Long Swaddling Poems
Long Swaddling Poems. Below are the most popular long Swaddling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swaddling poems by poem length and keyword.
He studies the dinner card,
ticks off the boxes for Jell-O
and fruit cups; anticipates a deliciousness
that he will later swallow mechanically
on a plastic spoon.
He’s fascinated by his own breath;
tasting it on the exhalation, savoring a coolness,
as lungs struggle to filter
the chemical soup of the ward.
He imagines sipping an effervescent sky,
pouring it through a revitalized body. Shivers,
as fingertips recall tactile experiences.
He turns on his side, curls up into himself.
The skin of his curved spine delicately corrugated.
A nurse checks his chart, adds a note.
She does not record
a swaddling pall covering his flesh
within which his wife, dog, even a 1958 Plymouth
coddles him in a chrome enclosure for memories.
At night, he enters a potting shed
A place evolved from sweet tobacco, string
and dark red begonias.
From a gun-metal tin,
he takes a small Swiss Army knife,
scrapes a yellow clay from under his fingernails.
He waters psychic seeds
with the milky drops of his dreaming eyes.
By dawn plasmid tendrils will have sprouted,
they will bind up all his loose ends,
then he will drift like a gibbous moon
over the rib-sprung hollow of his bed.
Long winters day comes to an end,
My body lay down to sleep, I close my eyes as to speak to Our Savior in private..
Jesus, I feel you so close, I thank you for my blessings, my home, my kids, my husband, Lord Heavenly Father, I feel your heavenly presence in my heart tonight..
Nobody else touches my soul like you, I seek your love each and every day, in the cold December wind, the snow falling so softly, gently, it’s a gift from you.
As we await the birth of your beloved son Jesus, I too am trying to let your light into the parts of my life which are dark, empty, filled with sadness, from loosing those who turned their back on me, Lord, help me fill them with your undying love, mercy.
I cried tears of love, true unconditional mercy, grace as I know only you can give…Lord Heavenly Father, please be with me and my family thus advent as we try to shine our candles for all to see.
I love you Lord with all my being, I long to see your presence body and soul in the Eucharist at church, my heart feels you right beside me kneeling.. Thus is how I Privately feel you each Sunday My Lord…
Let this cold bitter wind be a reminder to warm up with your daily bread in the gospels, the sun warm our hearts and the Christmas carols be our way of praying twice to you Our Dear Heavenly Father..
Amen.. we await your birth Baby Jesus as you will be wrapped in swaddling clothes in a manger…
O Come O Come Emmanuel..
In the land that I was born
there is a man who takes from the sun,
he takes from the moon, from the earth's womb,
he takes from the sweat on your brow
and the bread from your mouth.
He calls himself the Taxman,
the collector of duties,
he hardly builds any roads
nor bring bread to your table,
but takes from your hunger,
and your thirst,
and your pain.
He taxes the laughter of children,
he taxes the weeping of mothers,
he taxes on buried,
and the newborn laced in swaddling clothes.
What has he given in return?
Silence, iron bars,
and the rattling sound of chains
under the weight of yokes unseen
that we are all forced to wear.
And so I ask, O Tax Collector,
under what rock have you hidden the sun?
Where has the harvest of our labors gone?
What have you done for the people
that toil in open fields
and sing songs of forgotten hope?
It’s such a magical time of the year
When winter brings the snow
And Sheppard’s watched a star at night
Two thousand years ago
They travelled more than three days
And came across a stable
There inside wrapped in swaddling clothes
A babe with Mary rocking the cradle
They knew a King would be born
And asked Joseph for his name
When they realized who this was
They prayed and gave God thanks
On this day Jesus Christ was born
The Saviour of the world
The wise men laid down their gifts
Frankincense, myrrh and gold
They kneeled beside the cradle
Thanking God for the good news
And blessed Mary the Mother
The Lord and Joseph too
Now Gods will, on earth will be done
By His only Christ the Son
Bringing redemption to the world
Who speaks the truth and listens well
And His Kingdom shall rule everyone
And every knee shall bow
For he shall be the risen Lord
The whole earth shall know and tell
© Copyright KC.Leake
20th December 2016
All Rights Reserved
Let me walk into the mountains
where the air is fresh and sweet,
where wind whispers through tree branches
around which creep the nectar honeysuckle and wild grape,
in the morning stillness,
pure as breath from God
that moved upon the waters when earth was born;
I will bring my weary spirit and find rest.
I will walk along the hollows,
trace the finger paths of God
where He carved the rugged creek beds
and fed the soil with flowers,
columbine and orchid, wild;
there He will feed this world worn child.
Let me tarry in the mountains,
listen to creation sing
lay me down upon moss carpet
beside a spring, sparkling and clear,
drink in the peaceful quiet, feel earth's healing touch.
I will linger until evening
when soft mists slip through the vales,
swaddling heights with haze blue beauty
as tender twilight swells, sunlight fading,
bending low to lay a glow kiss on mountain face.
Copyright, July 11, 2016
Faye Lanham Gibson
With a deliberated ruse; she washed its tiny face with a soft washcloth.
With no resistance, she enfolded the wee infant into a swaddling cloth.
In the Autumn equinox, she placed the tiny form in the simple wooden box.
She watched them perform their antiquated burial tradition, and then she returned to the loose gray dirt.
She then headed home with a secret beneath her skirt.
Earlier during the dim of the day, while they were seeking each other for comfort.
And while superficial prayers were offered up with great effort.
She blew breath into the tiny mouth and massaged its tiny smooth chest.
And by the grace of God, the tiny infant was blessed.
Madame Blackwell by virtuous askew created a makeshift bundle and made a switch.
Her deed made unnoticed without a glitch.
No regret manifested in her heart.
No transient sorrow, in place was a spiritual upstart.
For retribution was pacified and made whole.
There was a righteous mood in her soul.
Justice was done.
For her, the sun's unsparing glory shone radiantly on her and her son.
Please leave the light on!
I dragged my hair in the mirror in a dark navy blue sea
I sat in front of me-Tantalus ate my heart
Dejavu is always my dreams. When I woke up, I was an amethyst stone
And the broken glass was under me. Snakes were falling into the sky garden
The last trumpet blew on my surface. On the silver-shining skin of an angel
I darkened the sun. I walked on the ship of my skin, the Bosphorus was the daughter of Athena
Hours are simultaneous geometry. A toy dead body is the pain of flesh on my cheek
Please don't turn off the lights!
My 1 year old is passing by the bridge at the end of my bed. His horse Yehuda's trumpet is constantly blowing
A merchant is selling my photograph. I dressed, the paints flowing from the canvas to my soul
Violets are rotting in the formaldehyde solution. The leaves are lynching the last mammoth of the forest
We learned primitiveness. That's why our pain doesn't turn to the dawn
A blurry moment... The mask I'm chasing is bleeding into my plastic body
My angry, mad shadow is swaying. Blurry time...
I'm bent over and swaddling my face. In Euclid's cadaver reflected in the glass...
I'm scared, please leave the light on!
Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our Earthen father
Why? Because He made me so
Is divinely intertwined
In an earthen vessel.
Fearfully and wonderfully made
You’re dear and precious!
Thank God for His purpose.
Thank God for His purpose
Thank God for His purpose
Blessed, blessings to you Beloved.
Always, always, always
Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our earthen father
Thank you Lord, I thank you God
For all that you’ve done
Hallelujah
Is divinely intertwined
In an earthen vessel.
Fearfully and wonderfully made
You’re dear and precious!
Thank God for His purpose.
Thank God for His purpose
Thank God for His purpose
Blessed, blessings to you Beloved.
Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our Earthen father
Why? Because He made me so
Amen! And I receive my blessings!
Thank God for blessing us this day
With his divine purpose wrapped in swaddling clothing
That clothe that can’t be cut.
What a mighty purpose that he chose
To put in seed form in your father's bosom!
My God blessed your mother's womb to birth
His purpose that entered this day years ago
Always, always, always
Thanking our Father
For Himself and Our earthen father
Thank you Lord, I thank you God
For all that you’ve done
Hallelujah
1/21/24
Written by Candace Rodgers & James Edward Lee Sr. 2024© CR HEART
FIVE
She carries the repentant over the floss…
As little children, wrapped in swaddling clothes,
She comforts them and helps them bear their loss
As gently as a shadow, so she goes…
Forgives the one who stole her golden coin,
Forbears to hurt the bullies who hurt her,
Forswears revenge, invites them all to join
Her in a jolly round-dance, ‘neath a fir…
For Heaven is a happy place where all
Our slips, and stabs, and slurs, and stares lie down,
Forgotten, while we deck the merry hall,
And everyone forgets to wear a frown!
And so, arrive the sojourners at last
To join the angels in joyful repast!
Pleasantries of passivity before the pinch of shrill cold
ripples over the landscape in the suburbs of Buffalo—
before its trees crispin and leaves twirl about— giggling
like school girls, rippling in the claustrophobic dark.
My existence, contingent on three months: conceived
in January - a honeymoon baby, born in October, yet
September is pivotal to my existence as two sets
of twins were born, one year and a few miles apart.
September is neither hot nor cold in the passing
of Spring - I must state that this intermediary stage
is not prosaic - its conjoined arm in arm seasons
for lovers, families, bundles of joy, apple of the eyes.
Climbing of trees, climatic offspring of seedlings,
sweet and sour opposites attract the saplings
and their mentors — momentous happenings
that thrill through muscle memories of September.
Outdoors to explore as air conditioners cool off,
as central heating waits in line, as school dances
erupt, and festivals bring their baskets of fruit
for those jiggling pocketfuls of change. Exchange
of hopefulness, the eye of the storm with its zephyr
zealousness— fertile ground of safety on simmer.
One honeymoon baby drifted South toward peaches,
pecans and the annual Yellow Daisy Festival.
Roots of September— my smile wide, in dungarees,
seasonal daring, my squeeze, and succulent sweetheart.
Hello September, a selfie-group hug, a gregarious greeting.
Slipping from Summer, swaddling into such colder winds.
9/18/2021