Long Sin Poems
Long Sin Poems. Below are the most popular long Sin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sin poems by poem length and keyword.
Heavy burdens lay on her heart
She was grief stricken, falling apart
Hope had left her here in the silence
Almost stronger than darkest violence
Doubts beyond her faith, her believing
Deafened her dreams, left her grieving
Nothing seemed pure, worthy or pleasant
The worst of her past creeped into the present
Lost in the dread – in her worst fears
There lived a sorrow full of misty tears
Quieting her hopes with dusky shadows
Her heart felt like worry always grows
It would be beyond her understanding
These feelings bleeding – demanding
Her faith – her smile – her best insights
Her soul felt like clinging to the last rites
Prayers only seeped through those emotions
Clinging to her spirit, trickling through devotions
Intended to bring her close to the One who knows
Her heart, though broken, believes He arose
Grieving through the songs, hymns of hope
Promising that, even in death, she can cope
Because of One who is healing her, filling her
Grace and hope beyond the grave He’ll stir
Giving her a chance to reach for the hand
Who made her and saved her… He planned
To bring her the healing she would need
On a cross He would hang so she’d be freed
In the priceless moments at the cross, He bid her
The grace, the faith, the forever – not an amateur
He made a way for her to be freed, to finally pray
For love that saved when He took her sins away
A place to raise your glass
or raise the hair right off your head
Where liquor flows and tongues will wag,
be warned of what is said
A place where open secrets
bare desires to fulfill
And nearly every fantasy
to satisfy at will
Anonymous in nature
are the patrons you will find
And you can be yourself and
take a trip of any kind
Wedding vows and high hat bows
are left outside the door
And once you dare to come inside
you’ll find you’re wanting more
How to find this wanton place
when you’re up to no good
Just turn the corner, take the path
and penetrate the wood
This place is so revealing
you cannot miss its sign
A hidden space, clandestine love
its name is by design
Who might you meet, a husband
or a wife inside this pub
Just take a stroll inside your head
for therein lies “The Rub”
Worst cry ever heard, a scream from the depths of a soul
It’s a silent scream that can only be felt
By another heart that cares and refuses to scold
Never condemns but offers God’s grace. love, and help
She was standing in a jail cell
Was there for murdering a man
Asking, "Can I be saved from this hell,
My soul is sinking way down."
He stood frozen in disbelief
Could he be hearing such dire words
Her face showed remorse and grief
For the evil she had done
What in her life caused such despair
How had she come to this real low
Did she kill out of hatred or fear
These hard cold facts he didn’t know
Her question was etched on his mind
He gave the answer that pardons all
One he hoped she would not decline
Trust in Jesus Christ, the Lord
Have you ever known that cry in the depths of your soul
The silent scream that tears at your very being
Ripping you apart, leaving you numb, even cold
My only balm was God’s grace, mercy, and love
Sin is fun at first
but Hell in the end.
Offended
Why?
I am stronger then that
but I may critique and offend you.
Gay
Gay originally meant happy
not very many of them are.
Spring Snow
The April rain was bitter
winds whip cold and harsh
the day overcast and gloomy
slept early under heavy blankets
Morning came and a slight snow blanket the earth
More than a frost
crystal flakes entwine together sparkling
from the porch light
With the Sun out a slushy mess
as melting snow dripped from roof tops
hungry birds waiting for me to put seed in their bowl
the body wants for warmer days
Nature teases with a spring snow.
Once a private eye I fled for my life.
I hid in Bridgeport, wanting Ann to wife.
But out of the past Whit’s thug Joe found me,
“Whit wants your snoop skills. Jeff it has to be.”
To save my own life, I gave it a whirl
On a bloody trail to retrieve his girl.
Down Mexico way at La Mer Azul
The sight of his Kate made me lose my cool.
When our eyes got locked, I felt love had docked.
She proved a gun moll; and I had been mocked.
Through Frisco, Big Bear, and Walker Rivers
Kate brought on death like long Winter shivers.
To Tahoe we went. She and Whit died fast.
I torched them for Ann and left my mob past.
12/29/2018
Movie Magic Poetry Contest
Gregory R. Barden
Out of the Past – Jeff Bailey
I am a Christian, yet I wrestle daily.
Men say, "Remove what makes you fall,"
and they speak wisely.
But Oh, Lord you see me.
You see the war within me
For I delight in Your law in my inward being,
Yet another law wages war in my members.
I cannot blame my environment,
For the battlefield is my mind.
I cannot excuse my fall,
For I know your truth.
Your Word says,
"The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."
And here I stand willing, yet weak.
I have no defense to offer.
No excuse to present.
For I know the truth
and it convicts me.
I know my falls.
I know my cravings.
I know my addiction
I know it by name.
O Lord, hear me.
Help me. Help me. Help me.
I love You deeply,
yet my falling makes distance between you and I
What I once feared,
I have grown familiar with.
And I tremble,
for I fear I have leaned too casually upon Your grace.
Lord, I am trying.
But how heavy is the flesh
that it resists the spirit that longs for You?
From a place of darkness I cry
Will You hear me, O Lord?
Will You rescue me, O God of David?
Will You break these chains that I have both hated and embraced?
For What I once rejected,
I have now held close.
The sin I fought
has become my comfort.
Like a child with a teddy bear,
I cling to what destroys and wounds me.
I hug what is killing me.
God, hear me.
Hear me from the place sin has dragged me into.
Lift me from the dust I once craved.
For I long to serve You
but how can the lost lead himself home?
I am in desperate need of You.
I feel quite certain
can
is to canister
as sin
is to sinister
Lust
is to luster
and teach
is to teacher
as preach
is to preacher
But not mini
is to minister
as not what sinister sermons
are to lusty sermonizers.
It also feels
like cause
for pause
that war
is to warrior
but we have no equivalent language
for peace
is to peacer.
We do have blessed
are the peace makers
but not peaceful players
Or cooperative
equivalent to peace
restoring justice workers.
Now I feel curious,
so probably no threat of furious
I can not put this can
back in my canister,
ban my empowered banister,
or limit my ignorant sins
to neglecting intuitive sinister.
Statuesque breaths of blossoming beauty bearing thorns.
Flowing fullness of fragrant flowery affairs sheathing weeds.
Without human intervention, such is the truth of nature, such are the facts of life.
According to the scriptures, angels are not earthbound lest they are tasked by Heaven's will.
I, like my family, had fine points and faults, I did good and I did bad, and I did my best to right my wrongs and correct my mistakes like my family did when they were earthbound.
I have painted the truth and not tainted it with flowery falsifications.
My family and I were never angels on earth because we were never tasked for Heaven's sake.
I am earthbound and therefore taxed by my will which is my thorns and weeds, albeit, I am constant in prayer, to flower and bloom in hope and faith.
So my family were never angels then, but now--
no longer earthbound--my entire family are all angels,
... except me.
I am still earthbound, amidst my thorns and weeds, and my flowers and blossoms.
By Heaven's will, I am still grounded (bears somewhat to my parents once termed)
I will continue to shine in the Light of Truth,
Signed the blessed sinner, Amen.
Rain dives down onto land
Grass oceans and even sand
Gently falls upon my hand
My reflection in the raindrop
Who is this I see
Tiny little drops of rain
Created high up in the sky
In the clouds is where it lies
Cleanses planet earth
Soon after its birth
Washes away evil and sin
Gives one a sense of refreshment
Planet earth is truly a blessing
Wash away all earth's pain
Earth. Please.
Wash away my sins
Let the water rain down on me
Replenish myself to start a new
Slight regret gives off a sense of weight
Heavy on my shoulders
I carry this around
But I must accept my sins to set myself free
The soliloquy of a late-night train whistle in the distance
Calls out to me like past voices, and the insistence
Of God’s voice is echoed in Pastor David's sermon
(Growth? the Holy Spirit will determine)
As if God were speaking directly to me, germane
To the haunting of my past, it has been whispering of late
Getting me to focus and to contemplate about
The people I’ve wronged and the sin-filled reveries shout
Out things once hid (and forgotten) brought into the light
And on these undulating seas that I traverse late at night
I am brought back again to the whistle of the train
As it fades into the distance in refrain
(I have often crossed the trestle (in
Young America) with these thoughts I wrestle
Give me peace dear Lord
As I walk on t'ward, Amen)