Long Rest Poems
Long Rest Poems. Below are the most popular long Rest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rest poems by poem length and keyword.
Now, mankind is an arrogant lot
they really think they're above everyone
no other planet is near them, they think
all of the rest must bow before them, bar none
They don't recognise divinity at all
God doesn't exist, they would say
Creation is a joke, or so they think
what arrogance they have not to pray
One day God will show who's boss
on that day, He'll bring them to account
every word and thought they must answer
the great judge will call without a doubt
Remember, God is the holy sovereign Lord
in Christ alone, created everything
the creation can't question its creator
for only He who creates is King
So how dare you ask?
mere man, who are you at best?
before Almighty God nothing
for the Lord God rules supremist
(Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?)
Romans 9: 20 (KJV)
I am Teres, she said.
I am her Clone, an identical being said.
I had heard of clones, but this was my first encounter with one.
I decided to get the clone alone, if possible.
I am a newspaper reporter, it is the kind of thing I do.
What is your name? I asked the clone. Clone, she said.
Do you like being a clone? I don’t know, she said. I will ask Teres.
Do you have any hobbies? I asked. “I don’t know,” she said. “Teres, do I have hobbies?”
“You like to draw and bicycle,” Teres answered.
“Does Clone have a name?” I asked Teres.
“Clone,” she replied.
I heard Teres say to another person, “First she’ll want a name, then my car keys.”
They both laughed.
“What do you like to eat?” I asked Clone.
“I am not sure,” Clone said.”Teres, what do I like to eat?”
Teres looked annoyed now. “Come here Clone. Stand next to me and be quiet the rest of the evening.”
Clone did what she was told.
People began steering clear of me.
They whispered, some pointed.
I had clearly fallen into a faux pas, which I often do.
I could feel their anger with me.
The next time I saw Teres Clone was no where in sight.
I wondered what had happened to Clone.
Feeling guilty, but without knowing why.
Gilbert smiled in bits of black
through specs of broken teeth.
His smile reflecting a fractured heart
the horse had kicked beneath.
A horses hoof to shatter them
that Gilbert looked the worse.
Where people often kept their distance
should they be next to curse.
His shining eyes left brightening.
Their smile escaping out.
His kindred spirit heartening
where beauty left no doubt.
His bold black glasses framing grace.
A statement of his work.
A sider he had worked the trades
both lively and with perk.
He often traveled south a bit
to rest throughout the year.
A little trailer he called home
was more or less his cheer.
A place he liked to work alot
and tinker in the shed.
A home he called French River
where his spirit lived it's said.
He often talked of history.
and books he'd have to read.
The many missing palm trees that
the climate lost to need.
And once he took up baking
with molasses more his thing.
While trying to keep sugar out
where health concerned was king.
He even did some leather work
and sold a purse or two.
complaints from all the neighbors
saying it's too loud to do.
A harder worker there was not.
He never skipped a beat.
When times he rested for a bit
were never much a treat.
for Gilbert worked to feed his mind
where play was thought a waste.
And always kept the standard high
for life and all it's taste.
He finally died a humble man.
In spite of his obsession.
Where work became a lighter love
than God and his possession.
Gray overcast clouds cluttered the sky, leftovers of Saturday wind and rain and cold. I scanned the yard for the birds and squirrels, so often scavenging fallen flower seed and stale, dried bread.
In among the fallen gathered leaves and branches, where the night winds scattered autumn's remnants and their residue, she huddled, brown beige fluffed with piercing eyes, appearing beneath the holly, nibbling on some fallen berries and sedum seeds, a dove sat, alone and soltary, eyeing her surroundings, quiet in December's cold.
Perhaps she sought a long-lost mate, succumb to the harshness of the season, or waited on the warmth of a rising sun, or just listened for the gatherings of other creatures here, in the safety and confines of the garden, now at rest or perhaps, she waited - on the joy and celebration of the season.
Was she recalling the stories of old, ancestral stories of the dove of peace?
Was she familiar with the prophecies, sagas told of a king to come?
Was she only one of God's many creatures, created and loved in their simplicity, images of his love, the pleasure of his countenance?
Patient, she settled in the embrace of the season, recalling all her mind knew. The encounters of food and mate, love and care provided throughout her life, the warmth of the winter sun, the shelter of the fallen leaves, the hope and promise of spring and new life to come. For now, as she sequestered herself in all of nature, she held out for the signs.
The images of a slowly rising sun, a star-traveling east, the journey of a young husband and wife, expecting the old prophecy to be fulfilled. Waiting on Christmas arrival, she knew well, he would come, the innocent babe in a manger, in a war-ravaged city, where Hope would reign once again. In that quiet solitude, she prayed, she would take flight again and announce to the world, peace was coming, open your hearts, welcome him with your arms.
Nomadic Hearts
Seems just yesterday simple Jane's heart kept perfect time. Ticking, never losing a beat. Days seemed good. Nights seemed hopeful.
The streets of her town, barren of big city chaos, knew calm. Knew boring. Knew best the general store, two-pump Texaco station, weekdays by habit, weekends by...
McDonalds was big at one end of town, KFC at the other. Frosty Freeze in the middle. On the outskirts of town, Lucky's Bar stayed alive into the wee hours.
Biker guy liked her. Told her she was pretty, deserved wind in her hair. She bought it. He delivered it. Both regretted it.
He biked down to Mexico. She hitched into NY. Wrote home: I'm a Kelly Girl!
Life remained livable, even with her heart still roaming, exposed and vulnerable. Then, Burt came along. Young, educated smoothie. Wall Street predator by day, trophy hunter by night. Simple Jane, unfortunately got in his sights. One night. Two nights. No nights.
Atop her apartment roof, that place all the lonely people frequent, she visited every night. Lights of the city meant something. She didn't know what.
Hers was a wounded heart. Plain Jane knew it, far too many others as well. Still, finally, she found some special moments of rest. Time wound her back up. More ticking. Important ticking. Love ticking. Until it didn't.
Tag on scruffy mutt's collar said Reggie, another frequent roof visitor. Gave her licks and wags. He crouched beside her, watched the stars together-every night. ?til the winter snows came.
Reggie still visits the roof. Wanders about sniffing. Can't find plain Jane, but when he lies down at the edge of the roof, some say her reflection is still there in his eyes.
Acrostic - William Patrick Darnell Sr
Willingly loving people as God would do;
Intelligent funny, wittily making you chuckle til blue
Listening with his heart so others can speak their words
Learning what he must, trying not to make a mistake
Ideally, he wouldn't live as he has it was his to make
Aiming toward his stars for some solitude at a sway
Minding his own business, walking down this lonely road.
Paying it forward, for there's no greed to his soul;
Always praying for others and their needs as it foretold
Tries to do what's right when this world is losing its way
Reaching out for a conversation with some play
Ignoring politicians as they do America wrong
Chooses to see and take people for who they are
Kind, mindful, and thoughtful because that's just who he is.
D-reaming dreams, he longs for the life he once lived;
Asking God to Bless his people, always as I pray to Him
Real as he can get, yearning for his late wife, she REST
Nothing fake about him, ask God, through your hearts
Element of surprise is his wisest decision made
Loving himself finally, he hasn't done it for a long time
Learning as he's chosen, with Christ Jesus, by his side.
So it's time I find an end to a good old country song,
Respecting others and living out my days.
My muse,
a sea of weeping roses,
free-flowing in tune with
smoky frequencies,
as storms of fear
rest in the heart of a sunken canvas.
I ponder~
why does the blue of the ocean
roar like wrathful thunder?
Why does the sun bleed searing sins?
Perhaps it is in the way
the earth rests in untouchable s i l e n c e,
watching the trembling twigs of
tormented trees,
tasting the toxic tints of life,
while ink still questions…
Can you hear my heartbeat?
I am the fragrant feather
of an untamed spirit,
still sprinkling stars in metallic gold
across fading colors of hope,
for I still see unlocked gardens
above fogs of melancholy,
to walk above
clouds of velvety wishes.
I care not for a remedy
to seal these screaming s c a r s
within callous crevices of narcissistic cliffs.
I long to be the moon
amidst the horizon that refuses to unveil
the majestic
crown of crystalline compassion.
But what if I am an echo of
a forgotten dream?
Would you still love me when
confused by the moving minutes,
as the last petal falls~
tangled in thistles of time?
Tired is this heart that aches
but refuses to break,
as I am more than a fleeting thought,
a breathing souvenir
of yesterday’s twilight…
Now…
I am your s k y
a cradle of immortal l o v e....
surfing against the lachrymose gusts~
I dived into the cauldron of magic potion
and curated a eucalyptus elixir
to calm the sorrows you home,
when dusk
collides with doleful dawn,
allowing my quill to collaborate
with crimson cues
of frankincense clarity.
They say he has a sweet soul, yet I'm in dismay, my mind feels burdened, like it's filled with
decayed clay.
In fear, I reel from the chaos each day, setbacks and self-sabotage lead me astray.
Oh, please, don't let my thoughts lead me away.
Each day is a battle to keep the wolves at bay; I must remind myself, not every sky is grey.
This sweet soul hides a dark hole where my inner child lays, praying in shadows that
today's the day I'm not finally afraid.
He has a sweet soul, but they can't see the mental toll, how heavy my mind weighs on
my ability to behold, the world clearly illuminated, like a story untold.
It takes much to control and patrol my inner night, as my demons needs soothing and
rest to find light.
It was a water truck on the side of the road
One of those you see at roadside construction sites.
It happened to be a red one with big black letters that read
WATER
None of this would have mattered at all…had I not just read Dune
had he… not suggested …that I read Dune
I just would never have even seen the truck
It would not have registered
the banter in the car with my adorable children
would have kept me chuckling and barely aware of anything but the road ahead
but he did suggest it…and I did read it
and then…
I shed water for him…lots of water ...in his name
and now here it was ...that truck … a symbol …a sign
from the universe
placed there …obviously just for me!
telling me he was the one!
My heart burst open and my soul flew out the window
Across a field at the next turn was a flock of doves…one brilliant white one stood out from the rest
they dipped and dove and always the brilliant white one was in the center
the core
the heart of the flock...and I...I was lost to my life as I had known it
Swept away as if I and it were nothing more substantial than a shell on the shore longing for and awaiting the sea
It was the Title page...of the next complex and painful chapter
That page had but one word on it
WATER
(I stayed true
but my heart and soul did get washed away
in that chapter
only to return again
with the tides of time)
2016-7-7 Something Seemingly Insignificant and Unexpected Changed My Life - Poetry Contest
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)