Long Uncountable Poems
Long Uncountable Poems. Below are the most popular long Uncountable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Uncountable poems by poem length and keyword.
Inside a library of things uncountable,
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets
gather words out of nothing.
Mind dust wafts.
A woman approaches with an armful
of my early, roughly cobbled poems.
behind her, unwritten books
begin to fall off bookless shelve.
“Don’t worry” she says,
she is Scottish and actually says:
“dinna fash yersel.”
An old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of everything
overcomes the moment.
She places the fragmented scribblings
in an untidy pile upon a small reading table.
The thought of a ‘reading table’
amuses me;
she smiles while the rest of her vanishes.
After reading all the table had to offer,
I leave the building empty-handed.
Outside, a mackerel sky
begins to rewrite some passing clouds,
Like myself,
it is constantly editing and revising
its reality
the way a bowl fish does
when it swims full circle.
Your intelligence is of special kinds,
Your goodness runs your enemies aground,
God's favour in your life forever binds,
Your wisdom is just undoubtedly sound.
On your face, happiness is daily found,
You are sweet like songs played by a good band,
Your handsomeness is cool all the year round,
The pure love in your heart meets all demand.
Success flows into your life with no end,
You and prosperity form solid bonds,
Your kindness daily finds hearts for a mend,
Your love cools like having a million Pounds.
Your blessings are uncountable as sand,
Your greatness penetrates all types of bounds,
Your friendship is more than a million grand,
In your life God has made his love abounds.
How many lives may a single heart keep,
Before it grows weary of beating so wide?
One for the child who wandered in awe,
One for the lover who opened his eyes.
One for the dreamer who walked among stars,
Soft with the music the night-winds bring;
One for the mourner who knelt in the silence
Learning the weight of a sorrowed thing.
One for the soul that rose in the morning
Bright as the dew on a tremulous field;
One for the pilgrim who faltered at twilight
Asking what mercy the dark might yield.
Yet the heart is a house with uncountable rooms,
Each with a lamp and a different door—
Lives may gather like leaves in autumn,
Still there is space for one life not taken.
So ask not when the measure is taken,
Nor when the spirit has wandered too far;
For one life lived with a thousand awakenings,
Is only the echo of what we all are.
This is what the wicked are like— always free of care, they go on amassing wealth. Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure and have washed my hands in innocence ~ Psalm 73:12-13
A wise man long ago bemoaned the thought
that those who seek the paths of righteousness
so often struggle mightily. Their lot
seems only to be wreathed in hopelessness.
Meanwhile, the wicked reap rich dividends
while disregarding others' poverty -
they'll use whatever means may suit their ends,
neglecting justice, love, humility.
Believers know "these three remain" to guide
up peaks appearing insurmountable:
Faith is that trust in Him who walks beside;
Hope is that blessed wealth uncountable;
and Love, which guides us to eternity -
For "God is love", the greatest of the three.
OCEAN IS BEAUTY
WITH THE TIDE
LIVE IN IT
UNCOUNTABLE LIFE
IN TO THE DEPTH OF IT
LIGHT NEVER GONE
BUT LIFE'S THERE
IN THAT REGION
EYE FALLS OVER
SIGHT SEES TOO UNDER
GOD'S FINE CREATION
HE NEVER DOES ANY BLUNDER
CAUSE IS CAUSE
FOR OURS BECAUSE
OCEAN IS BEAUTY
THIS WEB PAGE IS LODGED
My mother is a beacon of strength, she taught me how to relinquish and re ascend
She showed me that forgiveness brings freedom, and only love and time a broken heart can mend
She has beard burdens of hardship only a mother can endure
Fragmented and defeated her heart a tad bruised my mother would endeavor still her child to reassure
From a babe in arms to an adolescent with struggles of my own my mother was my constant, her alone!
Her back she could have turned yet she picked me up enduringly when I was cut to the bone
The pubescent years were the most trying of all. For her child faced illness and hurt which she could not deflect
Her eyes must have shed uncountable tears as time and again she stood by my bed wanting only my future perfect
Now a woman in my own right, I am able to reflect and acknowledge my mother’s strife
As a woman I am able to comprehend what it means to be a mother and a wife
The bond between a mother and a child begins prenatal through the years the bond is verified and subdued
Our bond has been conserved through forgiveness and love, the sentiments we bestow on our hearts it is tattooed.
My Matron! My mother these words were intricately chosen only for you
Have faith when I articulate my gratitude for everything you do.
You are my mother and I am your child forever we shall share an un-moving bond from your heart to mine.
This I shall cherish with great respect and appreciation for my mother, I shall love you through all of time!!!
Don't know if human's will ever see
every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
there has to be a place for the poorest
The entire world is built up from the same level of dirt
each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
I am to believe all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story
The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
he learn's the treasures, of everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of richness
seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty as an illness
Love start's from the soul, and from there it is taught to grow
the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace defining the difference in richest and wealth
t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth
He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
for his wealth is humanly uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...
Ride to Victory!
Ride your inspiring horse of hopes and gallop
to victory!
Endless roads of challenges lie ahead
in your way,
Inviting you to dare to shape your future, to incarnate
your destiny!
The day is new and you are young. Many the goals
to achieve,
Uncountable the mountains to conquer! Innumerable
the paths to follow
So, go ahead, never stop, never doubt, never question
your abilities,
For you are endowed with a myriad of talents and
a gifted spirit from above.
Now the time has come for you, the wings of your precious
mind to unfold,
And fly to the realm of discoveries and of truths to you,
yet unknown!
Do not be afraid; remain strong, steadfast in your dreams,
never oscillate!
Be diligent, truthful to yourself, honest, and with
a lion’s heart,
For TOMORROW belongs to the fighters: to those
who never give up,
For tomorrow belongs to YOU!
(C) Demetrios Trifiatis
Immortality
I was not. I was. I am. I will be. I will not be.
I was not, but my star stuff was. Part of the universe. Part of the wheeling galaxies and all the voids between. Finding its way from countless origins to the earth itself.
Then, suddenly, I was. My star stuff came alive, added other star stuff, grew, and gained identity. And I became who I am.
And for a brief moment in time, I will be – feeling, knowing, aware, until my star stuff returns to the dust from whence it came.
And then I will not be. But my star stuff will be on or in the earth, for a time, unknowing and eventually unknown, while the wheeling galaxies and uncountable stars await.
And when the sun reaches out in its death throes and consumes the earth, countless millennia from now, my star stuff will be released back into the universe from whence it came.
And the process will begin again and will ever be. And is that not immortality?
I gazed at the warmth
in your smile,
careful not to meet your eyes,
stepping back just enough
to stay in control.
Sitting on the balcony,
waiting to watch
your first sip of coffee,
where sunlight touched your skin,
and I lost my balance quietly.
I could choose to touch,
embrace,
even choose to love you.
I didn't.
This fleeting moment
is too fragile
to endure a touch.
Longing to become
two statues mirroring each other,
hung from a cathedral,
resisting time.
Thousands would cross between us,
yet I would remain fixed on you.
Witnessing uncountable battles
over the centuries,
gazing at the fractures in you.
Beneath loud voices in prayer,
and still I would find
your silence.
When our time comes,
even reduced to dust,
we would resist.
Paralyzed in memory,
frozen in pictures made of us,
carried through stories
that will age before us.
In that stillness,
I would hold nothing of the world.
A simple move
would be impossible.
Still—
I would have you.
Now—
I realize
I was yours too.