Long Saint Poems
Long Saint Poems. Below are the most popular long Saint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saint poems by poem length and keyword.
SAND castles on SANDY beaches.
SEALS, SEA gulls, and SAILING SHIPS.
SAFETY SOUNDS from the fog horns.
SHAKES and quakes enough to wake.
SEA tides, both high and low, or, fast and slow.
SUNSETS custom manufactured in heaven.
SKY rivers above, pouring rain STORMS below.
SOOTHING SWEET SLEEP from Ocean Tunes.
SAN Francisco, for me, a heart-finding place.
SPECTACULAR views from hills and peaks.
SAINT Francis' city, SITUATED by the bay.
SOME people SAID they left their hearts there.
SO SAD that I had to leave SUCH a beautiful place.
I lived there for 8 years. It's where I found my heart.
012024PS
St. Paul immersed in difficulties
Trials of various kinds
Wrote to his disciple Timothy
Must go back with Risen Jesus to Damascus
Follower the Law of Moses
Determined to fight
Every means
Even kill those regarded God’s enemies
On the way to Damascus
To arrest followers of (Father) Christ
Was blinded by mysterious light
Heard himself called by name Saul, Saul,
“Why do you persecute Me?”
Fell to the ground, asking
“Who are you?
Lord?”
“I am Jesus
Whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9:3-5)
After encounter
His life changed dramatically
He received baptism to Paul
Became Apostle of the Gospel
Inwardly Transformed by Divine love
Had met in the person of Father Christ
He wrote “Life I now live, in the flesh I live by the (Eternal) Son of (Eternal) God”
Who loved me and gave Himself to me
From being a persecutor
He became a witness and a missionary
Founded Christian Community
In Asia Minor and Greece
Travelled thousands of miles among all kinds of dangers
His martyrdom is all for the love of Father Christ
Written: 2011/6242018
Poetry Form: Dramatic Monologue
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza
I feel so bold I have a firefly’s heart
Black wind blows drowning the stars
Demons dance leaving faithless scarred
Do you have a chance rainbow in the dark
I hear a song from long ago
Before I was a sparkle in eye
Melody that brings you close
Even before you live or die
How can it be He calls me
Despite the devil’s plan
Just a soldier in these streets
And it’s time to dance
I’m not into black magic
I’ve never as well been a saint
Life sometimes wreaks havoc
Causing terrible pain
Demons try to get your mind
You feel some kind of way
Darkness comes making blind
And you need to be saved
I feel so bold I have a firefly’s heart
Black wind blows drowning the stars
Demons dance leaving faithless scarred
Do you have a chance rainbow in the dark
This one is not the insect of the garden,
But the Grand mistress of the Priests of Pama,
Raised in the shadow of a Vietnamese temple
To become the pinnacle of a human soul.
She refers to herself as a shadow, a distant third,
"This one" moves with a grace that humbles gods,
Finding the pressure points of the Thunderer,
Felling Thor with a single, practiced strike to the nerve.
Her green skin is the mark of a cosmic union,
A spirit merged with the telepathic Cotati,
The sentient wood and plant-mind of the stars.
She is the bride of a legend’s hollow shell,
Marrying the spirit within the Swordsman’s body
Beneath the watchful eyes of Earth’s Mightiest.
A mother to the Messiah of the leaves,
She is a fragmented consciousness,
Scattered across the universe like seeds,
Representing the freak, the mystic, and the Avenger.
She does not merely feel the wind;
She senses the empathic vibrations of the biosphere.
A predator of fate who saw the coming of Thanos,
Mantis stands as a jagged saint in the cosmic cathedral,
The mother of everything that will one day grow.
Heaven gained a saint.
Earth now mourns.
A family grieves.
Someone is missing.
I feel the void and
The absence of
A puzzle piece,
A masterpiece,
A person of peace,
most kind and poised.
We never met,
Nor will we in this life.
I was touched by her spirit,
And it was warm.
I was delighted to have
Commented on some of her poetry.
I was honored that she
Commented on some of my work.
I felt a bond and a connection
In the way she spoke of 'family life'.
Brought together by the Poetry Soup family;
I am moved by her demise.
She was a pearl of great price.
A treasured mortal has left this planet.
091522PS
Connie
Obedience is worship at our core,
respectful gratitude,
in practiced restraint,
armored Saint parkour.
Obedience helps you to be still
as you are shown the way.
A north star compass by night and by day.
Like as to a river flowing with gentle reflective potion.
Each footstep echoes reverent emotion,
penitentially-potentiality devotion.
I comply to goodness,
in the quiet dance of time and space.
Siren's daring, you, about face.
Temptation and baser instincts held at bay.
In a stillness stirred by the heart's pure ocean.
In humility acts, a serenity of faiths notion,
sigils in silent applause,
we find our purpose, we find our vigilant cause.
In the know of hope in a reposed and dutiful flow
that is natural to natural laws.
A peace of steel, forge, refined in the fire of molding for real, without folding of course, just tested, branded, prodded and steered.
Beneath the weight of whispered commands,
we learn the language that understanding expands.
In yielding, we gather the strength to grow,
in discipline we flourish, in light bestowed.
A prayer in each act, a song in each sigh,
in obedience, we are faithfully tried.
For in submission, there’s freedom to see,
the beauty in grace that sets our souls free.
They're tearing down Saint Ann's
As I shed a nostalgic tear
Part of my childhood gone
Where I spent my sophomore year
It was September of sixty one
Our very first week of class
It was only a short walk from school
To the Church where we attended Mass
Coal region was different then
We smoked on the morning ride
Each town held something special
A sense of purpose, a sense of pride
Saint Ann's dances on a Sunday night
Quarter admission seven to ten
Jesse Belvin "Goodnight My Love"
Hitch a ride home back then
Basketball game downstairs at lunch
Or play horsie against the wall
Sneak a cigarette in the boys room
Passing notes in the hall.
My Place was the local hangout
Jukebox in the back
Sometimes playing match pack football
No one keeping track
Now the stained glass windows are gone
And tears flow like falling rain
Soon they'll raze the building
Only memories will remain
They're tearing down Saint Ann's
Feel a longing in my soul
They're tearing down Saint Ann's
As progress takes its toll.
This book by Bella Beaumont
“Amalia in the Cabana”
Reminded me of my Amalia
From Cañete, in the province of Cuenca
Who, in a shepherd’s cabin
Near the Poza de la Horca
At the foot of the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
The town’s patron saint
Showed me, while on all fours
What her pussy looked like when she peed.
I had my little willy out
Ready to dance it about
Eager to get it wet.
She is Amalia del Hornillo
I am Pedro Morrón; both of us
Children of Civil Guards.
Since we were children of Civil Guards,
We dreamed that when we married
We would marry in the Cuenca Cathedral
And that when we died
We would be buried beside the altar
O the hermitage
Of the Virgin of the Zarza
Her first, and me two steps behind
Because Civil Guards
Are more important than Castilian nobles
The Masters of the Order of Santiago
Or the King’s royal favorites
Just as our mothers told us.
Her pussy seemed strange to me
But since she was very pretty,
I found it enchanting
Especially when, from the hole
Where her golden urine fell
A couple of Cañete crickets emerged
Stopping right there and ceasing itsr song.
I picked up the crickets
And placed them on the tip of my cock
And as luck would have it
They began to sing
Amalia threw her panties at them
To make them hush
In the style of ladies and young girls
Throwing theirs to bullfighters
To win from them an ear or a tail
Trophies earned through their art
Of bullfighting and killing.
-I know you’re going to Madrid
And I’m staying behind, Amalia told me.
I replied:
-I know you’re going to Barcelona.
Now, if you like, we must seal
Our love by joining our bodies.
-Yes, let’s join together like Mom and Dad do.
We pressed our bodies together
Without doing anything wrong.
As we left the spot
To head back to the barracks
Our home
We both looked back
And saw a rosebush sprouting from the ground.
She came home without her panties
And I, with my cock hanging out.
When Amalia walked into her house
She felt the blood flowing
Between her thighs and cried out:
-Mom, my period’s started!
When I got home
I went to the bathroom
To have a loud vigorous wank
Dreaming I was making love
To the armadillo, the pufferfish
Or the turtle.
It's time for Christmas trees
and bright lights.
No Christmas color here,
my world black N white.
Sunny Southern Cali,
No chance of snow,
No Santa this year,
he has no get up and go.
Broke no money;
to buy gifts and presents,
I think I might need,
some Anti- depressants.
No stuffing of stockings,
going on here,
Just another lonely day,
will play it by ear.
No smiles, no laughter,
silence thru out the house,
I'm cold and lonely,
and poor as a mouse.
No frosty the snowman,
outside my window sill,
Isolation and loneliness,
the coldness of a chill.
No cookies, no fudge,
no Christmas pie,
No Saint Nick,
or a twinkling of an eye.
My sisters and friends,
make sure I have some gifts,
They stop by,
my spirit they try to lift.
All I can say,
it's been one hell of a year,
I dug down deep,
can't find my Christmas cheer.
I say the sooner the year,
is over the better,
This is my Christmas,
Dear John Letter.
TURBO1904
Looking out from inward heart
from sounding that fast beat
so sensitive needing keen ear
making movements by silent feet
There lies within such beauty
your inner ear hears so faint
but very softly it is there
it's presence feels like a saint
There's a fragrance so lovely
it smells like a scented flower
rises within you images so bright
feels touched by rainbow shower
No eyes could convey all this
the mind alone brings this all out
filling you with all sorts loveliness
this sublime beauty there's no doubt
Such marvels in one abounds
so beautiful takes breath away
you gasp for air in this moment
thinking it feels like eternal day