Long Remembering Poems
Long Remembering Poems. Below are the most popular long Remembering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remembering poems by poem length and keyword.
When your ride’n drag through the swelterin’ heat,
and you've bout had all the dust one-man can eat.
When the sweat’s running down from collar to boot,
just forty miles gone on a hundred-mile route.
The ass end of cattle is all you can see,
and the smell is so strong it makes your nose bleed.
When the flies are biting deep into your skin,
well now that's when the doubtin’ really begins.
You start to look back o'er the passing of years,
remembering the good times, laughter and tears.
You think about old friends, love, death and sorrow,
glory of the past and unknown tomorrow.
Oh, there’ve been choices I wish I'd never made,
some bar room fights where I should've walked away.
Times when I have left though I knew I should stay,
too busy drinking when I needed to pray.
It's been mostly all work and not much playing,
a whole lot of leaving and not much staying.
But if I had it to do over again,
I'm pretty sure I wouldn’t change a darn thing.
WHAT MANNER OF LOVE DOES—
What manner of love is,
Is this..
Has the Father bestowed upon us;
That we should be the Sons of God;
What manner of love is come with me embracing entertaining with me the stranger
Whom just maybe an angel, a angel in disguised…
What manner, what manner of love is…
It’s the Father, the Son and Spirit
This is what manner of love does
Liken to the deer and the stranger;
Remembering nothing more but your birth then death, within your single last breath;
Nothing left but eternity somewhere else
What manner of love is
Just remember without Him Jesus you’ll be in danger
God is love and He loves His children;
What manner of love is
The Father bestowed upon us, all this He’s given us;
Love and we are His children, His son Jesus died for us;
On the cross…what manner of love is
This is the manner of what love does;
God is the answer to All love and
We must always believe an rejoice and who is those persons whom we must trust;
God the Father and His Son Jesus;
This is what manner of love is…
What manner of love does;
10/1/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. & arranged music by Jonathan Kabore©2010
For Kabore Praise Music
From Anthology “Johnthan Kabore, Kabore Praise”
I shall be dreaming of you all night,
like a tree dreams of rain in a desert's embrace.
A whole week,
where every dawn carries the echo of your laughter,
a fragile thread binding my soul to the morning star.
A whole year,
and the seasons will carry your name,
your voice etched in the veins of every leaf,
your absence filling the silence of every snowfall.
I shall certainly come here tomorrow,
just here, to this place,
where the earth holds the weight of our footsteps
and the wind knows the secret of our breaths.
Just at the same hour,
when the sun kneels low, painting the horizon
with the colors of longing and surrender.
And I shall be happy,
remembering today,
as though time has folded itself into a flower,
pressed gently between the pages of my heart.
For even in your absence,
you are the compass of my wandering,
the dream I carry into waking,
the shadow that leans against my solitude.
And I shall wait,
with the patience of a stone kissed by waves,
knowing you are the tide
that will one day return.
STILL LIFE
flowers for a friend,
he still holds.
a silent pause.
holding his breath.
he stares at the cold
gray stone,
as if, it was all alone.
his eyes are numb,
no tears yet flow.
heart squeezes tight,
remembering this young man
he grew up with.
tortured by his friend’s descent
into the demonic control of heroin,
and how he pushed him away.
~
but in the end he cried for help,
strapped to a medical table,
unable to open his eyes,
surprised by the prayer -
so loving...so kind.
~
his friend lost his fight for life,
too far buried beneath his infirmity,
his body could not survive.
but he prays that his friend’s soul
found solace, at last,
unfettered from the flesh.
he finally lays the flowers down
on bended knee, tear drops fall
upon the grass, and walks away.
9/16/2017
Poems That Paint A Picture - 2 Contest
You have passed on, distant and silent, o departed soul,
you are no longer here; life has left you whole.
You have been laid to rest in the cold, unyielding ground,
and where your voice once answered, no echo can be found.
Oh, O re tlogetse o hlokofetše—
You have left us, erased, wiped away,
breathing no more, cold as if fast asleep today.
This letter carries no spirit,le hloka moya,
it reaches for a shadow that was once my moya.
O, how the heart has turned into stone Pelo ye thata
severed feelings, emotionally detached, left all alone.
To feel nothing, go hloka go kwa, in this silent place,
unresponsive to the tears that fall across my face.
Go senyegile—all is broken, ruined, and still,
motionless paper resting on a frozen windowsill.
Whose time has run out, go felilego sebaka,
a page deprived of joy, drifting into the dark.
Oh, but I write to you ka nnete, in complete, unvarnished truth,
remembering the living one, yo a phelago, from the days of our youth,
when feelings responded, warm, empathetic, and bright,
filled with delightful joy, radiating pleasing light.
Dear people, I am reaching out through poetry..'
I am not contest oriented..As you might gather i
Am not in my person (a blunt character) rather
I beleive also
A direct one.' And a penitent one to a degree now..
Who is aware of the attack on humanity which
Has always been there.' Yet that now is speeding
Up in the present times.' (Added to this i find i am)
An accidental insider to the ( covid era )
Due to a chance conversation 28/30 years ago which i
am now after remembering in january 2023
Wrestling with airirg the account of.' I probably need
Another four hours solid to put the memory down
In text, i have done about half, yet i find it depresses
Me and i have broken down in tears, once i dig into my
Reccolections.) I wish you all the best; may God be
With all who read anything I put out.'
Silver Fox and Contented Girl, two souls united by quest, bonded tightly.
Heard one crying in the night, so had to leave their bodies immediately.
Will she recognize we are here to help her? Contented Girl asked.
Silver Fox gave her usual head nod, inspiring her to move forward.
The child leaves her body and is sitting upright, looking around in confusion.
Not too quickly Silver Fox said, not by voice, but by placing a slowing paw.
Contented Girl was new at this; she had only been to one other awakening.
One word whispered into her brain “watch”; she knew it came from Silver Fox.
The tiny girl began moving her arms up and down. She starts to laugh.
She is remembering Silver Fox telepathized. She is going to be fine.
A blue glow surrounded the tiny girl; it was the faerie of the lake.
We are going to the light, the faerie said. The little girl took her hand.
Will they catch the murder of that little girl? I asked Silver Fox.
Silver Fox rolled her deep blue eyes; she has been training me hard.
Apparently this is a life lesson I have completely failed at; not mastering at all.
Life begins at death, Silver Fox reminded me. Not in words, but in knowing.
I know that I know this, but I keep forgetting, being human in my awake time.
I traveled back quickly landing into my body with a loud hard whomp!
I always astral travel like this; Silver Fox returned to the Neverlands.
We only meet during our dream state, where my guide is teaching me so much.
Going back over the past years of St. Patrick greenish fun, and
remembering how my Irish mother sure liked that happy shamrock day.
Everything she baked for us was emerald, like sugar cookies and puddings,
even a lime green cake with silly green decorations, drinks of questionable green.
Now, I like an Irish beer in a cold glass, and do a jig- kiss me I'm Irish(but only half).
__________________________
March 16, 2016
Poetry/Acrostic/Green
Copyright Protected, ID 16-768-837-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Get Into The Spirit Of Green
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Fifth Place
If, as they say, the cells
of the body are replaced every seven
years, then I'm a new being
since my sons were newborn.
I have died and been reborn
neither better nor worse yet remembering
feeding them while dancing to Moment's
Notice, as they attended with new minds.
Having died, as such, I find I do not mind
quiet living with the purpose of a cell
unbound by minutes or moments
as men know them. There are seven
deadly sins, seven ways of remembering,
seven stages in which to have been or continue being.
None of them recur after one's reborn
and none are known to us from before we're born.
Of the two young people to whom I was born,
one has lately died. I do not so much mind.
Although I do not, he believed he'd be reborn
and who can say what happened to his soul or cells?
Perhaps in Christ we continue being,
or with some other deity, as the churches claim monotonously, momentously,
demonically and deviously. It seems about as relevant that seven
rhymes with heaven and rhyming's a mnemonic device (for remembering).
But remembering
what? To go to the daily discipline to which you were born?
I fought seven forest fires, took seven
lovers, my sons are seven, and my mind
is the sole owner and subsidiary of these memories and moments.
Unless I am to be reborn
they disappear with me. Masefield's poem continues to be
the most honest and chilling assessment of our souls' and cells'
disbursement. I can imagine stem cell
research may lead to a cure for dementia, loss of memory
about who you are and where you've been.
If one's not been born
this doesn't matter. But if you're being reborn,
in the sense of "he not busy being born is busy being reborn" (Dylan),
then it is best and most correct to consider your last moment
of a continuum with moments endless and entirely in your mind.
The mind is made of cells and moments, seven billion of them.
Remember to be born and reborn, early and often.
Ship Ahoy Mates
A Ship Captain
His sailing Days
Observations of sunrises and sunsets
The vision of Sea Galls and Birds
The sight of Dolphins doing leaps and splashes
Maneuvering through might storms at times
The ship would deep dips, and waves would overpower the ship
The vessel going side to side
The courageous crew would do all they could to keep the ship afloat
As a Captain, my mind would always visualize sinking down into Davey’s locker
Devastation and no survivals
The Heaven’s always pulled us through with only minor incidents
Witnessed as the storm began to pass, the waves would calm down, and peace and calm would be the aftermath
My thought would be peace being still
The Moon would be presence after the storm
It was if the Moon smiled as Heaven watches
During the storm, it seemed as if the Sea Gods were full of fiery and anger
The Devil’s brew
Heaven’s guidance in continue to pursue
Sail on we did having no fear
Those were the captain’s sailing years
Now Old and retired
The Former Captain just sits and reflects on his ship days that were
Admiring all the ships from a far while observing from a nearby pier
Irony of courage, strength and responsibility as a Ship Captain
The captain’s sea tails in sharing with youngsters of his sea adventures
His journey through the Panama Canal having an exploration vibe
Meeting people from various countries and learning about their cultures
Remembering meeting a lady that became his personal mermaid wife, and their marriage lasted 52 years
She died six months later after of Cancer
The former captain says he is now alone and misses his mermaid
He has only the sea that comforts him, and a life he cherishes
He often says the skies ever so wise, and a kingdom that watches I
The captain reminisces of his life as a whole
Meaningful and plentiful
The Old Man and the Sea
The waves cast his shadow as a reflection
Storms that were
Ship in the distance in its own horizon
Commitment and determination that came through
Old man and his sea
Breezes that flow and memorable although.