Long Testament Poems
Long Testament Poems. Below are the most popular long Testament by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Testament poems by poem length and keyword.
I wander through the labyrinth of silence where echoes of lost desires intertwine,
Searching for meaning in the abyss of thoughts that slip like sand through fingers,
A senseless man, carried by the winds of time, caught in the webs of endless questions,
With a heart like a dried-up well seeking its source in a world forgotten by meaning.
Loneliness wraps me in its shadowy cloak, a garment that weighs heavily,
Alienation dances in silent circles, a dance of the soul that finds no solace,
Unanswered questions gather like heavy storm clouds on a boundless sky,
And I lose myself in the silence between words, seeking a light to guide me.
In this landscape of wandering, the inner void becomes an ocean that never ceases,
An infinite space where thoughts drift like leaves on a nameless river,
Each step is a question, each breath an echo of the desire to find meaning,
Yet the sky remains silent, and the stars only flicker like memories of forgotten dreams.
And yet, in the depths of this seemingly endless search, there lies a hidden beauty,
A silent poetry born from the struggle to find light in the darkness that surrounds us,
For even in wandering, there is a story, a whisper of the soul that refuses to be silent,
A testament to the desire to live, to feel, to discover meaning amidst the nonsense.
Another prophet living near the town of Bethel
was enlightened of the events by his sons quite well.
This man determined this stranger as someone to know.
He then asked his sons, “On which road did this prophet go?”
After the sons told him, he said, “Saddle my donkey.”
The Bethel prophet then embarked on a short journey
until he encountered the man from Judah to see.
The prophet from Judah rested under an oak tree.
When asked if he were the man, he replied, “I am he”
The man from Bethel said, “Won’t you please come home with me?
I am also a prophet. An angel came to be
a messenger to instruct to take you home with me.
When we arrive there, we shall eat, drink, and be merry.”
However, this old prophet’s words were mendacity.
When seated at the table, the Lord God then conveyed
words to the Judah prophet because he disobeyed:
“You have not followed my orders in this time you roam.
Therefore, you shall not live long enough to return home.”
The old prophet and his sons helped the man on his way.
However, the Judah man did not get far that day.
As the young prophet journeyed on his way to Zion,
he would be confronted and murdered by a lion.
Passersby on the road then would be able to see
the body of the dead prophet next to the donkey.
Word came to the old prophet and his sons in Bethel.
He and his sons traveled to where the body would dwell.
They brought the body back to be buried in the land
of the Bethel prophet, who would then make this demand:
After I die, bury my remains next to this man.
He was true to the Lord God as one possibly can.
As prophets are, it will be hard to find another.
Therefore, I consider this prophet as my brother.
From the First Book of Kings in the Old Testament
Your ‘calling’ strings you out
into a gospel
of all that you were and are.
A written scripture scrolls on.
You are a witness. The poet that watches,
the one who shows up late in your own story,
diverse scribes feed you shape-shifting words
from the collective works of
other visionaries.
Every image has its alter-image.
This gospel of ‘you’
can gossip over a trivial landscape,
yet all is elemental and intrinsic
to an all-inclusive manifesto.
These secret teachings are parables,
allegory and metaphor,
revelations discovered by few or many.
Word of mouth becomes a testament
one woven by a history
of observers and spectators,
they scribble down both the immaterial
and the substance of reflections,
then hammer them into flowing water
where all poetry is enshrined.
In autumn's graceful waltz of time
Where beauty and decay lovely intertwine.
And where joy and sorrow blissfully dance
In grace, they move this is a mesmerizing rhyme.
Leaves fall like a master painter's dream
Such a masterpiece mixed in color and light.
Twirling and a pirouette and the wind's gentle hymn
Is celebrating life's fleeting and graceful flight.
Raindrops are falling in a celestial jeté
I breathe in the air so crisp and so fair.
A gentle wind as secrets it keeps
A promise of renewal in the cool autumn ballet.
Within decay's soft and relentless caress
Unseen beauty takes the actors stage.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot like nature’s applause
Soft light filters through the trees like a lover's gaze.
Silence of the air soothes my soul like a lullaby.
Autumn is a ballet of graceful transition
A time for release and a moment to move on.
Yet, it is also a time of great hope.
A chance for fresh beginnings and where dancers are drawn.
The Harvest's abundance in life's great field
For the Fruits of labor and love's sweet trove.
The apple's nectar on my tongue, it yields.
Nature's gift is a dance
from heavens above.
Yet, as I taste the apple’s sweet yield...
I am transported to autumns of past.
To childhood days in the orchard field
And laughter lament is fading fast.
We seek the fire's embrace
against the chill.
As we are preparing for winter's
timeless phase.
And children's laughter fills with thrill -
That joyous echo of
Halloween's displays.
A fire crackles in life’s burning spin.
Look, as new life emerges from...
the ember's gentle glow.
We experience a symbol of...
transformation
a dance within...
Just like life's eternal rhythm...
like a river's ebb and flow.
There is steadfast and an...
unwavering resolve.
As a lone leaf clings to its
solitary dream.
A dream of green...
a dance as life revolves...
Against winter's ongoing
relentless regime.
Within winter's embrace and where life's seeds lie
Lies a seed of promise...
in silence grown.
I close my eyes and join autumn's
endless grace.
In reverie... I find my truest home.
Yet when I awaken -
It was a fleeting dream.
As the scent of autumn lingers in the air...
A testament to time that life's beauty is in…
Its ever-turning stream.
Tossed about through the turbulence of life,
Confusion remains to search for a seed.
As if the eye of the hurricane seeks direction,
Only to find no compass for its need.
Does this curious resolve weaken & wobble,
Or grow stronger through the effort & quest ?
While every response creates another,
And chaos may contribute to severely test.
The desire that looks to an unknown horizon,
May often see emptiness to follow despair.
Yet choice must pierce through this fog & veil,
With enough light that can guide to remain fair.
This journey is seldom without consequence,
As obstacles become present and abound.
So whether hurdled, avoided, or plowed through . . .
Overcoming them must be found.
While the question remains fundamental,
There are billions of answers to be observed.
With each one's unique testament,
Tracing a morality rarely hidden or reserved.
Ultimately, this inquiry is survived upon,
By those to judge while reflecting their own view.
Just as current events & history tend to remind us . . .
Not everything seen or heard is always true.
I carry my heart with me
to the length and breadth of the galaxy
I carry my heart with me to be wherever it wants to be
There are many holes in it and each one represents the bliss
That never survive and a soul that lost its pride
Love turns to pain and joy turn to shame.
I throw a pebble in the sea to remind me
how deep my heart might be
the pebble I throw symbolize the depth of my soul
and the stories that are still not told
you will never find anything on dry land
you must go where the universe stand
the stone henge in England is not
just a monument its location is a testament
There are many places that I’d rather be
Than to lie here crying over thee
Stretch out the mat on the floor and close the door
And face the truth within thee
I will sing a silent song for you
While your heart is languishing at sea
Its body was not found and so the
Mysteries have the people bound
A fragrant rose is floating in the sea
carrying a gracious message for thee.
Can you feel the ripples in my heart?
I have been counting the day since it starts
The sky is overcast and the sun is buried in the dark
I’ve got to move the boulder out of the way lest
My spirit goes astray
I carry the ripples of my heart with me
waiting for the universe to set it free
so take the guitar along with thee
to compose a song as the ripples
of the heart spreads across the sea.
Across the vast and sweeping plain,
Walks great tatánka* through the rain.
From quiet springs where waters flow,
A sacred gift to earth below.
To Lakota families, kin and near,
A feast of life, bringing comfort clear.
In story, song, and ancestral land,
The bison remains the heart of the strand.
The buffalo offered its flesh and breath,
To shield the people from winter’s death.
From heavy hides, warm tipis rose,
And sturdy shoes for the drifting snows.
No bone was wasted, no gift cast by:
Fine needles forged for the threads they’d tie,
Horns shaped to spoons as the young were fed,
And stomach bowls where the broth turned red.
In sacred circles, the skull holds a place,
A silent sign of enduring grace.
This total gift taught a way to live:
To open hands and to freely give,
To honor neighbors, to share the store,
A lasting wealth worth so much more.
Without this bond, no Sundance could start,
As White Buffalo Woman touches the heart.
As grazers, they nurtured both soil and seed,
Healing the plains for every need.
Though darker seasons brought loss and fear,
And roaming herds began to disappear,
The wild spirit refused to succumb,
Beating as strong as the skin on a drum.
Today, young herds run under the sun,
A long-promised healing has finally begun.
With tribes leading care across valley and hill,
The songs of the elders are echoing still—
A testament strength could never break,
The giver of life for the people’s sake.
* Tatanka is buffalo.
In the whirlwind of emotions, a child stands,
Caught between two forces pulling apart,
Their innocence shattered by the storm of a parent's divorce.
Whispers of anger and sorrow fill the air,
A heavy burden on fragile shoulders,
As the once familiar world crumbles around them.
Confusion reigns, like a wild beast unleashed,
Tearing through the fabric of their reality,
Leaving behind a trail of heartache and uncertainty.
In the silence of the night, tears fall like rain,
Each drop a testament to the pain within,
Aching for the love that once held them together.
But amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope,
A beacon of light in the darkness,
Guiding them through the tumultuous sea of change.
For in the midst of this storm, they find their strength,
Their resilience shining like a diamond in the rough,
A reminder that even in the hardest times, they will endure.
So let them stand tall, let them rise above,
For they are warriors in a battle not of their making,
And through it all, they will emerge stronger, wiser, and free.
Can't stop writing these love words to you
They keep flowing out with such ease
Never known passion the way I do now
My heart and soul you have seized
In a moment in time back on September 7th
My whole life was forever changed
Was thinking before that very fateful day
That real love was no longer in range
From then till forever, I feel alive again
With dreams of a passionate love
The girl I've adored for eternity it seems
Has reappeared, giving my heart a shove
Shouldn't be over, our age shouldn't matter
Great romances from the distant past
Have proven that love crosses all boundaries
Should be able to feel love to the last
So I repeat can't stop writing you love words
They flow from my pen with such ease
A testament to my burning love, my darling
No words more passionate than these
The Cold Facts of Life**
In her own eyes, she was a flawless woman, embodying grace and beauty so perfectly that many around her often mistook her for a goddess, revered by those less privileged. Yet, beneath this polished exterior lay a vulnerable heart, one that yearned for genuine connection. It was during a picturesque summer at Lake George, with its shimmering waters and enveloping nature, that the man of her dreams swept into her life like a tempest. He stole away her innocence, submerging her in the cold depths of the lake, both physically and emotionally, leaving her feeling heavy with the weight of lost virtue.
As she reflected on her experiences, it became painfully clear that too often, shadows obscure our true vision. Infatuation, with its thrilling highs and intoxicating allure, had led her to confuse mere attraction with real love. Now, standing at a crossroads, she recognized the irony of being impeccable yet careless. Through her journey, she transformed into a living testament to the harsh realities of love, confronting the cold facts that life had laid before her.