Long Reassurance Poems
Long Reassurance Poems. Below are the most popular long Reassurance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reassurance poems by poem length and keyword.
When the wood to the fire that fuels us runs out and our flame flickers within, we can fully rely on God’s illuminating lantern that can be seen through all forms of darkness, confusion, and has the everlasting flame of hope and a wick that never runs short. Stay in the light.
Hope is like a flame that never gives up its brightness or shine. Some days the ugly side of life opens its mouth wide and spews troublesome wind that howls and screams, trying to snuff out that flame. Other days the still flame stands alone and just wants to be found so that it may give you comfort and relief, but is often overlooked. Nerveless the flame shines on.
Hope is the security that you attain in life so you can have reassurance within you that you will not be overtaken by adversities. It is a free gift of precious armor constructed in Heaven by the finest of angels. The armor was melted down into shape, measured perfectly, and given to you to wear for all of this life like an inflated vest that keeps your head above the violent waves that this life can try to drown you in.
Hope is the promise of rain when the sky is full of storm clouds. Hope is in the night when you’re praying for morning to come quicker. Hope is in the young and the old. Hope is for the hopeless. Hope is a robe of love that is a one size fits all. Hope will find you before you seek it out. Hope offers itself to you like a secure shelter to take refuge in like being in the middle of a relentless storm. Hope always has its arms wide open for you. Take a step closer and embrace hope in an everlasting bond.
Hope will make you put one foot in front of the other to the point where your left foot will be jealous that your right foot is taking a step ahead and then your right foot will be jealous about your left foot going forward until that gentle walk in the light becomes to be a joyful and exciting sprint to the next part of life.
Dear Lord,
Lead us to stable ground and refuge for our aching hearts to rest and heal.
Help us not to overlook the hope that You offer.
We venture to far places in this life God.
We know that You are before us so that we may follow You in Your loving foot steps.
God, You love everyone and anyone.
For Your love is infinite and gentle.
Jesus Christ, blow Your powerful wind our way so our sails can catch the current and lead us to smoother sailing. Amen.
Form:
You've been sitting in the dark
Wondering for so long.
It's been forever
Since you started feeling so alone
Drowned by the voices
And haunted by the demons
A happy facade
Is all it took
To have others believe you were fine
You couldn't look so sad
If your job was to be so happy
To have the fans worry
Was the last thing you wanted
You were caughdtt in the nothingness
And your lyrics said it all
Your voice screamed out
Through the meanings behind the words
And through the music videos
But the thing is
You've been fighting on for so long
All the pressure they've brought upon you
All the words of reassurance
That never did anything
But add to it all
You've battled through depression
And your words; the lyrics
Were things you wanted said to you
All you wanted
Was to be told you worked hard
To be told you did well
You wanted others to notice
And you never really hid it.
You never saw the point
You always showed it because you believed
There was no point
In being fake happy three hundred and sixty-five days a year
You believed that people should know you
For who you were
You shouldn't be showing off a fake you
Because it got tiring
You were a role model and inspiration to many
You were a brother, a colleague, a friend and one of the best people to walk this earth.
Many will miss you
Many will remember you
But nobody will forget you
And the impact you've left
Not only on your group
But on the world
You were kind
And funny
And gentle
And weird
You were all or nothing
And that's what we loved
You were a bright soul
That changed many
Your voice was a voice others went to
When seeking reassurance, hope, happiness, cheering up and when they just needed to escape when they just felt numb
You were our go to
When things got tough
Your voice was something special
But you were something more
You've held on for so long
You've been strong for too long
And now, today, 18th of December 2017
You've left the world
But you've changed us too
You've opened our minds
And our hearts
And hopefully the world's too.
Thank you for existing, Kim Jonghyun and may you rest in peace.
[ A poem dedicated to Kim Jonghyun, a Korean singer from the group SHINee. May he rest in peace and may his fellow members and family cope well. They are in many's prayers.]
a flash of light ...
thunder clapped like cannons as
into the old tree
we scurried ...
the mouth of its little
hollowed-out gut, yawning like some
tired old man from a Dickens story ...
perhaps the chin of the
ghost of Jacob Marley, let loose in
horrid fashion from its
binding bandages ...
the soft pine-needle
floor of the space inside was
long enough to lay down on,
but not very wide,
so we squeezed together like shoes
in a box, rain pouring all the more,
and dripping off the scarred
cedar bark onto her coal-black,
jasmine-scented tresses -
damp ponytail resting coyly
on my bared shoulder ...
what now?
I could tell we both thought,
and the question hung in awkward
silence between us,
rain pattering like mice on a tin roof,
her almond Taiwanese eyes
looking at me for reassurance,
though I had no more experience than she in such situations ...
still, I crimped the edges of my
mouth up in the gentle attempt at a smile,
and she returned it, eyes
sparkling with a "yes" ...
odd, that we had
barely reached our teens,
for what came after that first shy, testing,
cotton-candy kiss, played out like
some grand romantic movie
on the big screen,
becoming a magical dance of
confusion and excitement,
and frightened, fumbling flesh -
a rain-spattered, dreamy
interplay of limbs that
seemed to hold time in its place …
'til we emerged hours later into
the golden glow of dusk,
covered in soft scratches and pine needles,
in a sweet post-passion delirium,
and quietly walked home,
(in different directions),
through the dimming mist,
never to speak of it …
again ...
well …
she moved away with her
family not long after, and though we had
promised each other to
stay in touch, I only received one post
card from her months later,
telling me about a boy she'd met,
and how they'd kissed on
their first date ...
as if what had taken place in
that old tree, deep in the
woods that rainy July afternoon,
was no more than a lark -
no more than a dream or charm or
thistle on the breeze ...
except ...
it WAS more ... for me
it was the most REAL thing -
the most tender thing,
the most precious
and sweet
and life-changing thing ...
it was the most fearfully beautiful,
most wonderfully frightening,
most exquisitely complicated thing,
that I have ever, ever ...
known.
No challenge stops her
stance is set
shoulders squared
She needs no reassurance
no protective arm
What she wants
is what she wills
she harbors no illusions
No man will tell her
what to do
She has lain out
her own way
and swept it clean
No distraction is allowed
to interfere
Her goals are set
and bannered, waiting
for distant days
She will claim them all
in triumph, never doubting
Small of stature
great of heart
she turns to face the wind
Gentle as a running stream
Unyielding as a diamond
She acknowledges
the difficulties
then passes through
No lie accepted
no truth denied
She scans the road ahead
weighs its options
gaze sure and steady
Fears are felt
then disregarded
She does not move back
she sets her grip upon
each thing she wants
Her goals must surrender
to her determination
A child in years
an elder's wisdom
sits upon her brow
Discouragements will bring no change
a mountain of resolve
Seasons change
worlds revolve
she sees it through
The end in sight
stays in sight
Such nobilities
within my child
humble me
Her father frets for her
but can never fear
This is my little bulldog
holding the world
by its pantleg
Naught that she needs escapes her
what kind of fool would try
Love at times seems
Such a petty little thing.
It’s like a pill.
It lends you
A temporary completing thrill.
But for the first time
In years where
I’ve been shrouded by my fears.
I seem to seize
A man that brings me no hateful tears.
I had forgotten
How it felt
To be treated like a princess.
To be loved for and cared.
To be humored and spared.
You lift the world
Off my shoulders.
And pull me away from this uncertain mess.
Though far away you may be.
Your closer you seem to be
At times you frustrate and very well confuse me.
No love seems ever to appear.
Then just as I lift
The flag to surrender
You draw me closer you draw me near.
Surprise me. Confuse me
And to puddles I will melt.
A simple word. A loving way.
In a message you send
Smashing through me like a wave. No sound, only intent
Blown away, yet steady and still.
I stand undoubting and without a chill.
For somehow, I know,
That the one who protects
My heart is. Most definitely will stay.
Such pain have I felt.
So harsh and refrained
They can never be divulged
Because they will
Make you so frail.
Somehow,
It evaporates.
Your voice lovingly takes it away.
Reassurance you deliver.
Strong faith you conceive.
Undiminished is your love.
So protective of me.
You glance not as if
I am carved of raw stone.
But delicate as gem sent down from thee.
You guard me and guide me.
And love so eagerly.
"My little heart" you say,
"I love you beyond my wildest dreams
And find it so very hard
To believe you will be mine for all eternity".
Such love so suddenly
I can feel once again.
Knowing now
That all pain and suffering
Were merely a wicked test.
As trials and tribulations
Walk our steady path
I’m sure we'll face it
Not with fear
But with love in our hearts.
For when I am weak
My ship you will
So gently lead.
Still comforting and preparing me
For the cruel winds we may breed.
So brave, so strong
Yet so innocent you seem to me.
But protecting my heart
Is a man with fears.
Fears just like me.
I'll protect you my dear.
Just as you have protected me
I’ll love you and put your fears to ease
And promise to love thee
Till I can no longer breathe.
BY
Amanda.M.Miller
Form:
Time To Shower...When Pervasive Odor Of Ureic Acid
Doth strongly waft, sting,
and nauseate about me
olfactory nose flying zone
bombarding cilia of
nasal passageway analogous
to displeasure wrought by
crashing, deafening, exploding,
ear splitting xylophone,
also synonymous isolated like
barenaked lady within
remote location of Lake Woebegone,
voluntarily forced to bathe
in brutally cold
mountain waters oxbow lake
vaguely resembling out
size topographical wishbone
rescue unlikely since
bajillion miles from radio tower,
thus state of the art
electronically sophisticated videophone
good as worthless resignation,
sans fate linkedin tubby
mother nature's cryogenic specimen
more'n murmuring undertone,
where huge Arctic glacier overshadows
infinitesimally microscopic human,
one speck kin zee ditched
*****sapien subsumed
under superfluous tombstone
as frozen fountain head,
where Atlas shrugged,
nonetheless incongruous yen
to purge mine offensive odor,
where civilization footprint
sole lee mine alone in wilderness
thus farcical reason (without rhyme),
atypical, farcical, and poetical title,
yours truly didst stirrup and spur
inexplicable search for soapstone,
yet prospect to don measly frame
without gay apparel
(beastie boy bit figurative bullet,
and buttressed body in buff)
immediately augmented primal scream
to trumpet heebeegeebees
(teeth chattering yodeling
rendition re: stayin alive)
from this Rhinestone
survivalist cowboy wannabe,
began feeling comfortably numb,
and immediately prone
to become human popsicle,
especially when sub zero temperature
immediately froze water splashed skin
(like glassy sheet of ice)
glancing viz albedo effect
as blindingly white
snow capped mountains outshone
albino crags, offering
absolute zero, yes none
reassurance with insulated moonstone
sleeping bag useful
as yolked with lodestone
around neck - slow death by
freezing this knucklebone,
who sought cleanliness,
(and panacea to immortality)
joining exclusive polar bear club
(Ursus Maritimus very selective,
and only chose me) even
at expense of more'n
just frozen jawbone
plus Jack frost bitten cockles turned
deep purple as inkstone
used to write re: scrawl epitaph
on icicle glommed headstone.
Great White Father,
About those anti-BadNewsMedia rallies
while our SouthWest is burning
and while our SouthEast is flooding
and wet windstorm conflagrating,
feeling the flamed-up wrath
of an angry EarthGoddess,
Why do you plant and nurture hate
and anger
against potential WinWin integral communicators?
Did it not once occur to you
to wonder why you chose to be elected
in this climate precarious time?
Why are you like BadNews zealously mendacious Saul
when we so obviously need a more integrated St. Paul?
Filled and overflowing with healthy integrity,
Holy Matriarchal Spirit-Nature.
Your mockery
and tongue-lashing
and transparent ego-promotion
will not help one child
recall what a great job you did
while made in U.S. of A. family homes
and forests are burning
longer and stronger
every devolutionary decade.
Your egotism
and anthropocentrism
further inflame climate disasters
and absence of accessible health care,
cooperatively given as received,
and healthy wealth of economic and politically reasonable reassurance
that, together,
as a healthy bicameral democracy,
we can rebuild this co-dominating
co-operative constitutional
integrity we so redemptively WinWin need
We need to gather to heal Earth's climates,
not to destroy them
with bad attitude and vilifying pathologies
rather than gratitude and health-wealth celebrations
to restore justice and invite cooperatively owned peace
into ego/eco-centered green health hearts
and wealth societies
reforesting our WinLose deserts,
Revolve
resolve our storming desserts
for past hubris
of Great White Fathers
demanding missionary colonization
inflaming idolatrous hate
rather than inviting
our seas to still
our surviving trees to witness our worship.
One difference between you
and Barack Hussein
I notice you never mention:
You look at historical outcomes
for nature/spirit WinWin Native Americans
and gleefully declare
"They lost!"
Barack recalls those same disempowering outcomes
and sadly, yet more patriotically, notes
"We all lost."
I wonder if the burning homes
and trees
can hear that terrifying empathic difference
for future integrity
of a mental and physical
mind and body
spiritual and natural healthy democracy.
It is a secret
You’re afraid to reveal
Too much of your heart
You’re afraid, so you conceal
The real you, the real truth
The hues of hope and faith
The sweetness of such grace
It is a worry
You’re too aware of
A darkness that hurries
To dim your sparkle, to dissuade
Your kindness, your blazing
Spirit, your warmth and sincerity
The feelings that make you believe
In the brilliance of a light…
That pours out over the blackest night
It is a doubt
You’re ashamed to speak of
A discouragement, a dread – clouding
Out all the good, the amazement,
The wonders that assure the soul
There is a joy that grows and grows,
A miracle so abundant it consoles,
Phenomenal love, compassion so perfect
It is a lonely ache
Surviving the hopes in your heart,
Isolation from the whisper of grace,
Seclusion from the chance
To reach out to someone with faith,
Smile through the burning of a past
Where you didn’t know kindness or the
Meaning of relationship – fulfillment
It is a detested place
Where there is no honesty or thanks
Where light never makes its way
Through the desperation, the grief, the despair
That seems to penetrate each inspiration
With seeds of distrust and reservations,
Suspicions that keep you from the answers,
The trust that stirs your heart to assurance
It is there, in the shadows
Where hearts are broken and spirits
Are destroyed by the sorrow and pain,
The endless feelings of loss and disgrace
The abundance of miseries and mysteries
Who make life feel like a horror tale
Instead of the promising narration of inspirations…
The poetry of a life who is guided
By the hand of One who knows
The heart is made up of more than one
Poem, more than one tale, more than one
Verse that leads to the conclusion, the victory
Comes in believing that the ending, the finish line
Will bring a reassurance, a confidence, more penetrating than the
Past could possibly destroy with its uncertainty and malice!
The poetry of a life – is created by
Listening to His love – His light
Breathing softly, gentling…
All the dark shadows and strife
And - FEAR is the final sacrifice!
Revealing Your Soul And Other Tension Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
January 8, 2023
Listen to your heart, your spirit
For the conscious revealing truth
The wisdom that comes from heeding
God’s instruction, His correction
And His everlasting word, the Bible
Listen to the way He reveals to you
All the insight into a living devotion
Assurance that whatever you go through
You can find the answers in your soul
Where He guides, instructs and assures
Listen to His still, small voice – the light
That reflects His image, His Holy Spirit
Who welcomes you to praise and pray
In silence, in noise – wherever you may be
Yearning for God to take notice of your need
Listen to Him through the scriptures
Who reveal His heart and open the way
To receiving guidance and direction
Through sorrows, joys and everything
With promises for your benefit and help
Listen to the prudence of a heavenly Father
One who knows your deepest thoughts
Your secret dreams and all you believe
And find encouragement through His gift
Of reassurance and grace, inspiration and faith
Listen to your heart – listen to your intent
Do you hope to win or do you hope to give a gift?
Is your heart in the right place when you pray?
Do you hope to honor God and honor the faith?
Do you breathe worship through it all? Praise God
Listen to your soul, the part of you who knows
He is with you always – forever leading you on
Through sadness and sorrow, through joy and hope
Into the moments when you know you will discover
The answers to prayers and faith that is alive
Listen… listen.. to the still, small voice of God
Who looks past your anger and shame, your worst
To the center of your heart where He sees you
As you were meant to be seen… filled with a love
That dances and sings, love that was given by Him
Listen to your heart and believe in a love that is alive
Guiding your thoughts toward intimacy with the Lord
Who knows you need His love more than anything
And hopes you will come to Him through everything
Secure in the worship of One who is the light of your soul
Listen and know… God is still in control
1 Peter 3:16 KJV 16 Having a good conscience; that, whereas they speak evil of you, as of evildoers, they may be ashamed that falsely accuse your good conversation in Christ.
(A white space. One door is labelled ''arrive'' another ''depart'' a white bed in the centre labelled ''stay''. In the bed are two women sleeping back to back, with the sheet pulled up high. A woman enters dressed semi-formally looking dazed and confused, she looks around baffled.)
Eliza: Hello, hello? My God, where am I? It''s so white, I''m so...
(A girl in the bed sits up, looks at her, frustrated at her sleep being interrupted)
Missy: You''re sooo dead.
(The other woman sits up, wearily rubs her eyes)
Martha : Missy we''ve talked about this. We let them down lightly. You mustn''t shock them like that
(She climbs out of bed, dressed in 1940''s clothing)
Martha: Nice to meet you, I''m Martha, and this delightful young thing is Missy. You are...
Eliza: Eliza. Look, where am I?
Missy : Purgatory, the ''afterlife'', heaven. Call it what you like. Honey...you''re dead.
(She steps out of bed, dressed in a school uniform, a short tie, a black mini skirt and a shirt only buttoned two thirds of the way, Eliza laughs nervously)
ELiza: No, no I don''t believe in the afterlife. When you''re dead you''re...
Missy: Dead! God..we''ve got another one on our hands Martha. You can deal with her.
Martha: Well, darling, what do you remember?
Eliza: I was in the car, with Nick, my husband, and ummm, oh, and in front of the car walked the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, a dear, all proud and tall and...
Missy: and BANG! You''re dead.
Eliza: No I must have just drifted off. This is all a dream. Isn''t it?
(She looks at Martha as if for reassurance. She receives only an apologetic look)
Eliza: Wow. Dead. That''s quite something.
(She sits on the bed)
It''s not...how I imagined. I mean, where is everyone? You must know.
Martha: You can''t know anything really. Not here. But after fifty years you begin to form ideas. I think the afterlife is separated into different rooms just like this. Every day women walk through here, weeping, confused, empty. I think this is the room where mourning mothers pass. Pushed through that door...drawn to that one. They rarely ever tell us their stories, but you can see it in their eyes you know? There''s something about a woman who has lost a child.
Eliza: Not really a woman at all.
Martha: Yes.
Form: