Long Unsheathed Poems
Long Unsheathed Poems. Below are the most popular long Unsheathed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unsheathed poems by poem length and keyword.
I welcome change as long as it is God breathed
Like peace turning to war, the blade is unsheathed
Like rain tending the crop, then the sun comes to ripen
For in futility we push to cause, no let God's Will happen
No aspersions cast on diligence
Just that times and seasons know our negligence
As we fail to read the signs of the times
Nothing of the moment and deed rhymes
For until time came did Christ enter Jerusalem
Though beseeched He commended not Himself to them
And when came the hour of the Son of Man to be lifted up
It was the very time to drink of His cup
None knows the day nor the hour but the Father
All knees shall at the place of bow gather
And it shall all change suddenly to eternity
To the baffle and relief of a great fraternity.
K. Muitherero.
An Arctic wind comes reaping the mild air,
breath hangs in clouds and grass hides under frost,
low morning sun soaks branches soon stripped bare,
boots wallow in the reds and golds now lost.
Chevrons of Geese head south for warmer climes,
ground creatures bedding down until the spring,
their instincts telling them it is the time
when nature's heartbeat slows, and no birds sing.
No kindness shown as autumn's laid to rest,
no mercy given, winter's blade unsheathed,
it's willing victim gladly bares it's breast
and falls, in pallid shades the land is wreathed.
Each year this drama plays, the rise and fall
consoled by distant promise, spring will call.
Domestic chargé d'affaires
became mine bailiwick
dint of the missus being
disinclined and less quick
budgeting, hence I inadvertently
accepted lickity split,
subsequent obligation did
smoothly clack and click,
which minimized conflict
whereby we shared equal intrinsic
reciprocity complicity, culpability
then at playtime, thee enigmatic
one whipped out adult toys
stashed in the attic.
Altercations impossible to avoid,
'specially when unemployed
(think Rob zombie humanoid)
additionally, I lacked emotionally unalloyed
communication cues, nearly destroyed
romance, cuz only recourse re: primal
non verbal, viz Braille
while disguised as android
amorousness I expressly enjoyed
satisfactorily papa bear
groaning courtesy steroid
launching petsmart aery mission
poised to strike no
matter mainly to void
i.e. unpacking heat prohibited,
one tony peppy trooper deployed,
but unexpectedly waylaid
understandably yours truly annoyed
unsheathed hot pistol manually toyed.
Admission, confession, decision firmly laid
down, I oft times insisted felt test ease made
purposeless seething hormonal secretion
triggered fountainhead sprayed
activated provocation upbraid
ding the then live in girlfriend
French kissing parlez vous
pledged troth plus
serving as milkmaid.
Chaucer wrote, "... thy tongue shouldst thou restrain."
There is truth in his words for a vile one can cause pain.
A sword unsheathed from its scabbard can pierce a heart.
In like manner, a wicked tongue can tear a friendship apart.
No matter how the teeth bite the tongue before it speaks,
if allowed to talk freely, emotional havoc it often wreaks.
Each word can be a bullet shot from a combative tongue,
delivering a verbal assault when ugly words from it is flung.
Be mindful of the sharp weapon your tongue can wield
because it's capable of wounding those without a shield.
Foul words can't be returned once they've been spewed.
Control its abusive actions by having a change of attitude.
Don't allow it to run wild then say, "It was my tongue's fault."
Control the cruel beast, to say least, and rein it in to a halt.
Scripture says the tongue has the power of life and death,
so do not allow it to define you. Stop and take a deep breath.
Words burn whether whispered, hissed or shouted in scorn,
weighing heavily in the air, leaving the innocent feeling torn.
A tongue can crush both spirit and soul and tell a twisted tale.
Keep it leashed inside your mouth and pleasantries will prevail.
A Knight from the vast Kingdom
of The King of Holy Throne.
Michael slept within a castle
on beds of peat moss, and of loam.
His face was sedimentary,
though laughter mapped its course.
And his gleaming hair cascaded,
much like a Viking of the Norse.
His raiment wasn’t fancy.
No silk nor satin hose.
But his mind was quick as silver
and his heart was pure as gold.
Cloaked without, by a robe of integrity.
Fortified within, by a will of steel.
He wielded the Sword of Justice,
while holding Truth up as his shield.
Saint Michael’s crusade was legendary,
as was the power of his sword.
Forged to slay the inner dragons,
in reverent service to our Lord.
Countless times the blade was tested,
for malice dwells not on defeat.
Never lacked he for contenders,
disciples of rumors and deceit.
Bad Rumor sowed the seed of doubt
within the mind of man.
Watered from the trough of spite,
he conceived his evil plan.
Each rancid seed that sprouted
grew to a bud of tarnished mail.
Thus, shrouded by corrosion,
he sought corruption to prevail.
When Rumor heard of Saint Michael,
his phosphorous eyes lit up with hate.
Armed with his pitchfork and scythe,
he charged through his hellish gates.
Targeted by dark ambition,
saddled by vicious greed,
he raced upon the clouds fate,
engulfed by jealousy.
.
Michael felt the evil presence
and strapped on his Mighty Sword.
Then he rode off to a clearing,
in the sweet realm of The Lord.
Rumor attacked with animosity,
his trident held, as if a spear.
But as the Sword of God unsheathed,
Rumor was lanced by sudden fear.
Michael raised the Sword of Eminence
as if to pierce the sky.
While sunlight sparked along its blade
a beam smote Rumor’s eye.
Blazing light seized Rumor’s mind.
It seared his ravaged soul.
And when the inner battle ended,
Rumor’s heart was charred to coal.
As Saint Michael wiped soot and ashes
from the length of his trusted sword,
his eyes fell upon the hilt
to runes inscribed there, by The Lord:
“May The Force be your faith
May your spirit know The Lamb
May Love guard your heart
May The Light guide your hand.”
In depth, in graves of memory
I brought my rose of peace
If you live on within my heart
Your life will never cease
Is earthen vase, in layers of time
Living as we breathe
Then layer by layer this living climb
Memories' sword of light unsheathed
In memory, I wield it
It shines within my hands
No longer memories grave I sit
Cutting through time's misty lands
Now you are here with me
Funny, joyful, full of life
Alive as you can be
Before sorrowed tears and strife
Amidst my turbulence of youth
Felling vain Philosophies wisdoms
You Shared with me the truth
A King beyond earth's kingdoms.
Your lovely eyes shown brightly
As sharing with me hope
Your weilded sword held tightly
That Light helped you to cope
In depth, beyond Grave memory
Resurrected rose of peace
Vibrant you, within my heart
Your life will never cease
Though living in my heart
You walk on Heaven's shore
We're really not that far apart
Closer than
In days of yore
Inside this spectacular flare
seeped to shadows edge,
is a sadness born of leagues
sorrow freed
a forged memory shrines
in might,
timed unsheathed tears
blessed flows of comfort,
rained misery echos,
from chambered arch,
heart wells to break
this ache of mime,
these broken despairs diverged
soul searched memoir
now worn retiring,
serrated scorched flesh
burning lines seared Though,
breathlessly transformed
flourished streams unbidden-ed,
now breached
renewed
Breathing in the blackness
sprays that misery blew
pain of crushing memory
now merged,
lustrous forever,
heart strings sung before
a munimented fibril of tears,
drips quenching
a heart dwelling
within a mind
Memory graced in visions
seems broken spilling bare,
defined into the sharing
this soul de-lined despair,
hope refilled in crystal hue
deeded thought was found
shimmering in its loveliness,
these ruminated musings
blazing Love astound
Earned to date,
nee absolute zero
academic bankable bragging rites
explained arduous, horrendous, onerous
agonizing, heartbreaking,
nerve wracking travails
hamstringing, hijacking, hobbling...
maximization of potential
e'er since yours truly
begat when ma dada
fired off his johnny rotten sex pistol
handy dandy blues clues unsheathed
ejaculated gun - lobbed more'n blanks
scoring bullseye pregnant truth
discovered ex post facto
yoked target with egg sealant aim
conceived coe idle upstanding ovation
fusion formed diploid
cell signifying zygote
activating, kickstarting, quickening
embryonic biological reproductive processes
intimating swell happening,
where linkedin rocketed payload
snookered triggered ultimately
yielded inchoate homunculus jackanapes
zapped out birth canal
ready for prime crying time
parturition players chemical romance loosed
yawping, writhing, tethering pipsqueak
full term newborn blasted,
the shocked monkey,
accompanied by archangel Peter Gabriel
trusty unnecessary dangling umbilical cord
obstetrician quickly severed
in utero air supply superfluous
initial gulps of oxygen
commenced fretful incessant laborious
ongoing ripsnorting unrelenting
said vicious trauma,
albeit begat courtesy
glommed deoxyribonucleic acid
mercilessly assailing psyche
metaphorically holding hostage
nee actually essentially cannibalizing
analogous to birthing simultaneous
diabolical identical twin doppelgänger
undermining since getco
proper holistic pursuits
evidenced when matriculating
learning fraught
shot thru with abysmal results
post high school
academic endeavors
evidenced by matriculation
without graduation incorporating
half dozen colleges/universities
earning measly grade point average
simultaneously accumulating
shoddy employment record
now saddled with unbridled
penuriousness - scratching out poetry
every now again
this brother grimm
writing endeavors feeble
becoming financially solvent.
Have been accused that the splendor of love has my praise,
constant change and its stimulation for the awaken days.
The longing, the calm, the touch and its astonishment,
illimitable desires, its creative expression and still content.
The many excuses and fears to cheat despair,
to know the madness to take the motion to bear.
Promised eternal love to cross that dark of life,
lovers eyes speak in that voluptuous light of strife.
Remembered potion of my beam in constellation,
embracing souls and glowing emancipation.
Immortal praise for all tenderness is given,
the inenarrable senses all driven.
The queen of love beaconed in dreamer’s nights,
cause of attraction’s magnificence.
Celestial loyalties in timeless sphere,
soothing away the troubles everywhere.
Holding the bond that made love to trust,
sacramental echoes of stardust.
Awake above the ego’s cry without doubt,
redeeming will humble allowed.
My waning intemperate indulgence not to blame,
unsheathed reality for the constant new again.
Possessions through the act of memory,
spectrums in light of progressive immortality.
the krishnachura and the champa
both of them
have the only-one unsheathed afternoon
both of them
have the same-one broken harmonium
how long more the eyes of terracotta
would roam in the sun
the uneven fate-line
is written on the green slate
the sound of the vocal chord is also eloquent
as if it were some bare trees of wood-apple
around the swimming
there are some scattered scrapes of slippers
the colour of whose straps
is blue
and some tales of the faded sky
i return home with the night of
phosphorus
i return with those waves of the
mid-night that have no translation
i lay them in order