Long Reverently Poems
Long Reverently Poems. Below are the most popular long Reverently by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reverently poems by poem length and keyword.
"The Walk"
The most precious
diamonds falling
every step before me
wet the ground
bare feet
my blood,
my gift,
our foundations
placed reverently
before you
solidarity
I gave you
gifted under burning
oath of Golden Sun
Where have you gone
In this dream of yours?
Where are
all my children?
Bring me my children
the ones who meet me
unknown or known
singing loud and clear
to me, a ghost
in their dreams
I am that light that
stills the storms
the truth of life
in its all, its broken seams
Victory in Love
means more than darkness
to these ones
in their dreams
My precious pearls
from their hearts
seeded and blooming
through my heart
they are the ones
who deliver
true wisdom
bring me the children
a new life
evolving
too much talk now,
stand beside me
Come child
of mine
Be afraid no more
Walk with me
In the time
of something
beautiful
and astounding
Walk with me
you, the one
who dares,
you know who you are,
The True Believer
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
gvlm-llb
"A Black Sun" / Gary Numan
https://youtu.be/lIdlve4SsIg
"When I was a child,
my life seemed endless,
too far to see
When I was a child,
the world was waiting
and called to me
And everyone I loved
would live for eternity
And everything I dreamed
would all come true for me
But now I feel the end come
My childish dreams are undone
I cry under a black sun
And every song is unsung
You will hear me
when the wind sighs
You will feel me
beside you always
You won't see me,
but I'll be with you
When I was a child,
all love was painless,
no tears to cry
When I was a child,
I played the hero
who held the sky
But now I hold you
and love
is more than I can bear
And when I think of you,
love becomes a pain to share
But I hear loss calling
and this is pain talking
And I am fear walking
and these are tears falling
You will hear me
when the wind sighs
You will feel me
beside you always
You won't see me,
but I'll be with you"
(Gary Numan)
The Miorror of Lost Sees: Theophany
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_mirror_of_lost_sees_theophany_1263410
Sacrifice
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/sacrifice_1242920
John 8:12
LUX VITAE
Executive- My powers are absolute,
thus I am totalitarian.
The legislature and judiciary
are each subservient to my whims.
I pass my bills with attendant
compliance, and interpret my own
terms as the law.
I shut the doors of compassion,
I am very deeply elusive.
I give no room at all to dissent.
I get bloated with the treasures of the nation.
In a leap year's tenure I bulldoze
my way back to my incumbent status.
And when four multiplies two, I impose
a minion to cover my ills.
Legislature- To obnoxious decrees I give my consent.
I inflate yearly forecasts to become opulent.
I am gratified for the cabinet servants' affirmation.
I always my selfish treaties ratify.
I am undoubtedly slavish to executive excesses.
I seek the redress of constituents' grievances
to enlarge my pocket's size.
And above all else, I am largely rubber stamp.
Judiciary- My evasive justice is yours' to reap
if you are a top notch,
whilst I withdraw the distributive
and restorative from insolvents.
I base my interpretations on business
interests,
and make laws for the interests of
a cabal.
Equity and rights are only in my
constitution stated.
But in reality they are no more
than abstract twins.
The sacred laws of our national prospectus
I serve as a weak custodian of,
and weaker still in the face of political
heavyweights.
But with all the lofty responsibilities
I am reverently saddled with,
I can do nothing more than
empower bigwigs because I am weak,
and they are powerful.
Management here at
Highland Manor Apartments sent out word
that tomorrow, January twenty third,
two thousand and twenty one,
we (all residents) will receive the first (of two)
inoculations to stave off getting COVID-19,
hence mine poetic title might seem absurd.
Aforementioned stance toward death
obviously antithetical
regarding desire to stay alive
and most oppressive
when mine mental, physical
and/or spiritual yours truly
takes a (swan) dive
analogous where bajillion bees
swarm from their hive.
Linkedin with well known poem by and by
penned by Emily Dickinson, I didst decry
expressed her relief to die
"Because I could not stop for Death,"
she aptly crafted verses to comply
reverently, merrily, and gloriously accepting
cessation of existence well nigh
as does one garden variety generic goofy guy.
All natural catastrophes aside,
plus excluding thermonuclear war,
where civilization would get fried
nullifying idea viz,
let conscience be your guide,
nor no place to run and hide
left to grapple with dystopian quandary
shuttering fright housed inside
in one poof annihilating prejudice
(white privilege included) and pride
reducing to ashes trumpeting
self importance, where snide
persona grata becomes irrelevant
as does living social
or vacationing in Telluride.
Interestingly enough,
I do not entertain notions
inflicting self harm nor suicide,
but expect longevity (to ride
one after another orbitz around the sun)
maximum total (represented courtesy
value units and tens place)
at minimum exceeds double digits
in plain English aged
to perfection groom and bride
attains at least ninety nine years.
Despite skittering within hair's breadth or blink
looming over the edge no time to think,
cuz no matter being knight in shining armor
I can scrunch and squint thru visored chink,
and espy and the title
of a storied book by Tom Wolfe I think
Old Rotten Gotham sliding into behavioral sink,
amidst so much flotsam and jetsam
while singing Skidamarink
surrender unavoidable fate
cuz destiny dis rapper doth not shrink
and recognizes that whatever does not kill
will only make me stronger
(money back guarantee)
I attain a spry five score birthdays
and while away hours
playing solitary game of tiddlywink.
"Poetry is thin, with dark eyes and a hollow face that echoes all the time without distinction. The distinction lies in her breasts that are full of beat under her vague dress that changes colours according to the statements.
She never fails, grows old or dies but simply moves to the next place when it is time to move, to slap, to love, to incorporate the unspoken before it fades away unrecognized."
(Miranda Cambanis)
"The Unspoken Army"
it came to me this life,
I did not ask for it,
I was pushed out, not wanting the revisit at all,
one iota
as if in a dream the blinds once drawn were slowly sliding wide open; framed,
through doors to a foreign world where no one spoke my language, the light a bitter potion -
nor sensed the feels of me, the unseeing, deaf to this bleeding open wound that spoke of children stolen;
and all the stage my world turned its sunny back on me;
eyes to the ground their feet shuffled like poetic shackled legions leading towards the unleading,
best to follow the masters they could clearly see and listen like soulless puppets, vacuous and easy,
manouvred senselessly into agreement, contracting the poisonous words trusting falsehoods reverently;
faith had diminished, drowned in faithless cups of erstwhile parish tea,
the conversation took turns ripping to shreds the core of what was left of me, muted,
“...another piece of this delicious dark fruit cake dear?” this suggested patronisingly,
I shook my head sincerely, without saying one word, I smiled thin and grimly
inside my mind was forming a different kind of unspoken army,
leagues beyond the server, somewhere under my drowned sea
the bends were kicking in, it was debated would I make it to the surface
before oxygen took over the blood and water of me;
such unwanted urgency.
Candide Diderot. ‘25
"(Dancing around a shooting star)
(And every cell remembers what has taken us this far)
Feed me sunlight, feed me air
(I see images of killer whales)
Feed me truth and feed me prayers
(Sleeping in a desert trail)
(Dreaming of a parallel world where nothing ever hurts)
(Dreaming of a parallel world where nothing ever hurts)".
“Hyacintho Caelum”
salvus me
per poetica
Hyacintho Caelum
advenit
sicut turbo
in pluvia
red life reigns
poetry awakens
opening
gifts again
a gain
Life
mysterious
calls us all forward
metronome time
constantly calling
the call
it never changes
the poets’ Majesty
pleasure through
the wrecking balls
dropping white and
black dogs barking pain
blue sky arrives
through inner worlds
ownership -
their belief in faith
messages
in the crazy minds
all turning keys
treasure notes
delivered
and passed
like naughty kids
in class, romantic
black sheep
waving white flags
and all the recalcitrant
revolutionaries
marching metronomes
marking wild rides
through storms
in search of some
golden purpose
down rabbit holes following
their shining diamonds
tears of mutes imparting
stars shining their way
they seem like magi
searching for some better
more beautiful
destiny
dark night
becomes day, eventually
some not blind, find losers
leading the way
red roses,
sacred hearts
deep, some
bitter and dark
turning inwards
then outwards
now becoming bees
pollinating the blooming
of all the others
lost then found
poets
and their stories
parked, for sedentary
ghosts to read
ignite new sparks
blessed
through soft and harsh
sentences
in the prisons
of their mind
they are now
opening doors
like the Magi
protectively
holding forth
their Frankincense
and Myrrh
wisdom for fools
now wise men
is eventually found
in an unrecognised world
birthing pearls
placed reverently
on electric walls of worship
lights glowing ultra violet
are ignited by something other
to lead the way
Winter watches sky
arriving on clouds
Christmas melts all
like a Summer heatwave
hearts to bloom again
we have read
what others wrote
poems and verses
in their ancient tomes
their scrying books
before us they
were searching
for their purpose
written with love
through joy and pain
gifts and lessons
through
one true word
our destiny
now begins
LOVE
always
wins
awakening
awakenings
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Christmas, 2021
The Poets
Habits and powerful addictions,
like love for PositivEnergy,
are not Either
Yes, I am.
Or
No, I'm not,
for most people
about most substances
and behaviors,
changes
and choices.
Vices and virtues,
virtuous Sacred RightBrain Both/And recycling
and viciously reiterating LeftBrain secular Either/Or cycles
live somewhere midway
searching in-between
restoring LeftBrain trusting just resilience
with RightBrain ego-ecobalancing peace,
harmony,
resonance.
LeftBrain chemical addictions
overruling RightBrain sacred RealTime eco-love
of WinWin health-wealth resolutions
can be difficult TippingPoints
to kick
around only with weapons of LoseLose
dissonant anger
and disharmonic fear management
without co-ownership tools,
developmental experience
Without divinely extended harmonic balancing privileges
of Left-Right cooperative bicameral family support,
trust rooted in WinWin cooperative EarthClimate-ownership
and therapeutic ego with ecological political governance
for health management
and wealthy executive
Left with Right
ego/eco balancing
cooperative Yang/Yin functions
skill-sets
rooted in
cooperative
nurturing
matriarchal-wombed NewBorn experience.
PositivEnergy loving more quality
of SacredTime's co-present matriotic investment
and NegativEnergy Yang Patriarchal Addictions less:
Either Yes, I am LeftBrain losing
Or No, but I'm not not RightBrain winning health-wealth yet
Patriarchal Win/Lose Yang
without quite enough
Matriarchal transubstantiating YinYin
WinWin nature-spirits as
Both LeftBrain health, Yes
And RightBrain sacred wealth, Yes
Total Left with Right
Secular StrategicWonder
with Sacred OrganicAwe
cooperative healthyGame/wealthySystem co-integrity
Positiv/NegativEnergy BiCameral PolyPathic
AquaMarine/Green Climate Addictions
To cooperative habits of nature-spirit
egopersonal/ecopolitical
green-historical
identity ultra-violet non-violent empowering
enlightening
Resilient Zero-DNA game/systemic
unfolding WinWin
refolding LoseLose
notnot Addictions.
Only health
and climates
and gods
and goddesses change,
the vast remainder of Time's sacred identities
stand reverently still in HereNow sacred Awe
Addiction.
Angry words have fear-mongering consequences,
said rhetorical behaviorist Hillary,
then Kamala, to Donald,
we would no more peacefully
and compassionately select a Donald Trump as President
than we would bipartisan co-invest to win Donald Duck for Empire Builder.
Words mean things,
said linguistic behaviorist Anat
to her fellow Economist Collective,
and the absence of kind words means something too.
We're not sure what
but I place my bet
on more discommunicating eco-political
ego-apartisanship.
FatherSun enlightenment led toward EarthMother liquidity.
We know this from our indigenous history
of Yang/Yin Win/Win
environmental science books
but this is difficult to see
how exactly this could be
without sufficient silence to recall
what dipolar co-arising energies lie in wait
within this shared bilateral brilliance.
Fire and water,
progenitors of stardust
eco-empowering,
sacred ecologizing
fertile organic planets
birthing health moisturized wealthy regenerations.
To paraphrase bodhisattva Joanna Macy,
Co-invested communing economics
is not more wishful monopolistic thinking
(or messianic ideation).
Active political gathering verbs
enlightening sacred habitats
do not wait for renowned
divisive
drowned-out
dis-organic trauma issues
to be reverently resurrected
and religiously re-membered
by monoculturing Donald Ducks
or by some Anti-Other quacking
self-serving colonization
of patriarchal monotheistic
discommunicating misbehavior.
Active Hope wakes up in love-life's ecological
EarthMother baptismal beauty
wonder
fertile light and flowing power sabbath
on who's silently communing behalf
we can act in sacred light
for animated
organic
polyamorous co-empowerment.
To the responsible Hillaries, and Kamalas:
Follow positively cooperative light,
not so much darkly threatening
reactively monolithic
swampy miscommunication.
To the authoritarian Donalds:
Follow your competitively brilliant
SunFather responsive truth
with EarthMother beauty
loves polyculturing liquidity,
not so much your prized
monopolistic
and monotheistic
anthro-patriarchal
discommunicating fear and anger
military-industrialized pathologies.
Inside my mailbox late last month; nine packs of seeds - a mystery!
I hadn't ordered anything, but curious was I to see
what might become of planting them. So grabbing trowel, hoe, and rake,
I set about to till some soil; a little garden plot to make.
To my delight, the plants grew fast. I'd saved the packs to see each name;
though Latin isn't my first tongue, I'd know each blossom as it came.
Each flower shape was like a quill, which I then took back to my room
and onto paper, words would spill from every seed's enchanted bloom.
The packet labeled "Clio Phlox" was my first taste of mystery:
the quill-shaped flower wrote and wrote a tome of Roman history!
"Euterpe Hyacinth" was next: this writing didn't take as long.
Within ten minutes, written down were lyrics of a lovely song.
Then "Terpsichore Ranunculus" - after it drew a five-line staff,
composed a lively dance tune for the song lyrics - it made me laugh!
Speaking of laughter, my next bloom; the "Thalia Agapanthus" wrote
a stand-up comic's funny script - a joke or two I'd love to quote.
"Melpomene Nasturtium" was the one I needed tissues for:
as tragic words came pouring out, my teardrops splashed upon the floor.
"Urania Hydrangea" wrote sweet poetry of sun and stars,
of comets, and alignment of the moon with Jupiter and Mars.
"Erato Rosa" wrote some rhymes of kisses under stars above,
some ballads of infatuation, some of unrequited love.
"Calliope Plumeria" wrote fast and long: one poem came -
a tragic tale of epic length, it put poor Beowulf to shame!
"Gardenia Polyhymnia" wrote Psalm-like hymns, I said "amen".
My eyes were reverently shut, but when I opened them again -
I realized it was a dream! Nine muses came in flower form.
I woke, and quickly wrote this down (believe me, this is not the norm!)
//Note: The Nine muses of ancient Greece were:
//Clio - History Euterpe - Lyric Poetry Terpsichore - Song/Dance
//Thalia - Comedy Melpomene - Tragedy Urania - Astronomy
//Erato - Love poetry Calliope - Epic poetry Polyhymnia - Sacred Hymns
//... the remaining Latin words are names of some of my favorite flowers
written 12 Aug 2020
BRUCE, HOLIDAY OR JOPLIN?
Just another genius junkie
Someone’s master and someone else's flunky
Just another genius junkie, man
Building crosses while cursing the inevitability of a plague
Writers both vehement and anything but vague
Some of them whose rhymes fell upon deafened ears until one fluent in his language finally dug deep enough into the meanderings and masquerade of his mind to find………………
Just another genius junkie, man
All of them stringing words stridently together so as to weave a web of contradictions…….
All of them with assorted and sundry addictions
Those who waded the rapid waters of a psyche wounded by worry and worried about the wounded
Pundits in pulpits
Puppets in public places
Standing on their soapbox wrought of metal keys and a thin ribbon of ink
But don’t blink
Because if you do you might go blind
Or then again you just might find………………
Just another genius junkie………………….
They didn’t roll away the stone……..
They can only describe, with excruciating exactitude, the rising of His Holy Ghost
Those wiser and infinitely more insightful than most…………………
That one made us laugh by invading the truth with his dirty words and paid the ultimate price for doing what he did to urge us forward despite our slightly embarrassed laughter
She made us cry by invading her veins with a vicious need to wave away the woe while slinging a bottle of whiskey and singing as if she knew that people like us who would kneel reverently at the alter of her song needed to hear her voice raised in majesty by a lady who ultimately proved there really is no forever after
Those defined by that which is strewn and stranded far behind
All of the conflicted who, to self-inflicted misery, were inclined
Because if you read deep enough into the fragmentary thoughts scribed onto page, or listen closely enough to a song of rage heralding a heresy, or accept a few dirty words as fundamental to the facts brought forth and quite succinctly said
dig deep enough and you’ll find just another genius junkie……………………
Just another genius junkie now so needlessly dead
© 2012……PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
A few nights ago, a young man dined at my table who has already served our country for several years in the US Army. He is presently considering re-enlisting, feeling that is where he belongs. Daniel and thousands like him take no pleasure in war, but rather, in my view are a special breed of human beings. They are among those of whom Christ spoke in his sermon on the mount, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God". Matthew 5: 9. Without patriots and warriors like them, I can only imagine chaos and mayhem the world over.
As of July 2018, for 45 years the USA will have been utilizing an all-volunteer military. Prior to 1973, some youngsters of my generation decided to run off to Canada rather than be drafted. They were known as draft-dodgers. May we leave it to history to determine whether or not their reasoning was justified at the time. Presently my heart is focused on those who have served, many of whom were tragically wounded, and others who as Mr. Lincoln would say, 'gave the last full measure of devotion'.
Therefore, may we give the utmost respect to those who submit to orders without question to go anywhere, anytime, and for any reason offered by their country. What willingness to volunteer, and if need be, offer up the ultimate sacrifice for one's country. What courage; what commitment; what dedication; what loyalty. Words sometimes pale in attempts to describe their service. These ladies and gentlemen are indeed lovers of people, makers of peace, and preservers of freedom.
Oh Daniel, child of God and son of my dear friends, I was honored to have you dine with my family a few nights ago. I marvel and am deeply moved by your desire to serve this great country. This Memorial Day, I pause to honor the wounded warriors and the fallen heroes. With gratitude, I reverently celebrate and salute you and other gallant soldiers of America.