Long Rood Poems
Long Rood Poems. Below are the most popular long Rood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rood poems by poem length and keyword.
M-me S-stranger
M-watt he say
dat vogonese
b-4 he flu away
deep-sea me, deep-sea me
thot dat at lease
i new vogonese
hee-haw-why-yen me
knot no vogonese
under-neat da kokomo tree
thot i lern a thing ore three
S-***hole
M-watt u say
yea wok away
hee-haw-why-yen wee say
d**n dat how-lee bugga
day knot nice slang say
d**g dat how-lee bugga
S-dat is knot a nice thing 2 say
M-watt u say
u no luke how-lee
u luke mo hong-kongnese
S-i am knot hong-kongnese
i am ja-pa-nay
from toe-key-yoyo
M-do u no vogonese
halo halo o how rood
d**n dat ja-pa-naynay bugga
triad day bad
yakuza took my car
butt d**n those how-lee buggas n now ugh
nex time i lern mo betta vogonese
Yikes, all I feel is attitude with zero Christmas mood.
Blessed am I for Jesus’ birth and sacrificial rood,
but Santa and his deer had best just skip our roof
or I might very well rage out on every furry hoof.
All my Christmas feel of unique is long past its peak.
Do color me aloof, uncouth if you choose, or bleak,
but my entire entirety still feels yuletide fatigue
from the Christmas I’m sure we just had last week.
Makes no mind to me if stuffing that gleeful day
stirs relatives into a finger wagging, yapping say.
I’ll show critics red and green done fist proper,
Christmas-awe land them on their tree topper.
I would rather hang with the Grinch and Scrooge
than endure another round of Santa subterfuge.
Aint no way I’m buying, baking, craftily stressing
while wrapping, decorating or glee impressing.
Ho, Ho, Ho can ever so jolly just blow, blow, blow.
I flat out dare Santa to plan to show, show, show.
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
Yum,
tasty!
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
Hold on
I am going to have a few more bites.
Okay,
no wait,
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
And/
aaaahhhhhhh,,
tasty^
tayysstee^
hahahahahahahahaha""
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
hahahahahahahahaha
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
hahahahahahahahaha
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
hahahahahahaha?haha
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
oh yeah+
fill the sheet)
hahahahahahahahaha
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
quesshun= Sex
easy!
ansir; yes- please)
hahahahahahahahaha
?why m i bein so polite
hahahahahahahahaha
queshun!
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
hahahahahahahahaha
i mean hungary
haahahahahah
h u n g r y
dere hungry>
hey look
brownies?
those look good
hahahahahahahahaha
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
hahahahahahahahaha
two bee contitnude
The Crucifixion Of the Christ
Lo and behold, on this rood
On it once lay a great sacrifice
Of God’s only Beloved son
With his blood spilt on the wood
He washed away every vice
The cuffs of all our sins undone
A prince of peace rode on a borrowed colt to conquer sin's spikes of pain
A redeemer set aside his reverence and bled to erase the mark of Cain
A King ceded glory and a gold throne for mockery of a crown of thorns
In the moment of pain he saved a criminal and gifted a mother to John
The temple split like the red sea, swallowing wickedness into an abysm
God blinked, the sun dimmed, dark covered earth for the cross to beam
In the shade of a this rood-tree
We’re solaced and we’re free
Our eyes are wide open to see
The crucifix as a Mercy Seat
His anguish was fated by death
A death was fated by a rebirth
Reborn to harvest blessings
From the seed of his suffering
For one to deny thyself for us
Is a love no man can surpass
We’re unfit to lace his shoes
But he washes all of our feet
How much of us can we lose
If salvation has a face of defeat
What is worthy of this price?
One life or to be born twice?
Putting a lid on earthly vanities
Opens a door to godly verities
Death is a numb symbolization
Resurrection a vivid realisation
The only price lies in ourselves
A soul blossoms from sin’s shells
A revelation of an inner presence
An exhumation with aliveness
A demise overcome by our trust
To relive the passion of Christ
Wont you carry me through this darkness, Lord,
won't you flood me with your light?
Won't you guide me along this narrow road,
won't you show me what is right?
Won't you scratch my hardened surface,
won't you feel my inner need?
Won't you staunch the flow of my emotional bleed?
Won't you wrap your loving arms around me,
won't you hold me in your embrace?
Won’t you take away your wrath Lord,
Won’t you shower me with grace?
Won’t you shine your face upon me
Won’t you hear my distress call?
Won't you send a host of angels to gently break my fall?
Won’t you see me as I stand here, before your holy rood,
Won’t you justify me, let me be renewed?
Won’t you see my indecision, make for me my choice,
Won’t you hear my prayer dear Father, let my heart rejoice?
Won’t you be the resting place for this my weary load,
Won’t you determine my direction at this crucial crossroad?
Springtime is more than just flowers and sun.
April is drenched, and bees will have much fun.
Swarming insects frighten with bites and harm.
A staining sludge swamp and stinky silt farm.
Sneeze and hay heat-stinging eyes are a curse.
Lands that loom like orbs, yet deceits are worse.
Yet, we must not squander sight of quaintness
with the rigors that spring brings or faintness.
Berth booms boost pollination burden rood.
Spring is spasmodic, apart from the mood.
White snow morphs into mushy rolling hills.
And sprinkle down verve up till the dale spills,
Flowers rising from snowfall restore hope.
Were we blithe beyond the zenith and slope?
3rd place contest winner
Written: February 05, 2023
Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Inspired by the Psalms
at Holy Rood House trauma training day.
God in Jesus you suffered alone on the cross,
bearing blame, isolated, alone.
How can we understand this virus that sets asunder
as part of your creation?
What is its purpose?
Is it a punishment?
If so for what? For who?
– Our relationship to other creatures perhaps?
– Our over population maybe?
Where are you in all this to lead and to guide?
I look to the natural cycle of the seasons for stability.
Yet even these are disrupted by our abuse of your creation,
our exploitation of resources.
The innocent, the blameless are hurting, like you.
I trust,
trust that you are present in all,
all the hurting.
I trust that one day you will reveal,
show that you in us have overcome all this loss;
connect us once more,
be in touch and at one with you,
held with one another in Christ,
knowing your peace.