Long Soul stirring Poems
Long Soul stirring Poems. Below are the most popular long Soul stirring by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soul stirring poems by poem length and keyword.
Dew slips down the gentle leaf,
Unburdened by the sunlight’s reflecting
Grace over the mountains, misty
With remembrance, beautiful like the burning
Wonder of a painting, only these colors
Can’t be created by any hand other than the One
Who created the stars, the dew, the sun…
The One who created grace for everyone
Secreted beneath a fog, misty moments
Surrounding the ridges, blue and gray like mysteries
Echoing softly, sensations remembering
Prayers and praises, preventing the melancholic
Sensitivities, flames of forever pouring over the mountains,
Healing the past with tender sighs, blessings
Erasing the doubts and bringing joy to the colors,
The soft flow of blues and purples, green that inspires
Such delicate kisses, touching the spirit with gentle,
Kindness embracing the entire memory,
Containing all the hope of a life built by His hand,
Creatively, amazingly, crazily the plan… His plan
Rain drenched words peel back layers of laughter,
Soothing the soul – stirring up the smiles,
In ways that can’t be described, intense like the passions
Felt by artists, extreme – unspeakable, powerful
Thirsts for the moments when wonders are like wildfires
Pouring over the forests, chasing away every thought
With wisdom, glowing on the edges of the heart –
Still, cool dreams and feelings, expressed by thoughts
Who believe in the music played by heaven’s sweetness,
Arousing souls to dance, free and graceful, like the wind
Who frees the spirit to believe in His everlasting peace,
The melody expressed by the purity of praise,
The promise of His grace silencing the dread, the dark
With a love that lingers, lighting the heart!
On a ship
Poet (Po)
Reason (Re)
Po: Look at the billow of the sails,
the sea, its black and blue hails.
Re: I’ve seen it before, even now and again.
I miss the pines outside my window pane.
Po: The sea kicked back for you and me,
flapping and fraternizing with the enemy.
Re: Even dandelions, even their seeds…
painted onto my eyes…even the weeds…
Po: Banish your thoughts of land and its blubber.
Enjoy the fishy smell of salt and deck scrubber.
Re: You’ll think differently if today we drown.
Curtains could be drawn, take us down.
Po: But I hear the wind’s bells and sea carols;
the mesmerizing squall without perils.
Re: Hide the sound from your ears, Poet.
Beautiful sirens and sharks know it.
Po: The lyrics drape over the sides, and embark,
sad and true, surely don’t lie, moon’s watermark.
Re: What a fool with your measuring rod, the rings
will tatter, split this boat into a raft without wings.
Po: Embraceable you…this mermaid is playful.
Her and her lullaby friends, my mind they fill.
Re: I fear the tidal wave, its cloth, our shroud.
The ripcord and undertow, of teeth, are loud.
Po: Auld rhymes and runes have lured me into the sea.
I’ll just lie back and listen to the soul-stirring poetry.
Re: I see now, I’ve learned my lesson too late.
Leave the poet on the shore. Don’t wait!
Po: O the climax of this sensual score. It is certain
our sea-harem will be unveiled beyond the curtain.
Light fading across charming mountains,
Sunlight bold, hasty indigo clouds…
Whimsical, wistful raindrops, drizzling
Upon brilliant colors, crisp gold and auburn
Shadows laughing through the firm vows,
Sanctifying inhabitants who normally trust
In spiritual passions, soul stirring - moods
All that brings doubt to its finish and faith
To its arising – world in accord, goodwill
Commonly known as His abiding favor, His
Inspirational truth – a Savior who is living
Proof that God brings His offspring sanctions
From His word, the vision – the wisdom
The amazing conviction that warrants souls
With the ability to know what it is…
To honor a Savior who is worthy of all our worship
A Savior who is worthy of all our adoration
A Savior who is worthy of all our gifts – unconditional
Gifts from truthful, trusting souls, who know…
His glorious light glows from within our own souls!
Lipogram Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
January 1, 2023
A lipogram is a composition from which the writer systematically omits a specific letter or letters of the alphabet; in this case, the letter chosen to be omitted is (E)
Let's toot & salute
Folks our bespoke bloke
Having a hoot..
Bearing fruit loot
English cricketing oak
Celestial extra terrestrial Groot
Can't be snooty about tutti fruity
Rooty's booty on lions duty
As an Aussie would quip
You absolute beauty
Humble while records tumble..crumble
Can hear dear old Bumble..no quibble
Told from red rose fold across the Ribble
Saying for me..sold.. Rooty better
Run getter...record setter
Fetter even KP...cricketing gold
In the MCC heaven eleven
Story of forever glory
But never look at me
Only one with a magnificent
Seven on the adored
Boards at Lords
Top of the tree
Despite his fame...just the same
Puts on the gloves
Joy of a boy
Still really clearly dearly
Loves the game
No rebuke..no fluke
For our big grin
Thin White Duke..batting nuke
Believing his pedigree filigree
Web will keep weaving
Nervous laughter
Leaving Indians peeving
Not being cynical.. it's not cyclical...but clinical.
No retrieving the pinnacle.....puns almost biblical
Our glorious grafter...after runs to every rafter
Joe will nurdle...nudge
Scoreboard budge..purring
Dreamy silky creamy
Drives soul stirring
Lamps perverse reverse ramps whirring
By hook or crook
Snook past Cook with
Textbook look & grace
Took fifth place
In the record book race
Will beat all the elite
Breaking Rahul's wall
Shaking Kallis's Palace
Forsaking blunter punter
Ponting..bereft at the
Theft..left..wanting
En song hatching
Catching then snatching
Number one
Dispatching..after so long
Last post gong
Love song of
Dashing don..Sachin
I found my soulfulness
at an early age. My depth
of spirit, creativity, self awareness
is free flowing. In written words, deep
inspired poetry allows touching
emotions to be. To drift. To float.
Constant soul-searching of my inner life fervor _
Meaningful poems release weeping sorrow
and pain. I let go of my reflections from the past,
the very essence of me. I lay each
sorrowful and sad word bare. Bleeding. Upon a
white page of paper. I create spiritual poems. Poems
of my faith and beliefs, words heartbroken and weary.
Poems full of tears. I lay open my heart and my inner
soul stirring soulfulness.
____________________________________
April 2, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/Soulfulness
Copyright Protected, ID 04-659-150-02
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, Soulidified,
sponsor, Verlena S. Walker, Judged 05/2015
Fifth Place
SELAH
As the sharp rays
of sunlight slowly sliced
through the tarring tinted clouds,
I wiped away the web
of darkness of night;
broke off a piece of time
and used it to scrape away
the corrosion of apathy
from the heart of my mind
and resuscitated eroded emotions.
Today I will open
dusty luggage of creativity
and pull out wrinkled war worn words;
etch ebony emotions of long lived life
onto the refined pulp of trees
And weave soul stirring songs;
mould scented flowers
of peace, love and justice; as
I feel the breath of God
warming my serene sweet soul
while feathering the nest
of my precious, poetic pregnant mind.
Selah.
"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver
Poetry is a life-cherishing force
It simply flows out
And when a poet's life has run its course
His poems, they shout
Poems are not words, but fires for the cold
They never grow stale
Going through them gives an energy bold
Like soul-stirring gale
Poems are like ropes let down to the lost
Hope for the broken
They don't have boundaries, or any cost
But are thoughts spoken
A basic need like bread to the hungry
Poems feed the mind
Pleasure or pain penned down for the sundry
Play of words entwined
When feelings float down with a feather touch
We call them poems
They're refreshing reads and vital as such
Valuable gems
22nd November 2022
For Sotto poet's "Poetry is a life-cherishing force" contest
I view my hand. I see an ancient land.
A melanomic crater, deep in the desert,
Speaks of greedy sun-soaked days.
Wanton then. Gone now.
Sparse wispy palm trees cluster,
Storm ravaged, angled randomly,
Now almost invisible,
Now silver in the light.
Ravines compressed in lines
Symmetrical, as from space,
Appearing geometric,
Requiring translation,
Needing understanding,
Awaiting exploration.
Ahead, beyond the fault line,
Mountains expand and converge,
Blue-edged and rising high
Above the sandy plain, sinuous,
Majestic, uncharted.
Stretching and contracting
As wrinkled parchment
In a shoreline breeze,
Pointing the way to the long journey's end.
Translucent and, yes, still beautiful.
A multitude of moments
Have slowly wrought such change.
Soul-stirring eloquence silently tells
Of times and deeds long past,
Though yet concealing secrets deep,
Of silken dreams within a lover's sleep
And memories of a sweet caress.
Written By: D. Collins 6/14/24
There's nothing better than a trumpet, trombone, and sax.
Screaming out tight tones on full blast.
Synched and tuned to make our hair stand up.
Cracking all glass products around the club.
Then, a sweet-talking flute comes in underneath.
Followed by a little Lee Oscar, the harmonic beast.
Damn!!! That would sound good. Music to my ears.
The soul-stirring sound that'll bring a man to tears..........
Once there was an average Joe
You may know
Named Poe
Having a soul stirring heart
To start
He did his society part
Right up until riding in the Poe edict funeral cart
Telling tales
Artistic, entertaining, informative daily mail
Appearing in the newspaper without fail
Ghostly guilt-ridden windy gales
Published to scare
Those blowing hot air
Some may state
This historical great
Enjoyed a night where drinking
Clouded his mind no longer clearly thinking
Sun scribe was found dead
Reason reported spirits played with the writer's head
Known for poetic verse
Setting plots befitting the hearse
Finding words to describe deathly birds
You see Ravens love to steal
It was their deal
Probably to have a meal
That seemed real
Reflecting on Boston Baltimore life
Sharp as a vengeful knife
While the 19th Century journalist searched for the truth
Someone hit the corrupted roof
An enemy or foe
Wanting him to go
Ending his interpretive show
Today haunting is the creative character’s game
Academics stoking Edgar’s fine name
Respectfully no shame
Using a theatrical stage
Reading from the author’s page
Unleashing gothic images from the disturbed cage
Hoping the message is understood
Translation needed, grammar not so good
Now in the modern era called fake news
Pointing fingers at the accused
Ponder when in the Sunday column pews
Do you really want to be a part of a bloody story?
Only to end up on talk shows Geraldo or Maury