Long Trumpets Poems
Long Trumpets Poems. Below are the most popular long Trumpets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trumpets poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything Froze
a giant crystal wind chime spread its tone
teeth of icicles consumed a home
misted rain encased fence posts and rail
power lines succumb to winter’s weight and fail
vehicles in free style pirouettes
slide beneath the curtain call of white
taunted by the feigned applause of wind
stinging critic of a dance that will not end
children do the snow day dance of glee
parents know how long this day will be
until the child that lives within them all
makes and throws the season’s first snowball
streets await the toothbrush of the plow
snow men don old hats and carrot nose
angels in the snow cold trumpets blow
to celebrate the day everything froze
John G. Lawless
2/14/2014
And though you and I shared a single word
I dedicate this decade to you, my shadow
That eternal specter of my 20s
The blighted I could always use as an excuse
You showed me what it could mean to hurt
For the blessed in youth, I learned what pain meant as a legal adult
Haunted for years, still shivering today
When I remember I had a different name for the first 66% of life
I was willing to be your pyro
Burning bridges with people I loved and respected
Just to win another piece of praise from those sweet lips
Those flaming pyres that I'd see the world burn for
Those seven trumpets blare for you, my Reaper
Does it bring you joy to know you're still the first I think of
As a wall to climb before crawling up to reach zero?
Or do I simply think of you more than you do for me?
What does it mean to be a man?
To hurt? To pillage? To claim?
You were the final plank of the bridge I needed
To shed the yoke that my birth shackled me to
Eleven months to go until it's been ten years
And yet I'll let you haunt me as long as I'm static
White as snow and just as pale
Do my whispers haunt you like yours haunt mine?
You're the darker edge to a lighter existence
Of cisnormative promise as Man and Woman
The Eve to my Adam
So I reject the written God and cast an ear to the true one
I don't know who either of us are anymore
And I don't think I have for quite some time
But nearly a decade out from the last meaningful words we shared
I still work to shed your skin from mine.
The Turquoise Garden
I dream of a magical garden
That lays beneath a turquoise sea
It’s filled with seashells and cockles
And sand the color of honeybees
The coral is the shade of pink roses
The grass is emerald green
Rocks and sea urchins cover the floor
The shy octopus is unseen
It’s home to fish in orange clown suits
Angels without their harps
trumpetfish without their trumpets
And lions without their manes
The seahorses and sea dragons
join the jellyfish and shrimp
In games of tag and hide and seek
In the tunnels of secret caves
Pretty mermaids with their tails of gold
and locks of crimson red
Gather delicate pearls they find
In the garden’s oyster beds
It’s a magical place that I dream of
Filled with the creatures of the deep
And I hope someday I’ll find my way
To the garden in the turquoise sea
So fondly I remember,
We would gather ‘round and sing
Mom on the piano, as Christmas
Melodies would ring.
Music always brought us joy,
Come and join us, by all means!
Come fill the house with melodies,
Saxes, trumpets, violins!
We would try to sing our parts,
Smiling all the while together
Building gilded memories
As we cavorted all together.
Now we live in different places
And our pianist has gone home,
But we will gather ‘round in heaven
And sing again near heaven’s throne.
There, angelic chorus
And all of heaven’s host-
Will raise our mightiest praise
To the God we love the most.
How I thank Him for my family
Whom I’ll see, I don’t know when,
But I look forward to the day
When we’re gathered ‘round again.
Music was playing
one of those
ole love tunes
people were dancing and kissing
like lovers on
there honeymoon
I to hold my tongue
cause what wanted to say
my date may have gotten offended
and simply walked away
Squeezing heer hand
I asked for a kiss
when she turned to kiss me
I smiled with delight
the music started playing
a rhythmic groovy tune
when the trumpets started playing
the basses and the strings
I heard the piano
than the crooner
did his thing
people started waving
grooving to the tune
veryone started kissing
like they were on
their honeymoon
what is Sollabac- it Caballos spelled backwards.
The Silent Comment
No,you cannot hear it, as it
comes from God.
Even if you are one, like me
with very few replies!
Know that God is applauding
you from His heavenly skies.
Why do we seek man's glory
as if we were prophets?
Do we think we are gods with
supernatural pens in our pockets!
Do we expect to hear trumpets?
Not one poet here created the
earth, moon or stars.
But am aware that some do!
Perhaps they created Mars, too!
So, though some poets here
refuse to read you, because
you openly praise God,
Please, oh please do not cry
and despond!
The praise from our fellow poets
can become quite fleeting.
Know that your Creator sees
each poem you are creating.
You are more than loved!
October 19, 2019
I am by your side,
Watching over the psyche;
See it in your mind,
Standing for you and I;
Run in for your life,
Carrying the cross aligned;
Holding me strong to dive,
I want you to die.
Toss the dice,
On the still waters;
Walk on the ice,
Over the steel lovers;
Open your eyes wide,
Enough to crush borders;
You must pay the price,
And seek our welfare.
Live up the smile,
Boldly as the sun shines;
And even when you cry,
I know where you stand;
It should not be suicide,
But a deadly night journey;
Go on by the rhyme,
And die on the high key.
The love of my life,
Is sailing by the grace;
I have to be alive,
In the steady wave;
Call the beast a liar,
And arise from the grave;
Come out from hell fire,
And rise up once again.
Take part in bloody feasts,
And die for the streets;
Wash clean your feet,
As the reverends preach;
Peep me by the nights,
As I guide the light;
On tiptoe we shall ride,
For the feel so nice.
Sing the songs of angels,
And blow them in trumpets;
Sit and fly the carpet,
Be grateful as a boy or girl;
Speak for the truth we share,
And love me through Bethlehem;
Die even at square,
And lead me to heaven.
Who are you and what is
what role
what goal and position
what are you trying to do.
the chores of acquisition chorest thee
What instruction do you have.
Dutiful might you labor
what are your instructions might you
find opposition what measure gives
you right to speak
these as trained or untrained
might who's labors be vain
and rewarded
the decadence of perfection
or Amestecator might speak thee
that the mound before ye
is a sorted bunch
what rebridges each end
upon motivation
might we understand
yet then when thou leaves'
what is my direction
the texture and dynamics
and form
what labors me.
consistent and concern
the chores of acquisition
the high price we are
debted to pay
labor ye that chorest to
the trumpets of evening summons us
Artley's fiancce no doubt her name Allus
Dusmanos she had sorted the bunch
these compositions speak her as loved
t nights alone she shall
be Razbunator and Rau and even Nepasator
to speak clear and persistent
in her point of view
I didn’t ask for help.
Yet someone heard
my inward crying voice
without a word.
“When the student is ready
a teacher will appear”
somehow it seems these teachers
pop up everywhere.
Their words were subtle
pointed darts
that caused me endless
fits, and starts.
There was no Hallelujah Chorus
no heraldry of trumpets din
just a presence in my life
every now and then.
I never asked for help
yet somehow they saw my need
and placed within my heart
an ever growing seed.
They cut the bindings loose
freed me from my tethers
drifted slowly through my life
without ruffling my feathers.
©8/10/2018
for New Rhyming Poems On Angels Poetry Contest
"Open Skies"
The Sky
is now wide open
Good morning
Sunshine, he says
She
recalls
a dream
in abstract
In clouds, not white
when hearts are darkest
Love arrives
unheralded
on a harsh cold
dark Winter's night
the Sun arrives
promising benevolence
sounding sharp trumpets
a different kind of music
ants scatter under
strange coloured lights
stunned
and love frightened
hearts are opening
in common alliance
caught up
in the open skies
now being earthed in
this epic romance
The dream is silent
egg shell blue
it is cracked wide open
kyrie eleison
a Mass in
Exodus
snow on tongues
burnt manna turns to ash
Rapture arrives
in different colours
In clouds, not white
when hearts are darkest
the
unifying
colour
is -
Rust.
Love
arrives
unheralded
nearly all but forgotten
Prophetic communion
All Souls seen holding hands
hidden in their vessels
of different colours
The dream is silent
egg shell blue
it is cracked wide open
kyrie eleison
Open,
Blue Sky
arrives
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
The Orb - Little Fluffy Clouds
https://youtu.be/8Ecdn5SGT1E
"The hero is one
who kindles a great light
in the world,
who sets up blazing torches
in the dark streets of life
for men to see by."
“Let's go."
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"We're waiting for Godot.”
"Veni Sancte Spiritus".
The word Kyrie is used in the Septuagint, the earliest Greek translation of the Old Testament, to translate the Hebrew word Yahweh. In the New Testament, Kyrie is the title given to Christ, as in Philippians 2:11.
"Angelic Code Sound Healing"
https://youtu.be/8eFoJHjLmyU
"Veni Sancte Spiritus"
https://youtu.be/_m_6Fp9Va0w