Long Reward Poems
Long Reward Poems. Below are the most popular long Reward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reward poems by poem length and keyword.
“6 When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. 7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”
Genesis 3:6-7 New International Version
Shame Game
Change one thing
Just one thing
Oh how can I choose
That’s a tough choice my friend
What would we lose
Shame
Shame on you
Shame on me
The emotion that separates God
from those who wish to be free
Dark thoughts
Greed
Homeless we don’t feed
A broken planet
Overcome with need
Shame in the shadows
celebrates when we bleed
Shame on me
Shame on you
Put shame aside
We have work to do
Seeds of destruction
Shame plants them deep
Points at promises
we have failed to keep
Confession frees
Lay aside blame
Only the devil wins
in the shame game
Come naked to the Lord
Belief in a Saviour
forgiveness the reward
No shame on me
Or shame on you
That’s not what we were made for
God’s message is true.
Shameless, blameless
Our world can be new.
Alone in your world of solitude, you do not wait for anyone to care
your mind and thoughts are satisfying, and with you do they share
wisdom and knowledge they are your light, what was once far is now brought near
seeking answers for all of your questions, to them guided by your inner ear
Meditating and illuminating, this world is but a testing ground for your soul
you've been reincarnated, given another chance, this world is really your parole
keep in mind with your time here, many above are watching what you do
your life ceasing and again being brought, to a place which no one has a clue
While judging your life, to the hairsbreadth of truth, your actions they will surely
measure
for sins committed will you be punished, but for your good awaits you unforeseen
pleasure
what is it all for, you question, the wisdom of this world is it really part of life's goal
you don't know, but heaven wishes it so, maximizing the rewards to be earned by
your soul
While reading my words and contemplating their meaning, maybe asking how do I
know
what audacity I must have to write all this, thinking I just made up words for this to
flow
then know, if you follow the truth your soul will not lie, truth is only whispered to the
discerning ear
failing to achieve reward for your soul while still here, something really deserving of
your fear
After all has been said, do not regret, it pays to reevaluate your direction and take
note
if you think that after this life you'll be pushing up daisies, why bother trying to stay
afloat
plan and purpose have we all been put here, expectations for us to try and achieve
desire for us to pass this test, to overcome our challenges and just start to believe
For every sacrifice, there will be
a reward awaiting; a crown for a beauty,
a trophy for an athlete
whose forehead drips with sweat;
and a standing ovation
for all who firmly believe in peace and unification.
For every smile you offer
to the homeless and beggar....
savoring the harshness of winter,
is a flame that can radiate heat;
quarters and dimes, or even a dollar
hasn't much value now days, but for them they do.
For every thought you bring forth,
it must be expressed with a dignified intent;
no foul play planned to get vengeance and feel full,
think before you act, try to avoid a conflict...
fits of anger can ruin a good friendship,
find out the facts, and control your mood.
For every love and fortune you admire and wish to have,
you must merit it, and sometimes you need to take giants steps,
before anyone can see you reaping the joys that induced it;
what is given with a big heart, is returned in a thousand folds...
anything you deprive yourself of, to make that person happy and feel loved,
is a permanent imprint that time itself is unable to erase.
For every small victory won when hope seems faint,
there is a story worth writing on a battlefield which doesn't know calm;
and they restlessly keep on watching the starry shore until light awakens their ship;
their promise cannot be broken by the dreading fears outlasting the uncertain dawn...
for every sacrifice they make, brings serenity to their loved Motherland,
and their time is not wasted chasing after foolish things, but it extends beyond love.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
"Silence is golden",a talking slogan,
In the world of words unborn jargon,
A reward in gold for words unspoken,
But no any awards for words spoken,
"Spoken words unable to come back",
Mixing air like aqua in milk shake,
Words creeping like fearful snakes,
Kissing slowly the tongue that makes,
Poisonous words like poisonous snakes,
Poisonous words like poisonous snakes,
Hurting words like wounds over the skin,
Scars remain as a sign of big sin,
Use of abuse no peace,it seem,
Tasting leaves like trees of neem,
Using abuse,refusing right,
Hell not heaven in the users sight,
Silence all what the universal system,
Speaking people all breaking the system,
Silence is golden,not someone's saying,
But a line of pen,of a soul non speaking!
clothed in drama
a pentecost poetic
chiastic
three stanzas long
the Spirit outpoured
in the Day of the Lord
portents predicted&
prescribed
called out
not cast out
the
ultimate reality
sealed&consumated
an atoning sacrifice
saving mercies
grace given
an expectation
engrained
in penitence& prayer
a focus fixated
cause with effect
in awareness of worship
interlocked
in perspective
the faithful restored
fresh
with abundance
of spiritual joy
affirmed
in a unique reality
of
deliverance&due reward
where acacias abound
before the Lord's overflowing
waters of life
a reasoned restoration
seasoned
in the coming of His day
in the midst of His people
inescapable
irresistible
an inheritance
to claim&
enjoy
To know, as at when due, to travel into air farther
You being the lead, my friendly bellwether
For real, I won't have doubt to my bearing
And where exactly, a safe stone to lay head overbearing
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to hide, doing away sword
Without foul play to a late whistle blow
Send me sensitive signal to shine with peace throw
It would be evident my peace know no bound
After true divine measures have hit the ground
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to shine, resisters been outscored
Swift steps at a stance to making a difference
Might have violated endurance bid in ignorance
Marking out pace in one's own designated strategy
Deviating Father's supposed scheme, real analogy
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to walk with You in accord
My head; You built, You reinforce
Most times, my reasoning has no other source
You alone has always sharpens my points out of Thy reservoir
My aid in blue muse like soldiers' armoire
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to run, and be gracefully restored
A needy loneliness, I will treasure
Even when all it brings is displeasure
Lips; running ones, I will imprisoned
Until I am done that time be awakened
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to be silent and not been deplored
My true lying destination, I will unfold
Losing the diamond I've buried long untold
Many cards I've left behind, shall be dealt
Holding on to nothing, until nothing is left
Teach me, please,oh lord
Time to talk when truths have reward
A time being cool is hammered in silence
The forgotten memories are sharpened in accordance
To every path preaching emptiness and trying freedom
Becomes a solidarity; a brave and daring kingdom
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to fight, even for no award
It aches to enjoy music in insolence
Growing forms into a standard vigilance
And keep mute to everyday, its fear
The death's threat, for a staged cheer
Teach me, please, oh lord
Time to be watchful for victory adored
Nowdays society is in total chaos, don't keep asking yourself
" If Anything ever changes ": who dares to fight has no fear;
making the same mistake is silly, try to improve yourself,
choose positivity to free doubt from desolation and despair.
Don't sit in that corner for too long and wish for happiness,
we create our own misery and break down quite easily;
we have to walk in someone else's shoes to feel distress,
how a dire condition affects everything we say irrationally.
The beggar in raggy clothes will continue to tremble
drinking his way to death, will anyone feel sympathy?
if anything ever changes for him, it's some divine miracle:
he made his choice, now he reaps the harvest of misery.
If we judge who has lost all, we should be judged,
bitterness for a wrong can be emotional, if not fatal,
brace yourself for serenity, practice love, not hatred:
humble people have more faith, are the rich spiritual?
Why envy others for their success and not rise
to the challenge they have taken: admire them;
sacrifices take much pain, the reward is immense:
doers achieve a lot, their future never looks grim.
Writing my first Sonnet was like a pregnancy.
I knew I wanted to give birth to one
and took on the parental responsibility
knowing it wouldn't... or shouldn't take nine months.
There'd been no morning sickness nausea
but there were times when I wanted to change my mind.
"Too bad, kiddo," I thought. "You gotta see this through.
because you can't put Humpty Dumpty back inside his egg
once the shell has cracked and broken."
Determined not to have yet another unfinished poem
take up space in a notebook, I persevered
spoiling myself with ice cream, chocolate fudge slivers,
a few cherries, and a liberal squirt of caramel sauce.
I indulged myself with a reward after the first verse.
I've never liked dill pickles, so when I couldn't find
the right rhyming word for verse two, I didn't eat those.
Pregnancy or not, I wasn't going to suffer puckered lips
because my muse refused to be pregnant with me.
She'd have made a useless midwife anyway.
Said she'd be back when she got a birth announcement.
I suffered alone and pushed this baby out
with the same force a laborious woman uses to birth a child.
No epidural in the spine, although I did partake
in a bottle of wine during the entire nascence process.
"LOOK," I screamed. "After fourteen hours of labor
it's an eight-pound boy."
Actually, it was more like eight hours of labor
to deliver a fourteen-line Sonnet, and lots of anxiety.
I took comfort knowing this baby wouldn't need breast feeding.
Now that it's here, it will be reread a time or ten...
a line edited here or a tweak somewhere.
It will be mollycoddled, burped, and pampered
but not with the naked butt baby kind.
I'll sing it to sleep when I'm the one needing a lullaby,
and I'll be glad it doesn't cry for a two am bottle.
I won't worry about it getting sick or growing up too quickly
because ten years from now it'll still be my baby.
Birthing a child is difficult work but we both survived the labor.
and my firstborn is not crumpled in a basket, lying on the floor.
We all want to be the man of men
setting trends like Eminem
be independant like a pendulum
and depended on to pen beyond
with wisdom for friend and young.
bettering everyone as we're second to none
defend competition titles we've won
in complete repetition we stay at the front
handling hurdles and troubles
whilst applauded and humble,
but we tumble, we fall, lose sight of it all,
see distractions and bad reactions then grumble,
back to seek satisfaction when found we want more
perhaps leads us back to miserable, I'm not sure.
We find meaning through metaphors
dream of immense reward
wish many miracles
whilst tending our given cause.
Life is all these things, the dreams and real scenes,
and we're living it,
now imagine your life if you were never given it.
Empty.
*Each man is the man of men,
(and because of the politically correct age we live in),
I'll state, men stand equal to women,
and each woman is the woman of women,
because those that are not, aren't living,
imagine your life if it was never given.
We veiled light in the cloak of night,
Vanity's id and super ego.
We wanted our names in limelight,
Praise our lifelong amigo.
Carnal lower mind,
with magnetism for sin.
We left truth far behind,
We let our egoes win.
But light can pierce through thick veils.
Truth and meekness go hand in hand.
On the meek creek wisdom sails.
In the end we turn into dust and sand.
Forget stage, applause, and glitter.
Just your breath, soul stripped of vainglory.
Too much ego is extremely bitter.
Pride before fall shouldn't be your story.
Without ego you aren't small.
Don't rely on it to feel grand.
Disrobe it in front of all.
God will reward and understand.