Long Trumpet Poems
Long Trumpet Poems. Below are the most popular long Trumpet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trumpet poems by poem length and keyword.
Words are to writers like flowers to bees,
Oil to engines and thank you to please.
They may be as heavy as concrete or lead
Or light as feather and thoughts in our heads.
They may cut like a knife and bite like a snake,
Or purr like a kitten and calm all our aches.
Letters combined in word perfect tense
Lift humanity higher like pauper to prince.
Words are like paint before canvas lay bare
In the hands of the artist, eternity’s there.
Waiting to brush one more story-book tale
From right of nowhere, words take to sail.
With wind from the writer and ink from the pen,
Destinies change for women and men.
From The Iliad and Odyssey to Paine’s Common Sense,
Plato’s Apology to Shelley’s Poetic Defense.
From Genesis to Leviticus and Matthew to St. John,
Aristotle’s Ethics to White’s Trumpet of the Swan.
From the US Constitution to King’s “I Have a Dream,”
Words are to writers as air is to breath.
They transcend human consciousness
And send us well past Mars,
Making movies, plays and music move us
To the moon and stars.
The possibilities are limitless
When words are focused clear;
If one merely stops to think it through:
They’re always waiting near.
WHERE TRUE WORSHIP LIES
Listen carefully incline thine ear,
For those with inner ears to hear,
It is not a saying deep or dark,
But even the simple can embark,
A Word to both the aged, and youth,
True worship is in Spirit, and in Truth.
True worship, is not to be confused,
With faithful warmers of the pews.
Fellowship with the brethren is good and right,
Right living in God’s unfailing sight.
Not in whose service is left right at the door,
though he is rich in giving; his spirit is poor.
Not the one praying skillfully, bold and loud,
Nor the one whose self boasting, arrogant and proud.
But the man within, although unseen,
A man of conscience and conviction, living clean.
He has a gentle heart of love, by which his faith is fueled,
And by God’s Holy Word his spirit ruled.
His work is not for praise, recognition or advance,
His gifts only known by given chance.
This worshipper’s life, often judged and despised,
He wishes he were loved as much as criticized.
Not at all complicated, a simple woman, simple man,
Hard to figure to the world, they just don’t understand.
Suffers in quiet unknowingly, amongst his friends,
He’s the last to even ask, for a hand to lend.
He looks to God to raise him up, from being low to the ground,
Seeks daily to only hear the appointed trumpet sound.
Seeks not his own, always bearing his own shame,
But boldly proclaims the rugged cross, in God’s Holy name.
True worship lies herewith, in the heart and soul within,
God seeks such hearts of true wordhippers to worship Him.
Where true worship lies, is in Spirit and Truth,
The love of God is the true worshipper’s living proof.
John 4:23
But a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father is seeking such as these to worship Him.
Where True Worship Lies
Copyright © Lovie Divine | Year Posted 2023
LOST IN FAME
In a twinkling of an eye,
In a moment of glory
He forget to see the mirror of himself
But live a shadow of himself
Unquestionable he becomes,
Unconquerable he feels,
Uncontrollable he become
Make himself above the gods.
Question the master that taught him,
Challenge them in quest with pride,
Forgetting he was once a servant
To a master.
The four corner winds cries for it downfall
He begins to fall,he never knew.
Bcos he fail to listen.
Oh!how great was his fall.
Blow the trumpet in the city,
And give warning to the sons
Of men.
How great the might has falling,
Bcos he lost himself in moment
Of glory.
BY ANIEMEKA NATHANIEL
Industrious buzz of solo bee search jackpots
Unashamedly trial diving in each lurid shell
Stickier with every trumpet he giddily accosts
Finds further stupor in fluted sweet compel
Ruffled taffeta petals burn, vibrant five
Three wiggle flame fingered fringe
Other two tatooed with burgundy stripes
From lettuce pincushion, stigma begins
Sunray stamen sprawl in honey encomber
Moonstone luminous stems prop soft discs
Trajectory of butterfly nimbly discovers
Floating foliage furtively stows gifts
Dragon green bud shyly pokes firey tongue
Slender tailed specimen, paisley tadpoles
Wrinkled brain seed pod trio, stem strung
drop to dappled damp below leaf parasols
Peppery nutrients for permaculture novice
Exolosion rockets across neglected plots
Blue hued leaves store vitamins various
Simmering subdues mustard sting hot
Cultivator pleased by brazen ease of transplant
Straight on dirt section masts round flags raised
Twine's gems invite insect activity, gaity radiant
Vein laced faces sway atop secret paper blaze
26th July 2020
Written for Contest: 'Petal, buds, blossomd, bees,
birds, butterflies!'
Sponsored by:
Silent One
He is sending a message
Via his lips,
on a beautiful lily
His trumpet to pan,
dreaming frog
Basking in the sun
The frog loves
Beautiful butterflies
Sleeps at night under the star
With the moths,
Peter you get everywhere
It must be the fairy dust,
you wear green tight,s
same colour as brother frog
Have I gone bananas,
I keep slipping,
banging my head
Now that's a frog in a half,
the search for Peter begins
the parrot needs help
On your shoulder oh ar, oh ar,
stuck for words the parrot
Hook he will find him
Mick's on the prowl
Blowing his secret weapon,
we all need a bit of fairy dust
None of us mind the tights,
its all a beautiful dream
With light
Like a family we write
Loves dream in fairytales
You send such beautiful poetry Peter,
melting almost
The frogs little heart
Peter,Peter Pan
In the land of dreams
Please don't eat me
A silly old frog dreams
You strike the frog
Ha ha Peter,oh Peter Pan
Brings out crazy frog
you wont like
The one eyed,
battle of the green monster
Sorry Peter you are so sweet,
you entered Mick's secret weapon room
Did you smell the roses
The scent left
By the frog for you
Author Dana Redricks
January 23, 2024
I hear the trumpet, its resounding blast drawing near,
The King approaches, nothing in this world remains as clear.
The stage is set, as the grand finale of time unfolds,
Children of God, in jubilant chorus, homeward bound, behold.
We’ll stand, uplifted, offering praises to our eternal King,
Gathered ‘round His throne, His majesty and glory we’ll sing.
Never shall I be alone, for His presence surrounds me,
In awe, I’ll cast my crown, humbled, at the feet of Jesus, we’ll see.
Oh, the joy that awaits, in that heavenly abode,
Where pain and sorrow cease, replaced with everlasting love bestowed.
Every tear, every trial, transformed into eternal delight,
As we bask in the radiance of His all-consuming light.
No longer shall we wander, in this earthly realm confined,
But in the perfect presence of our Savior, forever entwined.
Unfathomable love and peace, abounding without end,
In the embrace of our Redeemer, eternity we’ll spend.
So, let the trumpet resound, its melody ringing loud and clear,
for the King is coming, and nothing shall remain as it appears.
We’ll stand, we’ll give God praise, with hearts forever ablaze,
casting our crowns at the feet of Jesus, lost in eternal amaze.
I'm heading home after five
humming to myself quietly;
I've missed the December' sunset by an hour,
Christmas lights sparkle, folks greet each other:
hear the joy in their voices!
Jesus will end their worries:
they will thrive, not strive!
Naughty boys laugh at Bozo, he has
red hair and long feet;
he marched in the Halloween Parade
and played his drum with a fast beat!
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly!
Show them you are in a happy mood,
don't be afraid of being booed and hissed!
Carols take the dullness away,
and they replace it with cheerfulness:
take your trumpet, your guitar,
or just hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly...
feel inside serenity,
listen to golden bells
ringing joyfully!
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly!
Peter is the new Santa with a white beard,
his favorite visitor is Reed;
look around the corner: there goes funny Elf!
Scrooge grins, he's all for himself:
stay away, don't laugh;
Greedy Scrooge is afraid of Christmas ghosts!
Dickens knew him well:
a guilty conscience won't let
won't let anybody sleep;
everyone expressed ingratitude
to someone who was cheap and rude,
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly,
and despite all: be very merry;
oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly:
see snowflakes falling,
and festive kids running!
The frosty evening holds a magical spell,
the whole universe praises Jesus!
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly!
David understood
the mysteries of the Heavens,
faith is the only stronghold of the weak;
songs are the humble gifts of the meek!
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly...
walk around: who happy, who's sad?
Ah, many don't have
the strength that faith gives,
walk with the Good Shepherd
and make him your friend:
glory will be yours
of you proclaim Him
your King and shield!
Hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly!
I'm heading home
humming to myself quietly,
decorations are pretty;
snow and silence charm
and together
with the Christmas music,
we'll disarm
each woeful feeling inside:
let the Jule season bring us more joy!
Carols are played everywhere:
will they warm up all the cold hearts
in the crowded square?
Oh, hum, hum, hum
to yourself quietly!
P.S. The track of my song is posted on CloudSound.com
(A lone voice whispers)
I always used to wonder
Where do Robins go to sleep
Then one dark night
Within a deep all-consuming lucid dream
At approximately one o'clock
A beautiful deity appeared out of the mist
Wearing a blue and white coat
Holding a Lily and a shining lantern
Across its shoulder, a golden trumpet and a branch from Paradise
On its golden belt
Hung a scepter and a silver scroll
As it strolled towards me
Within my illustrious sleeping streams
A strange palace of darkness
Where no birds
Flew or squawked
Its mysterious ever watchful eyes
Held me firmly transfixed
Like an ethereal heavenly hawk
Its bright white orbs
Swallowed me whole
As it whispered words
I'll remember
Until I'm old
Within the light of day,
We appear
Your beloved and even I
To watch over and visit you
To see and follow all that you do
When we, the blessed few
Waiting in the new spectacular bright white lights
In the glorious cathedrals of Atmos, shadowy arches
Cross over
When allowed a brief time
Before we are eventually
Reunited in a new form
To rejoice in hymn
Within your All Highs
Divine Church
Depending upon
The faith of your choice
To visit those we still
Love
To leave a sign or sing
A sonnet
Happily with echoes of our new voice as we too mourn
Then in here
At darkness
In
The Great In-Between
A place you all visit
Whenever you fall asleep
In deep dreams,
We always appear
For real spiritual shapeshifters
Like us
Never really sleep
We just transform into Robins
Through a supernatural technique
For sometimes they are merely vessels
We use
Just one of our everlasting souls keeps
So if you see one
And it sings
Looking straight at you
Remember this
It's just a beloved loved one
Maybe even me
Archangel Gabriel
Channelling
Through
And with that beautiful closing line
It disappeared quietly
Back into the receding winds that whined
Of the Hidden Divine
And when I awoke at eight,
I'm sure it met me
Sat on my old garden's wooden gate
My beautiful friend
Who loves to sit on the washing line
Whispering and singing
Hello
Sending shivers and tingling
Shooting
As I remember that dream
All the way
Up and down
My sinuous
spine
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Saxophones blaring Deep voices bellowing out Smoked filled rooms Whiskey bottles half-empty More color than not Going on three nobody cares No prying eyes Nobody stares Guitar strings are crying out A womans voice echoes the room Tearful memories being held back Outside in the street Loud voices screaming Police sirens can be heard Above the pouring rain A clarinet begins to scream Silence fills the room Then a trumpet begins it`s rage Blaring notes out wildly Above the beating of the drums Voices join in Smiles now can be seen On all the faces Chasing away the blues
What a way to begin the week,
A crystal blue sky reflected in a Mediterranean sea.
A Thousand Kisses Deep by Leonard Cohen,
The melody that is, not the words
Waft out from the speaker
Of the beach front hotel
In Port de Pollenca, Mallorca.
I'm biding my time, gazing onto the calm
With, coffee and treat.
There's nothing blue about this Monday
An unexpected moment of,
Bliss and solitude
Takes hold
Where everything is perfect
In a sometimes, imperfect world.
The trumpet players lips caress the melody
of; A Thousand Kisses Deep.
Sending out its waves onto a
Blue Mediterranean bay.
Then a text bleeps,
'Leaving in five.'
I arise, take up my bike and walk
In step and on the right note
For the day ahead.