Long Voice Poems
Long Voice Poems. Below are the most popular long Voice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Voice poems by poem length and keyword.
Once an ensuing renunciation is not an oath to be
Once an ensuing renunciation is not an oath to be
Whence will the basilica hymn be to reign for a poetic refrain?
Ladies finger honing for a brinjal tinge mixing for a royal chant
to outlive all that lives in mundane lives for legacy!
Kindle thy fire and bless thy soul
An omnipresence felt overcoming all odds of the high and the low
Repudiation shall not be an inflicting pain to be
Neither renunciation whence burnt down ashes
are a homecoming bestow never to be fatigued out before a rebirth of an enclosing time!
Tarry not there to bypass the unwholesome
Neither the enjambment should be succumbing before an ode to divinity
The cumbersome lingering long should not a burden to your eloquence
A fatigued out possibility sitting for a longest word in Miriam Webster
A valiant fenugreek will be told as foretold in forthcoming ruled will be recalled
Greek Gothic tales will be burnt to the optimum hue one by one
And then a life and alive shall be a voice over seven holy verses at your doorstep
Shall greet "Shallom!" to stay in between ,Before the basilica hymn to reign again!
Raga: Baul
Taal: kaharba
composition (bangla): 1st ashwin, 1321
composition (after christ): 18 september, 1914
place of composition: shantiniketan
Lyricist: Sudhirchandra kar
tagoreweb.in/Songs/pooja-233/dukkh-jadi-na-pabe-to-4590
have you sinned my daughter was all you really
heard before the figure representing
God declared you unfit to be – anything.
every deed, thought, notion, movement leaves a
black spot on your soul which can only be
erased with a priest’s robe and the rubbing
of a rosary alone in a closet
designed for privacy – but he knows your voice –
you know he knows, and he glares at you
on the playground, reminding you HE is in
control and there is nothing you can do
about it except pray every night
and hope it never happens again. But
hope itself is a tragedy because
it only shadows the true reality
of what could, and probably will, happen
despite all your praying and forgiving.
Written for a creative writing class 1990.
So there i was
discarded as a husband
And without second thought she dresses to kill for a night out,
And theres no doubt
Her intentions are not spousal in any regard
And i sit silenced by her choice
And my inner voice tells me to hush
To let her loose to her vengeful lust
For who am i to control
For i own not her very soul
Does she not understand theres nothing to gain
For a moment of pleasure
leads to a lifetime of pain
Its 3 am and my last tear is shed
All things i have hoped for
Have wound up dead
Every action has a consequence
Some good and some bad
So be careful what you chase after
It may just drive you mad.
We said ‘goodbye John’ today
What should we say
A Brave Yankee he was
Creating buzz
Announcing home runs in the air
Using a style entertaining, sparking flair
Turning a routine afternoon affair
Around
Toasting Pinstripe town
Even if the team was down
Jeter, Rodriguez and Judge
Success never budged
Standing strong
Waiting for the Liza and Frank Song
Written by Kandor and Ebb
Famous on Broadway many said
But giving a Sterling performance
Made everyone sing and dance
Line up had the creative look
Radio listening enjoying the personal hook
Seemed written in the playbill book
Holy Cow!
Is where he is now
Hearing how bout that
When at bat
He gets the call
Joining Phil and Mel watching baseball
My God, why are you so quiet to your child?
You are noisy as trucks rumbling by remote
I see you in the terrors of the night glowing
I taste you in the night cloying in my throat
I feel you down to my restless legs waking
I know you as a child knows his father
Coddled children never learn to walk
You left me in the care of parents who leave
But, didn’t you abandon me just to gawk?
Still, you've never left me though I bereave
My immature mind reaches out to you
You are the quiet voice in my cries shaken
You remind me that to talk I must listen
You remind me to feel I must ache
To see I must know your pure omission
You show me the broken pieces rebuilding
In the dead of night, I feel your lovely floor
Can I embrace myself within your cold tomb?
Your son leaves the frame of a blackened door
Your silence rushes in noisy as a womb
You remind me you are light and darkness
You are my true parent asking me to rise
Again and again without a hand to hold
Without a guide, you show me who is wise
You ask me to be my parent as Jesus toiled
You promise me rest when night comes
When hands grow cold and there's nothing to do
You are a father that never grows old
Then a door opens for me to hobbled though
Will you greet me when senses are unconsoled?
Your quiet and darkness are a play of stillness
You are faith and doubt when senses are unsteady
Grant me your everlasting maturity in your plan
I promise to rise when I’m good and ready
I promise not to cry like a child, but a man
****
Isaiah 46:9-10
Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.
God answers prayers
Sometimes with a “Yes”
Sometimes with a “No”
Sometimes with a “Wait”
But, always with the goal…
Of giving hearts real hope!
God answers prayers
Oftentimes with His grace
Other times with His peace
Frequently with His faith
But, always with the knowledge
That His light pours out a promise
Of Love that is forever and always
Love that is filled with kindness
Love that is inspired and vibrant
Dancing through spirits joyously!
God answers prayers
Many times with a smile
Many times with insight
Many times with sympathy
But, always with the aim…
Of giving hearts real faith!
God answers prayers
Oftentimes with His psalms
Often, with His scriptures
Other times with His voice
A still, small voice who whispers
Gentleness and acceptance
Peace that surpasses understanding
Wonders that delight and charm
Love that saves the worried soul
Love that silences every dark thought
Love that lingers in the heart…
Fulfilling, freeing, completing!
God answers prayers
So many times He prepares
So many times He protects
So many times He prevents
But, always with the intention…
Of giving hearts love that is unconditional!
God answers prayers…
With hope, faith and love
His gentle wisdom – His spirit
Reflecting all His goodness, His wisdom
His absolute authority and tenderness!
The raven caw loudly from tree branches,
as 2 of them argue or emphasize a point
These large birds seem to arrive at times of death
I saw them at a graveyard on a cold winter day
I see them lately swirling above in Spring
Something about their voice carries far
As if it is full of unwanted messages repeating...
The silence may be better, but too empty at times
Moments fill with thoughts of then, now, later
Instead, I choose to fly myself , with new thoughts
Above and beyond all this, with imagination
Knowing later, my voice will carry just as far
and break any lurking silence that breaks my heart
New things will be found, created and experienced
Just as the Cherry blossoms bloom above dead crocus
There will always be the inevitable circumstances
There is no way to dodge such hurdles in life
But, with my mind, heart and soul anything is possible
With my being, I will overcome, death and destruction
I know my journey and every step that I have taken
It is a long, weaving road that leads to peace... as it whispers
Heidi Sands
5/14/24
(C)opyright
No one told her she was adopted, but she knew.
It was a well-kept secret. No one had mentioned it.
She met her birth mother once accidentally on the street.
An inner voice said ‘there she is’; it is her.
Their eyes met.
Same hazel circles, same hair, same face.
Her birth mother looked older, worn out.
Their souls were forever connected.
She knew and her mother knew, but neither spoke, or stopped.
They passed each other in a civil way, pretending they did not know.
But they did.
The secret was kept for a long time.
Until her death.
She did not meet her birth mother again until she reached heaven.
Sixty-seven years later.
When her birth mother and her adopted mother came together to greet her.
Who am I? I cried looking up
Am I the flowers that bloom in the dry desert
Am I the rain that falls softly to nourish them
Am I the swiftness of the bird that flies toward Heaven
Am I the child who reaches up to those above me
Am I the one who turns back and walks away
Am I the person begging on the corner
Am I the one who walks swiftly by and doesn’t see
Am I the one sitting in the corner, lonely because time has passed me by
Am I the one who aims the killing machine to end your child’s life
Am I the one who spreads my young wings to fly
Am I the one who toils the soil only to see my treasure shrivel and die
Am I among the powerful who snarl their lips at the lowly poor
Am I the one so puffed up with self righteous that my soul is dark
Who am I, I cried looking up
Who you are said the voice of one, speaking from within
You are my precious child, the wonder of my creation
You are loved beyond anything you can ever imagine
You who must let go of your ego self
You must sit in silence and hear me speaking to your spirit
You, my child ‘s soul, are part of “The I Am that I Am”
©Deborah Kelly 2022
The Jester, aged in voice and hand and face,
His life spent in trying to entertain
The King and Queen, relying on their grace
For every earthly comfort he would gain.
Now old and weak, unable to perform,
And quite uncertain in where he might go
To live out his life safe from every storm,
But fearing all ahead of him is woe…
“Has all I have done, my King, pleased you not?
My every heartfelt song and silly jest
Was made in all my life with just one thought…
To please you, Lord, and do my very best.”
The King looked down - the Jester thought he’d faint –
And asked him, “Sir, just what is your complaint?”
The King spoke on, explaining in detail
All that the performer was awarded:
Protection, food, and a home for the frail
Jester that might have been unreported.
At the King’s own table he had a place,
And food aplenty to stem his hunger.
With safety always in his private space
From every threat to pull him asunder…
“What more could I offer? What more to give?
Yes, friendship as well, was offered to you.
Many might wish for a life so well lived
As the one that you unconsciously knew.”
“Forgive me, my Lord,” the Jester then said.
“I felt with my heart, not thought with my head.”
“Forgetting my place, so small in your court,
Was privileged beyond what most men might dream.
To live out a life knowing your support
And attain just a bit of your esteem
Should surely be enough for me, my King.
Again, please forgive my ingratitude.
For each tale I tell and each song I sing
Is often by my own thought devalued.”
The King, with affection and great respect,
Upon his life-long companion, looked down.
He said, “Forgive me. I often neglect
My friend, who portrays himself as a clown.”
And thus, old friendships can flourish and grow
When learning of love that we may not know.