Long Teresa Poems
Long Teresa Poems. Below are the most popular long Teresa by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Teresa poems by poem length and keyword.
I fell ill.
My heart dilated.
I had a pain on Christmas Eve
where my heart should be.
I remember because my sister
called me from Australia.
I said "I have a pain in my chest Teresa."
I had dissolved my marriage and
my mother was recently dead.
My work as a midwife on night duty
was too stressful.
The doctor refused to come to
the too hot, too heavy,
newborn December baby.
Like a turkey out of the oven.
I fell ill.
The heartless cardiologist insinuated
I had four years to live.
My heart had dilated.
Teresa whispered in my ear on leaving
for Australia again after Mum's funeral.
"I will come home to nurse you."
I got a second opinion.
I told him "My heart is broken".
He treated me with respect
until I got better again.
My heart has healed.
My heart had to break
for me to break free from you.
I survived against all odds.
I almost ended it all. How foolish.
My heart has healed.
My future car from sealed.
"If you desire healing,
let yourself fall ill
let yourself fall ill."
- Jalaluddin Rumi
29/11/2016
Comrades, feminine energy is not a sudden outcome, It originated from the past to the present world order, The women are the preachers of the deaf and the dumb, Mercy,love, patience and intuition are creations of that performer. During a fierce battle,Kaikeyi saved Dasharath's life, Lord Krishna accompanied by Sathyabama defeated the demon, The feminine energy of Savithri rescued Satyavan's life , Kannagi ,an epic heroine sought justice for a real reason. Manimekalai rejected the romance of life to become a nun , Tamil culture was shaped by Avvaiyar, the great Tamil poet, Mother Teresa dedicated her life to the poor sick and dying ones, Helen Keller,a feminist used Braille system and its kit. Kalpana inspired millions of girls to pursue careers in aerospace, Marie Curie was the only woman to win in two scientific fields, No wonder Indira Gandhi was the iron lady with a strong base, World remembered Diana who worked for sick people as a shield. Our people could understand anything through reason and evidence, No human being in the world is a supernatural power, We follow in the footsteps of feminists as an act of reverence, Masculine energy protect us but feminine energy heals us like a flower.
Taking our time
Flowing, going, stepping smoothly down
Conversing with her from out of town
Walking, floating, introducing ourselves
So pleasant was the talk, I postponed my run
Eucalyptus lowered branches to hear our fun
Slowly, time fleeting moving closer towards her
There was pain in her eyes, I could only smile
I had been there, from which I walked awhile
It was so nice to meet, my heart fluttered
I wished her luck, “fue un placer,” she replied
Off I go, telling myself at least try
Jogging my thoughts stood on that chance encounter
Hoping, thinking that I would look for her again
That by any luck, love let me not relent
For Teresa and her Cuban Accent
Form:
Are socialists human beings?
Do they need food?
Are they capable of goodness?
Do they deserve to be tortured, starved, abandoned, beaten?
What makes a socialist cry?
It isn't sad movies -- or is it?
Why should I stop hating them?
I have the right to punish them, do I not?
Or do I?
When Mother Teresa found a Communist, starving, abandoned, beaten, she fed him, loved him, made him feel the hands of Christ, touching him through her hands.
When the SS found a Communist, they shot him, tortured him, starved him, gassed him
When the Communists found a Jew, they tortured him, starved him, took his property, made certain he was strung up as an example, that people do not have the right to own their own property.
When Gandhi found that Hindus were murdering Muslims and Muslims were murdering Hindus, he fasted publicly until they stopped.
Whose example do you prefer?
Mother Teresa's, or Stalin's
That of Gandhi, or the SS?
That of Christ?
I have the right to shoot every Democrat who angers me -- or DO I?
I have the right to impeach every Republican for being Republican, to loot his store, to force him to perform abortions, to punish him...
Somewhere in Africa, a father drove nails through the knees of his teenage son
For converting to Christianity.
I am hatred.
I am anger.
I am violence.
Whose example do you prefer?
Christ's?
Or mine?
This is where we save ourselves,
Or destroy ourselves.
'Let Brotherhood, Peace and Progress become landmarks of attainment', it has been written.
Well?
Which do we prefer?
It's a question to ask yourself every day.
When I win, I make the whole world bleed,
And I LAUGH!
Not such a nice fellow am I.
Teresa of Ávila
Dreamt the passion of God.
A physical fire
Burned an image of his power.
An image I envisioned was one so dull
Full of pain
A nightmare stabbing my mind's eye.
A frail image of my mother
Some quivering voice I remember
In my dimension of inception
That my mother was at her end.
A disruptive anxiety burdens a peace
But that day, it was at bay.
Paralysed by a hidden sight that I couldn't bear
Petrified by a dream, one that was so rare.
This despicable numbness I endure
Sympathises the fools of fiction.
As reality shapes its needle
To fill with its anaesthesia of truth
And inject into those who walk in wonder.
Today, I trudged through that trail
Of some twenty-fourth year
My Lucky Strike ablaze
And my hands on the balcony window.
Experiencing no sore throat
That I remembered from youth,
Only a deep sensation of numbed limbs
Suffering this cold spring night.
Even the cigarette wasn't fazed
Of the wind’s devouring passion
Blowing its burning ashes.
"Be happy in the moment, that's enough. Each moment is all we need."
Quote: Mother Teresa
A happy moment
is certainly a piece of cake
Enjoy the sweetness
of pink cotton candy
and multicolored tulips so divine
You never realize
what you had before it's gone
Don't waste the moments
each one is significant
Our life is to search
unforgettable experiences
as aged photographs
intertwined with tears and laughter
A barefooted line dancer
freezes the sequence of events
don't miss the details
Tomorrow will come all too soon
today the breath of life
- a sneeze in ecstasy
21.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- B Quotes - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1st place in the contest
It amazes me that she came to mind after some 50 years.
She lived far back across the fields, alone with not a care.
She was laughed at and talked about; some were afraid of her.
No one was ever harmed by her, and everyone stayed out of her way.
Even when they avoided her, it was difficult to escape the sound of her voice.
Up close or across the fields, we heard her so clearly and sincerely crying, “Holy!”
She was not sociable, and perhaps even a bit eccentric. Though religious, she was not a Mother Teresa. I do not remember a smile she gave to anybody for any reason. Was she out of her mind as some suggested? Was she a voice crying in the wilderness? Was she on a divine assignment from God? Was she a saint or holy person? I most assuredly did not know then, and I am presently content to let God be the judge of that. But she had no doubt about her God being Holy, because, with unrelenting commitment, she cried, “Holy!”
It’s clear to me that God had become the center of her every affection. Indeed, she deemed it her mission to proclaim the Holiness of God to a needy people. So without refrain, fear, or hesitation, she simply continued to shout, “Holy!”
She was unconventional, unsophisticated, unconcerned, and unlike anyone I have ever known. She cared not what people said, thought, or felt about her. She was fearless, and nothing mattered except her mission. She was called 'the sanctified lady’; but time after time, come rain or come shine, she paid us no mind, and she never ceased or declined. She just cried, “Holy!”
I never knew whatever became of her, but she was a small framed lady with a strong and deep sounding voice. It’s the cry of her voice that brings my eyes to tears. Without apology or regard for public opinion, from her home deep across the corn and cotton fields, we often heard her crying, “Holy!”
I don’t recall anything else she ever said or did. But I will say that if she was on a divine assignment, God must have been pleased with her. I suspect that it was a lonely and often cruel assignment, causing much pain and ridicule. But she bore the pain; she had nothing to gain; her message was clear and plain; she refused to refrain. She certainly was not popular, and I don’t remember a friend she ever had. But ever true to her task, from the depths of her soul, she cried, “Holy!”
Quote:"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin". Mother Teresa
Long awaited birtday arrives,
Best wishes, cakes and flowers from social media thrives,
I feel haapy, did not know I had so many friends,
Wish I could smell the flowers and taste a piece from the cakes.
The joy of real birtday touches my heart,
When someone sings a birtrhday wish from heart,
When I try to blow a single candle whole heartedly,
Wish I had some real people nearby for the party.
Then I think, why bother, this is your birthday,
Pick up some roses, eat some cake, enjoy your day,
Play some joyous romantic music whole day.
Carpe Diem, it is your day.
Clint's an iffy fellow, tis prestige vs the ordinaire, my dear plain Jane--hmm, partially accommodating.
Methinks you're a drop-off, my dear, picture a car dropping you off curbside while he goes looking for a fictitious parking space, but a gentleman he is uses the factual context of the 11th hour--OPS you to HAIL me.
I gather Mr. Eastwood was gifted said ticket, ... that I am guessing you so happened to be in pysical possession.
How did you know that? That would pleasure him of not being a CAD!
I forgot that you're like some madda carrie.
Mother who? You mean that Mother Teresa (rising popularity 1979).
No, that German one.
A German Mother Teresa? Was she young Adolph's school teacher.
Oh forget it! [LATER: she reveals "Mata Hari']"
Did he you call you and tell you, or are you playing Holmes?
Doc--tor 'tis Clint's gift?
Yes, but-- ... --wait ... it must be somebody of importance ... yes, but who?
Hehehe! It would be very rich for me, if I saw a glimpse of your face at this relevant juncture-------was I your suggested choice?
... Yes, Oh my? You're scary!
I am named after my grandmother.
Christened Sarah Jane, she was known as Jeanie.
That is often the way where I come from,
that deviation from the written proclamation.
The first three of my siblings
were never called by their primary
baptismal names, after family relations.
But the second, more meaningful to my parents.
So, Michael Derek became Derek,
Martin Seaneen, Seaneen (son of Sean)
and Vivienne Teresa, Teresa. (Daddy's mother's)
The trend ended with me for some reason.
The three younger than I were also spared confusion.
Perhaps because my mother named me after her's,
and wanted to hold that connection to her heart.
To hear her name on a daily basis.
In return, I did the same for her.
She was always just Mum to us seven.
Daddy was the only one to call her name at home.
And such a lovely unusual name it is, Edna.
Although both were unimpressed with my choice initially,
I think Mum was secretly pleased.
Having grown into her name most beautifully,
my Edna has now met her Rupert.
The wedding invite will sound grand.
14/03/2019
WHAT'S IN A NAME POETRY CONTEST
for Kim Rodrigues.