Long Repeating Poems
Long Repeating Poems. Below are the most popular long Repeating by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Repeating poems by poem length and keyword.
Soul Sounding
I have felt my soul
Solid
Within me
Lighten,
Ascend
Into God’s focus
Into communion
That all my spirit and being
Be known by Him…
Thus, often I have heard
My soul to coo, to whisper,
To resounging sing “Alleluia!”
But
Many battles have come
So my soul shouted — imploring —
Though wordless, more
— like a fledging’s shrieks
And
In many hours of weakness
I have Felt and Heard my soul’s
g r o a n i n g
that all-being, transcening,
supplicating weeping
Always answered by ABBA’s strengthening
Enfolding.
Then
In this extreme physical pain,
In this recent onslaught of unknowns new
that finds me weak and meek
facing giants who claim rule over my limbs,..
Yesterday,..
Twice
As they were treating me,
I heard my soul — low and constant —
g r o w l i n g
About which I had to seek biblical reference,
because in anger, growling is sinful.
Tho, I say truly and newly within
My soul’s so sounding there was the comforting
No words could speak.
Was the interior presence and noticed warmth
Of a kind of Mother Lioness
Shielding
Which i actually envisioned while I heard
and felt the gutteral sounds;
While I heard people there in the room
say, “Buck-up, Sally. Hush!”
About which I did feel quick anger,
For i could not have been trying any harder
With my tried and weakened strength;
Trying to keep my body still —
All my remaining efforts being spent in prayer,
Repeating, “Lord, have mercy.”
There was in fact
Comfort
Coming
Like a blanket, covering.
My soul’s defending, guarding, audibly
— Growling —
(Interior notes-of my mothering God,
newly known, as never before, consciously within me)
Lion of Judah…Beckoned Lioness
Over the soul, Christ within…
I heard growl…
—————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally you ng eslinger 3/18/23
Thanks be to God,,. ****
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~I Love You Now So Very Much More~
(Free Style)
I love you now so very much more
More than I have ever done before
You are my evening moonlight
And you are my morning sunlight
I want to tell the whole world about our love
Want to get on our roof top and loudly shout
Because often you make me smile so very much
You make me so very happy from the inside out
I want you to know the true meaning of love with me
And see the love I have for you in this heart of mine
So I think I'll just keep on repeating and telling you
My Darling how very much "I love you" line after line
Sometimes words are not that very easy for me to say,
Because at times I don't know how, where or when to start,
Perhaps it might be possible to show it by writing you a poem
And find the key that will open at last for me your heart.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladypd2000
copyright@2014
December,27,2014
Songs Thongs Bongs and Schlongs
I once wrote that the purpose of life is to live
In the infinity of our universe
Anything growing
Moving
Reproducing
And dying besides a star
Is the rarest of all rarities
The most precious of the products of time
And for any life that can think these thoughts
live for purposes beyond the moment's survival
Are the rarest of the rarest among the rare
An opalescent blue glow
Love's peace patiently waiting for the quiet
The quiet of the breaking sun
Somewhere beyond the racing din of fears
Rise the hopeful green hills
Willing trees silently breathing
Life into all
Who walk beneath our greening canopy
Into the den of cacophonous dungeons
Panic leaps from its chains and runs screaming round and round
Always repeating threats of imminent silence
Imminent silence in the darkness
Above, the maelstrom reflected dimly into the swirling golden mist
Someone's body cowers wide-eyed, staring into and staring back at no one knows
Somewhere between whispers, whimpers, and screaming resigned to death
at the center of the whirlpool
So much violence in the way we think
The way we talk
And the way we approach problems
Any problem
Violence
Weapons
Fighting
Sex
All permutate through our culture
Our most popular culture
Popular movies
TV shows
Books
All including the drama of violence
Gun violence
Is this all we understand
Is this the only way we know to react to our existence here
We destroyed everything we touched
Ignoring all of the consequences
We fail to think ten steps or even two steps into the unintended consequences
All in the hopes of survival
And escape from pain
Somewhere between incinerating panic dreams
And incessant waking fear
My love walks alone
Unfamiliar voices may muffle
One resounds clear
My love’s alluring voice
My love engorges
As the shape
Of their ass reveals
The dampening thong
Thy silence of piece
Through the glass
Panic sublimates
Into the blue smokes
Coming from the buds of the morning sun
The Fall
On the anniversary Adam coaxed Eve,
complaining, distracted, to the clearing
for the invented ritual.
He had been uneasy since,
repeating actions in certain ways as if,
had he got things just so,
THAT might be taken back.
She too had organized a routine
around planting, milking, nursing--
also the same. Yet she was satisfied.
But now there was this extra thing,
and Adam killing the new lamb
to which Cain, now crying,
had been so attached.
The kindle sparked uncertainly
as he blew gently through cupped hands.
The fire gradually caught
and he lifted the lamb onto the grate.
Together they then stood
staring into the rising smoke,
Adam squinting for a shape, a sign,
the image of himself.
Wasted words of Poetical Incorrectness
Words are precious commodities not traded
as their value is just too high.
Words of falsehood are a waste of words
as in time the truth will always negate the lie.
Like running the water when brushing your teeth
is a waste of precious H 2O.
Words said in abundance when there's no one listening
there is a waste there also.
Words that are used when they don't need to be said
is a squandering of valuable assets.
Like a contractor building a house
that will never be used ,lived in or possessed.
Using valuable words to ones, that are unwilling to hear
is a waste of your breath, your ink and your time
Like Jesus said when talking about his opposers
it's like "throwing pearls to the swine".
Superfluous words are a needless repetition
a use of words that is unnecessary
Repeating the same things just so they can be heard
this is a warning to the unwary.
Words that are spoken to those unable to hear
are words that fall on deaf ears
Words that are written that are never read
are wasted words falling like the poets tears
Using unkind words in a heated rage is a waste of
words as they incinerate the page
Sometime later in a calmer state those words are
regretted and usually replaced
In conclusion, my dear fellow poets who write words
of troubled sorrow and eloquence
Let's not waste our precious time, ink and talent
on those who practice poetical incorrectness.
John Derek Hamilton
February 02,2016
Written: July 06, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Every day is special in some way.
A chance to cherish the moments that sway
But often troubles come our way.
Causing us to stumble and dismay.
Remember this: problems are fleeting.
As clouds pass, they're not worth repeating.
You never agnize what tomorrow brings.
An alteration in the wind, a shift of things
You may have successes, cherish some excesses,
But life's true worth is not in material possessions.
For strong winds may come, blow away everything,
leaving you with nothing but a heart that can sing.
Our lives are akin to the cold winter snow.
Aesthetic and delicate, but soon it must forego.
The sun burns hot, and away it goes.
Reminding us that time always flows.
One day to another, no one knows when it ends.
So cherish each moment and bear amends.
Cherish laughter, love, and tears.
Life is but a fleeting series of years.
Happiness comes to those who pray.
To their maker, they humbly say,
Talk to Him anytime, every day.
Entrust to Him your worries, your everything.
If you just don't agnize what tomorrow brings,
It may start joy, or it may start stings.
But with faith and hope in your heart,
Embrace the unknown and bear a fresh start.
From frypan to fire
Here we go again
Another tenor of suffering and smiling
Continues
If we are lucky it ends in 4years
If not we are up to another 8years
Of suffering again
Who has done this to us
That we no longer can stand firmly on one accord
Why must we keep repeating same mistakes
How can we grow with this same circle
Of leadership
The old president was a frying pan
Now with the new president
It seriously looks like we are now in fire
God save my country Nigeria
From frypan to fire
They keep devaluing my country
Just for their own benefits
Instead to heal the wounds
Or hear the cry's of their people
They choose to satisfy their foreign
Companies and friends
They prefer to makes their stranger business happy
At the cost of their people
And yet you still wonder why we suffer today
Is obvious to figure out why life is not easy for us
And worst now we jump
From frypan to fire
Dedicated to all Nigeria youth
Be strong out there
We got no other country
But this dying one now
Richard Nnoli
I used to hate free verse poems.
I thought they were lazy,
boring,
like no effort had been put into them at all.
I preferred rhymes.
I liked structure,
patterns,
words fitting together perfectly like they were meant to.
But once I met you,
free verse became all I could write.
I couldn’t think of any rhymes anymore.
Every time I tried,
all I could hear was your name
repeating over and over in my head
until nothing else sounded right beside it.
And I never liked haiku poems either.
I thought those were the kinds of poems people wrote
when they had nothing meaningful to say,
when they didn’t know what to write about.
But after meeting you,
I can’t stop writing them.
Maybe because those short little poems
are the only way I can hold feelings this overwhelming
without completely falling apart.
Because if I tried writing something longer,
it would probably just become your name
repeated endlessly across the page.
In the beginning as it was on Earth,
there's a gentle mood played
in Iron Maiden's music...
before the shock of reality hits
us in the face and it's time to admit:
Everyone has demons to face,
dark places in both mind and soul
that we would love to erase.
Bury them with the kings of old
whose stories and legends have been told.
Haunting tales of past empires
and the fires they walked through
in life and death as their kingdoms
were raised in glory and then fell
from a time of being a euphoric paradise
before being tragically torn asunder
and thrown into the flaming bowels of hell.
Presented as a Book, though not Biblical
in nature, a history lesson done in lyrical form,
the concept deeply ensconced
in the importance of highlighting the soul's
memories of what was, is and will be.
There's relevance to the journey
in the Iron Maiden's song.
Rights and wrongs of mankind
since its inception centuries ago.
Life, death and the changing hands of power,
the tower built like Babel that unleashed
God's ire on man's desire to have worth.
On Earth, wars have always existed
because of the twisted need for greed.
The Book of Souls warns to take heed
that cities of stone will topple...
a prophecy currently coming true
for none are willing to sacrifice anything,
always wanting more for himself.
Kings flaunting riches, a bane to their souls
Commoners crying out in envious moans
for what they will never be able to hold.
History repeating itself from days of old.
Based on false tongues of wanna-be gods.
The book of lies is being read
and accepted by far too many blind eyes.
Is it the beginning of what the Book of Souls
sees as the repetitious pattern of doom?
Is it the time foreseen when civilization
closes its eyes to the reality of truth
and forsooth... annihilates itself and dies?
Fractals.
Spawn of iterating quadratic functions.
Choreographers of cosmic conjunctions.
Impervious to human dysfunctions.
Makers of multiverses. Encoders of creations.
Limited only by imaginations.
Recursive. Coercive. Immensely immersive.
Purveyors of poetic creative cursive.
With formative fractals you’ll melt your mind’s shackles
and be anywhere that you may want to be.
You can form fractals to your own reality,
and make anything in the sky or the sea.
You can even repurpose them to poetry …
Yes, if
fractals were dactyls they’d flow off the page,
whirling and twirling, sublime.
Freeing us, being us, thoughts disengage,
teasing and pleasing with rhyme,
reaping the rhythms of time.
From mundane equations that yet yield complex
repetitive patterns that please and perplex,
come fractals so beautiful in all respects.
Constructors of coastlines and snowflake concerns,
foundries for forests, and feathers, and ferns,
the deeper you dive they have more twists and turns.
Generators of patterns, like veins in a leaf,
and the branches of trees, shapes of every motif.
Look around, everywhere, there are fractals, good grief!
From the large to the small and still smaller they flow,
simple patterns repeating, yet different, you'll know
that there’s just no escaping the great fractal show.
So, let’s face them, embrace them, we’ll host history.
Let us master them, plaster them, I guarantee:
merge your mind into fractals, you’ll set your soul free.
Reconstructed 3/22/2021, for the FRAGMENTS OF VERSE Poetry Contest, sponsored by John Lawless