Long Prophetic Poems
Long Prophetic Poems. Below are the most popular long Prophetic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Prophetic poems by poem length and keyword.
9:41 AM 19 Oct 2014
My dreams so vivid in color and strange
Lifes memories recounted scrambled rearranged
Some are sad and make me cry
Some have no reason and I question why
Some are frightening and some are silly
Some are sensual and make me wonder really?
But then there are the mysterious dreams
That come true and become reality
Why was I allowed to know and see
Things that would happen to others and me
The first one I remember was silly and fun
A friend at church put a ring in my pocket then turned to run
It happened exactly the way I had dreamed
Every detail was true to the scene
Others were not so exact
But contained some form of fact
That would come true not the next day
But some time later in some major way
How do we process these prophetic scenes
To help others from the warnings in our dreams
People have become so crazy these days
So full of lies that no attention is paid
And warnings all fall on deaf ears
Because of deceit from so many years
as a pastoral leader your journey can be prophetic or pathetic in life
either you accept or reject the true mission as a servant of Jesus Christ
if you allow people to pull the strings that can compromise you
you'll be a pathetic leader in everything you attempt to do
you'll be pimped by special interest groups and used by many others
you'll be more of a hindrance than a help to your fellow sisters and brothers
but to be a prophetic pastor in whatever you do or say
you must make the people aware of what is truly God's way
to shake them up, to wake them up and take them out of their comfort zone
to move them beyond the walls of the church
and show them the true power of the heavenly throne
just be careful and cautious of some of those smiling faces around you
the back stabbers and betrayers who want to disgrace and replace you
to be prophetic as a leader on your journey of ministry
go out into the neighborhoods to help the hopeless, homeless and hungry
and then all the power that you'll need will come from the Lord God
an anointing He will give you that will be perfect from the heart
He's anointed you and now appointed you with a disciple's role
It was for no other reason except that to Him you surrendered control
you understood from the start that this mission wasn't just about you
you were submissive to what is was that God desired you to do
and in spite of all your flaws and all your imperfections
God knew that your ministry would not be one of derilection
He assigned you a mission to go forth and spread His word
to make disciples of everyone that you encounter in this world
He gave you the means, a sound mind and the power
to go up against the evil at any given hour
He instructed you to go empty-handed and step out on faith
and trust in Him to provide all your needs on this journey you will take
anointed, appointed, assigned and now it's time to announce your mission
to tell the true gospel of Christ by taking on the Great Commission
and if you come across anyone who is not of reception
shake the dust off your feet as you leave as a testimony to their rejection
on a prophetic journey as a disciple and pastor in your life
let your journey be a mission that's a true reflection of Jesus Christ
And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. (2 Peter 1:19)
And where, my dearest, where might your star be?
We spend our days afloat and rudderless -
have no true sense of north, nor light to see.
The intellect engages to assess
prophetic writings there within God’s
word, which does not penetrate, we must confess.
More often though, we find ourselves at odds,
fully convinced the path we choose is right;
confirmed within our minds, we need no rods
to goad us from the darkness toward the light.
Which star up in the sky commands your eyes?
You must look up to keep it in your sight!
Will you place trust in that which rusts or dies?
Do you prefer the company of fools?
Well spent, would seem, a consult with the wise.
To live a life like this is but a trap;
pay not the pharisee for his advice.
Attention to the shoulds and oughts can sap
as much as draining blood from turnips twice.
To what or whom might our attention turn?
A star of greatest worth, of course - a
lamp thus filled and trimmed, prepared to burn,
shining a small reflection of its source.
In truth, all scripture points us to this star -
a light come to a world in greatest need.
Dark is man, and darker still, his heart:
place the Morning Star would have set free.
Until the light breaks forth, in trespass lost,
the true depth of his need not understood,
day after day, he fails to count the cost,
dawns not on his small thoughts, or even could.
And then, in but an instant, he is changed:
the monergistic workings of our God.
Morning brings mercies new, no more estranged;
star bright and lifted high, his visage awed,
rises bright, majestic in his power.
In a day stretched toward eternity,
your blood, once shed, illuminates our
hearts; El Elyon, the only star for me.
Where harmony hoards the supposed hurt,
Symphonies belie me.
I rein myself in to not be curt,
But noise surrounds me.
Where time heals the freshly toiling,
I have old, murky bloodstains
Yet no one sees how quietly I'm boiling
Until the tipping point I shall hide my pains.
Why such a discordance in my disposition?
I desire to mourn the impact of this tyranny
Is this prophetic or an imposition? It's difficult to overlook the irony.
Someday I will explode, not implode
A magnetic, magnificent starburst.
For now, continue, continue to goad,
But this cacophony will not halt my bloodthirst.
when I think about Jesus and all that He has done
and how His blood down Mount Calvary did run
when I think about Jesus and His sacrifice
and how for our sins He gave over His life
I cry tears of sorrow
I cry tears of shame
I cry for this selfless Son of God
I cry over His pain
when I think about Jesus born in a manger,
in constant danger, living a life of poverty
always ostracized, yet still recognized
for His spiritual ministry
I cry tears of sorrow
I cry tears of shame
I cry for this selfless Son of God.
I cry over His pain
His humility, His generosity
and His prophetic Beatitudes
His salvation, His righteousness
and His redemptive attitude
His sole purpose for even existing
to absolve us of the sins we're committing
He was played, betrayed and maliciously flayed
yet on that cross for us, Jesus still prayed
I cry tears of sorrow
I cry tears of shame
I cry for this selfish Son of God
I cry over His pain
When I think about Jesus
I now checked my behavior
to do my best, to be my best
simply because He's my Savior
I still cry tears of sorrow
I still cry tears of shame
I still cry for this selfless Son of God
I will forever cry over His pain
Your Word Oh God is our bread
by your prophecy are we led
your Truth Oh Lord shall be our wine
for by these two do our lives define
Though your sins be as scarlet you be made white as snow
when you accept Jesus and his Father come to know
no earthly treasure that exists on earth below
can compare to the riches to his Sons do show
You do with Holy Spirit lead
your servants to those who True Love need
to give understanding to hearts who hear
and knowledge that your King draws near
Your servants on earth do know your will
the veracity of Truth you in them instill
the prophetic Word by life do fulfill
exposed the lie that by death does kill
We are but clay molded by your power
the life we live tis but an hour
you must guide and teach your ways
to live by your Word is endless days
From ages to ages you are our God
with the Truth of Kingdom our feet are shod
like forefathers and prophets your name do laud
We have accepted your will and given our nod
Through the pen of Truth do prophets speak
whose origins humble and nature meek
you chose the weak of the world to confound the wise
to spread the Truth and uncover the lies
You nurture those who seek your face
who know this system you will replace
the gifts of God been given a taste
who know their lives they must not waste
Jesus the firstborn of a new creation
with him the Sons of God rule the nations
the wise virgins have trimmed their lamp
with his seal of approval received his stamp
In the latter rain do Sons and Daughters prophesy
uncover the Truth and reveal the Lie
within your dreams and visions do see
from the past and future what is to be
Joel 2:28-32 1Cor. 1:21-31 2Cor 5:17
Galatians 5:14-16 Ephesians 1:1-23
James 5:7-8 1John
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
In your mind you conclude that
'this one is a dried bone'.
And you look at me as if am alone,
But i have got back bone that makes
Me rise.
I rise! for i am the glittering shining rising star.
I am the African sunrise
I am the future surprise
I am the poetic merchandise
The most wanted prejudice
The lightening ink that thunders rebuke
At your envious heart.
I am the black talking drum,
Talking, making sense as in twisting
Your brain until it starts learning to make sense.
Does my boldness frighten you?
Why restless when am stress less?
Why do you freeze when i breeze in?
You device means to see am falling
But if i fall i will rise more rooted,
Sure footed, like a tree in the swamp.
Till tomorrow or even till i finally mellow
However, i rise.
Though is not by my strength, i'm only a serving vessel.
Out of thatch huts and bamboo fence
Emerged the future modeling art.
Banana boy from hot black soil,
To become a glorious star.
Who cares if you like it or doubt it or not to admit
That my prophetic poetic tonic makes your brain
Charge like alcoholic toxic.
However, i rise...
I rise like a balloon going high high...
Like Maya Angelou,
I rise! i rise! !
Severe Weather Predictions...
Professedly Plagues Psyche
I do not watch, while
feigning to sip ale,
nor listen to Wail
ling Jennings poor
imitation by prophetic
local aborigines scent
ting ancestor trail,
while plucking their
Sing song ukulele
national anthem (tip towing
thru the dale
lie la of hybrid tulips)
hearty and hale
Climatological headlines,
more like a puffed up
magical dragon exhale
ling nothing boot hot air,
comprising a renown folk song,
and/or futuristic tall tale
that usually pre
dominate every airwave scale
ling the gamut of
every frequency 24/7, rail
ling dire warnings,
and no need prevails,
particularly for those
refusing to evacuate,
and become sitting targets
like quail caught
in the cross hair
for me to know
onset of biblical pro
portioned sized debacles
(since joblessness thy status,
cuz social security disability received),
but more pertinently
dire forecasts rarely manifest
into monster mashing maelstroms
case in point
being this predicted
"three sisters of all hurricanes"
Florence, Light
Ning, and Gale,
found this storm chaser
disappointed, cuz monstrous
banshee's utter deplorable show
ranked as utter dud at least
(in my book), they did fail
to wreak havoc
falling far short
to flatten every tree,
which limb mit
to flash flooding
minor inconvenience
forced every to sail
guy did by those freed from jail.
Eye candy of literacy
Sit with me under the poet tree
It's colorful leaves with windy wet dreams
Glowing growing holy wise sandy seas
Raining sonnets psalms songs of gold
Beige yesterday, neon now, future silver soul
Of foreign of home
Of saint sinner some other zone
This black leaf is Emily
So dark smart sharply bleak
The red leaf rouge and profound
As Alice Walker's words painting nouns
The blue leaf a jazzy ballet
Of sonnets haikus John Lennon's yesterday
The green leaf with promises of now
From music the ears of poetry sound
Alex Haley, Dr Seus, ancient poets and the new
Prophetic stars of heart and writer monsoon
Romantic rage roulette of moon
All are priceless jewels alone or in unity
All behold gifts of God, heart,soul, poet tree.
‘We played wedding songs,
and you didn’t dance,
so we played funeral songs,
and you didn’t weep’
Luke 7:32b
Scribes and Pharisees, lean in.
They lean away, their fingertips at play,
nimble, with no paper cut. The pipers toot
out a jig and they scowl; then a dirge
and they skirt. Skittish of prophetic noise,
they amble for their toys and go on
walkabouts to gather up the fish
before the net goes out. Digits, hush,
or like the dastardly, wiggle about
underhandedly.
Scribes and Pharisees, at the skirt
of the Savior, don’t recognize
his mild behavior; they criticize.
Whereas, one woman chances to believe,
to receive power to be healed of her infirmity;
Pharisees harrumph to repeal - “not on the Sabbath!”
The scroll rolls out like a red carpet, snatched back up.
It is only for the designated driver to enforce.
And enforce with force, he does; take his pill.
Chill while each stays blind, lame, deaf, demonic.
The wise that hide their eyes in Jesus’ hem,
go left and right, on the narrow. Miracles
and forgiveness of hidden rose petals.
Heaven is dung to those who would rather cling
to popularity, religiosity, to their perfect life.
And what will they have at the end of the dusty trail.
No one to listen to them. Will every day be like a Sabbath,
where they aren’t allowed to pick up their mat
and escape through heaven’s gate? Yet, they shall see
the walk of their enemies, piled high smiles, the light
before darkness, fire and brimstone, hell
to be exact. Never again will they catch a glimpse
of what they lost, though they try to unscramble
their minds, lost to forever time, without a save.