Long Pneuma Poems

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


Premium Member look whut they've done to us

.

                               i hear'd
                        you're thuh recluse
                                 alone
                       raising your beauty
                                 in the
                                 hovel

                                    i
                      mar thuh city center 
                 'mongst thuh pigeonz and
                              squirrelz 
                                (I) lie
                                 and
                                  lie
                    'bout the salt streaks
                          shading mine 
                             overcoat
                           each splash
                        thinks uv yourn

                  they strip'd ourn sheath
                       from ourn thewz
                         yet in secret
                            they too

                         (I) miss you
                      (I) only see (you)
                       whence pneuma
                               cry
Form: Epyllion


Premium Member Hallowed Ground

A sacred space, the spirit weak,
Death's angel, patient, waits;
The pneuma raspy, prospects bleak,
Yet hope anticipates.
From dust to dust, the cycle nears
One revolution round;
Despair ye not, for it is clear
That this is hallowed ground.

A mother and a faithful wife
Slips peaceful to the past;
A daughter of the king of life
Awaits the unknown vast
Where death has lost its grip, its sting,
Yet felt by those still here,
Till she beholds a wondrous thing:
At last, to be drawn near.

----------

Written a few years back after sitting with my wife and her siblings and their father, as their mother passed.
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Clay-Borne Love

Where upon the earth do I acquaint new life?
A Spirit who scampers upon a banshee breeze,
Unsure—anxious thoughts taking aim, rife, unmoored
Focus unsharp—a fog on a mountain freeze—trees
Seek hope, its landing unannounced, high and lofty:

A child, clay-borne, raised by morning’s star,
and bearing the velocity of love

Untainted, untrodden, undaunted, unstifled—
What nurtures freedom in a nature made for freedom
Time clicks; a moment slips, forgotten.
Hallowed, sought, bought, fraught—a chiefdom
Berean, listening without ears of cotton

Whispering, churning, turning, burning—wind
A persiflage ingested as thunder rumbles, grumbles
Persistence, resistance—conscripted in sin
There, a cry for wisdom, yet stuck—fumbled
Who? A father, mother, sister, brother—kin?

Progeny, cacophony—perhaps fools on atolls
All, forgotten tenets in interplanetary space
The medicament—far-reaching, teaching bleeding souls
Contrary to prevailing belief: to show no grace
Yet responsible life-stewards, a virtuous gift extols
Greater, higher—hope, faith, and love proclaim the Ancient Scrolls

Thunderstruck


=======
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Power,Love, and a sound mind


Revelation, 
To reveal, to uncover
As the blind man having his sight healed
Can finally see through the fog of confusion
A dense fog blown away by the Ru^ach,
Hebrew for Spirit, pneuma, in the Greek,
Meaning, breath or wind, 
Clearing our eyes to understand. 
It is a battle.  Unseen by mortal, terrestrial 
eyes until the celestial Spirit eyes begin to open. 
A multitude of heavenly hosts with their armor and broad swords, like the light of a thousand suns, are part of our army against the malign and baleful unclean spirits,…oppressing the children of God with deceit. 
Wearing all white with plastic grins affixed and an extended hand of friendship. The scent of sulfur disguised by copycat graveyard roses and funeral Lilies. Permeated, still with a hint of decay and corpse rot.
The spirit of fear, hate, shame, anger, lust, and many more whisper into the hearts and minds of mankind. 
Cast them out with extreme prejudice!
The name of Jesus Christ gives us power over all enemies if we but speak it, believe it, own it! 
Christos, Christ, anointed, giving us yet another weapon with which to battle.
For God has not given us the spirit of fear…He gives us the Spirit of power, love, and a sound mind.

Dilapidated Globe

DILAPIDATED GLOBE


A weary pneuma bleeds
Tears of the miserable
The poverty-stricken tumbledown
The opulence shows gusto.

At the sight of the indigent
But very penurious in helping...
They live in safety isle
But parade in the dilapidated globe.

Masses weep
Agony of the wretched man
Mercy he pleads
To mother earth and nature.

Under a thatched leaking roof
Muds fall at bewitching hours
Petite ice drops like contingent snow
If wishes were horses...

If the night could give way to day...
Friendly enemies of the night parading
What a tragic horror for the cynical
In a dilapidated globe.


An Ijeoma Ikonne's poem © 2021


Premium Member My Soul Betrayal Is Myself-

"Baffling Ole sawol
immortal principle in man
my pneuma spirit connects,
and communicates with God
My soul betrayal is myself

My choice process mostly wrong
This is my sin, calling
Mine mind betrayal trust not myself
Lies to you, my soul, my breath
My soul betrayal is myself

Nephesh O' soul betrayer of my life
Nephesh soul betrayer of my mind
Nephesh soul betrayer of mine eyes
Lying to my living, breathing conscious body
My soul betrayal is myself

Denying myself, lying heart, lying self
So mine soul betrayal alive my heart is dead
Betrayal of my soul, mind and heart
Depart, deceitful tongue, deceitful heart


Betrayed by my soul and breath
the last of it?
My soul betrayal is myself"





4/18/22  2022©

For Soul Betrayal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
(Sawol/Sawel=means Soul) 
(Nephesh-Hebrew for Soul)

Premium Member Living Death

Regardless of the ever slow and piercing passage of more than two centuries, her sapphire eyes still remain encrusted in my memory, like precious gems on an ancient fallen crown.

Only fractures and scars remain of the come-and-go parades of fabricated love, which served only as the ground to sow the seeds of my own desolation.

Like a hand grasping thorns, is the stigma of knowing the punishment of her absence has not yet ended, and that I again, will not have in this life her guidance, her light and presence.

Images flecked with dust twirl in my mind, to the rhythm of the arrhythmia of my eternally consternated heart.

As if conspiring, time managed to abrogate all its forgiving powers and magical healing, although I admit that the constant remembering of her love, like a refreshing ever flowing brook, has always been the very best of every day in each life, briefly relieving my withered and shattered spirit.

Losing myself in the memory of the thousand details of her Venus like beauty, gives me life, flares up my senses and wafts me through the swirling smoke of hours burnt.

Clinging on passionately and frantically to the memory of the essence of her loving way, I am momentarily able to perceive this empty world, as paradise.
I miss the way her soul breathed, and how every time it gently approached mine, I´d be engulfed by the violet halo of her auric light, taking me to heaven here on earth.

I remember the glory embodied in her poised grin, as she realized how I became bewitched when she described with her mellifluous voice, details of the impossible love she felt for me.

I miss her intriguing yearning for the science of the pneuma, and the amazing knowledge she possessed about the laws that rule the merging of souls. She taught me that love conceived thus, is the only force that governs and transcends the infinite, inheriting the power to enrich life wherever it may be.

I miss her intense urge to make me a better person, despite knowing just how difficult it would be.

An unforgivable mistake from my part, left her without option, forcing her to remove me from the magnificence of her life, leaving me adrift between the jaws of the three mysteries of time, and into the hands of living death.

Premium Member A Season of Uttermost Sorrow

I am still shocked by your sudden death
I'm still sobbing by your abrupt departure
I still pine for you, dear. I'm still out of breath
Every time I think of your unique behavior.

You were different, sexy, exquisite and sassy
You were very special to me day and evening
You were difficile, tough, caring and demanding
Holy God! What a combination for such a lady.

My heart is still beating profusely for your smile
I am still yearning for the images and the style
You left in my pneuma, my memory and my mind.

I am discombobulated how nature can be so unkind
I still yen and yawn for you. I am now very unhappy
I'm extremely sad, because you left so unexpectedly.


Copyright © May 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Life in Three



We are a trinity of mind, soul, and spirit. 
Our bodies too have this construct
brain and blood and breath
This pattern of three proves to me
the awesome power of God
For nature always testifies of the Spirit,
if seen with open eyes
life given and kept by His hand

the mind, the brain and nervous system 
can be compared to God the Father
In control of all these,  commands given and received
Without the commands of the brain, all else would fail and we could not live

the heart, the blood can be compared to the Son
To Jesus who shed his blood for remission of sin, Jesus who teaches love, in the shape of a heart
The heart which pumps life giving blood to the rest of the body, without which we could not live

the respiratory system compared to the Holy Spirit
Which means Rûach in the Hebrew tongue
and Pneuma in the Greek
Rûach and Pneuma, the Spirit, means air and breath
The air we take in and breathe in our lungs
without which we could not live

To live in this flesh we need all three functions,
 brain, heart, lungs,
brain, blood, breath
to live in the Spirit we need all three
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
How amazing are the works of His hands

Premium Member ooooch smoooch

.

             most pneuma walk 
                        past
                  opportunity 
                        past
                    delicious
                  az if it were
                        too
            delicious for theirn
                         or
           for whutevah reason

                          i
                       don't
          tramp without tripping
                    i trip alot
                   and git my 
                    boobooz
              smooched better
                      oooch
                  more timez
                    than not
 
                         ,)



*whut
  i love happy hour best,
  or, tickets for twins, I mean
  two, for two ')

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