Long Propels Poems
Long Propels Poems. Below are the most popular long Propels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Propels poems by poem length and keyword.
January 10 Faith in God Bible Meditations Based on Genesis 28-30
Key Verse – Genesis 28:3 And God Almighty bless thee, and make thee fruitful, and multiply thee, that thou mayest be a multitude of people.
FAITH IN GOD WHO MAKES US FRUITFUL
God makes us fruitful, blessing us abundantly
Joyously letting us thankful of His eternal inheritance constantly…
Journeying with Him is meaningful as, by faith, we obey Him willingly
Jesus Christ our Saviour guides our steps victoriously.
God makes us fruitful, calling us to abide in His will everyday
Joyously awaking us by His divine ray…
Journeying with Him is exciting as, by faith, we follow His way
Jesus Christ our Saviour helps our choice that in His plan we stay.
God makes us fruitful, exhorting us to flourish well
Joyously feeding us with His satisfaction where we dwell…
Journeying with Him is great as, by faith, we strive His Gospel to tell
Jesus Christ our Saviour propels our hearts so in His love we excel.
God makes us fruitful, supplying us so timely that’s fulfilling
Joyously bringing us to His truths against follies in their beguiling…
Journeying with Him is wondrous as, by faith, we seek His favour’s sealing
Jesus Christ our Saviour fuels our trust through His mercy, unfailing.
God makes us fruitful, providing us sufficiency’s gladness
Joyously prevailing over us against reproach-inflicted gloominess…
Journeying with Him is learning-packed as, by faith, we see His greatness
Jesus Christ our Saviour upholds our devotion with His steadfastness.
God makes us fruitful, charging us with righteous empowerment
Joyously opening to us opportunities for ministry-involvement…
Journeying with Him is challenging as, by faith, we conquer sin-entanglement
Jesus Christ our Saviour defends our commitment from worldly engagement.
God makes us fruitful, allowing us for prosperity with spiritual progressing
Joyously overcoming for us pride and selfishness-immersing…
Journeying with Him is rewarding as, by faith, we cling to His standard-raising
Jesus Christ our Saviour commends our work in His divine appraising. Amen!
January 10, 2025
“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams,” is a compass point for the soul, a star by which we chart a life not yet written.
The future is an unplowed field, a fallow, silent earth awaiting the brave hand that will break its surface. The dream is the seed—tiny, resilient, holding the blueprint of a forest within its shell. Most seeds remain dormant in the pocket of the comfortable or the hand of the cautious. They are beautiful in theory, but barren in potential. Yet, the believer is the Sower, the one who looks at the dark, indifferent soil and sees not resistance, but a cradle.
Belief is the water and the sunlight, the patient tending that transforms possibility into probability. A dream without belief is a ghost ship, drifting on a becalmed sea, its sails furled, its potential unrealized. The wind is the force of conviction; it fills those sails and propels the vessel toward a horizon others cannot yet perceive.
To believe is to be an architect of air, drawing blueprints of structures that defy gravity, constructing skylines with the raw material of hope. The future is the city we build from these sketches. It is not handed to us as a finished, polished marble structure. It is a quarry we must mine with persistence and vision. Those who lack belief see only the hard rock and the dust; they reside in the present’s well-worn, safe valleys. But the believers ascend the peaks, seeing the city of tomorrow sprawling below them, calling them to its gates.
The beauty of the dream is its inherent promise of a better dawn. It is a lighthouse cutting through the fog of cynicism and despair. The future, in this light, is not a predetermined destination but an active creation. It does not wait for the hesitant or the merely hopeful; it is claimed by the convinced, by those who polish their dreams into a mirror that reflects the world they wish to inherit. They are the cartographers of an undiscovered country, and their belief is the ink with which they draw the map of the coming age.
Said the People of the Great United States of America
The time has come for us to be civil,
let not the color of the skin hinder in our endeavors to be productive
let it make us feel and breathe the wisdom given to us.
and let the words of the infinite God be our guide,
for we are Good Americans, industrious and compassionate.
Together we shall revive this great industrious nation,
and take care of ourselves,
with free learning institutions, health care
and all the good things that progresses and propels us to become.
Name it we will have it,
Roads, Trains, Planes and a highway to Heaven.
We are Proud Americans the world look up to.
God bless America,
this the greatest nation on earth.
©Al Juman 11/19/2020
Our riverbank launch at dawn
where dense forest chills the breeze,
where cottonwood leaves flutter like wings,
and weeping willow penumbras tease.
Glistening, rippling turquoise water churns.
Crystal swirling pools symphonic and aglow,
elliptic aluminum crafts coast over craggy stones,
riverbed scattered rocks gleam clearly below.
Current River splits between sandbar silt.
Our paddles sink through rivulet tug.
Meandering, twisting, converging again,
water sculpting limestone, granite, or sludge.
We drift into shallow magic ponds of quiet.
The sweet fragrant water lilies subsume us.
Along the bank, turtles cling to driftwood.
The rowing in this reverie is not arduous.
Another sunlit pool, a home for trout,
their waving shapes dart under shimmering stream.
Pausing our paddles, we heed distant water rush,
how ready are we for river rapid extremes?
Our canoes enter fast-breaking flows.
Frantic, we navigate dead trees and rocks.
The roller coaster of white waves propels
past vague landscapes and distant crow squawks.
One canoe capsized where river sharply bends.
Lifejackets on, other canoeists to the rescue,
all the cooler food, a gift to the river.
Sleeping bags turned sponges; no one argued.
The canoe water finally emptied; we resume.
Each winding channel, a chapter in our allegory,
musky, muddy scents and echoed whippoorwills entrancing.
The bold beam of afternoon dims into dusk’s glory.
We camp on a sandbar under night bouquets of stars,
our trip has just begun: our quest must take us far.
Accepted for Publication, 11/2023: PoetrySoup Anthology Vol. III
Reflections on the Important Things
Our pact of silence is made,
Molded from rainy kisses, sweet storms hidden in glances,
Molded from the sound we breathe into notes on the staff we call Love.
A silent pact, forged in gestures, in slow dances,
We love and we melt in the blaze we have chosen,
Enveloped with a necklace of passion, a furious storm, turning us into tumultuous beasts,
But, remembering we are shaped from shadow, we temper our fire with caresses and strokes.
You envelop me in the magic of love, a secret spell that wraps me,
I call out your name, it reverberates in the night that carries us,
And I, held close to your chest, seek solace in your celebratory kiss.
The force of love unleashes, ever-growing, a tide that knows not of ebbing,
And words become the echoes of a song that stretches over the world,
Sounds that resonate in our symphony, just ours, unique.
We stretch our bodies towards tireless flight, we seek each other in the infinite,
You explore my secrets, victorious, and I uncover the mysteries laid by you, through time.
Yes, the power of Love is our canvas, it covers us
With a white sheet, a prelude to the undisturbed purity in the morning's mirror,
It embraces us, propels us, like this love, pure, burning like a wave.
Toward heavenly standard the Lord propels me wisely
Moving me to paint with words about His greatness
Along worship's awe at His supreme omnipotence
From worldliness' view devoid of biblical regard…
He guards my pen of publication against deceit and lies
So I can present a masterpiece of truth worthy of His commendation!
Toward virtuous ways the Lord ushers me thru His goodness
Moving me to paint with kind deeds my testimony regarding Him
Along gratefulness' praise for His compassion and mercy
From apathy that darkens sharing acts and obscure prayer delight…
He leads my paintbrush of service against selfish interest
So I can represent Him in the best way I can - all by His grace!
Toward eternal triumph* the Lord goes with me for faithful stewardship
Moving me to paint with joy life's essence midst harsh realities
Along serenity's bliss that comes from trusting Him - my Saviour
From hatred's misery caused by despair and discontentment…
He beautifies my faith-performance with colors of His favor
So I can persevere in pleasing Him - my life's ultimate Painter!
*Psalm 92:4 For thou, LORD, hast made me glad through thy work: I will triumph in the works of thy hands.
October 5, 2018
3rd place "The Paint Mover(s)" Premiere Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausin; judged on 10/17/2018.
Fortifying grace* of the Saviour toward soulwinning endeavor
Along His compassion and mercy, never to fail
Moves us share Gospel of eternal life’s favor...
Living as victors against sin-infirmities that don't prevail.
Fortifying grace of Christ toward life-building mission
Along His power that strengthens our faith’s performance
Propels us to do our part and role in the Great Commission
Give our best and utmost midst blessings’ extravagance.
*Acts 11:23 Who, when he came, and had seen the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them all, that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord.
July 9, 2019
Because of my farting
I'm stuck in one room
In my mansion on Hoity-Toit Hill
The force of the gas
Expelled from my ass
Propels me along, “What a thrill!”
As my butt cheeks expand
I aim straight ahead
With a helmut secured to my bean-o
I land with a thud
Don't worry, no blood
Silliest scene you've ever seen-o
I picks meself up
Wipes the sweat from my brow
In the white porcelain bowl I deposit
But after I'm done
Unloading a ton
I've got no more farts in the closet
So I sit for a while
For an hour or so
Till I build up my internal gases
After a few sonic booms
I return to my room
But I sadly broke the lens in my glasses
© Jack Ellison 2014
Softly we drown through the gathering whiteness,
we float in splendor on ripples of calm.
Gentleness drawn from the lingering brightness,
shadows anoint us with whispering balms.
Softly, oh so softly, the angels are singing,
the star beams are winging their intricate dance;
and slowly, so slowly, in cadence most holy
the glistening sparkles envelop and entrance.
Softly, so softly they graze us,
rustles of silk in the cushion-blind pall.
Images strange to entrap and amaze us,
shrouds to protect us should ever we fall.
Softly, softly, ever so softly
we drown through the angels that graze us so deep,
and the dance of the stars that entraps us so roughly
propels us with gentleness down into sleep.
God I thank for His love midst grace bounty
along mercy of sweet serenity…
His bestowed existence-breath’s verity
daily propels blest productivity…
His gift of life throughout eternity
assures me wondrous redemption surety…
His granted trust-propped faith-gripped faculty
brings forgiveness when confessed as guilty…
His endowed jubilation’s purity
cheers my soul, vanquishing anxiety…
His steadfast truth and precepts’ certainty
proves the Scriptures’ immutability…
His promises bracing security
guard me against skeptic doubt’s vanity…
His wisdom of guidance tenacity
gears toward stewardship capacity…
His power in worshipful praise beauty
enables service opportunity…
His presence ensuring peaceful safety
upholds my prayer to the Almighty.
1Timothy 1:12 And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.
March 17, 2021
2nd place, "List With A Twist" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina; judged on 4/17/2021.