Long Pilgrimages Poems
Long Pilgrimages Poems. Below are the most popular long Pilgrimages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pilgrimages poems by poem length and keyword.
Ex-President Trump had a near miss recently. That can be traumatizing.
We know how it is, our old republic survived a near insurrection recently.
At least Trump's assailant was killed, he can rest easy.
Thanks to faux-jurisprudence, our felon is still out there - on the loose.
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Songs for this:
Run On by Elvis Presley
Use Me (feat. Cynthia Greene) by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
Order My Steps by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
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I love gospel music, maybe because I’m from Georgia, the home of MLK, civil rights and the Ebenezer Baptist Church. Lisa (who lives in Manhattan) and I’ve made two pilgrimages to the Brooklyn Tabernacle to hear the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. I admit that I’m a heathen and a pagan but when I hear a gospel choir - I'm easily reduced to tears, and I’m moved to at least wish that I believed.
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I would never wish Mr. Trump harm. I would like to see him loose fairly and resume his opulent, civilian life.
L. MESSI vs C.RONALDO™
They're two male G. O. A. T
striving for the throne:
One named Lionel, other named Cristiano,
One aged 35. The other aged 37,
One is seen as a god,
The other as super hero.
One hails from ARG????, the other from POR????.
One owns & bosses the no 7,
The other dons the iconic 10.
Who's every kids model & ladies crush? Cr7????
Who's every man's dream & hero? M10????
Who's every defenders nightmare? Lionel Messi.
Who's every goalies daredevil? Cristiano Ronaldo.
Who is the media's own son? L. Messi.
Who's journalist black sheep? C.Ronaldo.
Lionel is like the last born of the house
who can do no wrong even when he's wrong,
pampered long enough in mama's house (Barça)
and finally released abroad when he's older.
Cristiano is the first born of the family
who pilgrimages to fend for himself (Lisbon - Madrid),
And takes the blame or responsibility for others
(even United's 21/22 trophyless season blame
was hinged on him despite his scoring exploit).
One mount on praises and adulation,
The other feeds-off criticism & respect.
The throne became void when our forefathers:
Pele & Maradona vacated the hot seat.
Now, the age-long tussle has to sly once & for all.
Fanatics, let's crown the new GOAT,
Give what belongs to Caesar to Caesar
And what belongs to GOAT, the accolades.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© December2022.
Kings had fine feasts with rare foods from afar.
I can drive to restaurants serving cuisines of all kinds.
Kings prided themselves on fast and strong horses.
My truck is much faster and is hundreds of times stronger.
Kings boasted of jesters and musicians.
I have YouTube.
Kings called upon scholars for answers.
I have Wikipedia.
Kings went on pilgrimages to far away lands risking their lives against diseases, disasters, and war.
I can fly almost anywhere in less than 24 hours.
Kings could bathe or purchase expensive perfumes.
I have a shower, deodorant, and shampoo.
Kings had to wage wars, build castles, lead armies.
I have to pay rent.
Kings had to fear assassins and usurpers.
I'm one of millions.
Kings had little defense against diseases.
I have modern medicine.
So, no, I don't live like a king - I live better.
14 February 2022
Painted by many masters of distinction throughout history,
displayed in Museums and Cathedrals with touches of mystery.
In agony and sorrowful tears or in blissful prayers,
the woman with Christ by biblical affairs.
Saint patron of cruel Dominicans and prostitutes,
witness of the his resurrection and crucifix prosecutes.
Apparently also mother of his child and lover,
when she had to flee Galilee for no one will discover.
Relics suppose to proof that dust of gold,
holy matrimonies for pilgrimages forever sold.
Her Image in many sculptures as the ultimate devotion,
tears of sorrows and transcended bleeding heart notion.
The woman that anoints Jesus feet and being a disciple,
representing the spiritual love as the feminine part of Bible.
She had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities,
because Christ empowered woman in his ministries.
Mary of Magdala with the alabaster box supporting that man,
understanding his teaching and fulfilled the role as part of plan.
To make Jesus followers faith stronger with a display in this regard,
still touching even in mysterious ways a powerful spiritual art.
My hilly paths are full of pits, and my trails turn and twist.
My life and destiny have contracted clandestine tryst.
As there are dams blocking rivers that flow flawlessly
Unknown hurdles put pauses to life rather lawlessly.
Brick by brick how cautiously I construct my dream castle!
How a storm pulls it down as though it's a hut on the hill!
Exploring, inventing, and enlightening, I move on.
Towards absurd spells of death, my mortal being is drawn
Inner aches, like yokes, weigh me when I let go of my worries.
Pains and grieves, like traumas, bring in tumultuous flurries.
Soul passes through deserts of spiritual emptiness.
Pilgrimages of perfection become pride-filled pettiness.
With my descents and falls, I, a weakling, come to my Lord
He lifts me from dust and takes me to his heavenly abode.
As a vulture that gains its youthfulness, I take new birth.
Dark nights of my soul end and bright days lead to endless mirth.
I’ve seen wretched souls
fall poorer by stealth
I’ve seen frail old people
endure pain as they knelt
Climbing mountains barefoot
pilgrimages never stop
A penance for being born
light your candle at the top
I’ve seen false prophets
adorn halls with great wealth
I’ve seen saints being evoked
promising to cure ill health
Down beside the grotto
past where wheelchairs roll
Believers lie prostrate
whilst souvenirs are sold
They beg for miracles
hoping prayers will be felt
Some have their spirits raised
gods name becomes misspelt
Selective interpretations
scriptures bent to suit man
Dogmatic, stern beliefs
hushed silence, vetoes, bans
under forced indoctrination
this mind started to melt
Brainwashed in a classroom
with the strap of a belt
Now feel worthy of nothing
and deserving of it all
I still must climb mountains
but try avoid the brick walls
By David Kavanagh
© Francis Maugo
Help me understand;
Why you want me back
The arrogant and heartless Basis.
Was I not your source of grief and nightmares?
Was I not your bondage and source of oppression ?
Help me understand;
Why do you want me back?
After all those series of torment, anguish
And pain you inflicted on my younger heart.
Was I not the the reason behind
Your daily lamentations and wails?
Help me understand;
Are you giving up on your "religion"
And "new form of worship"?
What happened to your new "friends"
That you constantly defended whenever
You could be giving me fake affection?
What happened to your constant "holy pilgrimages"?
Do you want to tolerate sinning with
The devil incarnate Basis?
Help me understand;
What came over you that made you
To want to take me back?
Was I not the arrogant and disgrace to you and
Your new " heavenly compatriots"?
Was I not the big threat to your brighter future?
Was I not the the BA- and not
the BASIS you used to adore?
Help me understand;
Do you want to now kill me
After maiming my heart?
Was it not you who celebrated when
I had to accept your divorce letter despite
My tireless efforts to broker peace between us?
Help me understand
Was it not you and your belated fellow daughters of Jerusalem danced and jubilated
While drinking my blood that was gushing from
My bleeding heart you had maimed?
Help me understand;
Are you on a mission to send me to the grave?
Have you recruited enough "friends"
To come with you and dance on my graveyard?
Kindly help me understand
Why do you want me back
Oh poor me ? son of Maugo.
Those eyes that can reflect heavens on earth,
turning earth expression into constant birth.
Pilgrimages to You from within as servant,
sacred dwellings of worship and its current.
Compassionate visions radiate in true ideal,
provided natures phenomena and eternal.
Seeing flower footprints as godly dancing steps,
veneration of space as formless love effects.
Immensity of celestial majestic display,
presence without doubt from Your heart at bay.
The soul as compass pointing towards that behold,
crossing the ocean of life facing the storm so bold.
The eye of intuition never deceived,
hidden mysteries given liberty received.
The domain of every soul in its own sphere,
multidimensional observer reflecting to take care.
The magical glance poured into every child exist,
starving kisses enfold that no one can resist.
For the benefit of any non-Middle-English
speakers, a literal, word-for-word translation
has been provided beneath each line of
the original:
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote!
When we've already had enough! of April showers
Whan priketh hem Governeur in oure corages
Our prick of a governor locks us down in our garages
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages
Ha, ha! Our goon squads are itching to go on barrages
And smale fowles maken melodye
And assault thine ears with foul-mouthed serenades
That slepen al the night with open ye
'Twill fershloft three far aye with mnemonic charades
~ A special thanks to Middle English translator, Barry Kanter
Though just a wall
or so it's deemed
She's kept alive
a people's dreams
Myriad pilgrims come
her faithful friends
To renew her glory's
beginning and end*
*Beginning - Inaugurated by King Solomon, c. 1000 BCE
'End' - To be rebuilt with the advent of the Messiah ...
__________________________________
The Western Wall, aka The Wailing Wall,
miraculously survived the razing of the
Holy Temple and the Temple Mount by
the Romans in the First Century C.E.
Jews have made pilgrimages to the
Wall over the millennia, especially since
1967, after the Six-Day War.