Long Remit Poems
Long Remit Poems. Below are the most popular long Remit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Remit poems by poem length and keyword.
WASTELAND
possessed
by words
yet
discourse-less
implicit
intuition
meandering
in a
web of language
a whirling
vortex of
silent words
strangely
laconic
a tapestry
the plaintive
&oblique
intertwined
the detritus
of yesterdays
scattered over
the stutter
of time
happenings
high points
of drams
self-enlarging
onto
contrived
corridors
symbolism
touchstones
of childhood
&death
abstracts
in mode&tone
clusters
of repeated
thought
of the
vernacular
themes
juxtaposed
in imagery
confessions
of decay
&despair
fables
of meaning
orchestrated
organised
in ballads
of personages
issues
elucidated
declaimed
the constant
delusion
of the soul
in explicit
contrasts
echoes
of feeling
in conversations
back&forth
the minutiae
of the
domestic day
direct
expressions
of the
intuitive
philosophical
spectating
crowding
the mind
modulating
the present
of an alien
world
a truth
beyond
beyond
our
remit
Tiger,tiger burning bright
Now fast fading into night,
Once you stood for grace and speed.
Now thanks to our rapacious greed
Signs of your presence dwindle fast,
Not much longer can you last,
Victim of fear and ignorance,
Your bones ground for profit-balance.
Old men seek fresh zest from your dead bones
Powdered to resurrect their dead stones.
For this a noble life you do remit
Until this earth your species quit.
Will we be left with phantom photographs
To haunt us as your final epitaphs?
Are you to become the new dinosaurs
Wiped out by man's neglect of earthly laws?
Is this the legacy we wish to leave
One that will cause us all to grieve
For idly destroying such a savage beauty
By mindlessly forsaking to life our duty?
Confession is the telling of our sins to a duly authorized priest, for the purpose of abstaining forgiveness
We are bound to confess our mortal sins. But it is well also to confess our venial sins.
The chief qualities of a good confession are three: it must be humble, sincere and entire.
Our confession is humble when we accuse ourselves of our sins, with a deep sense of shame and sorrow for having offended God
Confession are sincere, when we tell our sins honestly and truthfully either exaggerating nor excusing them
Confession is entire, when we tell the number and kinds of our sins and the circumstances which change their nature
If we cannot remember the number of our sins, we should tell the number as nearly as possible, and say how often we may have sinned in a day, a week or a month and how long the habit or practice lasted.
If without our fault we forget to confess our mortal sin Tour Confession is worthy, and the sin is forgiven; but it must be told on confession if it again comes to our mind
It is grievous offense willfully concealed a mortal sin in Confesasion must not only confess it, but also repeat all the sins he has committed since his last worthy confession.
The priest gives us a penance after Confession, that we may satisfy God for the temporal punishment due to our sins
The Sacrament of Penance remits the eternal punishment due to sin but does not always remit the temporal punishment which God requires as satisfaction for our sins
God requires a temporal punishment as a satisfaction for sin, to teach us the great evil of sin and to prevent us from falling again.
The chief means by which we satisfy God for the temporal punishment due to sin are: Prayer, Fasting, Almsgiving, all spiritual and corporal works of mercy, and the patient suffering of the ills of life
Spiritual works of mercy are 7: To admonish the sinner, to instruct the ignorant, to counsel the doubtful, to comfort the sorrowful, to bear wrongs patiently, to forgive all injuries, and to pray for the living and the dead.
The Chief corporal works of mercy are 7: To feed the hungry, to give drink to the thirsty, to cloth the naked, to ransom the captive, to harbor the harborless, to visit the sick and to bury the dead
See I told you so
That I could somehow or other do it
It was always in my remit
Unfortunately for some or other
reason unbeknownst to me
Kept so well hidden I had to
search deep inside myself for
the merest slightest glimpse or
sense of it
But I am eternally so grateful I did
because if I didn't
I would be left without anything at
all to cling on desperately to
So if nothing else I now find myself
after and at last
In a safe happy place currently still
alive today
To right my ohh so many wrongs
of yesterday
I am ever so sorry to say I made now
enabled to live and accept responsibility
for them
Given granted graciously a second chance
Both lucky and blessed and be able
to now say
I told you so
And not especially for me and my
redemption sake
But to thank you instead and not
a fool out of you
For having and place your faith and
unaired belief in me
When everyone told you not to bother
put and save yourself first and foremost
And condemn those that have sinned
in the past and hold it forever against
them as permanently on their record
Until the day they die and so eventually
prepare to meet their
Reverand and Maker
And then let him be the judge
Please do not try to categories me
so as in order I may fit into your own
personal remit
Or what box you want me to be placed
So other's can jump upon the same painted
wagon encircled in the pyrex flame's
These savage's attack with such vitriol
and vigour
As we're they once now wishing to pay
forward for nothing more than to revenge
An eye for an eye natural enforced justice
Do unto others as others would do unto you
No 1 turns a blind eye or looks the other away
Until the day as such comes when
In the land of the blind the 1 eyed
Man is King
And he can get away with anything
Because he alone narrates the narrative
And has everyone's ear lent
On a wind-tossed day at Port Gale
I saw a small ship out at sea,
amidst the tall white-caps it sailed,
though it did so clumsily,
pitching back and forth rapidly.
I knew not who sailed upon it,
thought I felt a growing worry,
as the fo’castle sank a bit.
With a crack something inside failed,
and the vessel lurched violently,
the crew screamed out their travails
as the hard motion hurled them free,
until their forms I could not see.
A head or leg would rise and flit,
but then just vanished utterly,
no lives would the harsh waves remit.
The small ship now rendered so frail,
and the waters would let none flee,
its hull bobbed like a carcass whale
awaiting the sharks morbidly,
did God not hear the desperate pleas?
If He did, He cared not a wit,
or saw need for this tragedy,
but His reasons would not admit.
The bow dipped, it sank completely,
plunging down on its final trip,
the scene of such calamity
is just ocean that churns and spits.
A harvest moon shown so brightly last night
Joy filled my spirit when I saw it
A huge round golden ball in my line of sight
This morn the opposite, fog hid sun's light
To it, I could just totally submit
A harvest moon shown so brightly last night
Only one more night of supermoon's delight
Then it will slowly begin to remit
That huge round golden ball in my line of sight
Each year the harvest moon I lovingly cite
It is such a touching time in its orbit
A harvest moon which shown so brightly last night
How many more harvest moons awesome light
Will I be allowed to see with God's permit
That huge round golden ball in my line of sight
God gives life, makes His children's birthright
I'm so glad He let me see just a tidbit of
The harvest moon shown so brightly last night
A huge round golden ball in my sight
Not for a contest, just seeing if I could still write one
The summer of great outdoors
Has become the winter of discontent.
Families hunkering down indoors,
Tring to find various ways to be content.
Damage of economic uncertainty,
I rather have muddy boots to clean.
And reasons to live and think positively.
Before the cold winter froze my dream.
Tapping into those demons beyond the remit
There is emotional privacy creating space.
Linked family and friend’s intimate closet,
Estate, separate and safe, a kind time waste.
A path less taken to the peak of intent,
The new belief of seeing around corners.
Being heroic in the winter of discontent,
We find ourselves asleep with desires.
What visions mean to change our course
From oceans dragging the world under.
Soughing waves gasp for breathless pause,
Awaken to find darker things in the hour.
We feel the darkness invading our soul.
Fear, anger, and blame, waiting to explode.
Doubt held the reins balancing the world,
All sides of the human condition grow cold.
I let it slip away, that final day-
with judging soon to come, it waited there.
This prize I'd captured in my special way
went flying instantly into the air.
I'd held it in my heart for a long time-
until my mind reworked it, as should be.
My interaction led my soul to climb
beyond the vision that had come to me.
What would become of my creative task-
would it be rated as I wished it might?
This question stirred inside as I would ask-
was it not worthy on the judgment site?
My poem- win or fail- did not remit;
I let it slip away- deleted it.
April 28, 2023
Contest: I Let It Slip Away
Sponsor: John Lawless
—Who Does That Now?—
The old audacity is gone—who now would dare
to spend the heart where no return is due;
to stake one's inward kingdom nakedly there,
and give what, once surrendered, cannot accrue?
We have grown wise beneath the market's eye:
even our tenderness must justify.
I have watched a father at the hospital door
rehearse the cost of every borrowed hour;
a son send money, then send nothing more,
because the receipt had proved his filial power.
I have seen two lovers weigh a word unsaid,
each guarding what the other might have bled.
And love—who speaks that ancient word today
without some hidden clause beneath the tongue?
We give, but somewhere waits the inward how
much shall return, and when, and from whom?
The hand extends; the secret ledger wakes;
even the kiss has learnt what silence takes.
Some kneel because the grave has touched their door;
some seek a garden when their flesh grows old;
some praise the heavens lest the heavens keep score,
and dress their fear in sanctified gold.
Their foreheads bow; their inward arithmetic
keeps counting what the gods may yet remit.
Yet once I saw a woman leave her bread
beside a stranger sleeping in the rain;
she neither woke him, nor stood there to be read,
nor looked behind her when she crossed the lane.
The dawn found only crumbs upon the stone—
and nothing there to make the kindness known.
Then, for one breath, the universe broke rank:
the moon went dark inside the morning sun;
the stars seemed seeds the ruined heavens sank
beneath the earth, where no commandments run;
and from that unaccountable abyss
rose not a god, but something older than bliss.
Where no return remains, the heart still gives;
beyond all recompense, its giving lives.
Let need no longer counterfeit the prayer,
nor fear make heaven out of answered care;
for love, once loosed from recompense and claim,
becomes the one fire that does not ask the flame.