Long Put through Poems
Long Put through Poems. Below are the most popular long Put through by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Put through poems by poem length and keyword.
There is no doubt in my mind
in going to faith healers to heal
what ails me and be better faster.
Is it my faith or the faith healers?
Or both, that is the question?
However, there is no question in my mind
in giving them credence for I have a strong
belief in them, trust and confidence in their
healing, in their certitude and conviction to heal.
You go to the doctor and will be asked
“What’s wrong?”… Isn’t it for him/her to find out?
You’ll be put through testing to know what is wrong
or medications that have side effects
or therapies that take too long to ease the pain.
Yes, I go to the doctor; but I also go to faith healers.
With faith healers, they see through you
and feel, sense, perceive what is wrong with you.
You see images of their faith, candles, oil
and you feel this underlying feeling or aura.
I had a knee surgery with an orthopedic surgeon
and could not walk without a limp after the surgery.
Discouraged, I went to a faith healer and with her
massages using ginger and sesame oil,
I was able to walk without a limp.
I had my second bout of depression
and could not shake it off for months
and months of therapy and prayers.
Was a mess – desperate and hopeless.
I went to another faith healer, who told me
when she lifted my head that it was too heavy.
She moved her hands on my head with her faith,
her belief to heal and restore me – her healing
touch facilitated mental and emotional healing.
Then she told me my head weighed like
a gigantic rock with so much air inside
and she was able to let all the air out
or all the darkness that invaded my mind.
Believe in faith healers healing or not.
Many do not for they don’t believe
and some do for they believe.
The faith healers have gifts in healing.
They are believers to minister various kinds
of healing with their faith and spirituality.
They have the commitment, the confidence,
the conviction to restore physical, mental,
emotional and spiritual health through
their sensing and healing touch and faith.
12/1/20 Faith Healer Poetry Kai Michael Neumann
Let your pain flow into words like waterfall
Let your suffering shape you hard and never fall
Your ache I do share
Your crave I am of aware
Your mum ceased to be that was her date
Your soul in loss that’s your fate
The fire inside is still alive
Mum too early left my life
Don’t cry to you I won’t spell that word out
Weeping your loving mum is a consolation with no doubt
Dreams at night could spark
Your mum would light what in you is dark
Don’t whine to you I won’t recommend
Your love for your mum will have no end
For your sorrow I do care
But I can’t say it’s unfair
The hands of God are everywhere
Blessing and mercy will embrace you everyday
You are choked with grief
Your mum’s memories for you are a relief
For being so dark you are not to blame
Your mum is here no more it is for me the same
Death passed by and left a scar
The wound is too deep healing is far
The soul is hurt I do understand
Your mum used to lend you a caring hand
It is meant to be dear bear no grudge
And you no one can judge
It is hard what you were in put through
The harm is so harsh I quite knew
You now moan more and more
Your mum you won’t see any more
You will touch hug and kiss no more
Her care love and very presence now you need more
May God fill you with mighty strength
May God enlighten your faith
May your precious mum rest in peace
May you be without her a whole not a piece
Mums remain precious beyond many a word
Mums remain in our hearts even when they leave our world.
In His eyes was the wisdom of the ages,
In His hands there was kindness and love,
His manner was tender and quiet,
In His smile was a light from above.
He travelled the highways and byways,
Spoke to rich man and beggar alike,
He taught in the streets and the temples,
Brought comfort and healing and light.
He spoke of His reason for coming,
And a home for the faithful and true,
At first He was loved by many,
And then by only a few.
He was taken to court in the city,
And put through a mockery trial,
He was hung on the cross without pity,
And taunted and rudely reviled.
Why did they do this to Jesus,
A Man who would never abuse,
His countrymen laughed and they mocked Him,
He said He was King of the Jews.
I have this new found strength
Presence like the flow we have come to know
The peace I feel from this very real ordeal
That Satans player tried to bring our way
You are here with me to stay
No way would you overplay that day
Being put through a mind-altering maze
He has put everything into such a haze
Its because Gods helped us to slay
That very bad man who tried to betray our trust
To spin his awful sin so Satan could begin
His mind-altering lust
We place all our faith in God
So nothing would come between us
Or make us go bust
It's Gods rays that really came into play
It's God we chose to follow each, day
When he brought comfort rather than dismay
We had to get through each day
As he sheltered our love in every way
We stuck together through The foul weather
So we are like birds of the same feather
Our life was meant to be together
Praise God all of this fits just right
That familiar glow that we have come to know
One that will outlast anything from our past
.
Back in nineteen hundred and three
I working with a logging crew,
cutting and limbing mighty trees,
be they hemlock, pine, or spruce.
We worked for the Nowell Paper firm,
in the shades of the Adirondacks,
spent all winter in Camp Seven,
sending full sleds down icy tracks.
One morning in late December
we got up before the dawn,
that was just par for the course,
our work days were rather long.
We made it to the cook-house,
where waited the salt pork,
with flapjacks and potatoes fried,
we ate until enrgorged.
Then with a nod to the bull cook,
to let him know he’d done good,
we grabbed our axes, our crosscut saws,
and headed out into the woods.
By noon we worked a stump garden
we’d cleared back in the fall,
when we’d cut down the spruces
though a few still stood tall.
Those ones are the seed trees,
to make sure it grows again,
but the ones we felled we had cut
into fourteen-foot lengths.
Now in that deep chill of winter
we worked with our pike-poles,
hauling the logs to big sleds
drawn by horses, rather cold.
We stacked them for the ice road,
in air that made all shiver,
the teamster waited to haul it
all the way down to the river.
Now lumberjacks always work in pairs,
and my partner was Guy Montreaux,
a Quebecois better with an axe
than any farmer with a hoe.
He was quite an entertaining man,
lifted spirits in our shanties,
and knew the words to every bawdy song
ever sang in the north country.
On that grim day he huffed loudly,
having been put through his paces,
as he loaded up the last big log
a horse jolted back in its traces.
The equine kicked, the pile shook,
the teamster cried,’Get clear!”
Me and the boys all dove away,
filled with a familiar fear...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I hate my life but I hate it even more when I see others hate theirs too
I'm suicidal but it kills me when I see other ppl die because of what they have been through
I like being angry but I can’t stand when someone gets mad too
You don’t know why I am mad and to judge me you should have proof
There’s no evidence of this image that we represent
We’re put through hell and expected to be heaven-sent
Everything were taught to believe
Only the opposite we see
Is it wrong if we try to be free
By giving in and forgetting the goal were supposed to achieve?
Should I pick my wants over my needs?
Even though
I know
It’s about the long run and how far we can go
Then we'll have plenty of time to do as we please
But what do i do about this anger and confusion
It’s given me an afflictive rush like a drug you'd be using
So I don’t know which side I'll be choosing
And it sucks because I'm so sucked up
Either way I won’t know when, where and what I’ll be losing
But one thing I'll remember for sure is what I started
I'll never forget the end, of my beginning and how it all departed
I’ll remember the burden on my back that was so big i knelt
I won’t forget the pain my knees felt
Would there be more pain with my strain if I fell?
Or would it hurt to ascend from the end and once again
Trust myself?
Hey friends well here's the scoop
I really like this website Poetry Soup
I don't know how to format
I'm really bad with grammar
Sometimes when I proof read my poems
They look like letters from the slammer
It took me three days to write the one 'bout Sun and Sand
Then I put through a grammar site and didn't understand
They said everything was correct I didn't need their aide
Then they said my writing level was about third grade
I don't think that was my idea of constructive criticism
They didn't have to say 3rd grade they could've used a Euphemism
They said I need to learn new words and to not repeat
I felt like throwing my lap top right into the street
But then I looked at comments and wouldn't ya know it
My friends on Poetry Soup said I am a poet!!!!!!
Thank you Constance, Rob, Jan and everyone else who knows how to constructively
criticize and for all the compliments. Happy Writing 2021!!
01/10/2021
The silver strands they hang down low
They catch the sun light and it makes them glow.
The strands look golden in the sunlight
But beautiful, no matter whatever the light.
The snow is outside the strands look quite white
But silver hanging there, in the pale moonlight.
No matter where the strands are
The beauty glows even from a far.
They are silver they are gold, colours they absorb
Wherever they are, they glow like an orb.
Today’s the day the silver strands will be gone
But the beauty beneath them will not be out shone
My mother is having her hair done today
The silver strands will soon be coloured away.
The colour put through will never disguise
The silvery twinkle that moves to her eyes
In His eyes was the wisdom of the ages.
In His hands was kindness and love.
His manner was tender and quiet.
In His smile was a light from above.
He traveled the highways and byways;
Spoke to rich man and beggar alike.
He taught in the streets and the temples,
Brought comfort and healing and light.
He spoke of His reason for coming,
And a home for the faithful and true.
At first He was loved by many,
And then by only a few.
He was taken to court in the city,
And put through a mockery trial.
He was hung on the cross without pity,
And taunted and rudely reviled.
Why did they do this to Jesus,
A Man who would never abuse?
His countrymen laughed and they mocked Him.
"He said He was King of the Jews".
"CHRIST DIDN'T PLEASE HIMSELF. AS THE PSALMIST SAID, HE CAME FOR THE VERY PURPOSE OF SUFFERING UNDER THE INSULTS OF THOSE WHOWERE AGAINST THE LORD. THESE THINGS WHICH WERE WRITTEN IN THE SCRIPTURES SO LONG AGO ARE TO TEACH US PATIENCE, AND TO ENCOURAGE US SO THAT WE WILL LOOK FORWARD EXPECTANTLY TO THE TIME WHEN GOD WILL CONQUER SIN AND DEATH."
Romans 15:3-4
(Want to see a hero? A real Man's Man? Well, there He is.)
"Living by the "death before dishonor" code is the quintessence of heroism" --quote by poet.
unbroken...
one prisoner
of war.
beaten, put through
his catechisms...
enduring
torture,
starvation,
mind games;
more beatings...
to make him
spill intelligence,
yet he doesn't comply
he...
remains...unbroken!
(yalto)
''U'' Contest, New Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme chosen: Unbroken
Date written: 11/12/2021