Long Pious Poems
Long Pious Poems. Below are the most popular long Pious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pious poems by poem length and keyword.
Cautious adjudication, the gravitas of soft-spoken word.
Your legendary legacy, illustrious and exalted.
Advocate for gender justice, legal insights not always heard.
Yet, your jurisprudence was seldom persuasively faulted.
Few men invite state regulation of their sex organs.
Yet, many insist the state can control a woman’s body.
You, the bulwark against unconstitutional legal actions,
against state laws of men, pious and haughty.
Now you have departed, and we gaze upon the cavity.
Now we dread what might be used to fill the void.
The precedents of your life, our guidance against depravity.
Your advocacy for equality must be our natural law employed.
The long wait over the year has ended
The graceful day has finally descended
The tune of carol floats in the northern wind
With the joy of merry Christmas of our mind.
Our souls soar like the flitting butterfly
In the devout domain of the divine sky
Filled with the scent of the pious flower
We’re blessed with bliss in the praying hour
We offer the essence of our life to the Lord
Seek His benevolent shimmer to be adored.
The star will come down when we all will pray
The light of God will drive the darkness away
Lord’s grace will saturate us with heavenly glow
Guide us to salvation as we sail in the divine flow.
________________
November 18, 2022
Contest : Most Beautiful Christmas Poem
Sponsored by : Mystic Rose Rose
My prayer is clamorous, “Let this cup pass.”
somewhat pious, a smidgen of brass.
God's Word relates how mountains were moved,
waters turned back and shackles removed.
Thus so I make my request to heaven
“Lord, the strain is twenty-four, seven.
“Lord, I can’t think in this eternal noise.
“The mess, the stress, I confess, it annoys."
My simple prayer, "If there's another way,
some stroke of luck; take me out of this fray.
God, move my mountain, can you make it flee?"
Quietly His answer came; the mountain is me.
He moved my cup to a much better place -
And filled it full with salvation’s grace.
His grace - sufficient for any event.
my arrogance - feeble excuse to vent.
July 10, 2022
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Contest Name Pick-A-Title, Vol 31
Oh Ganga! river so revered
your holiness purifies deep
if thy essence we let in seep.
From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
down the mighty Himalayas
quenching the thirsty souls pious.
Yamuna, Saraswati neared
to merge with you at Triveni
Sangam of pilgrimage many.
Together all joyously cheered
by peasants and boatmen alike
before in sea you slowly dyke.
Your ambrosial waters so cleared
granting boon to even sinners
writing history of winners
Oh Ganga! river so revered
From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
Yamuna, Saraswati neared
Together all joyously cheered
Your ambrosial waters so cleared.
Note:
Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati rivers' confluence takes place at Triveni near Allahabad. This confluence is also called Sangam in Hindi.
25.7.2020
The newborn dawn
Pristine, chaste and pious
With promise of fulfillment
Turning dreams in to reality
Restarting the life
Lees left behind
Free from hangover
God's gift to freshness
An eternal bliss to merge
With endurance and continuity
Lasting like universe
Holding the sky and stars
Smiling like bloom
Moving like breeze
You are the one divine
A silent companion
In deserts and oceans
Taking me to virgin shores
Of silence and whisper
Imbued in beauty and calm
Shaping solitude in to purpose
Bringing hope and joy
The nature’s flawless bounty
Entering my bosom
Like drops of dew
And you didn’t make me
I formed myself
From the periodic table
with a little help
You added slurs and
blackened my milk
Turned me into a scapegoat
and my flesh to filth
And you never broke me
I smashed up myself
Unseen fractures
healed wrong by themselves
Broke the mold early
was looking too good
Patriarchally cast
as the whore of love
And you cannot destroy me
I’ll do it by myself
Sick of covering up
what never turned out
The unseen twists
and labyrinth of lies
I’ve no f*cking soul
a doubt, or denial
And you’ll never fix me
It’s down to myself
I look in the mirror
pondering why else
All this potential
rotting away inside
Necrotic failure
unrepairable child
And I cannot be forgiven
I’ll find a way myself
For being too perfect
lacking self respect
On freak show earth
a man made planet
falling to bits
You pious can have it
greatest story ever written ~ will not be penned with a kids mitten
apples perhaps said she to Adam ~ my fruits were never forbidden
a fig leaf rose one more fell ~ as the whore of man Lilith got bitten
Remembrance for a choker in my deathbed
(Read-only version, a knick-knack too)
Precious finger, the witnessing one, Count
The forehead of a pious one, leaving a mark
Glowing along days and nights, prayer mats, in trying times
And prayers at dusk. Prayers valid till the sternest hairline dawn.
I touched his forehead, long past after the soul is gone.
He was the only one in my life, the only one of his capable kind.
He was the stubbornest hand holding me and mom inside an elevator
He was scrutinizing the sky to let me fly, however superficial it may sound.
I got wiser through all these years. I earned wisdom.
In turning grayer hair colors too, underneath the head scarf.
You will see my purple there, but I will label it as a purple heart.
Torn tears are in sheets of Facial tissues, also, in mourning mistakes, never to be known.
Just for my persuasive temptation, for the next one,
How many harms roads are there along the enlightenment highway in one full Cloverleaf, the old one?
If I had done exactly what Jesus asked me to do,
this bitterness wouldn't hang heavily over me
and my broken spirit that can't find a patch of blue...
when the cloudy skies wouldn't defy serenity!
I should have obeyed and understood when He spoke aloud,
" The blessing begins with the promise, my child! "
And as His thundering voice echoed to make me strong,
but I refused to listen and please Him instead!
A soldier of Christ never takes off his armor too quickly,
to risk losing everything so hardily- earned and valorously- achieved;
his bold faith always sustains him when the battle begins, to lead
him in the arena, where he'll be hailed for his splendid victory!
Lead me, Lord to the gates of eternal bliss,
never to turn back and remember a life dedicated to pleasures:
like those of merry fools and seductive fornicators...
sipping their intoxicated drinks without haste!
My character wasn't so perfect...I should have been honest,
pious, forgivable, lovable, thoughtful, comprehensible and wise;
temptation was stronger than I...overpowering my judgment,
unable to discern that the blessing began with the promise!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
In the live network
of intricate unassailable design,
invisible layer on imperceptible layer,
the latticed mind is stratified.
On spiritual strata the devout strands
align with the innate awareness,
sublime sagacious patterns
of pious perception are unified.
Many existential attributes
of sole distinction gain
access to the sanctum
of the secret psychic recess,
transcend through time undefined
the fading limits of joy and pain,
as fluidized sense merges with the sea
of absolute consciousness.
In my journey within
as an introspective explorer,
I discern the enlightened soul
in the sanctuary of ecstasy,
suffusing me in the core
with the supreme essence of divinity.
I get liberated from the dungeon
of the corporeal abyss.
The essential constituents
of captivating charisma
interlaces with the fabric
of consummate sincerity,
finds the ordained adornment
of internal beauty mesmeric,
spreads invisible splendorous film
on repulsive external deception,
removes the distressing doubt
that it can’t be irresistible.
On the seraphic shore
of the transcendent soul,
the supreme designer makes
the destined inner circuitry.
The pattern of piety creates
the innate magnetism of divine beauty,
attracts the concentrate of consciousness
out of the mortal elements
to the emancipating ardent aura
of all encompassing ambiance of bliss.
I am then the immutable hymn
of the sanctified soul,
that echoes in the melodic strata
of harmonic awareness.
The devout mantra intoned
in the temple of my heart,
resonates with attractive symphony
of the sacred spirit.
He served as a deacon in his church and was as pious as they come.
(But on the side, he sold whiskey from a thirty-gallon drum!)
He taught the junior high Sunday school class and was a Bible scholar.
(But on the side, he 'stilled' moonshine way back up in the holler!)
He was faithful in tithing ten percent of his ill-gotten gain.
(For his John Barleycorn he used only the best obtainable grain!)
He occupied the same pew every Sunday listening with attentive ear.
(It was rumored about that he also brewed some very potent beer!)
He proffered an "amen" at appropriate times and wore a suit and tie.
(He was renowned throughout the county for his very delectable rye!)
His tenor voice blended well when singing, "I Love Thy Kingdom, Lord."
(On back roads he did a bit of bootlegging in his hopped-up V-8 Ford!)
He was the first to offer succor to widows, orphans and others left bereft.
(He'd run his still for years - at evading "revenooers" he was very deft!)
When folks were needed to serve on committees he was first to volunteer.
(When asked his occupation he replied, "I'm a 'Spirit'ual Engineer!")
At Yuletide he was generous with the parson giving him a beef, cash and pork.
(At the annual church picnic he surreptitiously passed a bottle to uncork!)
There couldn't be found a finer saint in all of Boondock County, Kentucky.
(He'll continue to "minister" to parched throats thereabouts - if he's lucky!)
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Primiere Trophy Contest" Contest
This poem is worthy of a Primiere Trophy since it won First Place in the Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest in April 2011. (Won $50 and an Outstanding Poetic Achievement Certificate).