Long The english Poems
Long The english Poems. Below are the most popular long The english by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long The english poems by poem length and keyword.
~God Almighty~
(The Lune)
God Almighty the Lord
Created all
He made you and me
God’s countless blessings
Measureless
His love infinite
God just sees it all
He’s patient
And so full of grace
He’s merciful to all
Still when men
Rejects God often
But still God loves men
No matt'r what
And saves wants all.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2007
November.06.2016
-So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
-“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16 (NIV )
~Author's Notes:
"The Lune" is also known as the American Haiku. It was first created by the poet Robert Kelly, and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with the English haiku.
“Bookkeeper” is the only word in the english language
That has three consecutive double letters
So the next time you're at a party and ask this question
You'll be crowned “Best Trivia Player” ever!
Did you know there are as many chickens on earth
As the number of human beings
This one blew my mind and will surely blow yours
Each day, 75 acres of pizza are eaten
Our eyes are the same size as the day we are born
But our nose and ears don't stop growing
Bet you've never heard about this amazing fact
Under black light, a cat's urine is glowing
A healthy, individual laughs about five times a day
Did you know, “bananas grow pointing up!”
I've heard that bamboo can grows three feet a day
Never stick bamboo up your nose or your butt
The Statue of Liberty's fingers are eight feet long
That's quite amazing for picking her nose
Imagine the size of her ginormous large nostrils
Could probably drive a truck in there if you chose
Did you know that humans average 4,800 words a day
My mother-in-law can beat that no problem
During a full moon, she can speak two words at a time
Some days three but that's not quite as common
Amazing stuff!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Your eyes beneath the arches of dark brows
were ebony with splashes cinnamon.
One penetrating gaze from you would rouse
a craving that became too strong to shun.
Love unfulfilled, into my dreams you crept,
and your voice, edged with velvet, called to me.
From the fortress tower where I was kept
I’d watch you drawing near. . . my fantasy!
The pathway that you took to me in dreams
was not so filled with thorns as was our fate.
For I would not surrender to your schemes
(though next to you my heart would palpitate!)
You left; I knew you would, and tears like rain
I’ve spilled. . . as in my tower I remain.
For Dr. Ram Mehta's Contest:
The English or Shakepearian Sonnet
(Theme: only unfulfilled love can be romantic)
Here's my cant hear me rant...
these are not a few of my favourite things
as it makes those who say them
sound like ding-a-lings
when people preface each sentence with 'So'
respond 'That's a very good question'
in reply to my query
or consistenly repeat the words 'You know'
and 'Like' inserted arbitrarily
in every other expressed
phrase unnecessarily
leaves me thinking 'Similar to?'
then instead of 'Hello'
to others they are meeting
whether friends or strangers
think 'Hey' an acceptable greeting
yet in the English language
it's really quite the shift
when they lift a verb from a noun
one such example being 'Gift'
~~~
Like a new house, in my poetry,
you will find a heart built-in.
I am no sharp wit nor in a hurry
to quickly pen, for a poetic win.
If as a poet, it's form comes first,
Then, you won' t find me filling
your thirst!
OR if it's truth in one sentence be
your compulsion?
My poetry for you, is your revulsion.
If heavy imagery be your fancy,
You won't find it in my verse, far
too chancy.
I come from a time when songs
were so beautiful.
Rhyme, to me is fun, and just
naturally plentiful.
I'd talk all day in rhyme, indeed if
only we all could!
Instead of like breaking news alerts,
so heartless and made of wood.
Our frenzy is to the great new god,
multi-tasking, has wreaked havoc on
new generations.
Where Cliff notes has replaced reading
famous literature~ an abomination.
I have tried selling myself out to short form
poetry.
I must say, that so far, only the English
Haiku has worked for me.
January 5, 2020
Noon PST
~Glenn Miller~
(acrostic)
G-lenn Miller, his music is so wonderfully sublime, enchanting.
L-istening to his "Moonlight Serenade" makes me think of love so tender.
E-ndless joy, in my heart,his music always brings to me. His given
N-ame was,Alton Glenn Miller.He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, U.S.
N-otoriously,performed the trombone.His Glenn Miller Orchestra is divine
M-usician arranger,composer,and great band leader in the swing era.
I-n The Mood",is onother one of my favorite music pieces of his to this day.
L-ittle Brown Jug" "American Patrol" "Tuxedo Junction" and so many more, his
L-egacy is filled of of so much dancing and romance under a moonlit and stars.
E-ntertaining the troops was something very close to his heart.Glenn Miller,
R-emains one of the most famous and recognizable names of the big band era.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
March.12.2017
Author's notes:
My humble poem tribute to one of the greatest and most
unique bandleaders of the big band era,Glenn Miller.
One of my very favorite band leader I personally
love and enjoy hearing the most.I listen to his music
for many years now.And I believe that theres no one like him,
his music can never be duplicated by anyone.
His beautiful music just transcends time and space,forever.
(Born March 1, 1904- Missing December 15,1944)
Years active 1923-1944
In 2003 Miller, received a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.
His plane dissapeared while flying over the English Channel.
His remains and that of his crew has never been found.
Miller's status is missing in action up to this date.
Long live the King of Swing!
- “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain
The white wall
To begin a new cycle is hard not much happens around here, the street is the same as yesterday Rui, the English, is still working the till at the local supermarket, smiles, speaks upper-class English, And carries a secret, I would like to know about
I think he is from a wealthy family, but a scandal broke out, he made the housemaid pregnant, and in his circle, it was seen as the apogee of horror, or he was involved in financial fraud and had to leave, hide, and change his name to Rui
At lunch, in the café on the first floor of our building, the old couple sat. The man, who is in love with my wife came over for a chat, and his wife smiled she knows her husband was useless, as for me. How can I be jealous of a man who is older than me?
Nothing else happened that day except for Trump, who wanted The Panama Canal and Greenland too, this pathetic, old President with his blond hair trying to look young, but he is not fooling us, this idiot trying to buy Gaza and move the population to Egypt
Then it was late afternoon and time for a nap
My new Bible
I bought a new Bible. I like it
My life will be decorated, I need a life.
I am a sinner, but I want my life to be biblical.
I don't have anyone, I don't have an emotional life, I can't
I live only for life. I have no life, I have discarded my life.
But I still live because I have hope. The Bible is my life
I love life, but I hate it, but I love it because the Bible gave it to me.
I live only for the Bible. I like it. Holy poems give me new life
I keep my new Bible, the English Standard Version.
I'm just a dead man. I live dead. Cruel souls kill me
But let me live. I love death. I love life. Both are one
I'm a killer. I will kill you. In the soul.
My new Bible gives life
I'm reading
I like
I wake up
Caedmon's Hymn
by Michael R. Burch
At the monastery of Whitby,
on a day when the sun sank through the sea,
and the gulls shrieked wildly, jubilant, free,
while the wind and time blew all around,
I paced those dusk-enamored grounds
and thought I heard the steps resound
of Carroll, Stoker and good Bede
who walked there, too, their spirits freed
—perhaps by God, perhaps by need—
to write, and with each line, remember
the glorious light of Caedmon's ember,
scorched tongues of flame words still engender.
Here, as darkness falls, at last we meet.
I lay this pale garland of words at his feet.
Originally published by The Lyric. "Cædmon's Hymn," composed at the Monastery of Whitby (a North Yorkshire fishing village), is one of the oldest known poems written in the English language, dating back to around 680 A.D. According to legend, Cædmon, an illiterate Anglo-Saxon cowherd, received the gift of poetic composition from an angel; he subsequently founded a school of Christian poets. Unfortunately, only nine lines of Cædmon's verse survive, in the writings of the Venerable Bede. Whitby, tiny as it is, reappears later in the history of English literature, having been visited, in diametric contrast, by Lewis Carroll and Bram Stoker's ghoulish yet evocative Dracula. Keywords/Tags: Caedmon, hymn, angel, inspired, inspiration, inspirational, first English poem, Old English, oldest English poem, Anglo-Saxon, Bede, cowherd, Christian, monk, spiritual, god, sonnet
Ukraine and our shame
Now that Ukraine is pardoning prisoners
to join the army, except the violent murderers
(one would think the violent were the right ones)
it tells us of an army scraping the barrel of
recruits, all eligible men have fled, which is
understandable, why fight a lost war, a war
not needed if a sensible head had been heard
After, the then President Zelensky, had agree
a peace pact with Russia, an English emissary
told him not to sign, upon hearing this
thousands of young men hastily left Ukraine
The fact it was an English emissary is typical
the English has hated the Russians, since
a cousin of Queen Victoria was killed by
the communists
It is sad to notice after thousands of young
men have been killed, in this futile war
the West advice is for the ex-president
to find a peaceful solution with Russia
the many newspapers which condemned
and got us to believe in the many lies told
will now tell us the way to end the war is
to sign a contract, with the old enemy