Long Tradition Poems
Long Tradition Poems. Below are the most popular long Tradition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tradition poems by poem length and keyword.
Flower of life falls on your face
as it wipes away all your tears
no more fears or terror dreams.
Sun is the only glory of our story
the beginning beats the end
tradition leaves the bitter taste
new position in life takes place
like bird's nest gives protection
to the innocent and feeds the hungry
we are blessed and lucky
every day we pray its brand-new day.
Sun is out and about
I'm awake next to my house lake
I'll take all my blessings and eat my cake
and for god's sake I will not hesitate
I will not break or make another mistake
because he is watching every step I make.
November 24 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Colossians 1-2
Key Verse – Colossians 1:2 To the saints and faithful brethren in Christ which are at Colosse: Grace be unto you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FAITHFULNESS’ ASSESSOR
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always hearing my sincere thanksgiving
Thank You for acknowledging my hope inspired by Your Word I’m receiving
Never ignoring me and my fruits along grace-filled living
Ever consistent to encourage me to learn from You with earnest cleaving.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always sanctifying my proud heart’s fame
Thank You for purging my soul from worldly game
Never tolerating me along my selfish frame
Ever holy to forgive me and my confessed hypocrisy-shame.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always instilling my desire with spiritual understanding
Thank You for increasing my knowledge by Your worthy attending
Never denying me of Your power with strength You are sending
Ever patient to prop me toward steadfast righteous standing.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always conquering my doubt by Your assurance
Thank You for guarding my conviction against beguiling ignorance
Never belittling me along my diligent service-perseverance
Ever gracious to establish me for Your abounding kingdom’s furtherance.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always commending my noble suffering
Thank You for meeting my needs with Your compassionate caring
Never closing to me opportunities to gain from Your wisdom-rearing
Ever helpful to transform me according to Your Scriptures’ nurturing.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always protecting my beliefs against vain tradition
Thank You for shielding my commitment from humanistic domination
Never allowing me to be spoiled by arrogance-magnification
Ever kind to cheer me up for my offerings and sacrifice of devotion.
Lord God, You are my faithfulness’ Assessor,
always accepting my worship marked by sincerity
Thank You for nourishing my submission to Your sovereign authority
Never handling me with rudeness, but by Your loving security
Ever merciful to lift me up against affliction and infirmity.
November 24, 2023
Seven Morning Stars
In the western Carpathian piedmont
Which my grandfathers left long before,
The peregrine falcon flees likewise
From a tableau of fresco tradition,
Superstition, and tempera myth.
The me of then bested the alpine pass
Where Hannibal lost his eye.
The I of now has met equal regard,
Evoking the grim determination
With which Henry took Harfleur.
Astronomical winter commences
With numbing indifference.
Indifferent as I am to distraction,
Focused on habits of antiquity
And methods of calm consistency.
A Zen ritual neatly informed
By the flowing advent of water.
Frictionless as lighthouse mercury.
Liquid in form and function.
A fluid collaboration of body and mind.
A calligraphy of sinewy limbs
In an illuminated manuscript
Documenting Sanskrit whispers
Keeping the humors in balance
Aligned with the pace of breathing.
A disciplined manual of arms and legs.
A pacifist drill exhibiting military precision,
Casting well-aimed volleys and salvos.
Performing atheist miracles.
Conjuring Merlin-like spells.
Mastering all the rumored labors
And sundry assorted tasks,
I claim my rightful inheritance
In this temple of redemption
Where one cannot tell Zion from Babylon.
THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR
FULL RANGE OF MOTION, BALANCE, AND CORE STRENGTH TRAINING
The poor lad was sixteen when they kidnapped him
They took him from England to Ireland but the boy did not sin.
His father was a Deacon and his grandfather was a Priest
Who would have thought this would have started
The St Patrick’s Day’s once yearly feast.
A feast back in tradition that was of bacon and beans
Not only has that changed, but the colour has from blue to green
Patrick did escape his capture; he said God told him he must.
He returned to England where he took his confessor into his trust.
He studied to be a priest and then set back off to Ireland
He was a clever man; he taught and held up in his hand…
A piece of shamrock, to us the three leafed clover
A teaching for the trinity and he won lots of them over.
Upon his death on Patrick’s day the feasting and drinking does begin
The wearing of the green and there is a little bit of sin
The pubs were closed at one time, to stop the Irish fun
But now it has spread worldwide so Happy St Patrick’s everyone.
© 06/02/2013
Contest entry for: An Irish Poem
We have this January 1st tradition…to which we faithfully adhere
We head to the beach so we can watch the sun rise on a new year…
For years we’ve been going to the same beach…as each new year’s begun…
to stand along the water’s edge and smile as we greet the sun.
We love coming back to the same spot to rekindle memories we’ve collected
and…as very often happens…to make new memories…unexpected.
The old memories were there to greet us where the water meets the land…
the trees, the birds, people walking their dogs…the ocean and the sand.
But it was on the boardwalk…as we watched the sun begin to rise….
where the new year…just waking up…delivered her first surprise.
As the sunlight reached the boardwalk…that boardwalk became the perfect stage
and in that perfect spot…that perfect moment…we watched a couple get engaged.
We were the first to congratulate them…the moment his proposal was done.
The first with hugs and handshakes…
The first to see the ring on her finger shining in the sun.
It was a beautiful moment and we took their picture in the midst of a sunburst…
We…a couple who’ve been married 35 years taking a photo of them…
a couple about to start their first.
As we left them to enjoy their moment…
(she couldn’t stop looking at her ring!)
I thought…if this is just the first day of the year…
I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.
Yes…if New Year’s Day was any indication…
then, to me, it seems quite clear….
2024…is going to be…one amazing year.
Our Tree
The green tree in the box,
kept in the attic,
is in pieces.
Not because it is dead,
or firewood,
but a project
to be assembled.
Much like our life,
from the beginning of I do,
lovingly placed together,
each day of each year,
with patience
and hope.
Father brings it down.
Mother opens it up.
Together they build,
what only God can grow.
Then as one we decorate.
My brothers and I,
taking turns,
low and high.
Reaching,
stars to the heavens,
a sweet manger below…
Christmas.
He is everything,
in Our home.
Tradition is a deal.
Not small or tiny,
but big and large.
Father would have a real tree,
like when he was a kid,
but we saved the money,
and adopted a foreign child.
He belongs to all of us,
We are his family now.
We don’t know where he is,
this night,
or most nights in the dark,
but God…
He does,
and sends;
His Might Light,
far brighter then
our tree top star,
that ever shines,
even from afar.
The night was dark the moon in hiding, squeals and giggles around the streets
All the children dressed in costume begging sweets on trick or treat.
None dared to go to Lonely Street, no treat could entice them there
The legend of the cloaked man with a staff still lingered in the air.
The riches of the gilded street does not welcome Halloween footfall
Lonely Street would remain so, this year none would call.
The legend said the cloak-ed man glides along the street
None heard footfall, as he followed those indulging in trick or treat.
A blood curdling scream assaulted the ears, followed by another
Children ran and scattered, screams and tears they could not smother.
Along Lonely Street the cloak-ed man was heard to give a laugh
“Why scream my little ones?” in his hand he raised a staff.
“You are here to celebrate the waking, and walking of the dead
Come hither my little ones this is what tradition has said.
You dress as ghosts and spirits long gone, begging for some treats
But then when somebody refuses you, you trick them, that is weak.”
To do this on the night that we, the dead awake
You should surely know its time for us to teach you your fate…
I am here to collect all your souls, you will join us in the flesh
You celebrate and dress to please now you will visit the devils crèche.
He raised his staff high, his cloak opened wide
With a howling wind the children were blown inside
His cloak was full of all the souls of the young
Their screams were heard, to the night they clung.
No more was there a Halloween night in that area or surrounding
The souls on Lonely streets stay in and still their hearts are pounding.
The Cloak-ed man is waiting; he is waiting each year on Lonely Street
For the sound of children laughing as they dress as ghosts on trick or treat…
© 29/08/2012.
When you dearly know an addict there are few things you start and stop expecting, with no condition.
Expectation one: stop expecting anything, because what you want, they will rarely be.
What to expect when expecting: the addict edition. Call it sedition, my contrition for the statistical division.
As a child of an addict, you may fear that their addiction is tradition, that one day you will be in that position.
Fear not! The cards have not been dealt, I know how you have felt, running from that rust belt to be free, away with your lock to find a key.
When you dearly know an addict there are few things you start and stop expecting, with no condition.
As a child of an addict, you must have more ambition, hold onto a goal and set off on a mission.
Seizing control of your future, yet wondering: is this all I’ll ever be? A compilation of all my tragedy. Will they ever truly see what I was meant to be, simply me?
What to expect when expecting: the addict edition. Call it sedition, my contrition for the statistical division.
As a child of an addict, we do not wonder when we will see our parent, but if the price of their condition has demanded submission as its tuition.
If— when that phone rings, will they have finally paid the fee?
When you dearly know an addict there are few things you start and stop expecting, with no condition.
You cannot waste your life waiting for someone else to pay a debt yet due, so you move through and forward to your transition.
Flee the debris of their memory without a final decree while you hope their condition doesn’t affect your mission to be free.
What to expect when expecting: the addict edition. Call it sedition, my contrition for the statistical division.
You have entered the world alone, working with hyper vigilance and absolute precision.
Working toward a life time guarantee that you are your life’s grantee.
When you dearly know an addict there are few things you start and stop expecting, with no condition.
What to expect when expecting: the addict edition. Call it sedition, my contrition for the statistical division.
An early rise before the sunrise, brief
prayer relief to fill a slow cooker with corn beef,
carrots, potatoes and cabbage.
Proud of myself I didn't damage
the homemade yeast rolls. I took one last shameless flirt
at the chocolate mousse for dessert.
Relieved my grandson and granddaughter
right in the middle picked up their grandfather
from the hospital. Afterwards, no refrain
for a hunt of confetti filled Easter eggs after a fresh rain.
No need to explain
grandson drove back to college
to glean more knowledge.
4/9/2018
An Easter tradition filling dyed egg shells with confetti, candy and money..
My grandmas, grandpas and some uncles are gone
Including my beloved dad is now in heaven
I miss them when Christmas season comes
They’re huge missing part of our family tradition
But my mom and aunts always say Christmas goes on
For family reunions on earth are just extensions
Love ones who’re gone are reunited with our Father-Creator
Their Christmas is the most glorious in dazzling grandeur!
My grandmas’ favorite delicacies are already served
Sumptuous meals with lots of fruits and pretty flowers
Grandpas’ bouquets for grandmas are bountifully ready
My dad and uncles’ decorations are all around amazingly
No need to climb a ladder and connect lights on electricity
For they’ve already set by saints, angels, Joseph and Mary
They’re all the paradise' stewards of a Heavenly Party
Hosted by our Christmas Lord, our God the Almighty!
Dec. 28. 2022 1.18pm
Christmas in Heaven: A focus on loved ones in Heaven at Christmastime
Contest Judged: 12/31/2022 3:55:00 AM
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
Place; 3 (up to 3 multi-w)