
and it drove everyone around him crazy because they couldn’t discover why?
I was told he could say a few words but as far as learning he was much too slow
I would come to find out it wasn’t Eric but our expectations that were low..
One day on a trip to the store…
(I’d strap him in the passenger seat of my van before we would depart)
I hadn’t driven very far when I heard him say…”K-Mart”.
As I drove and listened that day my thinking about Eric redefined…
He wasn’t just sayin random words…he was reading all the signs!
That day I learned if I listen to my students…sometimes they will lead…
for next to me sat the boy so slow…he had taught himself to read!
He couldn’t hold a pencil but he could write…in my heart and soul I knew it
so I found an old electric typewriter and wheeled Eric to it.
He commenced to typing us little messages…
and though his sentence structure was chopped
he began to smile a little more and we noticed his crying completely stopped.
Okay…it didn’t stop completely…but he didn’t cry as much
as his fingers walked along the keyboard and he found the letters he wanted to touch.
It was a minor breakthrough
he was still limited by his understanding and his muscular dystrophy…
but just so watch him smile as he typed…was good enough for me…
Muscular dystrophy, however, was immune to Eric’s charms…
and one night on summer vacation…he died in his mothers arms…
The staff and students of the school in order to commemorate his memory…
outside the last classroom he ever attended…planted him this tree.
And that’s why I think of fate every time I pass in front of Eric’s tree…
Thankful not only for what I saw in him…
but for what he saw in me.
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
the more you shove your tongue
down the swallowed route
the more you'll be wrung
and suffering breath for the mute.
If I didn't have an Offence- O-meter
I would be happier,
but I would also be accosted.
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
Crawling to walking
Strengthens the caulking
on the runners stalking,
and zip zip zips
the tips
of your toes to the ground.
Who'll make the sound
of the morbid when you're done?
A life in waiting is a weight in living,
and the weight of existence
is a reminiscence
of what you missed,
whilst everyone else kissed
the hate, the love, the livid,
the missed, the depressed, the rigid,
everyone is tangled
and together we are a bit mangled
but all as one,
is one for all.
And without you we'll eventually fall.
Patience is a virtue,
and wildness too,
and so we live privileged and restricted,
and we wait for the wake
of all our dreams come true,
but this life of waiting is a life I'll never of knew.
Take a picture and pass it on,
circle the differences until you're done,
and when you're fed up of waiting
in your tower of political correctness
of purification failure
of nothing but age,
turn to the mirror and see the lines you grew
without the rain having ever fallen on their cracks you never drew.