Long Rays Poems
Long Rays Poems. Below are the most popular long Rays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rays poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear God, I need Your presence in my heart
That only You can assure by Your grace
As You vanquish sore discouragement’s dart
Midst attacking grievous doubtfulness-trace
Keep me always inside Your love’s embrace
Upholding my soul upon wisdom-light
While ceaselessly my spirit indeed prays
To please You, doing Your will by faith’s might.
Dear Lord, forbid that from You I depart
In my pursuit to run the Christian race
Help me fulfill my best and utmost part
As Your steward taught by Your righteous ways
Though difficult and trying times I face
Enable me still with Your bliss-delight
Worshiping earnestly along trust-rays
To please You, doing Your will by faith’s might.
Dear Saviour, I exclaim, “How great Thou art”
Thank You for Your strengthening guarding brace
With Your joy right from my redemption-start
Inspiring, cheering me up all my days
Clinging to You with my whole being’s praise
Sin-causing distress-gloom I dare to fight
Fortified through Your precepts always right
To please You, doing Your will by faith’s might.
Dear Christ, Prince of peace, to You, my life lays
While for Your honour I entrust my plight
Empower me toward servant height’s raise
To please You, doing Your will by faith’s might.
*Ephesians 6:6 Not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.
June 4, 2019
1st place, "YOUR CHOICE, any form, any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 6/5/2019.
As I Walk In The Forest
As I walk in the forest,
Leaves fall passed my face.
The trees looking down,
With the winds cool embrace.
As I walk in the forest,
And the suns rays I see.
Looking down through the branches,
As the leaves rain on me.
As I walk in the forest,
I hear each new sound.
Birds in the tree-tops,
Bugs on the ground.
As I breath in the forest,
With its fresh golden air.
No pollution around me,
No hurt like out there.
As I walk in the forest,
Like so many before.
A new life develops,
As each seed hits the floor.
Now I'm leaving the forest,
With its scent of decay.
But that life will continue,
Now and each breaking day.
It is that time of the year
When everybody comes out of their fears
Every Soul is enjoying this phase
For weather is too good these days
After the freezing winters
That sucked last drop of blood from every Splinter
Gale is no longer gale
It has become a pleasant Breeze
So good it feels when it touches your skin
A bit cold but delightful like a cozy inn
You close your eyes and you feel
As if Wind is penetrating in your veins
Substituting all worries
With a glint of warm fuzzies
Sky too is dark blue these days
Stars emit more brighter rays
Moon looks bigger and more bewitching
Driving you crazy and do unhitching
Long walks under the moon
And enjoying solitude’s tune
Along with shadows of the trees
And sweet, sweet sound of the Breeze
when it is awakening the leaves
From their tiresome winter sleep
How amicably the World walks and sings
While paving ways for the Spring
Can you feel it??
(Paghunda Zahid)
“Freedom Fall 8 and the Removal of Ray Bans”
The Dilettante Diaries: New Chapter
Sometimes it’s necessary
to
Lose
to
Win
Freedom Fall 8
Sans Rays
A new chapter.
Light, waves
and
dances
barefoot
with the
Soft gumshoes
Hustling to Win
with the
Gilded Morai
(Lovejoy-Burton/September 2018)
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eight-ball
Break:
One person is chosen by some predetermined method (e.g., coin toss, lag, or win or loss of previous game or match) to shoot first, using the cue ball to break the object-ball rack apart. In most leagues it is the breaker's opponent who racks the balls, but in some, players break their own racks. If the breaker fails to make a successful break—usually defined as at least four balls hitting cushions or an object ball being pocketed—then the opponent can opt either to play from the current position or to call for a re-rack and either re-break or have the original breaker repeat the break.
If the 8 ball is pocketed on the break then the breaker can choose either to re-spot the 8 ball and play from the current position or to re-rack and re-break; but if the cue ball is also pocketed on the break then the opponent is the one who has the choice: either to re-spot the 8 ball and shoot with ball-in-hand behind the head string, accepting the current position, or to re-break or have the breaker re-break.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1sDx8VDzB8
About the time the Equinox arrives,
something stirs inside me and wonder revives.
In waning rays of summer’s sunlight,
the leaves once green magically ignite.
Then along mountains, trees are ablaze!
I know I’ve seen the last of summer’s days
Eye candy for the soul are hues both soft and bold:
from amber and russet to scarlet and gold.
Autumn exhales, and the leaves break free.
Like children they twirl as if with great glee.
Deep purples and pinks streak twilight skies.
Painting God’s splendor, they fill up my eyes.
Harvest time comes and the crops in each field
bear proof of a generous God with their yield.
Fall sings a song of wind whistling low;
the crackle of bonfires; the caw of a crow.
In Autumn’s sweet breath, so fresh and giving,
I find gratitude and gladness in living.
I wish fall would linger because she brings bliss
till cold touches my lips with a snow-wet kiss.
Line of inquiry: “the essence in us is the same
as the essence of the sun”
Dweller of Our Heart
I can’t hear its crackle or sizzle. What am I?
Swaddled in the all-encompassing wisdom
of light; it burns slow. I develop: a seed to die.
My eyes move as my head spins around the world.
There are only so many spaces my foot will land;
not on the moon; moonbeams in my burnt-orange hair.
Warm-blooded rays reach out and touch; skin to skin.
I illuminate someone else’s countenance with my smile.
My Summer eyes grab hold of theirs; a plum blush.
When Winter comes, I’m far-removed ; housebound.
Still, I will be replaced; it's not me. What are they?
It's a winter wonderland
pure, pristine, clean,
cleansed of the darkness
given to the transition of the light
release from the cold blackness of night.
The morning sun rise glistens
reflective rays listening
winds blowing off the cotton ivory coverlets
from every bouncing branch
within the chill of winter's first dance.
Snug and warm within closed doors
safe, protected in the confines of these walls
the season echoes a recurring call,
of peace, goodwill, promised hope
from the gifts of Heaven's host.
A celebration of life living from sacrifice
the heart fires begin to ignite
decorating trees, ornaments and lights
for recollected finds
in memorialized Christmas time.
Two thousand years dusting the centuries
of the Christ child's entry
his birth along the once desolate earth
renewing hope, joy, promises and love
gifts from our Creator above
it's the bounty and gratitude
revealed in
the first snow
reminder of where
we have been..
Everything in the past that could get her down
Plays in her mind to the sound
Of sweet torture.
It's a scorcher
Like the burning suns rays on a hot day
Traumatic thoughts must have his way
Burn those memories!
Don't allow them to resurface
Find an outlet for your energy
Don't let them make you feel worthless!
Traumatic thoughts depressingly inteferes
Fades away and then reappears
He recalls every failure
All her socially awkward behavior
Scattered in her mind
Stop being so unkind...
To yourself!
Place these memories on a shelf
Tranquilize those memories!
Because they want to resurface
Find an outlet for your energy
You are not worthless!
You are beautiful and bold
Get a hold
Of yourself...
Restore your health.
Spring
summons
season of
rebirth, where birds
build nests for new-borns.
Nature's palette spreads joy
as bright colours flourish with
buttercups, daffodils, bluebells,
blooming with rows of vibrant tulips.
Golden orb begins to spread its warm rays,
virgin summer roses bloom like rubies.
My inner child smiles at butterflies,
fledglings expand their tiny wings.
Mild rain hydrates perfumed buds.
Rainbow dahlia garnish,
under turquoise skies.
Sweet pea prolongs
around trees,
screening
stalks.
I
shiver
at the loss
of my blossoms
crumbling in Autumn.
Green turns yellow then brown,
as clouds grieve and bleed charcoal.
Auburn leaves decorate soaked paths.
Flock of birds soar to pleasant pastures.
Flashbacks from laid to rest souls resurface.
Winter weaves frozen cobwebs as winds howl.
Dark days, cold nights with nature naked,
sun hides its glow as ground hardens.
Snow kissed evergreen sepals,
covered in pristine white,
appear grand until,
bitter raindrops,
create ice
upon
them.
What is love, really? someone asked, and my mind flew
Like a bird through the sky of memories, through valleys of deep silence,
Trying to unravel a question like a riddle woven from stars,
For often we lament that life is a mist, an endless race,
Where time evaporates like morning dew in the sun's rays,
But love... it bends time, slows the clock like a slow waltz,
In the moonlight, it stretches seconds like silk gliding over skin,
Turns minutes into memories that shine like diamonds in the dark,
It is a flame that burns slowly, not a wild fire, but a constant light,
That warms the soul from deep within, it is in the silence between words,
In eyes that speak without sound, in hands that hold more than fingers,
They hold entire universes, and a promise of eternity without speaking it,
Love is where chaos transforms into harmony,
Where the heart breathes like a calm ocean, where even silence,
Becomes a symphony written just for you, it is not perfect,
Not always easy, but it is real, and in its presence,
Everything finds its place like stars in the clear night sky.