Long Supernatural Poems
Long Supernatural Poems. Below are the most popular long Supernatural by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Supernatural poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes I lose sense of myself,
my own divination of gifted being
a trivial spark in the vastness of God --
God the Everything:
ethereal body-corridor of
time and space, of countless
universes -- of life-forces
impenetrable, remarkable existence
yet to be imagined --
my desire to treat all humanity
as the face of God, as the substance
of God~ I forget my own individuality
need for personal connection...
my own human....
I forget that God, while all the greatness
is also, that loving, bearded man with
children on his supernal, infinite knee, hearing
their needs and wiping their tears --
I forget the
constant sense of invisible arms holding
me, as though I were yet an infant, desiring
weaning and reassurance of tactile,
loving, real near presence --
I forget that God, though incomparably
enormous, is also small, in every molecule,
every live cell of blessed experience, seeking companionship,
cooperative reinforcement within endlessly evolving miraculous
phenomenon
wanting ever more defined exposure of growth and
supernatural prosperity --
overwhelmed by unknowable God
I remorsefully
overlook my most important
father and son relationship
my relatable portion of the immeasurable
profound -- the simple truth of being
constantly adored and preciously compounded
and guided --
...“De people of de modern world
tink dat no rules apply to dem,
dat dey’re too advance for such tings,
dat dey will face no consequence.
“But dere’s always a price to pay,
nothing in dis world can come free,
dere’s sixty million baby souls
who are rising up, and are angry.”
Alex fought to breathe at the words,
part of him still claimed this was mad,
he said, “If I believe your words,
how do we prevent something bad?”
The old man’s face frowned where he sat,
he shook his head side-to-side,
“When de spirits seek deir vengeance,
it is rare dat dey’re ever denied.
“I’d tell dese women dey should pray,
ask God to tell dese babes their regret,
only His power can stop dis,
but most will not hear dis just yet.
“I wish I could tell you good news,
but da pride always leads to a fall,
dese rules were not just suggestions,
now I fear it will claim dem all…”
The old man looked down in his cup,
Alex didn’t know what to ask,
but then a thought occurred to him
and he leapt up to his feet fast.
He remembered an old story
that his mother told him one time,
about wild days in college,
and a baby she chose to decline.
His frantic eyes met the old man
who seemed to know just what he feared,
“It’s to give you a chance to save her…
dat’s why da Big Man send you here.”
Alex tore out of the cabin,
saw his friend there on the air boat,
cried, “Billy, turn the motor on!
There’s no time now, we’ve got to go!”
WHAT MORE SHOULD THE GURU NARRATE? LOVE IS A VERB, IT CONFIDENTLY OPENS UP ITS RED SWEET LIPS, AND SCREAM FOR ITS SELF. LOVE AT ITS ONSET, SO PURE, PLEASANT, A COMPLETE SPLENDOR – IF YOU ARE AN ATHEIST YOU’VE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE. WE NEVER REALIZE WHEN WE FALL IN LOVE, AND IT CAME TO ME THE ONLY REASON IT IS EXPRESSED AS “TO FALL IN LOVE” IS BECAUSE WE NEVER INTEND TO. I AM NO A MAGICIAN NOR A SUPERNATURAL BUT LOVE IS A MIRACLE EACH OF US CAN PERFORM AT A DEGREE, YET WE UNABLE TO EXPLAIN IT TO ANYONE. LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL, ETHEREAL “PERFECT BOND OF UNION”. DO YOU REMEMBER HOW IT FIRST BEGUN, SMILES OF ADMIRATION AND ROMANTIC CHARMS LIKE COUNTRY ROSES AND SAFFRONS THAT OPENS UP IN SPRING. I HAD A DREAM ABOUT HOW LOVE TURNS IN TO A STRONG CHEMICAL WITH MULTIPLE BONDS IN THE BLOOD THAN ANY COMPOUND EVER EXISTED, WHEN YOU SEE THEIR FACE, HEAR THEIR VOICE, SMELL THEIR PERFUME – LOVE IN OUR BLOOD IS SENSITIVE TO THIS THINGS. THE HEART IS A HOUSE LOVE LODGES IN, THE RUSHING WIND OF THE LOVED ONE’S MEMORY COMES KNOCKING ON THE DOOR OF THE HEART, ITS DOOR LEFT RUMBLING AND BEATING WITH ENOUGH PRESSURE TO PUSH LOVE OUT OF THE HEART DEFTLY RUSHING THROUGH THE VEINS - THAT IS THE REASON YOU GET A BRISTLE AND GOOSEBUMPS.
"LOVE IS PATIENT AND KIND, IT BEARS ALL THINGS, BELIEVES ALL THINGS, HOPES ALL THINGS, ENDURES ALL THINGS- LOVE NEVER FAILS”. WE ALL WANT SOMEONE WE JUST CAN NOT IGNORE, BUT LOVE IS TRUE AT ITS MANIFESTATION WHETHER ITS REAL OR NOT WILL BE PROVEN BY ITS ENDURANCE. A WRITING ABOUT LOVE IS NEVER COMPLETE, BUT THE HEART WHICH IS READING AND KNOWS THIS AMAZING FEELING COMPLETES IT, ALWAYS WITH A SMILE.
The Missing Ouija Board
An Unholy Whodunnit in Verse
I summoned ghosts at midnight’s glare,
At Cemetery Gate—with snacks to spare.
We were just spelling “B-U-R-I-E-D” when—Zap!
The Ouija Board vanished... like a ghost on a gap.
Who stole my Ouija Board from cemetery?!
Was it the undead... or Karen from seminary?
I turned my back to fix my cape,
Returned—it was GONE. This is supernatural escape!
So I stormed to the church, all holy and bold,
Parked the board by a pew that smelled old.
Then nature called—I ran, I peed…
Came back—now it’s stolen! AGAIN? I screamed.
Someone stole my Ouija Board from the church, too…
Who knew holy haunts could act so cuckoo?
Maybe a nun with a taste for the bizarre,
Or a choir boy moonlighting as a spirit czar.
Do they even know how haunted these boards are?
They contain bad spelling and spectral memoirs.
Great-Aunt Ethel lives in that wood grain—
She once haunted a blender just for champagne.
Now my spirits are homeless, ghostly and grumpy,
One tried haunting a squirrel—got too jumpy.
The board’s gone rogue, possibly cursed,
Spotted at brunch with demons well-versed.
So beware if it knocks or begins to slide—
It also screams compliments, just to misguide.
Return it fast, don’t play coy,
Or it’ll whisper your tax secrets to the pizza boy.
Other source of supernatural knowledge is the Bible
In the words of the Council of Trent
Which enumerated the books of the Bible under their proper titles
The Church declares that she receives
All the books of the Testaments
Old and New
Since the one God is the author of both
The Vatican Council is more explicit
The Church holds those books as sacred
Canonical
Not because
Having been composed by human industry
They were afterwards approved by her authority
Nor, just because
They contain revelation without error
But, having been written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit
They have God as their Author
The word Bible comes from the Greek ninlion meaning “the book”
The plural is biblia, was taken for a feminine singular
Testaments
The Bible is the Book par Excellence
Form:
Purple Dreams In Other Realms
Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see
dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace,
she shone like the midnight sun;
I must confess, she looked rather whimsical
sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore !
~
Violent nightmares in vivid visions
In a time supernatural charming captivated enthralled
Vessel covering naked garmented barbed in paired appareled
She shone like the moon at dusk, solid full of herself
Spaced in time fanciful quirky aesthetic happily gay
Covered in the purple draped in laced satin coverings awaiting a man to love
Purple Dreams In Other Realms
04/24/25
For Purple Dreams In Other Realms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
She is not a supernatural
All she is - a being of morals
She is not invinscible
Yet, She can be divisible
A shed light in a darkened room
An inspiration to a person in doom
A transformer in many things
A quiet fighter in anything
A sister she can be
A friend she can be
A mother she can become
A baby she can come
A casual smile she can release
Giving someone a sudden bliss
When tear pours and uncease
It weakens or ruins anyone's peace
Indeed, she is a supergirl
On whole wide world at twirl
Independently ravaging
Graciously empowering
by: olive_eloi
10:09am
01/15/2014
CONTEST: any poem # 20 Free Poetry
SPONSOR: Poet Destroyer A
6TH PLACE
----+-----------------»»»»
If there's a chance,
Can we have this dance?
I will take a life's race,
will you come with me to face?
Tears flowered to my eyes,
save my soul,
will you do?
Don't tremble or fumble,
as I touch your lips
Yet express joy,
as I joke and play on gyst
Hero, that I want to be for you
Crashing all your hurts and pains
Be by your side, forever be
Vowing to be only yours,
Only yours...
But would you consider me?
Will you take me as well?
A lie
Never ever will you tell
"Only us", that you will swear?
by
olive_eloi
1:38 pm
03/18/2014
-----------------------
"Supernatural power we humans don't possess, yet with our own way we can be heroes even for a day.... "
by
olive_eloi
...So why do we keep ghosts in here
when by the day many folks die?
Well, you see, it’s technology,
it tears them apart from the inside.
Since they are merely energy
all the fields from our gadgets and toys
scatter their essence all about,
it’s a fate free ghosts can’t avoid.
These ones here we were lucky to save,
and we need to find more all the time,
some go to heaven, others to hell,
each morn we know not what we’ll find!
Nearby is the mummy’s lair,
and it causes controversy,
some say that they shouldn’t be here,
that they are just dressed-up zombies.
Others claim it’s a magic thing,
which makes them a whole other clade,
I honestly don’t’ care that much,
the people come see them in spades.
Some were even Egyptian pharaohs,
though which, we’re not really sure,
professors have tried to talk to them,
to see what history they can learn.
Hollywood has rented them out
for their movies, and they pay so well,
sometimes they seem to try to speak,
though what they say, no one can tell.
Most people like to hear them moan,
like they did in the films of old,
did you know mummies really do that?
And if they catch you they’ll grab hold?
Sadly, they do not do much more.
We don’t see them often these days,
not many folks still mummify,
and the old ones have been grave-robbed,
in the wild they don’t survive.
Keeping them stocked up with linen
makes all the zookeeper’s tired,
but let’s down to the big show,
the place where we keep the vampires.
Now these guys are a unique case,
since they’re not critters, but our guests,
they’re sentient like human beings,
to lock them would be to oppress.
We build them big apartments here,
with a back-room facing the zoo,
we pay them to visit with folks,
and tell lots of stories to you.
Since vampires are immortal
so many great tales can they share,
want to know how Jesus Christ died?
Well our guy Julius was there!
They can leave any time of course,
some of them even punch the clock.
Wilhelm is a security guard,
walks the night shift like any cop.
Some thing, but won’t he feed on folks?
It hasn’t been that was for years,
since transfusions and blood banks came
there has been no reason to fear.
They no longer had to kill people,
staying alive didn’t mean murder,
they’d get their pints, go on their way,
no reason to bite folks or disturb...
CONCLUDES IN PART IV.
How mysterious a force is intrigue - a poet's plight and salvation, a magnet of unyielding supernatural bliss to our muse. Captivating and drawing us to our mastery of mystery, impetuously impelling us as we patronize our exquisite enigma. We hold our breath to unique and incredible realities as its momentum baits and beckons in a spontaneous burst of exuberant fixation to navigate our tangible senses and eager heart - compelling our revelation to travel through our portal of questions to superimpose our being with magical poetic discourse.
mastery of mystery
beckons enigma
follow your chosen star
Dedicated to the musing of John Hamilton
February 5, 2020
Strand Select E any form, any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand