Long Storehouse Poems
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Fast steady steps but not sure where to go
Strong sturdy arms but ready to give in
Warm playful gaze with a hue of sadness
A cursing tongue
capable of sweet innocent promises
Wrap me in your arms
Hide me in your smile
But baby don’t drag me for a mile
Fill me, consummate my soul
A touch that could burn
A look of yearn
Words that could calm my spirit
An embrace that shields me
A smell that rubs off
A presence that could linger
A face that could show me the world
A being that makes life unfold before me
I wish i could be the one
Who could be with you when you are afraid
Placate your fears
Chase the dark shadows of your past
Close your wounds
Heal your scars
I want to be the one to te tell you that
Snowflakes do not taste good
That flowers do bloom in the spring
And that splinters hurt
I just want to be there for you
Make sure that your everything is going to be alright
I want to make you believe
That true love exists
I want to smother you with feathery kisses
If i can't hug you long enough
tell you I love you too often
Know that I believe in us together
Even if it can’t be all that
I have given you the rarest opportunity
To allow you to see my own beauty
All the reasons i have in me
My qualms, realms, pent up emotions
New perspective and even my uncertainties
You have reached that special part of me
Where you could hear my heart flutter
Listen to me when i say nothing a
But i mean something
When you could thrust me deep
In the night sky’s feverish theme
In return you have share with me
A place where we can confront our needs
dreams and unspoken fears
The storehouse of our hope that encompasses
The essence of who we truly are
But when i see a furrow in your brow
A glitch of sadness in those eyes
Or hear you curse and yell
Sense anger in your voice
I shudder with fear but somehow
make myself strong enough
So i could run and hold you
rock you gently
Say it's okay baby
In your world where everybody hates
a happy ending story
Let me be the one to say forever and ever
before the end
I hope time will not come when my dawn will break
Giving light to your mind that we are meant
But this time with you is not wasted in sorrow
But spent in smiles
Despite the future’s call
My case i now rest my heart i now give
Myself i surrender before my time slips
And runs out with fate.
Do you know that unseen someone is tending the tender leaf? Do you feel the moving spirit behind the ladybird on the tender leaf moving free? Do you think of the force of swiftness in the wake of which birds fly to and fro collecting food? Do you see the care granted by someone that enables them selecting every blade of grass and bit of cloth bit of cotton jute and fiber to create the best of nests? Do you feel such an active Spirit making his home in you and me too, and enabling us to sleep and rise and breath and live? To that Great Spirit of Kindness is my Zenith of Salam.
you are not kind, Lord
You're the storehouse of kindness
We're just your stewards
18 August 2021
Kindness Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
When rhymes forsake me, my pen's then bled dry;
and eloquent lines rich in metaphor
die before the inkwell's used up, here and by:
for the once-teeming storehouse reservoirs
of song flee my page, though write in hope I try!
“How to awaken the dead muse again?”
I plead. “O what answer, what remedy
are main: the keys to my mind's creative drain!?”
So, in distress, to God I make my plea.
I let the tired fields of my mind lie fallow:
and as time passed, my pen regains its powers;
so new strains sing unwan and unsallow,
and antique odes on clouds and daffodil flowers
may refresh this infant, newborn sonnet,
with life from this present time, and planet.
Below the surface is a whole new world
Of magic and delight to be unfurled
Below the surface, is a wealth of treasure
Of exquisite beauty that’s without measure
Below the surface of my deep blue sea
Is the secret storehouse of fantasy
Below the surface is where you’ll find
The treasures of my heart and mind
Below the surface at depths extreme
Is where you’ll find that buried dream
Below the surface, is where I come alive
In my depths, I know, you desire to dive
Below the surface, is where I keep my soul
If you go deep enough, I’ll make you whole
Below the surface, is where magic lies
Start the descent there now through my eyes
Below the surface, I’m waiting for you
Come down, my love, swim in love so true
Below the surface, vibrant you will feel
That surreal world, for you I’ll make real
Below the surface, you will beg to stay…
In my ocean depth, passion drenched each day!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
It was apostolic tradition that the Church discerned writings
To be included in the list of Sacred Books
This complete list is called the canon Scripture
It includes 46 books for the Old Testament
45 if we account Jeremiah and Lamentations as one
The Old Testament is dispensable part of Sacred Scripture
Its books are divinely inspired and
Retain a permanent value
For the Old Covenant has never been revoked
Indeed
The economy of the Old Testament was deliberately so oriented
That it should prepare for and declare in prophecy in the coming of Father Christ
Redeemer of all men
Even though they contain matters imperfect and provisional
The books of the Old Testament
Bear witness to the divine pedagogy of Eternal God’s saving love
These writings are a storehouse of sublime teaching of Eternal God and
Of sound wisdom on human life
As well as a wonderful treasury of prayers
In them
Too
The mystery of our salvation is present in a hidden way
Christians venerate the Old Testament as true Word of Eternal God
The Church has always vigorously opposed
The idea of rejecting the Old Testament
Under the pretext that the New
Has rendered it void (Marcionism.
"If I survey all the good things that come to me from above
If I count all the blessings from the storehouse of love
I'd simply ask for the favor of him beyond mortal king
And I'm sure that he'd grant it again
I want to stroll over Heaven with you some glad day
When all our troubles and heartaches are vanished away
Then we'll enjoy the beauty where all things are new
I want to stroll over Heaven with you
So many places of beauty we long to see here below
But time and treasures have kept us from making plans as you know
But come the morning of the rapture, together we'll stand anew
While I stroll over Heaven with you
I want to stroll over Heaven with you some glad day
When all our troubles and heartaches are vanished away
Then we'll enjoy the beauty where all things are new
I want to stroll over Heaven with you
I want to stroll over Heaven with you"
Songwriters: J. B. B Lemley
For non-commercial use only.
Data From: Musixmatch
Sung by Alan Jackson
You can hear it on YouTube. I tried to paste the address but that did not work.
Type in the title of the song plus put YouTube and it should take you there.
Do you recall being in school?
Learning many lessons;
obeying all of the rules;
absorbing each lecture and each page
of your textbook;
adding to your storehouse of wisdom.
If you stayed and finished school, you were wise;
It always pays to stay in school.
As you build your own life’s book,
You’ll learn many life lessons.
Every turn of your life’s next page;
must comply with some sort of rule.
People live and create hoards of rules;
Living by them can make one wise.
Turn carefully the pages,
while you’re still in school;
and you can avoid some hard lessons
which, are not in your textbooks.
If your life is a tightly closed book,
you live by a personal rule;
you may get frustrated with your lessons.
Sharing with others can make you wise;
Not all education is gleaned in school;
Education has many unconventional pages.
Every time you turn a page,
in any kind of book;
you’ll learn things, in lifetimes school;
including the golden rule.
Living this rule is quite wise;
it’s the kindest lesson in life.
Pay close attention to your lessons
and those on other people’s pages.
Everywhere you’ll locate wisdom;
Someday you may write it in your own book.
Every king or queen that ever ruled,
Started out, being schooled.
Wisdom comes from a lifetime of learning lessons.
Stay in school till it’s time to turn another of life’s pages.
Study your books; live by the rules for success.
He placed a strong arm
Around my small form
Carrying me to the darkness
The dreaded, musty
Cellar, where canning jars
Lined the clammy shelves
And I felt the caress
Of spider webs falling
Near my naked face
I was always a little reluctant
When riding his waist
Into the damp, cool room
Where a dirt floor
Left me fearful, loathe
To entering the feared place
Alone, but I was with him
My gentle defender
He would never let that spider
Get me – would he?
There were moments
When I felt the worry
Radiate on my skin
Dank as the vault where
We found the delicious
Grape juice I would carry
Back home with me
From Granny’s storehouse
Of yummy treats
The leftovers from a garden
That had dried up
And turned back to dirt
And Pa was just kind enough
To remember how much I loved
That sweet nectar flavored
With dark purple grapes
I don’t remember when it started
And I don’t remember how long it went on
I only remember the mouthwatering
Sweetness meeting my tongue
Flavoring these moments
With whispers of love
My memory is a storehouse.
A vast ocean of images,
collected by my five senses,
the library of all I learned.
I know not how each image forms,
Though I know which sense brought them in.
I know not how memory works,
but I know when it’s not working.
In memory I meet myself.
“What, when and where I did a thing,
and how I felt when I did it.”
My joys and sorrows are stored there.
This vast cave of my memory,
with its numerous recesses.
Receives all things and stores them up,
to be brought forth when required.
These things consist of bits and bytes,
of information quite diverse.
Filed and stored in categories,
like Dewey’s Decimal System.
When I go into my storehouse,
I ask what I want to come forth.
Some things appear quite easily,
others must be sought and dragged out.
Some things are like unruly boys,
they come in crowds when not needed.
These I dismiss with hand of heart,
Till that which I seek for appears.
Even when sitting in darkness,
memory can bring forth colors.
With my tongue at rest, and silent,
yet I can sing as my soul wills.
Great is my memory’s power,
and exceedingly great my God.
Who can plumb this ocean’s vast depth?
or understand its mysteries?
Why did you give this gift to me?
Great God Almighty can it be,
my memory is a mirror,
reflecting my likeness to Thee?
I so enjoyed my escape into your beautiful mind.
Traveling along synaptic highways,
moving at the speed of thought.
I journeyed to our yesterdays,
happy thoughts encased in light.
Your storehouse of hugs and kisses,
all those smiles that shone so bright.
I saw that look,
as you gazed in the mirror.
Head resting on my shoulder,
you feeling me near.
The taste of orange crush on your tongue.
Were we ever that young?
I could have stayed there forever,
yet your thoughts are your own.
So happy for that slice of time.
Even now we are connected, intertwined.
Come escape into my mind.
Travel along synaptic highways.
Come travel at the speed of thought!