Long Resurrections Poems
Long Resurrections Poems. Below are the most popular long Resurrections by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Resurrections poems by poem length and keyword.
I live in a rose-tinted town
bowing mainly to White Western skies
bleached of blue blooded color
but also of dire Eastern dawns
with smoky red skies,
warning farmers and gardeners
taking and giving nutritional cover
under bad-blooded weather
on our way to further apart.
I live in a NorthEastern place
replete with geriatric grace
yet less mindful of holistic medicines
less conscious through holy meditations
less green ecoschool wholesome
with cooperative administrations
of home
and families
and neighborhoods
as wholesome 7-Generation multihoods.
I live in a public space
directed by private embrace
toward trusting love of all four dimensions
all eight lifetime resurrections
From infant to WinWin child,
child to WinLose pre-teen,
pubescent to late adolescent,
where U.S. culture seems LeftBrain stuck
between delayed adolescents and too young adults,
young adults toward mature WinWin multiculturists,
voters listening to WiseElder leaders,
WiseElder leaders
longing to conjoin CoMessiahs
and Bodhisattva PeaceWarriors
and PolyCulturing Yogis
and MultiCulturing EarthScientists
and PolyPhonically inclined EarthArtists
and PolyPathic EarthEducators
and EarthFirst Mentors.
Researchers and Designers
of full-octaved trust,
if for no positively healthy reason,
to avoid hatreds of anti-trust
and ambivalent angers
seeking secular mistrust
and equivalent fears
finding infinite misery
pathologies.
I live in a rose-scented town
where three polluted rivers conjoin
worshipped by LastNative gamblers
reweaving our vapid ritual bows
within all four fractal revolving directions.
I live in a rose-fading town
aging while watching southwestern drought,
at risk of growing Eastern coastal
as Northern blizzards of chaos
compete with Southern hurricanes and tornadoes
of flooding tsunamic competing complexity.
I live in a rose memory town
filled with ghosts of LeftBrain dominant climatic pathology
rising up to restore RightBrain with Left
peace from within,
settling down to withstand
capital punishments
ego-justified retributions
without rose-tinted restorative glasses.
Resurrections lone fallen spiritual being, kneeling within the darkness of mine
Own tormented soul, broken, fractured at fetters ivory appendages, a flightless
Angelic Dark winged angel standing alone, weeping in the nights blackened clouds of utter blindness, a disarmed shield maiden of heavens grace!
Seeking the lightning storms final thrust of thunders rapture, my burnt scorched
Feathers descend cascading downwards, as melting leaves captured in the
Autumn winds of betrayals flame of the sinful heart, left unsheathed!
Virtue’s innocence lies slain in the battlefield of mercy’s shamed, shattered
Is the core of faith’s fragile child, lost amongst the hailing hurricane,
Battered and bruised, the white dove soars beyond clarity’s grasp!
Biting tears clash against the bare exposed flesh, stinging with malice’s
Hatred, as the face of God shuns this black fleeced lamb, whom broke
The vows promise, and interfered in the world of man!
Banished daughter of the light, unable to capture the winds of flight,
Transcendences none descendant trapped by the loving spirit
Willing to help the mortal being, begging for mercy’s compliance!
Yet shadowed by the dark illusions of the hastening storm of
Ignorance, she shed forgiveness tears on behalf of the unworthy,
For in the night humanities brethren turn away from the hungry,
Homeless, and the lost children that huddle within the darkness!
Thin are the clouds separation, as the storms rage begins to abate
Gods anger grows to the point of understandings loving, the grates
Of heaven casts shafts of grace, weakened by the hailing wake,
The lamb is unable to move amongst the silences eye of the hurricane!
Ever gently is lowered the cradle, the rocking crib of the healing
Miracle set at the flash points ushering of forgiveness, for the Shepard
Has reclaimed that which was lost!
In chorus spiritual assembly a small figure sings with heights
Reverence’s praise, and the master of the divine smiles
Upon this child of light, for her voice shines above all others,
For she is the fallen, now arisen with the wings
Of the outcastes singed!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Of blood.
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
Of mankind.
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania.
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Frogs and Dogs
There once was a dog that liked to eat frogs though it gave him indigestion.
He did not even care when the small children stared, or if they happened to ask a question.
He would jump on frog backs, have a green snack, and never give his confession.
Researchers would say, “Let the dog have his way. It's all part of ‘Natural Selection.”
But pet owners knew, it would make him turn blue, before death's toll said, “Collection!”
Frog-eating dogs will die in the fog if hunting and eating frogs in the bog. Connection!
Eliminate frogs catch tadpoles in their holes and remember to get directions.
For frogs in the bogs, which are eaten by dogs, can cause death. No resurrections!
Since this frog-killing plight might be a tough sight, before killing, seek information!
Whether freezing frogs eggs or chaining your dog, remember death brings insurrections.
Civil rights for dogs, for hogs or for frogs might lead you to a few connections.
Frog-eating dogs that play in the bog or roll over logs just might find death's reflections.
So before pets go down and are buried in the ground do your best to learn preservation.
Don’t kill all the frogs that eat mosquitoes in bogs; it's a chain of life stipulation.
Instead, teach your dog to stay out of the bog. He'll NEVER have frog consternation.
A plan of attack to keep dogs off of frog's backs at times might cause reservations.
Take responsible actions, separate frogs and dog; try using some dogie distractions.
The moral of this story is that dread and despair can be avoided with contemplation.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 6, 2009
They tried to deny
me and you…
who we are
and who I am…
as the beloved of
I am who is…
but you can’t deny
creation…
Out of the darkness
of creation I have come…
beautifully adorned:
I am a cloud of joy
and the burning bush
of flaming faith…
I am a river of Jordan…
and a lion tamer
in a David-like den…
I am a tri-cooling shield
in a blazing furnace
and the wind in the sail
of a Noah-like ark…
I am the force of the exodus
out of the valley
of the shadow of death—up
to Zion’s Mountain top…
I am the wheel in the middle
of a wheel and the fuel of a train
of an underground railroad…
I am the energy of marching
feet over trouble waters and
resuscitation of deferred
dreams still overcoming…
I am the strength of hued Simons
still aiding Calvary resurrections
of soaring peace and love…
I am indeed the child of the Alpha
and the Omega—the soul of the God
of the oppressed—the nourishing
blood baptizing their coming renewal…
I am—you see—the Trinity’s third:
the Holy Spirit riding the Holy Ghost
chariot and nothing can neither
stop nor turn me around…nothing…
I am the juice of the fruit
of the vine of your liberation—
the liberating juice of the God
of the oppressed…
I am the solidifying matter
in your hued lives—
enlightening the blind world…
I am the Holy Spirit
abiding in you and yours:
I Am That I Am…
Word
Without
End…
Blood used to make me queasy
Make me turn away, unable to bare
Now seeing blood is easy
After getting used to the cuts on my body
So when blood drains out of your heart
Staining the floor as your eyes roll back
With this life you'll finally part
As no one comes to save your soul
I won't look away, no, not at all
I will enjoy the sight of it
The way that you made me feel so small
Every feeling of pain you deserve
Your death will make me smile
Your torture will make me laugh
Your screams will be heard for miles
Your tears will satisfy my thirst for vengeance
Crimson the color staining clothes of white
The most beautiful artwork I will ever see
As I see your eyes fade of their light
I won't feel anything but relief and joy
Closure will only come to me
When you're six feet underground
I hope my blade will be the last thing you see
As I put your miserable existence to a close
But just knowing that you died for your sins
With no resurrections after three days
Never to be seen in this world again
Maybe then my nightmares would cease
Or if justice was true in this nation
Locked up behind jail cells to rot
To serve out your sentence of damnation
Never to plague others as you did me
To the ones who beat my body
To the ones who stole its privilege
To the ones who made me bloody
To the ones who left me scars
This poem is written here for you all to see
With every bit of "love" that you gave me
This is a colabration between I and a friend, his name is Dhruv Pandya.
Command this commandment,
living in the light,
waking in the dark,
they toil,
every day golden suns come up night and day,
swaying in labor fields making human mind capital,
shadows of lights are yet still dark,
yet it doesn't quench the thirst,
1st of life is beyond living,
walking in death while waking,
a life that is living in light as dark,
without a sight for acknowledgeable real color differentials,
a walking waking dream,
a lost memory,
driving time backwards to eternity,
commanding in chiefs of all resurrections.
written by Dhruv Pandya
I'm sending harmony,
Through the air,
My voice of light will,
Bring you joy not despair,
I'll shower thee,
With treasured true gifts,
Of love and devotion,
From the bluest sky of mist,
No traps to befall you,
No restraints shall stall you,
No boundaries will ground you,
No liars can challenge you,
You'll carry your heart,
For the world to see,
For it bears the truht,
Of you and your destiny,
You'll hear my voice,
As you grow,
People call it intutation,
For they do not know,
I am your guardian,
Granted you at birth,
I'm here for you,
Through your life upon,
E-A-R-T-H.
Written by Deborah Jarrell Broussard
Magical glittering tin soldiers joyfully marching across resurrections big sreen ~
Adorned anew within these sweeping sentient hues of silver humanity; tete-a-tete....
Created beyond the faciled imagination of a childs spectacular, swaddled dreams
Sitting inside panoramas pristine theatres, unblemished blockbuster seats!?
Hummingbirds hovering carefree aneath this gnostics laughing willows tree as
Porcelain dolls wearing sunflowers smile amid orisons breath of light ~
Aside, spirited zygote ballerinas pirouetting atop sanctities blue and white
Checkered picnics blanket embellished in all of their, emotive existential delights....
Presentiments adaptive stage being set upon this warm articulating Summers day
While as an acquainting whippoorwill begins their serenities exonerating ballad ~
Rapture; turning slowly this scented wax figurine between softened fingers
Gently to taste its pleasing fragrance; conceiving, scenics genteel globe?!
Tenderly tracing paragons once vagabond lips within, crayolas faithful colours of
A childs everlasting and majestical love, born, upon the throne of "Grace"....
****************************************************************
"Kings and Queens" ~
Form:
Deflected reflections
The funeral long passed but the pain as fresh as any wound
I read through neglected Mass cards congealed in my fear
Relations, acquaintances, neighbours, hospice and friends
The support groups of our selfish pain, (as we still live on).
Words of comfort leap from the messages, some sterile,
But some cut to the bone and scrape the pain with precision.
I find myself crying alone, a man, but feeling like a lost infant,
No hand or wise word to guild me through. (I feel rudderless).
Turbulence ahead again after I thought I had steered clear at last,
A shock to my system, but my heart always knew it never left me.
No festive decoration can fill the empty chairs at half full tables.
Yet on such occasions I have found festive tales to raise the dead.
An Easter at Christmas so to speak, a family reunion of resurrections,
We remember and share tales we have heard many times before,
Enthralled by each narrator we sit in church silence, till we laugh.
The glow of pride that reminds us, we had shared the lived memories
I see in each of the faces the smiles of those we lost along the way,
And make the promise to life, to make room for deflected reflections.
7th May 2016
And the great spirit shall lay waste for cursed
in every foible of sin
the worst of us in us
be the worst stigmata of hate
our convicts sanction of suffering
in continuous rehearsals
for the judgments end
and to resurrections appeasement
drag the holy and the demon
Bent upon all pretense
shall the great spirit then mock us all
for the absence of our love
And by spear for torture
electric agony
as we all turn from innocence
and leave the lambs to bleed
recommend the disposals ease
as conscience weighs to heavily
on all the paraphernalia required for happily
So judgment today, it is
the political bandage separates
and all we despise
for all our self deluding lies
tip the scales of justice
guilt smothered beneath the garbage blanket
opinionated heap of would be
better than love
better than unity
easier to accept the injection
of every-one-eases the misery
There we go
all propaganda and dazzle it show
all pretend the TV. Reality
and by hungers teeth
bury the millions
who’s pay, for comforts
comforts the graveyards of our mediocrity
Never to be judged by love
but by the content of our luxury
As we all turn from innocence
and leave the lambs to bleed