Long Recreates Poems
Long Recreates Poems. Below are the most popular long Recreates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recreates poems by poem length and keyword.
I was gratefully listening
to a theologian musician
repeat a rabbinic tradition
of four levels of resonant soul:
individual (egosystemic),
communal (local),
social (cultural, national identity)
global (Earth,ecosystemic).
A mature musician,
like a wise theologian,
sees these four soul identities
as circular
double-binding octaves,
mutually informing up
and down,
in
and out.
As EarthMother's original staging womb
organically recreates
using the fractal language of DNA inscription,
prediction,
predication,
to recreate yet another individual soul,
as BrahmanEarth outside soul
is to AtmanEgo inside spirit
of dynamic resonance,
preferring regeneration as positive
as more power-indwelling
than degeneration as negative.
So, it was jarring
when this musical theologian
referred to human bodies
as machines,
rather than organisms.
Machines seem to be left-brain dominant
power reductions
as compared with
Left with Right-balancing organisms.
For robotic machines,
punishing or rewarding communities,
leviathan bureaucratic
autocratic societies,
lifeless planetary spheres,
power is either on or off,
energy is positive or negative.
For living organisms,
individual through holonically Earth-wombed,
power is both regenerative
and degenerative,
positive and negative;
Not digitally governed by our either/or switch
but analogically healed, developed
and wounded, decomposing
with both/and holistic interdependent consciousness.
Human nature
sounds like a robotic analogy
and hopelessly predictable,
dully rational
as a LeftBrain dominant machine.
Humane nature/spirits
feel organically metaphoric
polyphonic
polypathically rounded
theo/eco-logical music composed
and decomposed,
marvelously trans-rational
as left with right hemispheric balance,
rhythm, communal
pitch, cultural
resonance, EarthWomb global
Soul,
ZeroZone regenerative
more powerful than degenerative,
Yet organic cycles
and recycles,
purpose
and repurposes of life
decomposing death
require both
to recreate
recompose
recologize
recognize
theologize
musical soul
as powerful
resonant
both-thought/and-felt structure.
But, when we started singing together
I knew
for sure
he, as we,
feels more and better
as metaphoric musicians
than analogical machines.
The challenge of our time
in Earth's gospel chorus rhyme
recreates humanity's performance
on this climate crisis climb
This climate chaos time
evolves in sacred blooming
Bellowing
Mellowing lives off key
in glee
on spirit Mother's EarthShip
This EarthShip Choir
sings a new Mother's song
meant to cling in gracious consort
within habitat of Earth's concert
Home
sweet home
of sacred green sharp muses
building civil and humane
peace and just refrain
Worthy of divine,
so fine,
remind of Earth's wild music
regenerating
resonating Gaian birth
On our climate chaos climb
the challenge of our time
in Earth's gospel chorus rhyme,
praying for more well seasoned
reason.
What if humans fled to a distant star?
Seeking a better world, but traveling far?
Missing the truth, that Earth was the best.
Leaving behind a planet, to find eternal rest.
Two paths lay ahead, for Mother Earth to roam.
A path of rebirth, or a destructive home.
She chose the path of renewal, where memories bloom.
Cribbing years together, about a species in tune.
The architectures crumble, as relics of the past.
Books that once held knowledge, now decay so fast.
The buildings whisper secrets, with a haunted sigh.
As elephants and wolves roam, with a curious, wandering eye.
Tigers and leopards stalk, through the empty streets.
Ruling over a kingdom, where humans once held seats.
But as the centuries pass, Mother Earth begins to heal.
Embracing the wild, and all its secrets reveal.
If Mother Earth chose to regenerate the wild,
she unleashes her power, in a symphony of storms.
The tsunamis rise high, the earthquakes hit and fade.
She flushes out the human inventions, and a new world is made.
Oh, there go the buildings that stood tall long ago.
Through this furious storm, she purifies herself, and starts anew.
She recreates the creatures with care, and fosters them with love.
She learns from her mistake, the mistake of evolution from above.
The ecosystem regenerates, in harmony and balance true.
Streams flow in the mountains, animals roam the planets anew.
Life bursts forth in vibrant hues, as Mother Earth starts to thrive.
She forgets the past, but learns from it, and a new world comes alive.
She creates magical elements, elements that will never harm.
Till the sun never rises, till she loses her form.
But for now, she shines so bright, in all her radiant might.
A new dawn breaks, and Mother Earth takes flight.
RECREATED SYMPHONY OF SPRING
On the frigid wings of the northern wind
with frayed feathers the winter flies away,
clearing haze from depth of sky’s misty mind,
resurrection brings blue on canvas grey.
On the chiffon clad meadow of grass new
colors of sunburst sky horizon brings.
Dawn makes sparkling crown on grass laced with dew,
nature spreads out the tapestry of spring.
On cradle of sprouting leaves bloomed buds swing,
on crescendo of color petals dance.
Zephyr carries fragrance on dulcet wing,
butterflies flutter on its tune in trance.
The sound of music nature’s beauty brings,
recreates for me symphony of spring.
February 25, 2019
Syllable count : 10 each line
(Checked on howmanysyllables.com)
Jesus is the Master Potter
By Franklin Price
09/14/2023
Jesus, is the master potter
We, the followers His Clay
He molds us into shining lamps
Reconstructing day by day
He lays His hands upon us
Kneads and shapes us 'til we're done
He is the Master Potter
Who recreates us, He's the one
As cracks appear, remolds us,
Provides our structure with relief
Then fuels us, and lights us
To be His lamps that shine belief
He trims our wicks when needed
To even light the darkest hour
Leading others to salvation
His lamp has given us that power
He adds a globe of glass or crystal
To let the light burn in the wind
To guide lost souls to heaven
For since the garden, all have sinned
He cleans our globes when they have darkened
And our lamps are not as bright
And we doubt that we are able
To shine out believing light
If Jesus had not died for us
On that cross upon the hill
Would be no need to have our lamps
For other's nights, our lights, to fill
It was for you and me,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,
It was for you and me,
He took that gloomy tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured hours,
It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the heaviest penalty,
Was supposed to be ours,
It was for you and me,
He wailed the saddest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,
Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,
It was for you and me,
When Jesus' death sufficed,
Christ rose from the dead,
Our sins He paid the price,
His great mysterious love,
Knocks the door of each man's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,
He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,
Bicameral education
recreates feelings of deeply safe integrity
and widely sustainable win/win nonviolent communication
Within
and between
green communion experiential
mindbody
healthwealth integral
organic systems
whole
holistic
openly regenerating
Holy Ego/EcoSystemic
health redemptive
safe sustainable whole wealth potential.
To paraphrase Nancy Pelosi,
Our educational strength
is our multicultural
inter-religious
indigenous
universal wisdom
While our ecological health power
is our sustainable
integral
unitarian
Whole Open EarthView
unveiling BiCameral CoPassion.
The ill woman who lies in the wheelchair
was well-spoken, happy, generous, elegant, and fair
and she lived a life of exuberant riches;
now in poor health, she's at the mercy of others.
Her frizzled mind recreates past images in photographs
of adored faces, she posted them among her artifacts;
why did they abandon her to a detrimental state?
Didn't her full hands offer generosity and not shake?
Caroline was a nurse and took care of wounded soldiers,
often her white uniform was stained with blood,
nothing scared her, she continued to save lives;
won't anyone honor her now, not when she's under the sod?
Jim-I-Nator,
chase creator,
imitates a song,
recreates a major,
sail's you to saviors,
reinvents the round,
reelects the tasers,
summons it in a bong...
Bites it right out
just like the Chong.
Waits in a mile-
just for the hump,
butts heads with the viral-
just like the slums,
does a downward spiral like a swivel,
dials 911 to spy on individuals,
random as hail in July,
hits like nails-
out on the lake in the sky-
just where I had wanted to die.
Like a Laker in a coat,
like a disastrous danger running wild and remote-
just like Ebeneezer Scrooge with a check book and the holy ghost,
just like Jesus on an electric motorcycle,
flying with angels-
jimin' with a bagel,
rotating at an angle,
fly's in the sky like a needle near the eye!
Random as hail in July!
Eats prunes,
and then pray's not to die!
Greets his shrooms with venom,
beats his moods with a pendulum,
hears through stethoscopes when he's endin' the run,
goes to the gym to have a little fun!
Waits for the time to stand still,
eats all the cops in between him and his pillz!
Says **** jail!
My ******** is a nail!
**** being out on bail!
I'll still be here until the killer is unveiled!
Within the singing stillness of the sphere, I awaken from a breeze,
Consciousness, a proud guardian in the temple of endlessness,
The eternal fire in the hands of time, keeper of the ephemeral flame,
Watches with fervor the dawn's bleaching within the womb of the soul,
The caress of each now, a sacred breath,
In the sunrise of thought, a discreet flight through the branches of eternity.
The eyeball, a beacon of enlightenment, ever attentive and vigilant,
Stalks the hidden realm catalyzing the clear waters of pivotal sight,
Its nerves are canvases, meanings unveiled in premeditation,
Sometimes, it bows under the intensity of exposure,
Other times, it recreates under the caress of fulfillment, when the nagging prophecy
Receives the embodied crown of revelation.
Casting aside the quantum thread of ignorance,
The arms of wisdom embracing the sparks of knowledge,
The knowing heart's tears transform ashen puzzles
Into mosaics reflecting the passion and sharpness of new awakening,
For the dance of consciousness, luminous and aware,
Gently removing the eruptions of the sterility of indifference,
Surpassing the boundaries of the self in the search for ecstasy.
A lantern of meditation in the deluge of full light,
The shared and ample harvest - no soft crumb of bread lost,
Encrusted in the deceptive slab, the sheen of false gravity,
The splendor of the guardian, never overshadowed - the eternal morning, pierced by the torch,
Revealing the clear brilliance of joy - the identity of the pilgrim heart, dispelling shadows of blindness.
In the attentive web of the moment, consciousness weaves the scattered shards
Into luminous portraits, recontouring the open faces of generosity,
Discarding the careless spindle of inattention, the clear mark of apathy,
Born from willful ignorance, the seeker animates the hand of the attentive -
To listen! To see! To feel! To move in the rebirth of deed!
The spirit enlivened through the profoundly accented humility of grace.