Long Potentate Poems
Long Potentate Poems. Below are the most popular long Potentate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Potentate poems by poem length and keyword.
The Wish
I dream of sleeping in a bed of rose petals like an Indian potentate
who waits for his favourite concubine to come to join him in his bed?
I know I have to wait long till the petals are squashed and cling
to my body itch my bed will smell of degeneration.
I drive a motorbike across the Alps but can’t smell the edelweiss
for petrol fume; cows go on grazing unaware of my presence.
If I swim in the Ganges, it will be among the corpses floating down
to a heavenly ocean.
There is a temple in India dedicated to rats; I will go there, seek
a cure for my fears of vermin
Jasmine flowers are enchanting like virgins open up late at night
but I will not swap any of them for my sweet almond tree.
All Powerful Provider present in all places
Potentate presiding our prayers and praises
I'm a pilgrim privileged to be in Your presence
Panting like a deer for Your pure precepts
Profiting from Your priceless pearls of prudence
Provisioned by Your proverbial pages of Scripture
Preserved from pagan practices
Predestined to be Your progeny
Placed in Your perfect plan
Partaker of Your precious promises
Purified by Christ's pouring blood of persecution
Preferred above praiseworthy people
Performing priestly purposes
Planted in the perennial picture of paradise
Patiently preparing for Your Parousia
08.27.2020
Written for Beata Agustin's "Alliteration Regarding Relationship With God" contest
INFRA DIG
The effect of time on sculpture is to patinate
Albeit that such artistic skill may be innate
The age of such treasures whether early or late
May for most, be quite difficult to calculate
Yet still makes focused minds concentrate
Despite empty criticisms that can aggravate
And so much academic fury will accumulate
But still identify a new theory to formulate
Perhaps items from an old German palatinate
Or commissioned by a Far Eastern potentate
When commonly using leeches to exsanguinate
And sheriffs given his orders to disseminate
All this as research findings to communicate
Even with some dispute about the actual date
Most would have their reputations to elevate
Yet shared archaeology claims they can’t separate
The Founders' fear of tyranny
informed their choice of polity.
They chose a form of government,
founded on the people’s power.
They acknowledged the hand of God,
in battles fought and victories won.
And knew the nation’s future state,
depended on His potentate.
Political parties soon evolved,
with platforms bold and grand.
The people hoped that they would be,
the pathway to prosperity.
Progressives felt no need for God
and thought the government was flawed.
So, they installed bureaucracy,
in place of our democracy.
They thought a forceful president,
would help to forge their vision grand.
A society without poverty,
and with complete equality.
The tyranny of bureaucrats
led by the squad of autocrats,
has stoked resentment similar,
to that which sparked our nation’s birth.
When Virtue's ship has long left shore
and integrity valued no more,
then lies parade as gospel truth,
and crooks, ruffled consciences smooth.
The parties are not relevant,
identities are dominant.
Sharp divisions have laid bare,
a nation caught in chaos’ glare.
Our nation flirts with Hitler’s ghost
as we are with one man engrossed,
who promises to right what’s wrong,
and is supported by a vast throng.
The threat to our democracy
comes from the right and from the left.
Beware friends, of cult-like figures,
they'll one day treat you like a pig.
King of kings, He is on the throne,
Lord of lords, He rules the earth,
Mighty God, comparable to none,
Never-ending One, who can measure His worth?
Only Potentate, He is true and just,
Perfect, He is the Ancient of days,
Quenches the soul when on Him we trust,
Righteous, inscrutable are all His ways.
Shepherd and Bishop, our souls does He keep,
To Him be all glory forever and ever,
Unsearchable are His judgments so deep,
Victorious, He will reign as King forever.
Who is there like unto our God?
X-raying us, every thought He has read
Yesterday, today and forever, He is Lord,
Zealous to perform all that He has said.
---------------------
8.9.16
Fire that lights up the heavens in the dark of night,
Whispers that echo across continents.
Burning ones, here and there, flashing like lightning;
To behold The ONE TRUE IMMORTAL GOD, is to die.
Light unapproachable, Life Incarnate.
GOD undefeatable, High Potentate.
Strong, impregnable, does not oscillate.
Grand sovereign, Supreme Prelate.
Silent, HIS Voice thunders,
GOD, in unbridled power
Thunders, no mortal can bear to hear
The nuances that brought forth all things from nothings.
The bear, the stork, all feed at HIS Table,
A trillion trillion creatures respond
To HIS Breath: all existences known and unknown
Close and in far untold reaches of space.
The sight of this bourgeois, career politician/businessman
(A so-called liberal, no less)
Seated high on the dais at the all candidates meeting,
Looking down on his constituents.
Trying to look as human as possible,
He's wearing his best crocodile smile tonight.
And no matter how hard he tries to look harmless,
He still looks slightly inhuman, perhaps like a
Conspiratorial, world-enslaving E.T., or
Somewhat mad, Byzantine potentate.
Reptilian, his soulless, lifeless eyes momentarily
Slide back and forth in their sockets,
Back and forth across the crowd before him,
As he scrutinizes, with a cold, calculating, alien look,
His sheep-like electoral victims-to-be.
Or maybe what's most disturbing, even truly
Frightening, is that the strange look in his eyes
Actually seems like the look in the eyes of, God forbid,
The 12-year-old sociopath whose photo was in the newspapers:
The unfortunate, little monster who tragically, heartbreakingly,
Willfully murdered a child half his age.
In a truly gentler, kinder world,
Work would not make a person merely enslaved;
Family would not be used as a weapon against one;
And the struggle for liberty would not, in
Effect, make real freedom the domain of only the few.
INDEPENDENCE
I have observed that America is a Democratic Republic with high values on the INDIVIDUAL
We are 50 States, some of whose economies rival other countries; yet we are one NATION.
Yes, we have fought each other in a bloody war; yet we are one and shall not be DIVIDED.
As a nation, we set our goals and aim for the heights, flying and soaring like the EAGLE.
We are not about “He, the President or He the Potentate”, but all about “We The PEOPLE".
Our nation is not perfect, but at its core, “We Believe That All Men Are Created EQUAL".
We are blessed and prosperous; and as a people, we pause to give thanks every NOVEMBER.
So often, similarities make great people; but the strength of America is its DIFFERENCES.
Some of our rights are granted through government; there are others that are God ENDOWED.
We have One President, 100 Senators, 435 Representatives, and Supreme Court Justices are NINE.
Our country is a Republic and not a Theocracy; but most of our founding fathers believed in a CREATOR.
It has been said that America is great because we are good; may our goodness long ENDURE.
Cj07/19/2015
This sudden warped concern for ampule,
the cruel force of world dictators,
these psychological taunt of the media,
Nescient chemists controlling our minds,
tycoons uttering lies in egoistic motives,
these pretentious drama of publicized jabs,
enhancing their personal ambition to rule,
these old prime ministers at the precipice,
unwilling to retire for greed,
frightened by the plague concocted in Wuhan,
confusing my will by their own fears.
conspirators accusing me of conspiracy,
invoking laws on their medium,
censoring opposing opinion,
These organized crimes against my will,
A cooked up opium rushed out of laboratory,
compelling a Police state devoid of volition,
mRNA coated codes, their Greek gift to save the world,
the same world they pass by in pain,
these tyrants suddenly more catholic than the Pope,
or civil than a civilian,
Liberty at the mercy of potentate,
silence all demanding,
The hysteria unending,
my trust for their kindness is zero.
Why should we
be allotted a day at all
there is no allotment
we carry the load
we always have
we always will
it is au naturale
we succeed
the pain, or,
somehow
just proceed
despite it all
the ripping open
of seals, torn -
the message crowns,
at the opening
the trident
at the door
inside, revealed
we are
the strength
potentate
high above
the little man
the smaller
sacrament
the Mother
that birthed
it all
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.”
Barber, Samuel. Adagio. Strings.
William Makepeace Thackeray.
International Womens' Day.