Long Purged Poems
Long Purged Poems. Below are the most popular long Purged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Purged poems by poem length and keyword.
January 31 Scripture Meditations Based on Numbers 10-14
Key Verse – Numbers 10:2 Make thee two trumpets of silver; of a whole piece shalt thou make them: that thou mayest use them for the calling of the assembly, and for the journeying of the camps.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR DIRECTING MY JOURNEY
Thank You for directing my journey with Your presence
Toward assured salvation along growth’s essence
Against hindrances due to worldliness’ iridescence
So I can advance in Your kingdom of righteous fluorescence.
Thank You for directing my journey with Your commandment
Toward sanctification-purged prayer engagement
Against distractions due to busyness and personal business’ entanglement
So I can benefit from Your great fellowship’s divine endowment.
Thank You for directing my journey with Your wise instruction
Toward learning what’s effective by Your truth’s application
Against unbelief due to lack of discretion and circumspection
So I can mature in Bible principles for my steadfast conviction.
Thank You for directing my journey with Your eyes
Toward triumphant vision in Your perfect will’s paradise
Against obscurity due to materialism with its carnality-disguise
So I can focus on Your precepts for my faith to increase and rise.
Thank You for directing my journey with Your guidance
Toward faithful stewardship full of blessings’ abundance
Against struggles due to pride and selfishness’ attendance
So I can strive for Your approval of my sacrifice, along carnality’s riddance.
Thank You for directing my journey with Your victory
Toward grateful praises of worship’s glory
Amidst hardships due to attacks of sin-caused misery
So I can succeed by Your grace in sharing Your Gospel story.
January 31, 2022
Ecotone
I did not plant the prairie tickseed that appeared among
The cultivated flowers of my garden and quickly dominated.
It seemed to say, “We live, still!
My house sits in a tension zone, an ecological “no man’s land” where
Tall Grass Prairie and the Cross Timbers, vie for control.
Here the vagaries of weather assure that all who enter are mistreated.
Seasons turn through the Zone as Fall, Winter, Spring,
And the Heat. The moisture-prickling Heat, like a visit from
The in-laws, comes early, stays long and wearies the endurance.
Rainfall is the fickle arbiter of the Zone. It befriends the trees
Almost; the grass too much. Legions of plants, playthings
Of climate, contending over millennia for land suitable to neither.
They were not untended. Cultivation by wild fires, twisting winds, floods
And drought, performed acts of purification and renewal; encroachers purged,
Minerals recycled, seeds scattered, and the arena reset for the endless contest.
But gone now are blades of Blue Stem and pickets of Post Oak.
Red subsoil overlaid with Bermuda sod is my “Sooner” system;
An inanity to the Zone kept on life support by irrigation and fertilizer.
Bermuda minders are hungry yet grow heavy with time
And plenty. They seek order amid uncertainty, and
Shelter from risk, yet cast their lot in a tension zone.
Their dis-ease stems from attempted breakouts of the Cultivators
Struggling to wrest free of human controls. (They who are said to have
Ears to hear a wildfire in its death throes claim it hisses, “We live, still!”)
They are not alone. Homes of the coastal naïf become
Mere tender for Chaparral fires as those of a floodplain
Are flotsam for the river.
Like mallards returning to the same pond
After each thinning by hunters, the unwitting
Rebuild as the Cultivators whisper, ”We live still”
Copyright Paul Thomson 2017
February 4 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Leviticus 11-13
Key Verse – Leviticus 11:44 For I am the LORD your God: ye shall therefore sanctify yourselves, and ye shall be holy; for I am holy: neither shall ye defile yourselves with any manner of creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO SANCTIFIES US
TOWARD HOLINESS
Praise be to God for sanctifying us
toward holiness:
Restoring our soul from despair
Re-creating our spirit toward dependence on Him
Rejuvenating our stewardship for determined diligence
Reviving our standard upon Scriptural decency
Requiring our service with devotion
Leviticus 12:7 Praise be to the Lord
for exhorting us to offer ourselves before Him:
Purified by His cleansing
Purged toward consecration
Prepared through His conversion
Prayerfully-led with His compassion
Peaceful along His comfort
Leviticus 13:1-2 Praise be to the Saviour for healing us
From plague of sin-leprosy with His:
Help midst forgiveness so gracious
Hope with faithfulness always great
Hoisting of faith that’s very good
Heralding of fruitfulness for His glory
Happiness and fervour by His gearing. Amen!
February 4, 2024
(In Memory of my Mother who
journeys beyond earthly shores.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A sad, sad day if I must say:
Your simple stay ended today.
In sleepy stay, you took to bed
Dreaming of days which now have fled.
Unlocked the door to see you sleep;
No stirring snore, no sigh so deep.
I rushed to check if you're okay;
No pulse, no speck or stir to stay.
A sudden gush of urgent stare;
Dial police rush to report fare.
So many flings of moment's past,
Pictures and things blur yet outlast.
A helpless feel plunged heart made sad;
Death comes to chill -- breath turned to bad.
Your wrinkled face etched four score scents;
Plus six years grace ere quest now spent.
No words can tell or measure how --
Your tale you tell right here and now.
So much anguish beyond sad ways;
Poise now languished, purged sacred stay.
No more sad pain, no lonely days
Or harsh refrains -- no more replays.
Your wrinkled face speaks of old age;
Struggles you graced in life's harsh stage.
The day's over for strife and pain;
Life's twin hovers: death speaks most plain.
The time has come to take you home;
A sacred psalm to rest not roam.
Leon Enriquez
24 June 2014
Singapore
(Note: This is a short version of
a longer piece which I wrote last
year on 25 June, a day after my
late mother died at her home
in her sleep.)
“You look happy.”
It wasn’t a compliment, nor was it truly an observation. It did not fall from his tongue with ease, it clung to his very being like a toxin that could not be purged. It was an accusation, a statement that settled itself between the two of us and silently solidified the notion of our separation.
Because I was happy.
I was so happy it threatened to consume us both, proving with no uncertainty that it was finished. The nail beaten so crudely into the coffin that even his deft hands could not pry their way inside. The all encompassing grasp of his self actualized sadness no longer touched the depths of me. I had reduced him from a prophet to a beggar, and in the end, I was happy.
You know what I have never done?
A scandal!
Never have I twirled in another man's arms
Never have I kissed the handsome stranger
Never have I let myself go to the rich man.
Isn't it wondrous,
The curves of a woman are like clandestine valleys
Each discovered by a new wanderer
Like carvings on a sturdy rock
Chiseled, memory by memory.
Am I allowed to tremble?
Or shudder in an induced fear?
The sins of a brazen woman
Are to be purged by the Amazon,
It is but the common man
Who shreds his commonness
And enslaves the Goddesses.
The pieces of you which you have quietly shoved up the closet
Are rattling like the strong breeze has hit them
The storm of a new day.
"I hope I will be as accepting as an Autumn leaf
that looks up at the sky when it's time to die...
graciously thanking God for the gift of my life."
~ by poet
Autumn's leaves begin taking flight
I feel chagrinned, without delight
Are they whispering and sighing?
Purged in death~ their seasonal plight
Crimson faded; sadly dying
There's no whimpering or crying
Not a word uttered, nor tears spilled
With Nature, they are complying
I wonder... if they were free willed
would they prefer to be instilled
with more life if they had the votes?
Covered in snow, would they be chilled?
Perhaps, they'd choose as antidotes,
voices escaping from their throats.
Would they survive the coldest days
wearing snowflakes for Winter coats?
The lovely, purple hyacinths
adorn both sides of the ginger and narrow path,
protected by the tallest firs,
they greet the travelers who fear the storm's wrath.
Many have ridden this long path leading to a town with a small, cozy inn:
mighty kings whose malicious intent was conquest,
humble monks who preached the Gospel to anyone who purged in sin;
all weary travelers stopped there to eat and rest.
I am traveling the same path with a backpack leaving a trial of deep footprints;
it's a long journey that'll end up by late noon or sunset,
will all footprints be erased by rain, will they be remembered in sad refrains?
On my return, any beauty seen will have vanished as mist.
Per drawn orphic sight, a ringed rainbow moon.
Feather swims in a vagrant squall, plummets,
burden bobbing outstretched like some mushroom,
spirals expel rippled waves pirouettes.
Aurora whisper opportune saffron,
forge balms beam strands to aerate crown's vastness,
errant gasp caught in raptured mist, lissome
Brief rain on lain shape of the gods vanish.
Pristine manna with a sigh midst hollow,
steep in prismatic poise purged euphoric.
Voice guides dulcet zephyrs to arousal.
Imagery caprices waft chimeric.
Vesper, yon the zenith of Terra's, take,
occasions a sign as moonglade o'er lake.
Past Poured Out Of me
I don't know what just happened!
It's not supposed to be.
You asked about my past
and my past poured out of me.
You sat there in stunned silence
at the tears I can't control.
People looked in wonder
at the purging of my soul.
Suddenly I'm back in time
abandoned by my brother.
Just a frightened little boy
and sleeping with my mother.
He came in, he's back again
I heard her tell him no.
That's all it took, the whole bed shook
he delivered just one blow.
I hear her calling out my name
with heartache in her cries.
I rose up in the morning
and I looked at her black eyes.
Within another day or two
no more childish dreams and wishes.
Standing by my mothers side
and drying her washed dishes.
Overwhelmed by sadness
first time I lost control.
Long before I knew the value
of the purging of my soul.
They say that we get stronger
from the things that we endure.
They say that time will heal all wounds
for me I'm not so sure.
With scars inside, tears not yet cried
life still takes it's toll.
A brighter day tomorrow
cause today I purged my soul.
Edwin C Hofert