Long Patient Poems

Long Patient Poems. Below are the most popular long Patient by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patient poems by poem length and keyword.


Love You Mum

You brighten up my life
With tender love and care.
When I reach out,
You're always there.

You're someone I can count on
When I need a helping hand.
You're warm and loving;
You always understand.

I'm so thankful to have
A mom like you.
There is no other
Who could fill your shoes.

I always took for granted
That you were there for me
And all the things you did,
But now I see.

You're such a good example
Of what a mom should be.
We always get along so well,
Even when we disagree.

You're so patient
And understanding.
You don't ask for anything.
You're outstanding.

You're so quick to give
And such a joy to be around.
You're such a good person.
You deserve a special crown.

You have a good heart.
You're honest and true.
You're the best mother,
And I really appreciate you.


Premium Member Have Faith - the Egg Timer Style

~Have   Faith ~
( Egg  Timer )


Lord  wants you live right
Have Love  Faith Hope
Enjoy  Peace
Always
Too
Too
Always
Enjoy  Peace
Have Love  Faith Hope
Lord  wants you live  right


Believe  in  God
Love with all heart
Worship  and  pray
To  Him
Too
Too
To  Him
Worship  pray
Love  with all  heart
Believe  in   God


Dorian  Petersen  Potter
aka  ladydp2000
copyright@2017



June.27.2017


So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. 
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)

-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 
John 3:16 (NIV) 

- Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
Romans 12: 12 ( NIV )

-The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” 
 Exodus  14: 13  ( NIV )



“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” 
- Mark Twain- 



~Author's  Notes:

The  " Egg Timer "  is  a  poetry  form  or  style created by  Erich  J. Goller.

Premium Member Poetry Soup Harangue

Must I be a Premi'm Member…
To be a worthy contender?

Must my name be kissed by a star…
For my poems to travel far?

No cov'rage for me on FB?
Don't you think that makes me grumpy?

Right now my finances are tight
So I am stuck in this sorry plight

Thought my words had their own appeal
So I’m waiting to close this deal

Poetry Soup, you feed my soul
But exclusion's taking a toll

Won’t let the battle of the “views”
Compound my monetary blues

My bonus I'd earmarked for this
Got traded for my daughter’s kiss :)

She went abroad to find her dreams
More important to me that seems

The Star Membership will have to wait
Be patient…I’m just running late! :)
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Echoes of Kiawah: A Reflective Farewell

Beneath the sprawling blush of dawn, our feet became one
with the sands of Kiawah Island, grains glistening like scattered stars,
each a tiny sunburst caught in the curl of the earth.
We danced under the great blue dome, where pelicans
etched their grace against the sky,
wings slicing through the salt-laced breeze
in a ballet of dips and arcs over the rolling tides.

The sun bestowed its golden benedictions upon our shoulders,
a warm, lingering touch we carried
through the tapestry of days and evenings.
We listened—oh, how we listened—to the symphony of waves,
a constant hum, both lullaby and roar,
cradling the coastline in its rhythmic embrace,
resonant in our chest cavities, echoing the pulse of the ocean.

Seagulls, those whimsical drifters, traced their hieroglyphics
across the canvas of the morning sky,
their cries a tart melody over the whisper of shifting shores.
At night, the beach transformed into a moonlit stage,
silver light playing upon the undulating waters,
each crest a shimmering ghost, fleeting and ethereal.

Yet, as the tendrils of early summer weave through the air,
we say our goodbyes to these sun-soaked days,
to the theater of birds and the symphony of tides.
Our hearts, tethered to the rhythm of the waves,
feel that pull, that gentle tug of sadness, as we depart
from this haven, this sanctuary of sea and sand.

Until next May, when the sun reclaims its throne,
and the beach, patient and unchanging,
welcomes us back to its open arms—
our spirits will hold tight to the echo of the ocean,
a rhythm ingrained, a perennial whisper in our pulse.
Farewell, dear sands, keep our footprints safe, nestled
deep in your memory, as we keep you in ours.

Premium Member Divine Power

An invisible power travels with me 
each moment, constantly;
like an inseparable companion.
Sharing all my failures, successes, joys, 
and equally, my weaknesses, my strengths.
Knowing all secrets of my heart,
it guides me to choose between 
alternatives paths of all sorts.
It makes me learn to take risks,
while keeping faith in self and it.
Over time, the unknown power 
has become familiar, known, 
and, indeed, a true friend.
I salute to thee for being patient with me 
helping me understand the world bit by bit,
in an ever changing environment.
I donot know what to call 
this unknown, invisible, divine power!
Many have chosen to call it God.


Premium Member Faerie With a Kookaburra

What kind of faerie has her very own kookaburra?
I do not own him, he is my best friend, the tree faerie said.
But he is always with you, helping you dust the willy whacker leaves.
He does that by himself, she told the elf. He has that covered. 

And he helps you whistle that happy tune every day!
The faerie tried to be patient, but this elf was getting on her nerves.
I have always whistled the Joyfulness Song, even before I knew him.
What would you like the kookaburra to do for you?

I want him to be my best friend too, the elf admitted.
You can come to tea with us tomorrow, the faerie told him.
At two o’clock they had their tea and they became friends.
And the elf stopped being ridiculously jealous for no reason.

Premium Member Lioness Waits For Dinner

The best I could hope for was a lame or weak animal, 
limping along, not able to catch up with their tribe.
My cubs are hungry, and they like fresh blood meat.
A young antelope or gazelle would be perfect!

As I glance through the African grasses, I consider different scenarios.  
The old ones often fall behind, but their tummies are not tasty.
 There is more gristle, sinew, and splintery bone than meat.
The last time I brought home an old one, we could barely gnaw through.

A herd of kudu came leaping through, graceful, confident.
Hunting a young healthy one would certainly spook the pack 
They might invariably change their feeding path after a fear like that.
I lick my lips, waiting for young ones, but maybe they are unborn.

The hyenas came past my grasses next with noises that infuriate me; 
 “Supper?” my bravest cub asks me, hopefully.  Soon, I say with yellow eyes.
I am proud that my hunting prowess has kept them alive so far,
My cubs and I sit down to wait, not as patient as we were at day’s beginning.

Premium Member L O V E - the Redondilla Style

~Love~
(Redondilla)


Love gives it all and love forgive
Love is tender and love is kind
Life better when true love you find
Love can make us feel more alive

Love is great and love is  sweet
Love for sure always comes to mind
Love can't be defined, loves always kind
Love is free, loves delicious treat

Of nothing Lord wants us  afraid
Love, faith, hope, and peace, thru God spread
With his love heal if wrong was fed
God's love is greater than all said.



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2013


July.12.2017


So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)

-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NIV)

- Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
Romans 12: 12 ( NIV )

-The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
 Exodus  14: 13  ( NIV )


“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” 
- Mark Twain- 



~Author's Notes:


The  "Redondilla" is an Spanish poetry form or style, with an eight-syllable quatrain rhyming either abba or abab, but in the latter rhyme scheme it is usually called, the Serventesio.

The Redondilla Origin:

Early 18th century. From Spanish redondilla from redondo round + -illa, after French rondeau or one of its cognates.

Premium Member We the Believers Are a Community Followers of Gods Holy Royal Unity-

We the believers are a community
Followers of God’s Holy royal unity
Let us consider how to stir up
One another to love and good works


Not neglecting to meet and greet each other
We’re not strangers but sisters and brothers

We the believers are a community
Followers of God’s Holy royal unity
Let us consider how to stir up
One another to love and good works

We shall we should encouraging one another
You see falling by the wayside are my sisters and brothers

We should share each other’s burdens;
Unlike what happen in the garden;
Let’s not do evil for good
Let’s stand united each and every neighborhood


We the believers are a community
Followers of God’s Holy royal unity
Let us consider how to stir up
One another to love and good works

We urge you brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone, everyone
Hallelujah
Amen



2/28/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2022
Galatians 6:2
1st Thessalonians 5:14

Premium Member Crown

This viral curse that wears a crown.
that takes man's breath and lays him down,
that shuts his door,
his church, his town.

Heaven did not sling this bolt,
but patient waits for earth to halt,
and turn its eyes towards the hills,
towards the skies from where help comes,
from where help came when deeper curse was laid,
laid just on one man's frame.

That breath was also given up,
that chest compressed and pierced 'til fluid flowed
when head was bowed, then body bound
and laid in rich man’s tomb.

This rightful wearer of the crown still waits
to make this world his own.
Yet not with fearful covert crown,
but thorny crown for all to see,
high lifted on his mercy tree,
our saving mercy tree.
Form: Rhyme

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