Long Viewpoint Poems
Long Viewpoint Poems. Below are the most popular long Viewpoint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Viewpoint poems by poem length and keyword.
My fellow believers many temptations enter into our lives on a regular and reoccurring basis. The closer we draw living water through our beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The temptations seem to only intensify. The distractions and pleasures in this life. Serve only to deceive us by leading us astray.
Construct a road block on our life's quest. Becoming faithful followers of Jesus Christ. Both the author and source of everlasting life. If we continually abide in him, and he abides in us. If we continue on doing his good deeds. We are his disciples in thoughts, in words, and in deeds,
There once was a period of my life. I set such a poor example. Most people didn't believe I was a Christian. Apparently the none redeemed world has a higher standard of Christianity than Christians themselves. I found all to be true through many sorrows of my life. When I willing rebelled against the doctrines of the holy Bible!
"Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven." And that just happens to be true in a limited viewpoint. We are to be perfect just as our Father in Heaven is perfect. And that is impossible without the influence of the Holy Spirit's being activated.
He "leads us and guides us and lives right inside us." He is both our conscience, and our counselor. But it is Jesus Christ, who is also our mediator. And advocate before our Almighty God our Father. And his as well.
We need to abide in Jesus Christ, in order to enjoy fellowship with him. "If we trust and obey for there is no other way. To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey." And what wonderful and abundant blessings will belong to us!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
March 09, 2020
“Cloud Of Possibilities”
The Linear
argument
false
on discovery
Truth
a straight line
only fantasy
mimed
Prescience
a feeling
devoid
of dimension
Enlightenment
burns
where the ashes
— are mined
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
A Valentine Wish
At home in your heart
— alone never more
(Poems Of Love: February, 2026)
Time’s Reverie
When you see it
but can’t write it
your prison remains
When you like it
but don’t love it
you die in refrain
What the minute
holds captive
the moment sets free
What your spirit
embodies
— in time’s reverie
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
The Exclusion Is Mutual
Opposites attract
in all but politics
Each viewpoint divergent
— and stance zero sum
(Dreamsleep: February, 2026)
Fallujah
Beyond the wire
the great ones fall
Beyond the wire
— lay heroes all
(Freedom At War: April, 2004)
I said what the hell ever
Do I need all the answers?
Do I have to respond
To all the bastards I don't even believe
That I associate with anymore
The cishet imbécils that wear the same skin as me
Do I carry the sin of faraway ancestors
When the dips in congress want me dead for wanting so much
More than you heads could ever dare dream
A perfect society for you and for me
And the people who don't look like they fell out of Netflix
The people who burn if the sun shines just a bit too strong
Of course I rebel against whiteness and curses
And the European curse that my skin has brought you
I believe in you, I want you to be as
Strong as what Hollywood sells children as basic and
The cream bastards who claim this as basic
And send those with dark skin and preferences that aren't PIV
And I beg to grip your fingers in the darkness and
Scream to the Harkness, testing if you think we're both
Far less than human for our brainwave development
For darkness, for gay, for shift tint, for trans
You hate us for this, I
Can't see your viewpoint, this
Pain that I carry is
A deep scar, it's scary
It's painful, it's murderous
It's soul-deep, are you wondering
How heavy is your soul
When God weighs all your works
Can you say that you're perfect
In God's eyes, when you maimed us?
The murmur of voices rises to a cacophony
The start of the walk is imminent
Boots laced, sticks at the ready, rucksacks on backs
The human train heads for the hills
The ascent begins along a rocky track
Poles in ones and twos offer support to experienced legs
Step by step, breath by breath
Ever upward they climb
The viewpoint beckons the leader to stop
Birdsong competes with the drone of traffic far below
The invisible elastic stretched to the limit
Recoils as the back marker arrives
An organic modern art display
On the golf links’ mown grass canvas
Slate soldiers stand to attention
Patrolling boundaries between field and heath
At the Druid circle café lunch is free
A hare freezes on seeing the newcomers before speeding away
A sheep baas its resentment of the intrusion
Refuelled the human train regroups for the onward trek
Nature’s palette of wildflowers announces spring
The coconut aroma of gorse confuses the mind
Yet out at sea the mechanical springtime is permanent
Windfarms harvest the invisible crop
Buzzards, skylarks and house martins fly the moorland airspace
While curlews, wagtails and oystercatchers hug the water’s edge
Wild ponies roam the moors, foals shadowing their mothers
A bleating lamb separated from its maternal security is reunited
Red shell markers turn to blue
Coastal route goes shoreline
Manicured lawn paths morph into a paving slab jigsaw
As walkers reach the finale
And then finishing line crossed
Weary satisfaction after eighteen thousand steps
Boots off – that moment of ecstasy
The long walk achieved
Is this the wind
It depends on the weather
Is this a challenge
A tongue has many capabilities
Is this an opening
It depends on which angle
True warrior has no limitations
Trees fall away
But the roots stays the same
The honour shall be given
The rain wets the grounds
But the soil gets the water it needs
The fertilization takes place
Sky becomes cloudy
But the mission stays the same
True warrior has no circumstances
Is this a human being
It depends on the characteristics
Is this humanity
A heart has many abilities
Is this the world
It depends on the viewpoint
True warrior has no time
Our own rough road too Salzburg
Then, prematurely those familiar cliffs of your morning appear
strangely there is no sea in your blurred dawn viewpoint just
rolling waves, those same un-swimmable white horses just
rolling in your stomachs pit, galloping wildly, then crashing
your standing with a gut full of feel, that feel ! of weighted thrown
iron shoes surprisingly as your breath draws inward its obvious
creeping emptiness, dissolves any rational plan for your day.
In a small mouse sized space where live, your fags, crumpled bills,
small brown bottles of pills, tea bags, coffee pot and “stale photos”
And in the memories of those “stale photos” minutely blinks a spark
squeezed out of the creased years of folds, you add up, the gains, and loss, your head turns, away looks up right, as your balanced hand sweaty slips slowly down the paint needing door post, picks up a splinter prick, your pain ridden blood, trickles out, and into your tired eyes, that rough road too Salzburg morning rolls on in.
Coffee doesn’t cut it anymore, and Gin in the bin is much lighter
you feel like, your a voyeur inside, behind your own eye sockets
gazing out with change in mind, but sadly without the needed plan.
Spilt bouncing runaway coins, unassisted by notes, or cards trip over the mornings mountains of worries, their as big as the moon
that ache, straightening up, the cat eats, you don’t, no need to feed
while plump, well abused waist lines hanging on celebrities wealth
mouths as big as their bank balance, tell me too give ? What ! Up?
Each of us stands on our own rough road too Salzburg,
you cannot compare journeys, media moguls will judge you
each of us fall, on that rough road too Salzburg over and over
but that dirt on trousers and skirt, always breaks your fall.
If you had only heard me once
then you understand all, that all, what destroyed the goals
The castle of our future is under the ocean now, all debris
glittering in the deep from the sunlight of the broken souls
But you are alive, and a soul is crumbling, departing cloud
above of life, he was saying goodbye, the shadow is glitter
A gentle breeze caresses your face, my last breath is gone
Remembers you an unwanted fate of your life, always you
It takes your memory to new possibilities of dimension's life
Don’t be my life and love, just your memory feeds my dark
on the other side to believe in your left and hope loved life
but that dried on the seabed, on the Earth or Mars, a past
of the lost centuries of lives; just needed your selfless life
Kids died, and children live in the graveyard of the heaven
in the hell, never born lives of and to our kind; My the lives
and Yours; Fallen leaves fall on you in the antique cemetery
I walked there, you will walk there, on the path, find our bed
A beautiful black marble tombstone, with noble golden text
Mausoleum of a family. Just put there a candle for memories
Memories of your happy children, this cemetery is a ground
to them, a playground, a children's garden, you are a mother
The mother of a family, a matron, blonde hair, glittering eyes
The light of the candle projects a happy and lovely family life
Can you imagine this life from this viewpoint? Well, incredible
Called and dreamed the future for me. I know all the lost lives
You killed three grand guys. Radiating their light from my heart
Watch yours, dead volcano, soot, smoke, ash, dead grey land
The surface of the Moon is a heavenly world, missing the plants
Three demons are flying in my mind. I take them to another life
Lives. In the jungle planet will flourish and proliferate our lives
Just fly, only fly in my mind. Still loved your only heart. My kind.
My style is just for love
Love a lady, but find the way
Love is a lady, but find the missing way
Walk on the path, this is your way, mine, a tale
I am on my planet
With you
and three guys
laughing
around you
VIEWPOINT
acquired
discovered
&
conceived
so personalised
alongside
an
edge
a layer
& the flavour
& the
character
of
destiny
of the
fragile
&vulnerable
to bear
in mind
identified
the
inconclusive
displayed
alongside
the luminous
so
recently
discovered
an
emphasis
on the
novel
niche
&otherwise
familiar
the
ultra-contemporary
a showcase
emerging
as a
restorative
to
overwhelm
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
We simply disagree it seems
With each other’s beliefs and esteems
We don’t have the same ideas
Or share the same viewpoints
We don’t know how to get along
Achieve a degree of peacefulness
Where others can settle their differences
We seem to differ on every opinion
We once were friends who harmonized
Agreeing on every way we turned
But time brought us into a quarrelsomeness
And we are more focused on our diversities
We loved each other many years ago
Shared our feelings, thoughts and opinions
Felt as if we were sisters who synchronized
Then things fell apart so we are unbalanced
We don’t get along the way we once did
When we’re together there is a disturbance
From all the ways we find to clash and argue
Discovering the ways we wish to change the other
We are lost amid the jagged edges of opposition
Living within a circle of pure conflict that destroys
Seeing our dreams of shared hope falling to the sidelines
While we reach out to bicker about the color of dewdrops
We fight about the outcome of every argument
Differ more and more as time takes us through history
Will we ever find a way to accept our differing opinions
And get back to the way we once had of balancing joy?
Opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
June 24, 2020
N-A re-run 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Entered July 1, 2020
CANDLES and NIGHTLIGHTS
Candles and nightlights flickering bright,
blackout curtains shutting out the moonlight.
Snuggle down cosy with blankets tight,
perhaps the war will end to-night.
Dripping setting from Sunday's roast,
spread so thick on Monday's toast.
Meat bones simmer on the old gas ring,
Pa's homemade soup,the 'real thing'.
Paper chains cut and glued,
beer in glass bottles brewed.
Christmas puddings with threepenny bits,
the Meccano present made to fit.
Sunday school outings upto Coombe hill,
my first ever train ride,so quite a thrill.
Walks over corn fields to the Bugle Horn,
crisps and lemonade upon their lawn.
A weekly soak in a round tin bath,
towelling off by a fire in the hearth.
A viewpoint from childhood scene,
growing up at sixteen,Beech green.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2012