Long Protestants Poems

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


Return From Egypt

Return from Egypt
Matthew 2:19-23

After the Christ’s left for Egypt, where they avoided King Herod,
For five whole years, because in the fifth year Herod simply died,
Mary and Joseph arose, took the boy and his joinery wear, god,
To return finally in the land of Israel: Herod had in death, failed.

Here is Matthew 2:19-23. Matthew: “19 After King Herod died,
An angel from the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt [lex].
20 ‘Get up,’ the angel said, ‘and take the child and his mother [hi’d],
And go to the land of Israel. Those...trying to kill the child are dead’, [rex].

21 Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to...Israel.
22 But when he heard that Archelaus ruled over Judea [Joseph thought],
In place of his father Herod, Joseph was afraid to go there. [The rail].
Having been warned in a dream [ok], he went to the area of Galilee [ought].

23 He settled in a city called Nazareth so that what was spoken,
Through the prophets might be fulfilled: He will be called a Nazarene.”
So, that was Matthew 2:19-23, full text almost and not token:
Your understanding of the script is fine, it is true and alkaline.

Sigmund Freud theorised the ego, which depends upon ID, brink,
This is the id, and stated we are psychopaths to our identity cultural,
Where our super-ego can lurk. He said it is by libido that we think,
A sexualised energy towards death drive and a neurotic guilt banal.

Here, Joseph objected to King Archelaus, the son and heir of Herod,
Who valued Roman law and therefore this Murder of the Innocents,
This did not collate his mind. Blaize it seems, he contradicted the rod:
The angel’s whose thought was his speed, to instead Nazareth pence.

So, church some leaders today don’t imply angels, predestination,
But rather judge angels as suspicious: Catholics believe, Protestants mar.
With your wit do judge the mild baby as given digs from relation:
Taught intelligent, made sane, driven to writ and forgiven for tar - bar.

Dreams above visions state the problem too simply, paraphernalia,
Because it is using minds that humans have visions, possibly -
Our stress points cognate the brain to visualise a better land, trivia,
So Freud’s dreams are more personal, and talk community.




Common English Bible used.
Form: Quatrain


Give Ireland Back To the Irish

The 
familiar 
sound 
of 
gunshots 
rings 
out 
in 
the 
dead 
of 
night,as 
a 
sniper 
takes 
position 
in 
the 
bushes 
outta 
sight,
Past 
my 
front 
door 
I 
hear 
the 
sound 
of 
many 
marching 
feet,as 
II 
Para 
make 
their 
presence 
felt 
upon 
a 
Belfast 
street,  
Gerry 
Adams 
does 
a 
hard 
days 
graft 
and 
then 
its 
homeward 
bound,as 
a 
British 
soldier 
just 
nineteen 
lays 
bleeding 
on 
the 
ground,
Well 
he 
fought 
for 
Queen 
and 
country 
so 
it 
comes 
as 
no 
surprise,as 
he 
draws 
his 
last 
breath,says 
a 
prayer 
and 
there 
a 
hero 
dies,
So 
many 
slain 
civilians 
they're 
just 
casualties 
of 
war,do 
the 
f*ckers 
even 
realise 
what 
it 
is 
they're 
fighting 
for?
Or 
has 
the 
whole 
point 
of 
it 
got 
lost 
in 
the 
mists 
of 
time,the 
I'R'A 
take 
credit 
for 
their 
latest 
deadly 
crime,
In 
a 
safehouse 
miles 
from 
nowhere 
there's 
three 
loyalists 
lying 
dead,one 
in 
a 
grave 
(he 
was 
buried 
alive)and 
two 
with 
one 
straight 
through 
the 
head,
But 
the 
score 
it 
was 
even 
before 
the 
cock 
crowed,three 
Catholic 
civilians 
were 
slain,  
And 
there's 
rumours 
of 
vengence 
and 
fights 
to 
the 
death,and 
calls 
to 
keep 
calm 
from 
Sinn 
Fein,
As 
politicians 
armed 
with 
pens 
sit 
counting 
up 
lost 
lives,the 
Ulster 
Paramilitary 
sit 
sharpening 
their 
knives,
And 
loading 
slugs 
into 
the 
clip 
of 
some 
dead 
soldiers 
gun,"Come 
on 
now 
lads 
there's 
dirty 
deeds 
still 
waiting 
to 
be 
done,
In 
Londonderry,County 
Down,in 
Belfast,Newry 
too,the 
Catholics 
and 
the 
protestants 
keep 
Ireland 
torn 
in 
two,
As 
children 
grow 
up 
in 
the 
shadow 
of 
fear,there's 
a 
stench 
of 
death 
and 
bloodshed 
here,
So 
you 
with 
the 
power 
to 
give 
us 
the 
chance,lets 
find 
a 
solution 
and 
finish 
the 
dance,
Give 
Ireland 
back 
to 
the 
Irish...please!
or 
bring 
the 
whole 
damned 
nation 
crashing 
down 
to 
its 
knees.

Premium Member God's Air

Imagine that someone wants to argue against the existence of air
All the while breathing in air
The Catholics have the Mitered Buffoon
They say Protestants have the “Paper Pope” too
Immanuel Kant said you can’t bring the noumenal and phenomenal together
And it was for duty’s sake that we honor God, or whether
Rene Descartes says I doubt therefore I must exist to do the doubting
Akin to intellectual touting
Friedrich Nietzsche said we can’t give up God because we believe in          
        laws of grammar
God’s anvil has exhausted many a hammer
David Hume came to skepticism over the induction principle
Bertrand Russell said the same thing 
Only Cornelius Van Til could say that the unbeliever is like a child           
        sitting on his father’s lap
Can reach up and slap his father’s face
It is by God’s common grace that the unbeliever 
can sit on God’s lap reach up and infantilely slap His face
The intellectual picture and metaphor
Is in Christ who died for a Whore
Heraclitus and Zeno can consider points in a stream not the same in time 
Or arrows that have antecedent range each and every time 
Copernicus and Kepler (even Aristarchus) are skewing heliocentricity
Why wasn’t Ptolemy or Lucretius given verticity 
All today’s G.O.A.T.’s can buy their fame
They won’t walk with the sheep on the last day
John Lennon said it out loud imagine there’s no heaven
We can equally posit imagine there is no Lennon
The Auburn Affirmation could only deny Christ’s deity
Jean Paul Sartre could only collar the Holy Spirit and throw Him out
Wittgenstein could only show disgust in the ubiquity of God’s judgment      
       on him
Unless they were breathing God’s air
And it’s the battling against the Holy Spirit’s work that is the unforgivable sin
Matthew asked this author 
“How can you hate someone you don’t believe in?”

Premium Member Mary's Farewell

In a short time, you will be my executioner.
Your actions shall be considered a favor.
You say to me “Lady, please forgive me”.
I, Mary Stuart, am grateful for your sympathy.
You are putting me out of my misery.

It was purely by providential chance,
that I should rule both Scotland and France.
My first bout with misfortune was the scene
where my French king husband Francois died at sixteen.
I would return to my native Scotland right away.
I faced subjection by my half-brother Earl of Moray.
James Stewart and John Knox scorned my presence.
Peace between Protestants and Catholics found no permanence.
With this problem, I became heavily involved.
During my reign, practically nothing could be solved.

My cousin Elizabeth has been a thorn in my side.
Her disdain and disfavor she chooses not to hide.
Elizabeth proposed with blatant effrontery,
that I marry the Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley.
Such a marriage would bring an English-Scottish alliance.
I would have been a fool to submit to compliance.
My marriage to my cousin was out of defiance.

I thought I could love Henry, Lord Darnley.
However, Henry’s actions became a liability.
He helped kill one of the noblest men I would know.
Scottish Lords conspired to murder David Rizzio.

During my reign, troubles compounded all the while.
Soon I found myself a ruler without a nation.
Adversaries forced me to agree to abdication.
I would be placed into imprisonment during exile.

My involvement in the Babington Plot is the reason
why I am being executed for high treason.
Please let your blow be both swift and clean.
It shall release me from this ignominious scene.
I wanted England and Scotland to live in harmony.
May I be remembered this way throughout history.

Mary's son, James VI of Scotland eventually became King James I of a united England and Scotland.
Form: Rhyme

Practice Not What We Preach

The masters of buzz words 
used to instill fear 
Clutching their pearls saying 
“liberals take what’s dear”
Right wingers with their 
inescapable nexus 
Says its liberals insistent 
political correctness
If the “Woke” amplified the
so called cancel culture
The extreme right has weaponized 
it for years like vultures  
Confining the first amendment, 
to burn books and ban,  
Limits free speech, squelches 
protests, circumscribed all they can 
As always it’s the least entitled 
to complain the loudest 
Claiming they are right and 
most patriotic proudest 
Canceling or firing those who’s
views don’t meet theirs 
Every problem they will 
say is the left’s affairs 
Not a day goes by that they 
don’t say the left will cancel you 
Reminiscent of “Stalin” 
they seem to take their cue 
Conservatives need to breathe 
and mind their own house 
Take notice what it is that 
they themselves shout 
Liberals are rising to defend 
old-fashion tolerance
Not sitting around trying
to show dominance 
Like the illiberal witch burning 
preformed by the Protestants 
While screaming the loudest 
how liberals are communist 
Ben Shapiro claims cancel 
culture is a left wing invention 
When they’ve been doing 
it thru history with cancel tension 
Canceling those who defied 
any of their moral strictures  
In living memory, I can show 
proof with mental pictures 
Colin Kaepernick , Dixie chicks, Nikole 
Hannah-Jones, critical race theory and more 
The kings and queens of 
canceling calling liberals whores 
Honestly can’t we all just get along, 
stop being so damn righteous 
Realize that everyone right 
or left we are in crisis 
Lets keep it real Liberals are 
not without fault of their own 
Why can’t we all not practice 
what we preach and showing
Form: Rhyme


Give Ireland Back To the Irish

The familiar sound of gunshots 
rings out in the dead of night,
As a sniper takes position in the 
bushes out of sight,
Past my front door I hear the 
sound of many marching feet,
As 2 Para make their presence 
felt upon a Belfast street,
Gerry Adams does a hard days 
graft 'n' then it's homeward 
bound,
As a British soldier just 
nineteen lays bleeding on the 
ground,
Well he fought for queen 'n' 
country so it comes as no 
surprise,
As he draws his last 
breath,says a prayer and there 
a hero dies,
So many slain civilians(they're 
just casualties of war,
Do the f*ckers even realise 
what it is they're fighting for?
Or has the whole point of it got 
lost in the mists of time?
The Ira take credit for their 
latest deadly crime,
In a safe house miles from 
nowhere there's three loyalists 
lying dead,
One in a grave (he was buried 
alive) and two with one straight 
through the head,
But the score it was evened 
before the cock crowed,three 
catholic civilians were slain,
And there's rumours of 
vengeance and fights to the 
death and calls to keep calm 
from Sinn Fein,
As politicians armed with pens 
sit counting up lost lives,
The Ulster Paramilitary sit 
sharpening their knives,
And loading slugs into the clip 
of someone else's gun,
"Come on now lads there's dirty 
deeds awaiting to be done"
In Londonderry,County Down,in 
Belfast,Newry too,
The Catholics and the 
Protestants keep Ireland torn in 
two,
As our children grow in the 
shadow of fear,
There's a stench of death and 
bloodshed here,
So you with the power please 
give us the chance,
To find a solution and finish the 
dance,
Give Ireland back to the Irish 
pleeaasssse!
Or bring the whole damned 
nation crashing down to its 
knees.
Form: Acrostic

History of the Holy Bible

The Holy Bible is an ancient collection
Of 66 books comprised
Thirty-nine books mainly in Hebrew
The OT, by the Jewish people still prized.
The NT books were letters
Written in the Greek language.
The first five books were written by Moses,
Who out of Egypt conducted Israel’s passage.

Around 450 BC, the Jewish scriptures
Were arranged by rabbinical councils,
Who acknowledged their sacredness,
Called Tanakh in Jewish circles.
In 250 BC, the Hebrew Bible
Was translated into Greek;
A translation known as the Septugint
For 70 translators this task did seek.

After approximately 400 years
Jesus arrived on the scene.
He often quoted the Old Testament,
Especially the books of Moses so pristine!
Jesus spoke of the laws—
The prophets and Psalms.
Concerning His prophetic life,
With the OT, He had no qualms.

In AD 40, The Gospels of the NT began to be written
During the 200’s they were translated
Into Latin, Coptic & Syriac
In the 1450’s, the Gluttenburg Bible was printed.
In 1516, Martin Luther declared his intolerance
With the Roman Church’s corruption,
So the Diet of Worms Council decided
To Martyr Luther by selection.

Instead of killing Martin Luther,
The Council translated The Bible into German.
Similarly William Tyndale translated it into English
For British, private sermon.
In 1535, Coverdale printed the first English Bible,
But if found in one’s possession
Queen Mary would burn you at the stake— 
The burning of Protestants was her obsession!
Shakespeare quoted from the Geneva,
The first Bible taken to the USA.
In 1610, the King James Bible was printed
And we still have it with us today!

Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2011
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Etched In Stone

Humanity born on the bone of an earthen mound
froze graphics on cave walls hail their Ice Age strive,
wall carvings speak three trees, a forest be sound,
harsh times craft crept the charged choice to thrive,
they owned their time, and those old craved their life. 

Termed yarn cave lifers to cliff dwellers,
the continental divide craft the Americas,
Aztec and Mayan walled labyrinth kaleidoscopic cellars,
to the mountainous Incans Cuzco etchers Transamerica's,
and Far East Orient, and Indian subcontinent chiselers.
 
Biblically phrased had enlighten the world of Christians,
as writings on the wall are prophetically profound,
the world's a better place for Catholics and Protestants, 
most have read that Scripture blesses all Faiths as sound,
Christ states to the fish and loave eaters on top of a mound.

Throughout time, an omen from The Rock of Ages,
from a second or to a millennium of years ago,
says nothing but for the claimant to ascertain the sages,
and so a man of God locked in the den of lions. Oh, woe!
Sees Daniel alive surrounded by lions.  King mop & mow.

Wars between King Nebuchadnezzar and The Persians 
and The Medes that had led to his loss and surrender,
and eventually to his death. The Persians claimed versions 
of the city of Babylon, and The Medes took the other,
half yond Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar reflects, dies a believer.

Words on the wall are meant for just you to fathom. 
Do not dawdle, if there's time, sleep on it. Then awake 
and process what might be a deep chasm or a tiny atom. 
Your righteousness doubted, rid the evil, and do what it take 
to claim, the Way, the Truth, and the Life as a keepsake.
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A House Divided

Abraham Lincoln  saw it happening and tried to stop it…a nation getting out of hand
he knew a house divided against itself would not be strong enough to stand…

Today we are a country divided..no longer are we whole
America…which was once a melting pot…has somehow lost her soul

Our country was founded on the concept of freedom; it is at our core...our very heart.
yet this freedom…to be different…pushes us further and further apart.

Democrats, Republicans, Christians, Protestants, yes to guns, no to guns, Straights and Gays.
Black and White, Rich and Poor--we’ve allowed our differences to lead the way.

This in itself is not a problem, our differences make America a more interesting place
The problem arises when our differences…we fail to embrace.

And when I as an American think living in the land of the brave and the free 
means accepting as Americans only those who think and act like me.

I use to feel on the 4th of July…we could put our differences aside
and for one day…one moment…become a country unified.

But I no longer feel that way…for even on the 4th of July we’re not a country unified
we remain a country divided…the gap has grown too wide.

I used to love the 4th of July…as fireworks lit up the sky
when I thought of what this day meant…tears would fill my eyes

During this year’s celebration it was Abraham Lincoln’s words I was recalling
and the tears I wiped were for a house divided…and a country that is falling.

But I cling with hope to other words Mr. Lincoln said
knowing freedom would be filled with lows…and highs
He said:
I am not concerned that you have fallen…
I’m concerned that you arise.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Give Ireland Back To the Irish

The familiar sound of gunshots rings out in the dead of night,as a sniper takes position in the bushes out of sight,
Past my front door I hear the sound of many marching feet,as II Para make thier presence felt upon a Belfast street,
Gerry Adams does a hard days graft and then it's homeward bound,as a British soldier just nineteen lays wounded on the ground,
Well he fought for Queen and country so it comes as no surprise,as he drew his last breath,said a prayer and there a hero dies,
So many slain civilians there just casualties of war,do these people even realise what it is they're fighting for?
Or has the whole point of it got lost in the mists of time,the I.R.A take credit for thier latest deadly crime,
In a safe-house miles from nowhere ther's three loyalists lying dead,one in a grave[he was buried alive]and two with one straight through the head,
But the score it was evened before the cock crowed three Catholic civilians were slain,and there's rumours of vengence and fights to the death and calls to keep calm from Sinn Fein,
As politicians armed with pens sit counting up lost lives,the Ulster Paramilitary sit sharpening thier knives,
And loading slugs into the clip of someone elses gun,cpme on now lads there's dirty deeds awaitin to be done,
In Londonderry,County Down,in Belfast,newry too,the catholics and the protestants keep Ireland torn into,
as our children grow up in the shadow of fear,there's a stench of death and bloodshen here,
So you with the power to give us a chance,let's find a solution and finish the dance,
give Ireland back to the Irish....please,or bring the whole damned nation crashing down to its knees.
Form: Acrostic

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