Long Sheep Poems

Long Sheep Poems. Below are the most popular long Sheep by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sheep poems by poem length and keyword.


Fear Not For Behold I Bring Tidings of Great Joy

In this time the cloth is unwoven, the threads laid bare.   
Most of the dung removed, cleared, given no fare.
Massive steel plates hold back the uninvited from boarding the train.
Going and coming returning from far, how special the precious Saved Ones are!
Not as many by count, as expected to be, go only the accepted glorified in He. 
The One by name Jesus Christ is He, by birth our Savior, God’s only Son.
The rapture has started transformation begun!  
“Multitudes Missing” is what is said both of the living and of the dead.
Glory shone at the uniting above as Jesus ascended taking the Throne.
Angels and Saints at the table were there, celebrating the beginning 
As promised by some, in the Book it is written the time has come. 

To those uninvited still sinning below Tribulation unending they endure
Because death is not given for the unforgiven there is no cure.
Now that The Holy Spirit is gone replaced by the unholy one.
Three and one half years his reign will be before his anointment as 
King of the land, then after another one half and three
From his throne he gathers his forces to make his stand.  
In Jerusalem, after the Temple’s complete, is the place Armageddon has come. 
Many the forces pressing the land foul and dirty sinners are they.
Angels from above sweet music they play, as their swords slash, many they slay.
The rest are all gathered sorted like sheep the wicked on the left and thrown into the deep
Where welcomed by him unholy for sure cured not forever burning in hell.

Be it certain, known for sure, Jesus has returned all hail the King.
For a thousand years he will reign all living forever no sickness or pain.
He is my God the only pure one born of a mortal, Spirit raised, God’s Son.
On the cross our sin debt He paid glory forever so easily gained
Not by good works impossible to do only in accepting as Savior, our Lord, King.
In living and doing such a small little thing why do so many risk certain despair?
Is it that we tangled in our lives, mundane as they are, have little care
For those less willing the truth to be know spread the message they must be shown!
Think now of forever the price they bear become an ambassador in Jesus’ name!
Hot is the pit with its flame burning bright engulfing a loved one what a terrible sight.
The time is at hand the cloth becoming bare; Jesus is the answer show you dare.
© Rick Magee  Create an image from this poem.


Hypnotized

Is slavery dead? Honestly it isn’t
Those of us who conform are stuck within a prison
We follow celebrities and we wear their clothes
As if they are Gods and we are mere mortals

As if they are shepherds and we are merely sheep
As if they are they are the strong and we are the weak
We quote their words and become their clones
And if we break their trend, we are left alone

And as they pass, we shower them with gifts
Money, so they can go and get their face lifts
Fame, so they can go out and conquer more slaves
Power, so they can destroy those who call them fake

They’ve brainwashed us so much we’ve gone completely numb
We openly cheer when the hero pulls out his gun
We don’t understand that we’re all completely mindless
We’re overjoyed only if the screen shows senseless violence

Nearby a police officer fights for his life
As a drug dealer tries to stab him with a butterfly knife
We’d call for help, but we’re busy with our own stuff
Discussing how the movie was good, but the killing wasn’t realistic enough

Our emotions are gone, we are all just droids
We don’t cry when we hear about a little boy
Who was killed in a shooting by a merciless gang
Because his father was part of the Ku Klux Klan

Instead we just shrug and respond “That’s the world today.”
“His father was an idiot,” is all that most people can say
“Things happen for a reason. That’s the Lord’s way.”
But that night, for that boy, everyone forgets to pray

We watch a few minutes of the news, not because we want to know
Coming up next is the new hit reality show
We’d rather watch girls dancing and grinding on each other
Instead of observing a woman work two jobs and be a good mother

And if disaster strikes, we observe the destruction and pain
The details of the damaged are extensively explained
But money only comes to charities with writing on the bag
The money must be packaged with a rich man’s name tag

So when the people see, they will remember what his mask looks like
He only cares if he’s quoted saying, “They will be all right.”
And with that, his money, fame, and power grows
And in the next election, it could even win him more votes

Learn to break the chains, learn to set yourself free
Your eyes are open, but you must learn to see
Don’t drink their potion. Don’t let them inside
Don’t stare at the pendulum too long or you’ll be hypnotized

Premium Member The Cannibal

In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
Have they gone suddenly silent, these yearlings tender lambs,
In the stilled quiet amongst the melting snows of winter,
The mountain fields run crimson, and an eerie stench oozing
Upon the winds of distain!
The cannibal lies within the forest of the towered halls, 
In the giant fortresses of mankind, he does stalk amongst his own brethren,
No wolfed bite of treachery could leave such a mark of
Terror, as he the beast, whom would feast upon the raw flesh
Of his kindred kind!
A gentlemen chamleon blending amongst the tailcoats
Of learned men, sheathed within the amour of intelligence's,
A humanistic wolf moves flawlessly, within the herds of the
Meek and mild, to pick his victims of the city flock 
At his leisure of desires pleasure!
Underneath the outstretched wings of the red dragon,
The bubbling caldron pot of truest evil, does runneth over,
With the gravy’s leavening's of the corruption and violence,
Welcoming this creature of the demonic to the dinning 
Table of the unrighteous and wicked!
Black sheep, black sheep, do you have any wool,
The whittend lamb does ask, nay but in the woods
Therein, lies many go within the wolves din and take
What you like at your own risk of course, my innocent
Friend, but beneath the blackened skinned wool the 
Wolf does smile, with a sheepish grinning!
In an extravagant restaurant a well-mannered gentlemen,
Orders the specialty of the house to go, later he adds
He adds his special ingredients, spiced to the taste
Buds of the cook himself, it sizzles with an unusual 
Oromia of well-cooked human flesh, the cannibal
Smiles with delight at his culinary masterpiece,
As the police knock at his door, with a missing
Persons report!
In the jail cell of the lost souls, he the cannibal known
As Hannibal Lector has no regrets, except say one,
The meal he never got to finish! 
In the night the wolves howl in the distance,
As the spring lambs bay, with the first stirrings of life,
Close lies the pack of humanity, those for whom hunger for the
Fresh taste of the blooding’s first strike, at the throats of innocence
Most pure!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

Wagontire Oregon For Poem a Thon

April 6 Wagontire, Oregon 
1973

In 1973, I went on a road trip 
With my father

We left Berkeley to go to Yakima
Where my father had a summer cabin

He was a college professor
And had July and August off 

And we spent the summers
Every summer from 1968 to 1978 

Our whole dysfunctional family
Our annual road trip to hell and back 
As we did not get along at all 

We decided to drive through Eastern Oregon
Just my father and me
Just for the hell of it

The rest of the family was already there 

My father and I shared a travel lust
One of the few things we shared 

This was one of our best trips
We got along 
Which was unusual 

Normally our relationship
Was fraught 
As we were so different 

We left Klamath Falls 
A real nothing burg in those days

And headed east along highway 395
As we entered the desert of eastern Oregon
We entered a different world

High mountain dessert
Almost no one on the road 

Then we saw the sign
Wagontire Oregon 
100 miles ahead

99 miles ahead
98 miles ahead

We counted down the signs 
Miles after miles
As we drove into the gathering dusk

We speculated that Wagontire
Must be a giant truck stop
In the middle of no where

We pulled into the town
Nothing there but a gas station
Motel and café

We decided to stop
Last gas for 100 miles 
According to the highway signs

In the morning
We chatted with the owner

He was the sheriff, the fire chief
The owner of the motel, gas station
The only business in town

And the only place open 
For one hundred miles

I noticed a highway sign outside
Welcome to Wagontire, Oregon
Population 2 ½ humans 10 dogs, 50.000 sheep

I asked the Sherriff
Say who is the ½ human?

My idiot son!

And we left.
200 miles later 
We finally left Eastern Oregon

2016

In 2016 my wife and I drove through Eastern Oregon
As part of our epic cross country trip
10,000 miles
31 states in three months

On the way from Medford to Yellowstone
We drove along highway 395 

The signs for Wagontire was gone
And we drove through the town

The motel was abandoned
Nothing there at all

And that sign was gone too 

I said I suppose the idiot son
Never took over the business

And we speculated about Wagontire
And all other nothing burgs 
We drove through that summer

Heart of Trump’s America 
True fly over country
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

The Return (A Must Read)

The trumpet of the Almighty God will blow.  Then the whole world will instantaneously 
know.  That Jesus Christ has returned for his sheep.  You may miss this train if your faith has 
been asleep.  Millions of your loved ones will disappear in the twinkling of an eye.  Christians 
will be lifted up to meet Christ in the sky.  Those left behind have chosen their own path.  
When people tried to tell them about Jesus they just walked away and laughed.  It will be too 
late to repent.  Not ever hearing about Jesus can't be your argument.  For everyone in the 
world would have had their chance;  To know about Jesus the Savior in advance.  
Unbelievers need to be concerned.  Jesus Christ is going to return!
       Eventually we will watch the rise of the Man of Sin;  He will be the devil incarnate, 
wearing a seductive grin.  Millions will believe and be deceived that this man is the predicted 
Messiah.  The Bible warns us in several prophetical books,  From Ezekiel to Zechariah.  THis 
false Christ will have powers unlike this world has ever seen.  He will wear a mask of peace 
and claim he is the coming Nazarene.  People of this world will believe this lie and will 
spiritually die!  Simply put the world will follow this man blind.  This false Christ will do 
whatever necessary to get into your heart and mind.  This man will rule the One World 
Government and claim to end all bloodshed.  His actions will be so convincing, he'll even 
raise the dead!  But this is the anti-Christ, he is not the One.  He is not God's Son!  Here's 
something for the ignorant to learn.  Jesus Christ the real Son of God will return!
       This One World Government is taking place.  Get that Bible down from your bookcase, 
and you will see.  That everything is happening right now according to prophesy!  Beware as 
we watch nations turn on Israil.  More than half the world will attend it's own spiritual 
funeral!  Cataclysmic events will unfold.  World catastrophe that has been preached since the 
days of old  The American dollar has lost it's value.  A One World currency will be issued to 
me and you   Millions are currently spiritually deceased.  Even thousands of priests.  We are 
no longer the super power of the East.  So prepare to receive or reject the "mark of the 
beast."  The evil of this world will burn.  Jesus Christ the Savior will return!!!!!
Form: Narrative


Elixirs

beautification of painted imageries)

Like these broken shadows spread on the floor of my father's tattered room,
Like those weeping spirits by the corner of my mother's excited kitchen singing, 
The sky wept in the absence of those beds allocated to the sun of its glories.
Thousand mouths wagged at the dogs for sighting another ghost in the heart of the church that must be hidden at night. we are ourselves the mirror of fantasy handed over to the priest that knows whole lots of women's  nakedness,
Let's fire out memories of lost heritages.


"This will cure your madness and gives you eternal life in Christ Jesus" they said "for Chinese Alchemist will come again with a precious gold made by this liquid. we'll drink from it fountain of lost want,
The sand we counted, the priest said It was for the body of the Holy Mary.
The stars we counted, he said it was for the body of Christ who resurrected with sins of the flesh and blood of the lamb.
When next you hear a preacher' mouth preaching ask him of Sodom and sinful Gomorrah before he tells you the truth is bitter.


Here are the eastern equivalent mastery philosopher's stone of creed and prayers before we were born to this clothed love world, mother told a tale of the mirror,
How they found the end in the end light,
How they searched for a way in a way;
But at the end, the clergy men deceived them and saw their prides gazing openly. We'll sit to listen to the pebble of the broken silence the priest will spread yet on another grave for Auntie Tabitha.
Flocks are the shepherd's prey as they lead them into hell of condemination.


We are ourselves the clothes we wear, 
The clergy  men had sipped the remains of our sanity and gave us insanity of lost. we are ourselves the stream of lines in our thoughts breaking the hun skylines. We believed all they said.
Remember, not all they said by the soil graveyard happen in heaven and hell.
I have been in heaven and tested hell and discovered we're given elixir of life by their lies to keep us following like faithful sheep tracking the greener bush. 
You are what you believe and think is right. 


We are not immortal but mortals, ashes. 
No eternal life,  no eternal youth, when we die,  the records closed and the world become silent and silent covers all priest  had told us with shadows. 



Yours Poetically, 
©John Chizoba Vincent.

Premium Member They Were Not Grown

*And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*

After the red sea, after the red sea…
departing from its great depths,
leaving the death of Pharaoh’s men,
well-oiled chariots underneath…
     they're all wet. they’re all wet.

Great sound of Israelites.
Commotion of the sights.
Nostrils of the Creator King;
imagination remains.

The kids in awe,
“Did you see that!? I can’t believe
that happened!” their wrist revolutions
left and right, relive the might.
Their kissers - uttersome wind.

Parents hush them. A bit frightened.
Who is this God…they thought they knew.
This really is the God of their ancestors,
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Still…

They arrived at a place of discomfort.
Thirst suffers…tongue and roof parched.
three days in the desert,
they have not found water…constantly
tested - will they believe…will they believe?

But they, not unlike us, love to complain.
When comfort is outside their brain…
they become most forgetful…they rely
upon their senses — we do too!!!

In Shur, grumbling, rumbling of cries,
“What are we to drink?”
Like little children, they didn’t know.
Like little children, they were not grown.

The water they did find, was bitter -
so were they…they missed the whips
of Egypt- at least they’d get their share
of bread and water. God in His mercy
exchanged bitter for sweet, and his sheep

drank until they hurt no more. There God
tested them with these words:

*“If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God
and do what is right in his eyes,
if you pay attention to his commands
and keep all his decrees,
I will not bring on you
any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians,
for I am the Lord, who heals you.

And they came to Elim
where there were twelve springs
and seventy palm trees
and they camped there near the water.*

9/28/2021
Free verse narrative

*From Exodus 15:22-27 portions directly taken from the NIV
are between asterisks.

Elim is pronounced ay-leem

From Matthew Poole’s commentary:

Palm trees were both pleasant for their shade, and refreshing for their sweet fruit. Thus the Israelites are obliged and encouraged to the obedience commanded, by being put into better circumstances than they were under in their last station.
Form: Narrative

Lost Cities of Indus Vale

I hail thee ruins of Indus Vale! 
With scented rhyme, with scented gale
Come on from world of mortal dead! 
O come and lively wind inhale! 
More ancient than the pyramids
That rule on ancient Egypt land

Thy wild wild eyes, with thy soft lids
They gazed on shimmering Indus sand
I will inhale thy breath in breath
O harken me from vale of death

                    (11)
I mount uphill, Thy citadel 
And stood for hours Stony still
I saw minarets there in row
They fail and bow, all in thy woe
O stupa speak! from yonder peak! 
Thy all worshippers where they go
In fog , in sun, while needles run
Thou standing lone in midst of woe! 
I haven't seen a single soul
They faded all in mist and snow
Oh lonesome temple don't be sad
They will come and I vow they will

In evening smiles , my heart beguiles
Thy silver meads lay several miles
Thy rich forests of days of yore
Thy ancient seals and gods and kings

O life stop thou, O time come back
In courts I hear the bell that rings

Oh let me breathe, let me for while
Oh fortune for once for me smile
                (111)
O lower town, Why thou breakdown
Thy aging speed , may thou slow down
Thy tourists standing by thy sides 
All talking of the Times and tides


Thy rooms and wards, o nature yard
All tied devotees thine with cord
They want to dwell in heart of thine
They come and stand and for thee pine
O may phantoms of bygone time
Tell stories them in tune and rhyme
With help and love of Eden Lord
Whose seraphs are thy meadows guard

              ( ...)
O whistling toys, of girls and boys
In graves of stone why heave thou sighs
O happy ruins with face so fair
From thousand centuries slept thou there
Forgotten by the madding race
Then thou begot a heart sincere
Who wake thee from thy beauty sleep? 
From fathoms deep wherest thou live
Wherest thou sob and moan and weep! 
I pay homage to Cunningham
Who found thee there in seven three
Then came thy lover Daya Ram 
Who thee from heaps of mud set free
Thy lips of ice, why not rejoice
Thou gaze this world with wild wild eyes
              (...)
Thy fowls thy sheep, lie half asleep
In meadow green in forest deep
Thousands and thousands years passed by
My far off sky , he smiled he weep
When from thy beauteous Indus plains
The robbers carried thy remains
Thy ancient bricks, all gems of past
Continued
Form: Ode

Mathew 6: 12-13

"mathew" 6: 12-13
“and forgive us our debts”
(not only does a sheep get 3 squares a day,
but it is also believed that if one begs the
sky enough, one’s problems will just
wash away---this is to be the subsequent
consequence of ALL humans following
suit & getting down on four legs, growing
their thick coats & chewing grass)

“as we forgive our debtors”
(as the sheep thinking that their problems
are solved by an imaginary listener in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky,
so do the sheep continue grazing with a
sort of “live and let live” mentality,
until they are picked off by hunters)

“and do not lead us into temptation”
(so, the same imaginary listener who resides
in that imaginary trailer park, who seemed
to be the one that all the sheep were
comfortably baaaaa-ing to, now is
something to be feared as well?  perhaps
that which one feels the need to submit
the whole of their will to is the same
corrupted core inside that would come up
with such a ridiculous hoax to begin with,
as found in the schizophrenic comment
here in the command to oneself (a baaaaa
into the mirror, if you will)
 
“but deliver us from the evil one”
(the EVIL ONE?  is not the concept of
evil just that which goes against the
simultaneous baaaaa of the herd in the
grassy field?  was not the GOOD ONE
just told in the last line to “not lead us
into temptation,” thereby being the only
“one” which can do so?  make sure when
getting the ladle of kool-aid dumped into
your dixie cup, that you ask if said
dumper is EVIL or GOOD…certainly at
that point it will make all the difference in
the world)
 
“for yours is the kingdom and the power
and the glory forever”
(there is no other imaginary listener, whose
two-faced multiple personalities, residing in
an imaginary trailer park in the sky, handing
out its ladles of kool-aid, whose overwhelming
passion could be heard any louder than that
which dwells within the very heads of the
already brainwashed sheep baaaaa-ing out
the rest of their days, dissatisfied with the
actual physical world around them &
waiting for the end of what they deem as
a great big thorn in their side---that is,
the rest of us who are not convinced, and
who are not baaaaa-ing with the rest of
em’)

“amen”
(right there, in a nutshell, the whole lie
itself was conjured up by “a man,” or
a few men---all who had way too much
time on their hands & a rather limited
imagination).

Words of a Dying God, Part Ii

...It was from an old colleague of mine,
in southern Russian working a new dig,
of Proto Indo-European tribes,
he believed it would be something big.

Wanted me to come out and take a look
at the artifacts they had found there,
claimed they had found religious writings,
the pictures he sent of it made me swear.

Writing should not exist that far back in time,
but the etched stones that they found proved it did!
A text speaking of a long-lost religion…
was so excited I bounced like a kid.

A week later I was flying out there,
my assistant Tommy Bains at my side,
we flew to Moscow then rented a car
for a very long and exhausting drive.

The site was out in empty countryside,
there were more cattle and sheep them men,
we expected to see bustling workers,
but we approached and saw no sign of them.

It looked as if they’d just abandoned it,
all of their gear and machines left behind,
there was no note, and we could see no cause,
I felt nervous, unsure what I would find.

After looking around for thirty minutes,
I came across a large plastic case,
it had the word ‘Artifact’ printed on it,
like so many others left in this place.

I did not know why, but I felt I had to
open the box to see what it held,
what I saw in there haunts me to this day,
you’re the first people that I’ve dared to tell.

It was a stone tablet covered in a script
that I’d never seen, all alien and strange,
and then, before my astonished eyes,
the letters all seemed to just rearrange?!

It now was many rows of English text,
what I saw broke all natural laws,
the first line I read, sit imply said:
‘All who read this, these are words from your god…’

My mind did reel, as anyone’s would,
but I felt no disbelief, and no doubt,
as if some power confirmed it was true,
and there was no time for messing about.

My eyes just could not be pulled away,
I could hear a deep voice within, and it said:
‘I left these words so you’d know why you’re here,
and what awaits us all going ahead.

‘You see evolution is the only tool
that can do this in the time left to me,
I’m dying and have but a billion years
to give rise to the next deity.

‘This may seem utterly strange to your mind,
the mere thought that an almighty can die,
but I’m not the first god that there has been,
I was much like you, way back in time...

CONTINUES IN PART III.
Form: Epic

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