Long Regarded Poems
Long Regarded Poems. Below are the most popular long Regarded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Regarded poems by poem length and keyword.
U K minus queen, where All's not as it seems; the crowds Will Gather, there will be much piety and blather, shoulders
To be rubbed, as people dive into the hub-bub at the
Shop restaurant golf club or pub, has something been
Forgotten? that prior was reported ; of ad-nausem top
To bottom, covid nineteen! prevelant on radio TV screen
Of an era with the Queen, remember; don't go getting it '
Is it still on the scene.? Or is just I'm confusing it with
The prevelance of reports on the dying of a queen?
Of course you will not catch it.' Socially if you mourn
The British Queen.! I mean how could a dose of covid
Ever so tasteless be regarded important; next to the wake
Of the reigning queen? So go, out to the highway and
Gather on the strand; wave your flags don black cry on
Others shoulders, in some anti-quarrantine.' And how '
As Horatio Spafford crossed the sea, passed the spot where his four daughters lay, he looked to the heavens and penned a great hymn. He had lost a son and business in the great Chicago Fire as well. He was now to join his grieving wife and would eventually have two surviving daughters, one who would take in orphans. It is well...it is well with our souls.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul
It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul
It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul
It is well (it is well)
With my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul
SAVED ALONE
helpless to save,
hands slipping...slipping—away
fire and water, mixed
with our Savior’s blood.
when the heart sinks—
to the lowest depths
how does one find
—-bliss?
how does one sing,
lift
one’s eyes to the royal skies?
clouds roll, reveal
the bluest eye,
cold steel
determination in tears.
something
to hold dear.
waves billow and roll,
swallow body of stars.
familial remnants
without mother or father—
waiting
for the one yet to be born—
born indeed,
to hold hopeful eyes—
feed their souls
is one of their stories
yet to be told…
Spaffords’ tearful hug
in heavenlies—
Jesus’ wet palm.
hope sailed, faith stretched—
it is indeed well...well with our souls.
11/19/2020
You grieved his soul when you stormed out that day;
Such vitriol re-echoed in your wake.
To spurn a father’s love and walk away
Was more than his poor aching heart could take.
You squandered his benevolence in vain
For passing pleasures brought no lasting joy,
Regarded his wise counsel with disdain
A libertine existence to employ.
And yet he always spoke of you with love
Forgiving your imperious self-pride,
You were the vulture, he a turtle-dove
Hoping with fervent prayer you’d turn the tide.
Your name was murmoured in his parting sigh;
How tragic that you never said good-bye.
30/08/18
'Sour grapes contest' sponsored by Mark Massey
September Premiere 2018,Any Form,Any Theme,Upto A Max Of 20 Lines Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
Regarded as a warrior
this is true
Respect shown her a
definite must
Depth in knowledge
always knew
Not one to be flattered
by the lust
The fool she had played
long ago
Life's experience gave
her an edge
Not what's said but what
you show
Her shield she had taken
a pledged
Her words came natural
as I breathe
Those words only I can
understand
Warrior yet a voice that
could weave
When she fell, on her
feet she'd land
Ability to be seductive
or even fight
Either way she knew each
she'd win
Could be fearful yet a
stunning sight
Having loved only once
being her sin
Basic life she had left
so far behind
To rise above higher and
give her all
Was the best way once
she did find
So she could answer a
warriors call
The high cost of freedom we are facing today.
Should not be regarded lightly as somethings
We throw away. Let all of God's children
Gather together and pray. For the freedom
Of worship and assembly we enjoy today.
The high cost of freedom of speech did not come cheaply.
And should not be thrown away on blasphemy, curse words
And the loss of human dignity. Honor the name of the Lord your God
And do not take his name lightly or in vain! Hallowed be
The name of the most high and holy God!
The high cost of freedom of the press did not come cheaply.
It was paid for with blood, sweat and tears. It should not
Be wasted on scandalous and yellow journalism!
It should not be wasted upon human loss of dignity.
Those are negative forces facing our nation and our world today.
We are holding the cost of human life as a disposable commodity.
By not valuing the life of unborn or new born infants. Children
Are a gift from God and created in his image after his likeness!
There is an ultimate price to pay for communism's oppression.
As they sacrifice the basic human right and need of freedom of
Expression. They hold their people in captivity. And I personally
Long for the day. "when all God's people shall be free."
These are the same hostile forces in the world today. Depriving their
Own people the basic rights to assemble and to pray. They seek to ignite us And divide us and therefore conquer us.
Seeking only to: deprive. torture, Rob, murder and to enslave us. They strongly desire to have world wide Rule and reign over us! And they will pay any price to completely destroy us! Remember the people of Hong Kong! Remember the Venezuelan people!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 03, 2020
Roxy Lea 1954
The first light I saw,
flashed in the first month of the year,
the epitome of rotational time transition,
and the harbinger of hopeful new beginning,
symbolized by the novelty of Jenus.
Born with the cardinal zodiac sign of intractable psyche,
an archetype of carnation flowering and perseverance,
prepared always to take discerned control of destiny.
Ruled by the planet Saturn, the strength of garnet trait lies
in the innate sense of my duty and responsibility,
making me a capable achiever, ambitious and determined,
oriented toward contemplation with intrinsic awareness,
regarded as down to earth, practical and pragmatic,
not faltering to face with fortitude the days of winter.
The sliding time crosses the fringe of the worn-out year,
nascent dreams are woven in the tapestry of the future.
The unsung songs are sung in sequence of the spinning seasons.
As along the destined path begins the new journey
to reach happily the destination at the edge of the time plateau,
I yearn to see another new sun rise with promise in frosty horizon.
After the auburn autumn departs with the rustling leaves of fall,
the tawny terrain becomes the serene canvas of white brilliance,
designed by the descending divine artwork of snowflakes,
blanketing the bare landscape with snowy shroud of stillness.
The sky stained with the shifting shades of ash grey,
cast the diffused light on the frozen landscape.
The defoliated trees of the tranquil thicket stand as sentinels,
the ephemeral metaphoric embodiment of silenced life.
The chromatic splendor of the setting cold sun
shapes with the spectrum of the twilight tinge
the spilling palette in the pallid landscape,
turning into a sheath of sparkling diamond,
suffused with the shimmer of silver sequins,
dancing with the ballerina of swirling snowflakes
in the congealed concerto of silence.
From the morning papers
We read the woman, a former actress
who stole a prince and was hated by the kingdom
is a duchess selling jam and pottery
Her husband, the prince, looks bewildered
We also notice the woman who was
prime minister, for a very short time found
crawling things on the carpet, given
its former occupant, this was not surprising
The woman with her short reign has
written a book, in the hope of being regarded
as something more than a misses Bean
laying her awkward talent bare in The USA
My view
is that homegrown failures
should not be exported or bought up like
water, to foreign investors
as rivers and lakes belong to the people
to swim and drown without
interference from speculatants who
muddy the water and turn it into sewers
Now I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
You can keep your marmalades
Jams and your various spreads
Just give me a bottle of HP sauce
Cos I’d rather have that instead
Not served in a plastic bottle cos
At times they can suddenly spurt
And before you really know it
You have sauce all over your shirt.
No, served from a glass bottle
It flows in a steady stream
That mixes with your hot butter
To provide a culinary dream.
You can keep your haute cuisine
Because what I enjoy the most
Is lashings of hot butter mixed with
The brown sauce on me toast
They looked at me in horror
Breakfasting at this posh caff
And one of them had cheek
To just stand there and laugh
And then to make doubly sure
Me and me habits weren’t seen
They went and put me table
Behind a large folding screen
I find it rather irksome that
The breakfast for which I lust
Is regarded by so many as a
Habit of loathsome disgust.
No, I’m just a simple fellow
And what I like the most
Is a dollop of brown sauce
Spread on me breakfast toast.
~Heavenly Father~
(Double Whitney)
Father let
your love and Word
always be
our daily bread
help us see
your light in all
that we do every single day.
May love, faith
hope, fill our life
and our hearts
today and each
day, may peace
dreams, laughter, joy
adorn soul, with all your blessings.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2012
July.25.2016
~Author's Notes:
The " Whitney " is a poetry form or style created by Betty Ann Whitney.
-Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35-39 (ESV)
Mayor Cat held the alley in high regard.
He rarely went out, it was bizarre in the yard.
Hey Grandpa! One of the disrespectful said.
Maybe you’ll fall out of the window and land on your head!
His grandmother cat boxed that Tom’s ears so hard.
We could hear his dendrites knocking all over the yard.
He had to apologize to Mayor Cat in a kindly way.
It made the rest of us smile a bit the rest of the day.
Mayor Cat had been ruling Cat City for some time.
No one gave him a hard time; he was regarded sublime.
The mama kitties made their young ones behave well
When Mayor Cat was watching them from his window sill.
They minded their manners, they said yes ma’am and no sir.
Mayor Cat watched them silently without comment or purr.
They knew better than to make a bullying meow
Except for the newest cat who got his ears boxed just now.