Long Theologian Poems
Long Theologian Poems. Below are the most popular long Theologian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Theologian poems by poem length and keyword.
Three thousand three hundred and thirty-five poetic blooms,
Lewis Milton Hankins has in his bouquet, like bright plumes;
Each is rich in theme, form, rhyme, rhythm, and figures of speech,
In sound, style, symbol, and syntax each one is beyond reach...!
He shines as a writer, poet, columnist, and teacher,
Theologian, public speaker, and well-known preacher;
‘Sensible Theology for Thinking People’ – wrote also,
‘Appalachian short stories and Ashes on the Snow’...!
Newcomers or established poets he welcomed each one's view,
As I joined the Soup I got his precious suggestions too;
Like a brother, friend, and true artist he respected all,
In concepts and philosophy, whether they're great or small...!
Like mud clings to a potter, and wood to a carpenter,
Or kids clinging to their mother who's loving and tender;
Sonnet, couplet, triolet, verse, haiku, pantoum, rhyme form,
Each seemed to bend before him in absolute minute norm...!
"I need a vacation", he says, and sways, "Bye - Bye Don't cry!"
Was the vision of his flight shown to him from the skies high?
As I believe about each death, has Milton gone as well,
To make his research on the great truths of heaven and hell...???
02 January 2023
In Honor of Milt - An Un-contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
A card asks Lazarus:
Give me this little piece of ice,
On the map,
But it is "No" from Abraham:
Child, you ate a lot of ice cream in your life,
A lunch in France,
Playing the game of Ishmael and Hagar,
A zebra without marked stripes now, savage,
Sin's slavery,
Antediluvian giants and dwarfs,
On this big table of authoritative vampires,
Dragon Dracula's castle,
On this glossy island,
In flames of fire,
That unworthy night,
Outer darkness,
To illuminate?!
Eyes wide shut,
A hound in the swamp,
Around galerinas autumnalis marginata,
Without the icon alive in the Book of Lamb,
That picture of Dorian with fake sapphires,
A millstone on the place of immaculate Ark,
This sacrifice,
Too late for your escape,
The answer of our father, alas, Cain brother,
In so shady house,
With pharaoh's sarcophagus like a butterfly,
And the speckled band,
"Toxic powerful man" said Gregory the Theologian of Nazianzus,
Seeing you in your magus cap.
"Engraved on his tomb in Latin:
Scotland brought me forth.
England sustained me.
France taught me.
Cologne holds me."
Blessed John Duns Scotus
1265 - 1308
_______________
Blessed
theologian, philosopher, logician, realist, professor
entered the Franciscan order at 12 years old
became a catholic priest and Franciscan friar
received a good education at Oxford
known for his metaphysical arguments on God
and his univocity of being and so much more
John, died unexpectedly young at 43 years old
beautified by Pope John Paul II in 1993 to Sainthood
he has left many books and papers still debated today
John Duns Scotus
________________________
March 26, 2022
Poetry/Bio/Blessed John Duns Scotus
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1443-449-26
All Right Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, John Duns Scotus
sponsor, Joe Maverick, Judged 03/28/2022
Fourth Place
Why this life?
Life is so incomprehensible often and often. Why this life? Why is this mine?
Many people live on our planet, with different and different fates, endless life
Different people, different nations, cultures, traditions, languages, lifestyles
Everyone can ask why this life. God knows the true answer, says the priests.
I am not sure. Hinduism and Buddhism explain my question about karma
But whose karma? Suffering is sometimes created by others, and that is my fate.
My negative karma sometimes not my creature, comes from dark energies
A Catholic theologian told me years and years ago, ‘We cannot understand it!
Our brains and understanding are limited! God’s Will is always hidden! His business!’
Joseph, the teacher was right, dear old religion teacher. God bless you, old friend!
Joseph said we must follow the ancient commandments to live and for live the life
Joseph was wise, I am trying to put myself on the way and walk on the narrow path.
I am staggering, stumbling
No more question
‘Why is this my life?’
Walk towards the light
I walk slowly by faith
My karma following me
… Goodbye… fate
She was half listening
to a Tibetan male philosopher.
He spoke in timeless wise prose
impressed
by suppressed
Western natural theories of mind.
She heard repressed
Western timely spiritual experiences
of sensual sensory bodies.
He sang lyrically
of cultural vocations
perpetually turned toward enlightenment.
She spoke rationally
of permacultural designs
systemically perpetuating
healthy democratic empowerment.
He thought about natural
multicultural mindfulness
as time's seamless spatial integrity.
She felt sublime
within polycultural
spiritual embodiment
of Earth's revolving
co-passionate
nutritional
nurturing synergy.
He was half speaking
to a Western ecofeminist theologian.
Why suffering?
God just gave us life, and we start that in an unsafe world,
Danger, suffering, hopelessness, pain, crime, death, and more
But why? Why? Is God evil? No, no. I don’t think so. He is Love
I don’t understand the creator, he knows our lives, in his river flow
God, the God sees, hears, feels, and recognizes everything in our life
In life, in ours what is given by God, and he is a victim, of and to our lives
Just a victim.The only true. The loved. But no answer. No, no answer.
God created the human life. Man is abandoned, forgotten, and lives alone
Just alone, at all the time, every time, always, without his / her parent by God
Cruel world, the world’s ocean is just a pain, sadism, famine, wars, and my life
We live in this life mixture from thousands of years ago, since the Creation of God
Needs to leave this landscape that is full of cruel pains. But where is the way?
‘Where is the way out?’ Master asked.
‘In the fate?’ I asked.
‘Right goal.’ He said.
‘Where?’ I took a question.
‘Where? It is not a question. There is no labyrinth.’ Master said.
‘But where?’ I asked.
‘Where are you? Where is the God?’ Master asked.
‘Everywhere. It was said this by an old theologian many years ago in Budapest.’
I answered.
‘He was right. Follow the right.' Told my Master.
while figuratively hunting
and pecking around me noggin
force hum theme to write about
lo and behold, the solution
stared me right in front
of my little knob nub nose with gentle clout
cuz, as an avid bookworm, the dictionary,
I enjoy expending hours
to drink up etymological history
relating to the origin and
historical development of words
and their meanings.
with no shadow of a doubt
and most times, this animatronic,
the technique of making and operating
lifelike robots, typically for use
in film or other entertainment
dogmatic, enigmatic fugee dooby
brother beastie boy
(actually a mwm) dislikes to flout
his abilities, hobbies, interests,
as aches hike kant imagine being treated for gout
a disease in which defective metabolism
of uric acid causes arthritis, especially
in smaller bones of the feet, deposition
of chalkstones, and episodes of acute pain.
Boot lemme return full circle
to thematic core curriculum aye started to aim
and express gratitude
to the ghost of Noah Webster,
who gets credit yet also blame
if some snide haughty guttersnipe,
some slovenly individual feels snubbed,
and hence, living personage, said descendent(s)
of oblivion, whatever unknown
man or woman to living persons
stake a valid claim
that his/her many generations removed
heir (Harris), and or heiress ancestor (proven
with tangible researched reportage,
then cited with countless
prestigious explorers of English language),
that a daunting scrivener perhaps
even a courtesan or rich dame
rightfully ought to receive the fame,
thus such living relative might
upend the huck cult personality be game
to dare challenge secure historical niche
ambitiously held by Mark Roget (1779–1869),
British physician, natural theologian
and lexicographer. It was released
to the public on 29 April 1852.
The original edition had 15,000 words,
and each new matured edition
of the Thesaurus grew larger.
GIT THEE BEHIND ME SATAN-
All my soul within me pitching
Git thee behind me Satan
All my soul within me ditching
Only this and a shepherdess
Much I not marveled the mystic exorcist
Git thee behind me Satan
My mind always strays to enchanters
Much I not marveled this splendid priestess
I discovered the alchemists
And its eyes have all the witching
Git thee behind me Satan
The whipsaw witchery whipsawing
And so I screamed, 'Is that a theologian?'
Enchantress - enchantress - enchantress!
Suddenly, I heard some magicking
God forbid
The occult smiled
God and I proclaim...Git thee behind me Satan
Demons cries and flees
Gods children and angels singing
Git thee behind me Satan
8/9/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
Mankind has a great aversion
refusing authority’s commanding rule
thinking they always know best
but in reality they’re not really cool
The human heart is filled with pride
authority has to make pride break
overpowering it to keep it down
showing who’s boss and no fake
God’s the absolute authority
no human one can really compare
for the eternal one is truly king
man’s in comparison’s really bare
But mankind continues to despise
all kinds of authority bar none
not realising God reigns supreme
on the final; day man can’t run!
('No one despises human authority unless he first despises divine authority'
- Richard Sibbes (1577-1635) puritan theologian.)
(Dedicated this writing to the merciful birthday of the greatest love of the earth Mevlânâ Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi. 30th September is the auspicious birthday of this ever greatest spiritual icon.)
My Death is My Wedding Night- RUMI
In the unstructured body of the rosy sky
the love river is flowing to assuage the frantic heart
the stars of the west show the dance of Sufi
where the souls of east are rejuvenated
You died before the earthly birth in the flute of love
where beloved gets rebirth to be enraptured
No stain on this ground soil, no sin the elopement is
where the thorns are rotten, the love is God
Who knew the ancient mystery of the love
where your all bookish knowledge were invalid
When the semen of your intoxicated devout wisdom
The master of soul offered you to birth lac of lovers
From that time still- the death of love is the wedding night
and the wedding night is the birth of eternal loving reunion
-01.10.2020 Chattogram
***
Note: -
Mevlânâ Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, (September 30, 1207, Balkh, Afghanistan - December 17, 1273, Konya, Turkey ) also known as Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Balkhi and more popularly simply as Rumi, was a 13th-century Persian poet, faqih, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic originally from Greater Khorasan in Greater Iran. The Masnavi, or Masnavi-ye-Ma'navi, also written Mathnawi, or Mathnavi, is an extensive poem written in Persian by him