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 Snowglobe Memories Mystic

Quote ”Expensive gifts are no substitute for love nonetheless a thoughtful gesture on one’s part leaves a lasting impression especially on a child.” By Poet



In my childlike innocence I was magically transfixed,
by this spherical  glass object stunning in its Jack Frost design,
prismatic snowflakes that mystic magic carousel spellbound,
Christmas reindeer coterie that  cast a wide charm bijou wink,
nirvana within luminous tantalising universal infant pneuma,
layer upon layer of compacted fallen snow as aftermath divine,
then weighty rucksack on Santa’s back  of glitter tie band bundles, in  boot slush transit knee-deep in annual mirth,
December  pageant peering deep inside my mental cavern of  cartoon fun,
reassuring hug from  both parents is the essence of  goodwill season ethos lofty,
they beamed with festive warmth so  noble when watching me,
touch and glide that silken urchin hand of mine so impish, 
on this  prized hypnotic treasure captivating in its glow world sheen,
with its gilt-edged gallery of down the ages Noel  features bountiful,
it had  this  red cheek sprightly offspring gazer in a trance,
a token souvenir star dazzle as eternal recall dwelling  cosset,
including mesmeric Yuletide batch  of swoon and sway serenades and tunes, 
chorus boom o’er ice chill  swathe  from dome mould  gift,
enough to goad and prompt that beneficial item  I yearned for,
from benign folk Elysian who lavish so much radiant attachment without curb,
especially at foot of tree swaddled present to whet the curious,
till Doomsday nipper awestruck by dream fetish awash with flair,
cute whirl and swirl toy gadget a nebula for me the tiny tot, 
whose imagination swept to the furthest North Pole sighting and beyond.


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 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 Mirror On Reflection Part Three

I descried a ghostlike glimpse,
of steel breath on blunt mirror,
   as my taut brain mulled scars,
from fractal bleak life motif,
   zooming over skewed glass,
reflections glum and forlorn,
   black ink eye ring capture,
shadow, shade, or shield,
    brittle convex, abject cog,
whoa, my frail image riven 

Buoyant pneuma projects,
   stuck on screen mimicry,
impact ray remedial dent,
on jumpy jitter edge twin,  
   shaft between rotated a plus,
my geometric bent wavelength, 
mere focal countenance, 
    epoch elapsed pier gaper,
morphing current field of view,
   behind hollow sphere’s mask   

Silver, aluminium, gold metal,
     counterpart to my snapback,
   curved aspect to visual plane, 
optical illusion now infinite,
   refurbish bone-weary scraps,
as sinistral dextral frontispiece,
  august neck crane of aperture,
    green speck tunnel sighting,
a trick of the light axial ploy,
prism dispersing faux rainbow
  
 Jagged shard bias plummet, 
    obsidian or shinning copper,
 glint and glare bounce factor, 
     mirror varnish vandalised,   
  leafy quatrefoil resemblance,
harsh hallucinating peep,
    stiff lens on prior passage,
when aghast, shrill alarm,
     might re-echo or resonate,
with latent shock imprint

Acoustic wobbled surface,
    noise returns sunny splatter,
merriment exuberant audible,
    etched in sonic brush strokes,
  interstitial dual facade,
splits a gleam diffuse,
   watch my smirk refract,
is that mirror cracked?
   off its alloy succour,
stone hearted crop

Rent beads amass,
   one shrunken clone,
me in smithereens,
   asides a plethora,
fraught mien on exhibit
Form: Verse

Premium Member the deuteragonist's protagonist

.

                                 Not mine diddy
                                          Yet
                                 Waits on mine
                                tuh cause mine 
                                         snug

                                   i vision her
                                   when i rise
                                rehears'n linez
                                'fore her come
                                        to my

                                    cauze so
                                      i flutter
                                through mine 
                                        dayz



*This muse iz in respect and admiration
  for my HUP Registered Nurse who has
  been caring for mine ill pneuma, thus 
  far, for the last 6dayz, duh'aze.

  Yahweh blessed me, and
  now i can't write about her dang beauty ')

  Her purty name..'Tanya'  ,)


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 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 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 ')

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.

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

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace